Each button was made out of bone. She wasn't a witch who practised bone magic; she was a lamia witch, a type that wasn't native to the County. But I wondered about the bone buttons. Had they come from victims she'd killed in the past? And underneath those buttons, inside the dress, I knew that as a domestic lamia witch she'd have line of green and yellow scales running the length of her spine.
Soon afterwards there was a knock at the back door. I went to answer it as my master was still sleeping after his disturbed night.
A man stood outside wearing a strange leather cap with flaps that came down over his ears. He was holding a lantern in his right hand; with his left he led a little pony which was loaded up with so many brown sacks that it was a wonder its legs weren't buckling.
'Hello, young man, I've brought Mr Gregory's order,' he said, giving me a tight-lipped smile. 'You must be the new apprentice. He was a nice lad, that Billy, and I was sorry to hear what happened.'
'My name's Tom,' I said, introducing myself.
'Well, Tom, how d'you do? My name's Shanks. Could you please tell your master I've brought up extra provisions and that I'll double up each week until the weather turns nasty. Looks like being a harsh winter, and when the snow comes, it might be a long time before I can get up here again.'
I nodded at him, smiled, then looked up. It was still dark, but it was just beginning to lighten and the crack of sky was mostly full of grey clouds blowing in from the west. Just then, Meg joined me in the doorway. She was loitering slightly behind me, but Shanks saw her all right because his eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets and he took two quick reverse steps, almost backing into the little pony.
I could tell that he was scared, but after Meg had turned and gone back inside, he calmed down a bit and I helped him to unload the sacks. While we were doing that the Spook came out and paid the man.
When Shanks turned to go, the Spook followed him down the clough about thirty paces or so. They started talking but were too far away for me to catch every word of their conversation. It was about Meg though, I was sure of it, because I heard her name twice.
I distinctly heard Shanks say, 'You told us she'd been dealt with!' to which the Spook replied, T have her safe enough, don't you worry yourself. I know my business all right so it's no concern of yours. And you'll keep it to yourself if you know whaf s good for you!'
My master didn't look too happy when he walked back towards me. 'Did you give Meg her herb tea?' he asked suspiciously.
'I did it just as you said,' I told him, 'as soon as she woke up.'
'Did she go outside?' he asked.
'No, but she came to the door and stood behind me. Shanks saw her and it seemed to scare him.'
'It's a pity he saw her at all,' said the Spook. 'She doesn't usually show herself like that. Not in recent years anyway. Maybe we need to increase the dose. As
I told you last night, lad, Meg used to cause a lot of trouble in the County. Folk were afraid of her and still are. And until now the locals didn't know she had the freedom of the house. If it were to get out, I would never hear the last of it. People round here are stubborn: once they get their teeth into something they don't easily let it go. But Shanks'll keep his mouth closed. I pay him well enough.'
'Is Shanks the grocer?' I asked.
'No, lad, he's the local carpenter and undertaker. The only person in Adlington who's got the courage to venture up here. I pay him to collect and deliver.'
After that we got the sacks safely inside, and the Spook opened the largest one and gave Meg what she needed to start cooking the breakfast.
The bacon was better than the Spook's pet boggart had managed, even on the best of mornings, and Meg had fried potato cakes and scrambled fresh eggs with cheese: the Spook hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said that Meg was a good cook. While we wolfed down our breakfast, I asked him about the strange noises in the night.
'It's nothing much to worry about for now' he told me, swallowing another big mouthful of potato cake. 'This house is built on a ley line so we can expect problems occasionally. Sometimes an earthquake thousands of miles away can cause disturbances to a whole series of leys. Boggarts can be forced to move from places where they've been happily settled for years. Last night a boggart passed under us. I had to go down to the cellar just to see that everything was safe and secure.'
The Spook had told me all about leys when we were back in Chipenden. They were lines of power beneath the earth, like roads that some types of boggart could use to travel quickly from place to place.
'Mind you, it sometimes means trouble ahead' he continued. 'When they set up home in a new location, they often begin by playing tricks - sometimes dangerous tricks - and that means work for us. You mark my words, lad, we could well have a boggart to deal with locally before the week's out.'
After breakfast we went to the Spook's study for my Latin lesson. It was a small room with a couple of straight-backed wooden chairs, a large table, a solitary wooden stool with three legs, bare boards and lots of tall, dark-stained bookcases. It was a bit chilly too: yesterday's fire was now just grey ashes in the grate.
'Sit yourself down, lad. The chairs are hard but it doesn't do to get too comfortable when you're studying. Wouldn't want you to fall asleep,' said the Spook, giving me a sharp look.
I looked around at the bookcases. The room was gloomy, lit only by the grey light from the window and a couple of candles, so I hadn't noticed until then that the shelves were empty.
'Where are all the books?' I asked.
'Back in Chipenden - where do you think, lad? Not much point in keeping books here in the cold and damp. Books don't like those conditions. No, we'll just have to manage with what we've brought with us and maybe write some of our own while we're here. You can't just be reading books all the time and leaving the writing of them to others.'
I knew the Spook had brought quite a few books with him and it had made his bag very heavy whereas I'd just brought my notebooks. For the next hour I struggled with Latin verbs. It was hard work and I was pleased when the Spook suggested that we have a rest, but not by what he did next.
He dragged the wooden stool close to the bookcase nearest the door. Then he climbed up onto it and searched the top shelf with his fingers.
'Well, lad,' he said, holding up the key, his face very grim. 'We can't put it off any longer. Let's go down and look at the cellar itself. But first we'll go and see that Meg is all right. I don't want her to know we're going down there. It might make her nervous. She doesn't like the thought of those steps one little bit!'
Those words made me excited and scared at the same time. I'd been bursting with curiosity to find out what was further down the cellar steps, but at the same time I knew that to go down there would be anything but a pleasant experience.
We found Meg still in the kitchen. She'd done the washing-up and was now sitting in front of the fire, dozing again.
'She's happy enough for now,' said the Spook. 'As well as affecting her memory, the potion makes her sleep a lot.'
We each lit a candle before going down the stone steps, the Spook leading the way. This time I took more notice of my surroundings, trying to fix the underground part of the house in my memory. I'd been down in quite a few cellars, but I had a feeling that this was likely to be the most scary and unusual one yet.
After the Spook had unlocked the iron gate, he turned and tapped me on the shoulder. 'Meg rarely goes into my study,' he said, 'but whatever happens, don't ever let her get hold of this key'