Joseph Delaney - The Spook's Curse

Dad’s Tale We came in sight of the farm about an hour before sunset. I knew that Dad and Jack would just be starting the milking so it was a good time to arrive. I needed a chance to speak to Mam on my own. I hadn’t been back home since the spring, when the old witch, Mother Malkin, had paid my family a visit. Thanks to Alice’s bravery on that occasion we’d destroyed her, but the incident had upset Jack and his wife Ellie, and I knew they wouldn’t be keen on me staying after dark. Spooks’ business scared them and they were worried that something might happen to their child. So I just wanted to help the Spook and then get back on the road as quickly as possible.

I was also aware that I was risking everyone’s lives by bringing the Spook and Alice to the farm. If the Quisitor’s men followed us here they would have no mercy on those harbouring a witch and a spook. I didn’t want to put my family in any more danger than I had to, so I decided to leave Alice and the Spook just outside the farm boundary. There was an old shepherd’s hut belonging to the nearest farm to us. They’d gone over to cattle so it hadn’t been used for years. I helped Alice get the Spook inside and told her to wait there. That done, I crossed the field, heading directly towards the fence that bordered our farmyard.

When I opened the door to the kitchen, Mam was in her usual place in the corner next to the fire, sitting in her rocking chair. The chair was very still and she just stared at me as I went in. The curtains were already closed, and in the brass candlestick the beeswax candle was alight.

‘Sit down, son,’ she invited, her voice low and soft. ‘Pull up a chair and tell me all about it.’ She didn’t seem in the least bit surprised to see me.

It was what I was used to. Mam was often in demand when midwives encountered problems with a difficult birth, and eerily she always knew when someone wanted her help long before the message arrived at the farm. She sensed these things, just as she’d sensed my approach. There was something special about my mam. She had gifts that someone like the Quisitor would want to destroy.

‘Something bad’s happened, hasn’t it?’ Mam said. ‘And what’s wrong with your hand?’

‘It’s nothing, Mam. Just a burn. Alice fixed it. It doesn’t hurt at all now.’

Mam raised her eyebrows at the mention of Alice. ‘Tell me all about it, son.’

I nodded, feeling a lump come into my throat. I tried three times before I was able to get my first sentence out. When I did manage to speak, it all came out in a rush.

‘They almost burned Mr Gregory, Mam. The Quisitor caught him in Priestown. We’ve escaped but they’ll be after us, and the Spook’s not well. He needs help. We all do.’

The tears started to run down my face as I admitted to myself what was now bothering me most of all. The main reason I hadn’t wanted to go to the beacon fell was because I’d been scared. I’d been afraid that they’d catch me and that I would burn as well.

‘What on earth were you doing in Priestown?’ Mam asked.

‘Mr Gregory’s brother died and his funeral was there. We had to go.’

‘You’re not telling me everything,’ Mam said. ‘How did you escape from the Quisitor?’

I didn’t want Mam to know what Alice had done. You see, Mam had once tried to help Alice and I didn’t want her to know how she’d finally ended up, turning to the dark as the Spook had always feared.

But I had no choice. I told her the full story. When I’d finished, Mam sighed deeply. ‘It’s bad, really bad,’ she said. ‘The Bane on the loose doesn’t bode well for anyone in the County – and a young witch bound to its will – well, I fear for us all. But we’ll just have to make the best of it. That’s all we can do. I’ll get my bag and go and see what I can do for poor Mr Gregory.’

‘Thanks, Mam,’ I told her, suddenly realizing that all I’d talked about had been my own troubles. ‘But how are things here? How’s Ellie’s baby doing?’ I asked.

Mam smiled but I detected a hint of sadness in her eyes. ‘Oh, the baby’s doing fine and Ellie and Jack are happier than they’ve ever been. But son,’ she said, touching my arm gently, ‘I’ve got some bad news for you too. It’s about your dad. He’s been very ill.’

I stood up, hardly able to believe what she was saying. The look on her face told me that it was serious.

‘Sit down, son,’ she said, ‘and listen carefully before you start getting all upset. It’s bad but it could have been a lot worse. It started as a heavy cold but then it got on his chest and turned to pneumonia and we nearly lost him. He’s on the mend now, I hope, but he’ll need to wrap up well this winter. I’m afraid he won’t be able to do much on the farm any more. Jack will just have to cope without him.’

‘I could help out, Mam.’

‘No, son, you’ve got your own job to do. With the Bane free and your master weakened the County needs you more than ever. Look, let me just go up first and tell your dad that you’re here. And I wouldn’t say anything about the trouble you’ve had. We don’t want to give him any bad news or nasty shocks. We’ll just keep that to ourselves.’

I waited in the kitchen but a couple of minutes later Mam came back downstairs, carrying her bag.

‘Well, you go up and see your dad while I go and help your master. He’s glad that you’re back but don’t keep him talking too long. He’s still very weak.’

Dad was sitting propped up in bed on several pillows. He smiled weakly when I came into the room. His face was gaunt and tired and there was a grey stubble on his chin that made him look much older.

‘What a nice surprise, Tom. Sit down,’ he said, nodding towards the chair at the side of the bed.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘If I’d known you were ill I’d have come home sooner to see you.’

Dad held up his hand as if to say it didn’t matter.

Then he began to cough violently. He was supposed to be getting better so I wouldn’t like to have heard him when he was really ill. The room had a smell of illness. The hint of something you never smelled outdoors. Something that only lingers in sick rooms.

‘How’s the job going?’ he asked, when he’d finally stopped choking.

‘Not bad. I’m getting used to it now and I prefer it to farming,’ I said, pushing all that had happened to the very back of my mind.

‘Farming too dull for you, eh?’ he asked with a faint smile. ‘Mind you, I wasn’t always a farmer.’

I nodded. In his younger days Dad had been a seaman. He’d told lots of tales of the places he’d visited. They’d been rich stories, full of colour and excitement. His eyes always shone with a faraway look when he remembered those times. I wanted to see that spark of life return to them.

‘Aye, Dad,’ I said, ‘tell me one of your stories. The one about that huge whale.’

He paused for a moment, then grabbed my hand, pulling me closer. ‘Reckon there’s one story I needs be telling you, son, before it’s too late.’

‘Don’t talk daft,’ I said, shocked by this turn in the conversation.

‘Nay, Tom, I’m hoping to see another spring and summer but I don’t think I’m long for this world. I’ve been thinking a lot lately and I reckon it’s time I told you what I know. I wasn’t expecting to see you for a while but you’re here now and who knows when I’ll see you next?’ He paused and then said, ‘It’s about your mother – how we met and the like.’

‘You’ll see lots of springs, Dad,’ I said, but I was surprised. For all my father’s wonderful stories, there was one he’d never told properly: how he’d met Mam. We could always tell that he never really wanted to talk about it. He either changed the subject or told us to go and ask her. We never did. When you’re a child there are things you don’t understand but just don’t ask about. You know that your dad and mam don’t want to tell you. But today was different.