Joseph Delaney - The Spook

According to the big lad’s dad, Bony Lizzie had lived on a farm about three miles south-east of the Spook’s place. It had been deserted for years and nobody ever went there. So that was the most likely place she’d be staying now. That seemed about right to me, because it was in the direction that Alice had pointed.

Just then a group of grim-faced people came out of the church. They turned the corner in a straggly line and headed up the hill towards the fells, the village priest in the lead. They were dressed in warm clothing and many of them were carrying walking sticks.

‘What’s all that about?’ I asked.

‘A child went missing last night,’ answered one of the lads, spitting onto the cobbles. ‘A three-year-old. They think he’s wandered off up there. Mind you, it’s not the first. Two days ago a baby went missing from a farm over on the Long Ridge. It was too young to walk, so it must have been carried off. They think it could be wolves. It was a bad winter and that sometimes brings them back.’

The directions I was given turned out to be pretty good. Even allowing for going back to pick up Alice ’s basket, it was less than an hour before Lizzie’s house came into view.

At that point, in bright sunlight, I lifted the cloth and examined the last of the three cakes. It smelled bad but looked even worse. It seemed to have been made from small pieces of meat and bread, plus other things that I couldn’t identify. It was wet and very sticky and almost black. None of the ingredients had been cooked but just sort of pressed together. Then I noticed something even more horrible. There were tiny white things crawling on the cake which looked like maggots.

I shuddered, covered it up with the cloth and went down the hill to the very neglected farm. Fences were broken, the barn was missing half its roof and there was no sign of any animals.

One thing did worry me though. Smoke was coming from the farmhouse chimney. It meant that someone was at home and I began to worry about the thing with too many teeth to fit into its mouth.

What had I expected? It was going to be difficult. How on earth could I manage to talk to Alice without being seen by the other members of her family?

As I halted on the slope, trying to work out what to do next, my problem was solved for me. A slim, dark figure came out of the back door of the farmhouse and began to climb the hill directly towards me. It was Alice – but how had she known I was there? There were trees between the farmhouse and me, and the windows were facing in the wrong direction.

Still, she wasn’t coming up the hill by chance. She walked straight up towards me and halted about five paces away.

‘What do you want?’ she hissed. ‘You’re stupid coming here. Lucky for you that those inside are asleep.’

‘I can’t do what you asked,’ I said, holding out the basket towards her.

She folded her arms and frowned. ‘Why not?’ she demanded. ‘You promised, didn’t you?’

‘You didn’t tell me what would happen,’ I said. ‘She’s eaten two cakes already and they’re making her stronger. She’s already bent the bars over the pit. One more cake and she’ll be free and I think you know it. Wasn’t that the idea all along?’ I accused, starting to feel angry. ‘You tricked me so the promise doesn’t count any more.’

She took a step towards me, but now her own anger had been replaced by something else. Suddenly she looked scared.

‘It wasn’t my idea. They made me do it,’ she said, gesturing down towards the farmhouse. ‘If you don’t do as you promised it’ll go hard with both of us. Go on, give her the third cake. What harm can it do? Mother Malkin’s paid the price. It’s time to let her go. Go on, give her the cake and she’ll be gone tonight and never trouble you again.’

‘I think Mr Gregory must’ve had a very good reason for putting her in that pit,’ I said slowly. ‘I’m just his new apprentice, so how can I know what’s best? When he gets back I’m going to tell him everything that’s happened.’

Alice gave a little smile – the sort of smile someone gives when they know something that you don’t. ‘He ain’t coming back,’ she said. ‘Lizzie thought of it all. Got good friends near Pendle, Lizzie has. Do anything for her, they would. They tricked Old Gregory. When he’s on the road he’ll get what’s coming to him. By now he’s probably already dead and six feet under. You just wait and see if I’m right. Soon you won’t be safe even up there in his house. One night they’ll come for you. Unless, of course, you help now. In that case, they might just leave you alone.’

As soon as she’d said that, I turned my back and climbed the hill, leaving her standing there. I think she called out to me several times, but I wasn’t listening. What she’d said about the Spook was spinning around inside my head.

It was only later that I realized I was still carrying the basket, so I threw it and the last of the cakes into a river; then, back at the Spook’s cottage, it didn’t take me very long to work out what had happened and decide what to do next.

The whole thing had been planned from the start. They’d lured the Spook away, knowing that, as a new apprentice, I’d still be wet behind the ears and easy to trick.

I didn’t believe that the Spook would be so easy to kill or he wouldn’t have survived for so many years, but I couldn’t rely on him arriving back in time to help me. Somehow I had to stop Mother Malkin getting out of the pit.

I needed help badly and I thought of going down to the village, but I knew there was a more special kind of help near at hand. So I went into the kitchen and sat at the table.

At any moment I expected to have my ears boxed, so I talked quickly. I explained everything that had happened, leaving nothing out. Then I said that it was my fault and could I please be given some help.

I don’t know what I expected. I didn’t feel foolish talking to the empty air because I was so upset and frightened, but as the silence lengthened, I gradually realized that I’d been wasting my time. Why should the boggart help me? For all I knew it was a prisoner, bound to the house and garden by the Spook. It might just be a slave, desperate to be free; it might even be happy because I was in trouble.

Just when I was about to give up and leave the kitchen, I remembered something my dad often said before we went off to the local market: ‘Everyone has his price. It’s just a case of making an offer that pleases him but doesn’t hurt you too much.’

So I made the boggart an offer…

‘If you help me now, I won’t forget it,’ I said. ‘When I become the next Spook, I’ll give you every Sunday off. On that day I’ll make my own meals so that you can have a rest and please yourself what you do.’

Suddenly I felt something brush against my legs under the table. There was a noise too, a faint purring, and a big ginger cat strolled into view and moved slowly towards the door.

It must have been under the table all the time – that’s what common sense told me. I knew different though, so I followed the cat out into the hallway and then up the stairs, where it halted outside the locked door of the library. Then it rubbed its back against it, the way cats do against table legs. The door slowly swung open to reveal more books than anyone could ever have read in one lifetime, arranged neatly on rows of parallel racks of shelves. I stepped inside, wondering where to begin. And when I turned round again, the big ginger cat had vanished.

Each book had its title neatly displayed on the cover. A lot were written in Latin and quite a few in Greek. There was no dust or cobwebs. The library was just as clean and well cared for as the kitchen.