Chapter 19
‘Your father was a chime child,’ Gran said. ‘Do you know what a chime child is?’
‘Someone born beneath a full moon between midnight on Friday and cockcrow on Saturday,’ replied Callum. ‘Born with the ability to see ghosts.’
Gran nodded. ‘You’re a chime child too,’ she said. ‘I’m not – not really. I was born at the cusp of the chime hours, after sunrise, so my powers were limited.’
‘You have powers?’ Callum cried incredulously. ‘You can see ghosts too?’
‘No.’ Gran shook her head. ‘The powers of even the strongest chime children fade at eighteen. I’ve had to work at what I can do. I’ve learned some tricks, mostly charms and wards – I suppose you’d call it magic.’ She coughed nervously. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t noticed. I’ve grown a bit careless with the radio.’
‘You’re always telling it to shut up, and it does! You told me it was the frequency cutting out!’ Callum stared, wide-eyed. ‘Gran, you hypocrite!’ he said angrily. ‘You called Melissa a witch, just because of the clothes she wears, and then you turn around and have a chat with your enchanted radio?’
‘Yes, well, I was impatient with Melissa,’ Gran admitted, her tone defensive. ‘But I don’t want witches here, or potential witches. Almost everything I do is designed to cut down on free-floating magic, to keep it out, to make things normal. You don’t like it, do you, seeing ghosts? I’ve done this for you, Callum. I -’
Gran stood up suddenly. She sounded less sure of herself now.
‘Thirteen years ago, your father disappeared. Peter was my son, my only child. I tell people he “just walked out” because that’s what people say when a man abandons his young wife. But the truth is a bit more dramatic than that. The truth is, he vanished.’
Callum listened in silence. There was nothing he could say.
‘It’s still an open file with the police,’ Gran continued. ‘He could have killed himself, he could have been kidnapped by drug smugglers or something. I suppose he could have run away to Morocco with some new girlfriend. No one knows what happened to him.’
‘What about his friends?’ Callum asked. ‘Didn’t they know anything?’
‘He didn’t have many friends,’ Gran said. ‘Peter wasn’t an easy person to get to know. When he first started going out with your mum, she and I used to have a good laugh about it behind his back. “Has he asked you to marry him yet?” I’d say, and she’d smile mysteriously and answer, “He’s thinking about it. Still waters run deep.” Even as a child he kept himself to himself. He was independent, unsentimental. A bit like you in some ways.’
‘Like you,’ Callum replied.
Gran smiled shortly. ‘Yes, I suppose so. When Peter disappeared, your mother and I were both miserable, and it drew us together. Neither of us had any family nearby. Helen moved in here with me for some while – she knew she wouldn’t get any sympathy from her parents in Cornwall, who’d told her a million times that her relationship with Peter would never work. She and I waited together, both of us hoping and hoping for a lead. Nothing turned up. And then she realised she was pregnant.’
‘With me,’ Callum breathed. ‘But Dad didn’t know?’
Gran shook her head.
Callum was silent. He felt as though some part of him had been cut off.
My dad never even knew about me.
He could tell it pained Gran, too.
‘Callum, I’m sorry. There are a lot of reasons I haven’t told you any of this. That’s one of them.’
‘Just get it over with,’ Callum said. ‘Or isn’t there any more? He disappeared, the police couldn’t find him, and I was born a few months later?’
Gran nodded. ‘That’s pretty much what happened. That’s all your mother knew about it. But I had other ideas.’
She began to pace. The sitting room seemed suddenly too small to contain her.
‘I thought all along that there was another possibility besides all the guesses the police were making. Your father was like you – he saw ghosts and monsters. Even after he grew out of his chime powers, he used to travel the country, looking for demons, hoping to fight them.’ Gran shook her head. ‘I think, in the end, one of them might have killed him. I knew you were a chime child too, and I couldn’t bear the idea that I might lose you like that as well. So I began to weave a web of protection around you -’
‘Of magic?’ Callum interrupted.
Gran nodded. ‘It was easy, at first, because Helen stayed with me for two years and you were always under my eye. So I started with the house. The rowan tree was already growing by the door and I had the garden wall reinforced with iron rails.’
Melissa’s voice echoed in Callum’s memory.
Iron keeps away the fairies . . . Rowan works against witches . . .
‘I filled the flower beds with sympathetic herbs, planted holly beneath the windows. I wove folk remedies into a charmed barrier around the cottage. I got better at it as I went along. I liked doing it, you know; there’s a certain artistry, a satisfying creativity, to making any kind of orderly pattern. I’m quite proud of it, really.’
‘What happened when Mum moved into our flat in the town?’
‘Some of the spells I made worked on you directly. And I added some charms over your mum’s window boxes and around the building there in town. The spells aren’t just protective; they’re concealing. I wanted to hide you. So your powers have been hidden, not just from whatever’s out there, but also from yourself.’
Callum was still listening quietly, growing increasingly annoyed with Gran’s pacing. Then he realised that it wasn’t the pacing that was making him angry: it was what she was saying. He didn’t blame his grandmother for trying to protect him. But to do it without his knowledge, to use some sort of magic on him without telling him what was going on, that felt like betrayal.
‘After your mother died and you moved in with me, I stepped up the security. Once you’re inside this house, nothing should be able to find you. You’re safe.’
Gran finally stood still. She rested her hands on her hips and looked at Callum.
‘Safe?’ Callum blurted angrily. ‘Safe? I’m seeing more ghosts than ever. I can predict the future. The thing with no face – or with my face, depending on its dress sense – that thing is killing my schoolmates. I think your spells are collapsing.’
‘I don’t think it’s the strength of my spells that’s letting you down,’ Gran said with sorrow in her voice. ‘Quite the opposite. Your own powers are getting stronger. You’re getting older, Callum. You’ve become more difficult to hide. I thought that if I kept you away from the occult – brought you up to believe it was all stuff-and-nonsense – then maybe those powers wouldn’t be triggered.’
‘All you did was make me feel like a lunatic!’ Callum exclaimed in outrage. ‘You made me think I was the only person like this in the world!’
‘It was a gamble,’ Gran said, her hands out towards Callum. ‘I thought it might work. Sometimes a chime child doesn’t know his or her own strengths. I tried to keep your power hidden as best I could. I tried, but obviously I failed. I’m sorry.’
Gran leaned heavily against the back of her armchair. She looked old and tired, but Callum didn’t have it in him to feel sorry for her. He could not believe how much she had been hiding from him. He felt anger burning up inside him, like a volcano.
‘Well, maybe I can tell you what happened to my father,’ Callum raged. ‘Maybe this thing without a face tore out his eyes and ate them!’
‘His body was never found,’ Gran said wearily. ‘Your monster leaves bodies behind, doesn’t it?’
‘Did he even know he was a chime child, or did you hide that from him, too? What else are you hiding from me?’
‘Oh, Callum.’ Gran shook her head. ‘Part of the reason I felt so strongly about protecting you is because I failed to protect your father. Yes, he knew he was a chime child. He was so sure of his abilities, and so quick and able when he used them. There’s a set of books he studied – books passed down from one generation of chime children to the next, containing information about the Netherworld -’