Dad was fast asleep but there were four pillows at his back so that he was almost sitting up.
'Makes it easier for him to breathe in that position,' said Mam. 'He's still got some congestion in his lungs.'
Dad was breathing noisily; his face was grey and there was a line of sweat on his brow. Truth was, he looked really ill - a mere shadow of the strong, healthy man who'd once run the farm single-handed while being a good loving father to seven sons.
'Look, Tom, I know you'd like a word or two with him but he didn't sleep at all last night. It's better if we don't wake him now. What do you say?'
'Of course, Mam,' I agreed, but I felt sad I couldn't talk to my dad. He was so ill, I knew I might never see him again.
'Well, just give him a kiss, son, and we'll leave him to his slumber ...' I looked at my mam in astonishment. I couldn't remember the last time I'd kissed Dad. A pat on the shoulder or a quick handshake was more like it.
'Go on, Tom, just kiss him on the forehead,' Mam insisted. 'And wish him well. He may be asleep but part of him will hear what you say and it'll make him feel better.'
I looked at Mam and her eyes met mine. There was iron in her gaze and I felt the force of her will. So I did exactly what she asked. I leaned over the bed and kissed Dad lightly on his warm, damp forehead. There was a strange smell that I couldn't quite identify. A smell of flowers. A type of flower that I couldn't put my name to.
'Get well soon, Dad,' I whispered very softly. 'I'll call back in the spring and see you then.'
My mouth was suddenly dry, and when I licked my lips, I tasted the salt from his brow. Mam smiled sadly and pointed to the bedroom door.
As I followed her out, Dad started to cough and splutter behind me. I turned back in concern, and at that moment he opened his eyes and looked at me.
'Tom! Tom! Is that you?' he called before starting another bout of coughing.
Mam brushed past me in the doorway and bent over Dad anxiously, stroking his forehead gently until the coughing finally subsided.
'Tom is here,' she told him, 'but don't you go tiring yourself out with too much talking.'
'Are you working hard, lad? Is your master pleased with you?' Dad asked, but his voice was weak and croaky, as if there was something caught in his throat.
'Aye, Dad, it's going well. In fact that's one of the reasons I'm here,' I said, approaching the bed. 'My master's definitely keeping me on and he wants the last ten guineas you owe him to pay for my apprenticeship.'
'That's good news, son. I'm really pleased for you. So you've enjoyed working up at Chipenden?'
T have that, Dad,' I said with a smile, 'but now we're off to spend the winter at his house on Anglezarke Moor.'
Suddenly Dad looked alarmed. 'Oh, I wish you weren't going there, son,' he said, glancing at Mam. 'There are strange tales about that place, and none of them good. You'll need eyes in the back of your head up there. Make sure you stay close to your master and listen carefully to everything he says.'
'I'll be all right, Dad. Don't you worry. I'm learning more each day.'
'I'm sure you are, son. I must confess that I had my doubts about apprenticing you to a spook, but your mam was right. It's a hard job but somebody has to do it. She's told me about the things you've achieved so far, and I'm really proud to have such a brave son. I don't have favourites, mind. Seven sons I've had, all good lads. I love all my boys and I'm proud of every one, but I have a feeling that you might turn out to be the best of the whole crop.'
I just smiled, not knowing what to say. Dad smiled back, then closed his eyes, and within moments the rhythm of his breathing changed and he drifted back off to sleep. Mam gestured towards the door and we left the room.
When we were back in the kitchen, I asked Mam about the strange smell.
'You've asked, so I won't try to hide it from you, Tom,' she said. 'As well as being the seventh son of a seventh son, you've inherited some things from me. We're both sensitive to what are called 'intimations of death'. So what you smell is death's approach ...'
A lump filled my throat and the tears began to prick behind my eyes. Immediately Mam came forward and put her arm round me.
'Oh, Tom, try not to get upset. It doesn't mean that your dad is necessarily going to die a week, a month or even a year from now. But the stronger the smell, the closer death is. If someone recovers fully, the smell goes away. And it's the same with your dad. Some days the smell is hardly there at all. I'm doing my very best for him and there is still some hope. Anyway, there it is, I've told you and it's something else you've learned.'
'Thanks, Mam,' I said sadly, preparing to go.
'Now don't go rushing off in that state,' Mam said, her voice soft and kind. 'Just sit yourself down near the fire and I'll make you some sandwiches for the journey.'
I did as I was told while she quickly made up a parcel of ham and chicken sandwiches for the three of us.
'Aren't we forgetting something?' she asked as she handed me the parcel.
'Mr Gregory's money!' I replied. I'd forgotten all about it.
'Wait there, Tom,' she said. 'I'll just have to go up to my room and get it.'
By 'my room' she didn't mean the bedroom that she shared with Dad. She meant the locked room near the top of the house where she kept her possessions. I'd only been in it once since I was a toddler, and that was when she'd given me her silver chain. Nobody else went in that room. Not even Dad.
There were lots of boxes and chests in there but I hadn't a clue what they contained. From what Mam had just said, there was money in there too. Mam's money had bought our farm in the first place. She'd brought it with her from her own country, Greece.
Before I left, Mam handed me the pack of sandwiches and counted ten guineas into my hand. When she looked into my eyes, I could see the concern there.
'It's going to be a long, hard, cruel winter, son. All the signs are there. The swallows flew south almost a month earlier than usual and the first frost came while the last of my roses were still in bloom - something I've never seen before. Ifs going to be harsh and I don't think any of us will come through it unchanged. And there couldn't be a worse place to spend it than up on Anglezarke. Your dad was worried about you, son, and I am too. And what he said was right. So I won't mince my words. There's no doubt that the dark's growing in power and there's a particularly baleful influence up on that moor. It's where some of the Old Gods were worshipped long ago, and in winter some of them start to stir from their sleep. The worst of them was Golgoth, whom some call the
Lord of Winter. So stay close to your master. He's the only real friend you've got. You must help one another.' 'But what about Alice?'
Mam shook her head. 'Maybe she'll be all right and maybe not. You see, up on that cold moor you're closer to the dark than most other places in the County, so being near there will put her to the test again. I hope she comes through it but I can't see the outcome. Just do as I say. Work closely with your master. That's what counts.'
We hugged each other one more time, then I said goodbye and set off down the lane again.
The Winter House
It had begun to rain and the cold south-easterly wind increased until it was driving hard into our faces, the grey cloud low and oppressive like a leaden weight hanging above our heads. Later the wind blew even harsher and the rain turned to sleet and hail. The ground became mud under foot and our progress was very slow. To make matters worse, we kept stumbling into areas of moss land and treacherous soggy marsh, and it took all the Spook's knowledge to get us across safely.