'I couldn't hear properly, Tom. I was struggling and terrified, but whatever you said did the trick because he changed his mind. I'll always be grateful to you for that.'
'I just reminded him that he hadn't put Meg in the pit, so he shouldn't do it to you!'
'Meg?' Alice interrupted. 'Who's she? Never heard her mentioned before ...'
'Meg's a witch. I read all about her in one of the Spook's diaries. As a young man he fell in love with her. I think she broke his heart. And what's more she's still living somewhere up on Anglezarke.'
'Meg who?'
'Meg Skelton-'
'No! That can't be right. Came from foreign parts, Meg Skelton did. Went back home years ago. Everybody knows that. She was a lamia witch and wanted to be with her own kind again.'
I knew a lot about lamia witches from a book in the Spook's library. Most of them came from Greece, where my mam once lived, and in their wild state they fed upon the blood of humans.
'Well, Alice, you're right about her not being born in the County, but the Spook says she's still here and I'll get to meet her this winter. For all I know she could be living in his house-'
'Don't be daft, Tom. That ain't likely, is it?
What woman in her right mind would live with him?'
'He's not that bad, Alice,' I reminded her. 'We've both been sharing a house with him for weeks and we've been happy enough!'
'If Meg is living in his house up there,' Alice said, a wicked smile on her face, 'don't be surprised if he has her buried in a pit.'
I smiled in return. 'Well, we'll find out when we get there,' I said.
'No, Tom. YowTl find out. I'll be living somewhere else. Remember? But it's not all bad because Adlington's close to Anglezarke,' she said. 'Ain't much of a walk so you could visit me, Tom. Would you? Would you do that? That way I wouldn't be so lonely...'
Although I wasn't sure that the Spook would let me visit, I wanted to make her feel better. Suddenly I remembered Andrew.
'What about Andrew?' I said. 'He's the only brother the Spook has left and he's living and working in Adlington now. My master's bound to want to see him from time to time, what with living so close. And he'll probably take me with him. We'll be popping into the village all the time, I'm sure, so there'll be lots of chances for me to see you.'
Alice smiled then and let go of my hand. 'Then make sure you do, Tom. I'll be expecting you. Don't let me down. And thank you for telling me all that stuff about Old Gregory. In love with a witch, eh? Who'd have thought he had it in him?'
With that, she snatched up her candle and went up the stairs. I really was going to miss Alice, but finding an excuse to see her might be harder than I'd suggested. The Spook certainly wouldn't approve. He didn't have much time for girls and had warned me on many occasions to beware of them. I'd told Alice enough for now about my master, too much perhaps, but there was more to the Spook's past than just Meg. He'd also got himself involved with another woman, Emily Burns, who had already been betrothed to another of his brothers. The brother was dead now but the scandal had divided his family, causing a deal of trouble. Emily was also supposed to be living somewhere near Anglezarke. There are two sides to every story and I wasn't about to judge the Spook until I knew more; still, it was twice as many women as most County men ever have in their lifetimes: the Spook had certainly lived a bit!
I went into my room and put my candle on the table beside the bed. Written on the wall close to its foot were lots of names, scrawled there by former apprentices. Some had completed their training with the Spook successfully: Bill Arkwright's name was there in the top left-hand corner. A lot had failed and hadn't completed their time. Some had even died. Billy Bradley's name was there in the other corner. He'd been the apprentice before me but he'd made a mistake and had his fingers bitten off by a boggart. Billy had died of shock and loss of blood.
I searched the wall carefully that night. As far as I knew, anyone who'd ever stayed in this room had written their name there, including me. My own name was very small because there wasn't much space left, but it was there all the same. Yet as far as I could see there was one name missing. I searched the wall carefully just to be sure, but I was right: there was no 'Morgan' written on the wall. So why was that? The Spook said he'd been his apprentice so why hadn't he added his name? What was so different about Morgan?
The following morning, after a quick breakfast, we packed and got ready to go. Just before we left, I sneaked back into the kitchen to say goodbye to the Spook's pet boggart.
'Thanks for all the meals you've cooked,' I said aloud to the empty air.
I wasn't sure if the Spook would have been too happy about me making a special trip to the kitchen to say thanks: he was always going on about not getting too close to 'the hired help'.
Anyway, I know the boggart appreciated the praise because no sooner had I spoken than a deep purring began under the kitchen table and it was so loud that the pots and pans began to rattle. The boggart was mostly invisible, but occasionally it took the shape of a big ginger torn cat.
I hesitated, gathered my courage and spoke again. I wasn't sure how the boggart would react to what I had to say.
'I'm sorry if I made you angry last night,' I said. T was just doing my job. Was it the letter that upset you?'
The boggart wasn't able to speak so I wasn't going to get a reply in words. Instinct had made me ask the question. A feeling that it was the right thing to do.
Suddenly there was a whoosh of air down the chimney, a faint smell of soot, then a fragment of paper flew up from the grate and landed on the hearth rug. I stepped forward and picked it up. It was burned around the edges and part of it crumbled away in my fingers, but I knew that it was all that remained of the letter I'd delivered for Morgan.
There were just a few words on that scorched scrap of paper and I stared at them for a while before I could make them out:
Give me what belongs to me or I'll make you sorry you were ever born. You can start by
That was all there was, but it was enough to tell me that Morgan was threatening my master. What was it all about? Had the Spook taken something from Morgan? Something that rightfully belonged to him? I couldn't imagine the Spook stealing anything. He just wasn't like that. It didn't make any sense at all.
My thoughts were disturbed by the Spook shouting from the front door. 'Come on, lad! What are you up to? Don't dawdle! We haven't got all day!'
I screwed up the paper and threw it back into the grate, picked up my staff and ran to the door. Alice was already standing outside but the Spook was in the doorway, eyeing me suspiciously, two bags at his feet. We hadn't packed much but I still had to carry both of them.
By now the Spook had given me a bag of my own, although so far I hadn't got much to put inside it. All it contained was a silver chain given to me by my mam, a tinderbox, which was a leaving present from my dad, my notebooks and a few clothes. Some of my socks had been darned so much that they were almost new, but the Spook had bought me a winter sheepskin coat, which was very warm, and I was wearing it under my cloak. I had a staff of my own too - a new one my master had cut himself from rowan wood, which was very effective against most witches.
The Spook, for all his disapproval of Alice, had been generous regarding her clothing. She too had a new winter coat, a black woollen one that came down almost to her ankles; it had an attached hood to keep her ears warm.
The cold didn't seem to bother the Spook much and he wore his cloak and hood just as he had in spring and summer. His health had been poor in the last few months, but now he seemed to have recovered and appeared as strong as ever.