Jenny Nimmo - Gabriel and the Phantom Sleepers

Sadie opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Almost in a whisper, her father said, ‘How do you know that?’

‘As you suggested, I have my spies.’ The sorceress carefully pulled her gloves back on and stood up. ‘Come along, boys,’ she said, drawing the fur over her shoulders. ‘It’s a long drive to Ludgarth.’

‘So you’ve made it your home already?’ Jack said quietly.

‘Of course. It suits me very well.’ Cecily made for the door, and Septimus marched after her, with Carver snapping at his heels.

Sadie followed, at a distance. When Cecily opened the front door, cold air rushed into the house and Sadie breathed it in gratefully.

The sorceress walked to the gate, her steel-toed boots striking the path like hammers. Sadie pulled the door wider, letting the air flood down the passage and into the kitchen.

Cecily stopped by the gate. ‘Aren’t you going to close the door, stupid girl?’ she said. ‘The house will freeze.’

Sadie stared at her ex-stepmother. ‘I’m cleansing it,’ she said, under her breath.

‘What did you say?’

‘Mumble, mumble,’ Septimus said, sniggering. ‘She always mumbled.’ He climbed into the back of the huge black vehicle parked before the house. ‘Mummy’s car goes faster than a jet,’ he shouted through the open window.

I bet it does, thought Sadie, it’s probably spell-driven.

Cecily remained by the gate. Her small eyes glittered. Sadie’s hand went to the place below her neck where a charm lay hidden beneath her sweater.

The sorceress gave a shrill laugh. ‘Your fairy star won’t protect you forever, Sadie Silk,’ she said with a snort.

‘Why won’t you lift the curse?’ Sadie asked gravely.

A cruel smile tilted a corner of Cecily’s purple lips. ‘Because life isn’t perfect,’ she retorted.

Sadie stepped back and closed the door.

When she returned to the kitchen she found that her father hadn’t moved. He sat at the table, his chin resting on his folded hands, and his grey eyes half-closed. Sadie ran and hugged him. ‘Oh, Dad, let’s forget her.’ Sadie leant her head against his. ‘She can’t do any worse, and you’ll be free, one day, I know you will.’

Her father patted her hand. ‘Of course I will. We’ll get on with our lives as if Cecily was just a nasty dream.’

Sadie threw back her pigtail and smiled. ‘Gabriel’s coming, and I’m going to cook a chicken casserole.’ She went to the fridge to check on the chicken. ‘Phew, it’s still there,’ she said. ‘I thought Cecily might have turned it into a wild boar, just to spite me. I don’t know how to cook one of those.’

Her father laughed heartily, and Sadie knew that they would be all right, for a while at least. She spent the next twelve hours cleaning and cooking, and then she put Christmas lights in Gabriel’s bedroom. Her father emerged from his workroom for quick snacks and cups of tea, but otherwise he remained tapping, scraping and chiselling. He was making a very impressive table for the Mayor of Meldon.

Just before seven o’clock, Sadie had a wonderful surprise. She had been gazing at the Christmas tree in the window when she saw pale flakes drifting past the street lamp.

‘Snow,’ she breathed.

Sadie had longed for snow. She loved the way it iced the mountains and brought enchantment to the land.

‘You’re fanciful like your mother,’ her father would say. His voice, slow and gentle when he mentioned his first wife, always brought Sadie closer to the person who had died when she was six, and she would touch the obsidian star, hanging on a gold chain round her neck. It had been a birthday present from her mother; a charm against evil, given in turn to Mrs Silk by a white witch called Alice Angel. It had kept Sadie safe, always, but sadly not her mother, once she had given it away.

To Sadie the whirling crystals seemed to have come especially for her. Her favourite cousin, Gabriel, was on his way to them. He was already on the evening train, and he was carrying the king’s cloak.

She went up to the guest room for the tenth time that day, her long pigtail swinging behind her. She plumped up the pillows, straightened the bed cover and went downstairs again. As usual her father was in the big workshop beyond the kitchen. Sadie waited patiently while he tapped a wooden peg in the end of the mayor’s table. Jack Silk was a fussy carpenter and hated being interrupted.

‘Perhaps I should put some holly in Gabriel’s room?’ Sadie suggested, when her father had laid aside his mallet.

Mr Silk mopped his forehead with a red handkerchief. ‘Why?’ he asked.

‘Because it’s still the Christmas holidays,’ said Sadie.

Her father’s grey eyes twinkled behind his gold-rimmed spectacles. The lenses were streaked with oil and sawdust. Sadie wondered if he could actually see her. ‘So it is,’ he said. ‘Let’s have some of your magnificent fruit cake.’

Sadie beamed with pleasure. ‘Gabriel’s train is taking a long time.’

Mr Silk consulted his watch. ‘He’ll be here in less than an hour. I’ve asked Ned-next-door to meet the train.’

Ned-next-door was the best friend anyone like housebound Jack Silk could have. But whenever Ned helped out, Sadie thought of her stepmother’s curse.

While the Silks ate fruit cake, Sadie kept an eye on the clock. She had laid a place for Gabriel, ready for his arrival. Half an hour passed, and then another. At eight o’ clock the doorbell rang. Sadie ran to open the front door. Ned stood there, looking serious. Snow fell steadily about him. Sadie took him into the kitchen.

‘Train never arrived,’ said Ned, pulling off his woolly hat. ‘They said at the station that it was held up by snow.’

‘Ah, the snow,’ said Jack.

‘What shall I do? Go back to the station and wait?’ Ned didn’t look too keen on this idea.

‘No, no.’ Mr Silk began to pace up and down the kitchen. ‘They’ll send a bus. They usually do. We’ll just sit tight. You go home, Ned, and thank you.’

But when Ned had gone, Mr Silk began to rub his head, hunch his shoulders and pace even faster. Sadie knew why. Her father was worried about the cloak. Would Gabriel keep it safe? He was known to be a bit dreamy, forgetful even. But Sadie trusted him. He would never let the magic cloak out of his sight, not for a moment. He was the Keeper for a whole week. What an honour!

Sadie had seen the cloak once before. Gabriel’s father had brought it to Meldon, hoping it could break Cecily’s cruel spell. But it was too late. The cloak had been made as a protection against evil; it could not undo a spell that had already been cast.

And yet . . . and yet . . . Sadie remembered how the cloak had gripped her in its silent power when she touched it. There was such great magic there, and it was coming back to them. Gabriel was on his way. ‘I’ll ring railway enquiries,’ she said. Her father was not a practical man. Someone in the family had to be.

But railway enquiries were out of reach, even on the landline.

‘It’s the snow,’ muttered Mr Silk.

Sadie made another pot of tea, and her father sat down again. But Sadie found herself going to the front door. When she opened it there was no one there. So she stood on the step and gazed at the falling snow. For some reason she felt as she had when she touched the cloak, held in thrall by some wonderful enchantment. It was as if the snow was watching her.

CHAPTER THREE

The Woman in the Red Coat

Gabriel was still on the train. He dared not turn around to see who was behind him. He stared straight ahead, telling himself that there was no one there, no one with such an overpowering stink it made him feel sick. He held his nose and closed his mouth. As long as he didn’t see the thing that smelled so bad, as long as he didn’t look it in the eye, he hoped that it might just disappear.