Spook's Secret (wc-3) (15 page)

    Snow didn't actually start to fall until I was within half an hour of home. The light was beginning to fail but I knew the way like the back of my hand and it didn't hinder my progress. By the time I opened the gate to the yard there was a white blanket covering everything and I was chilled to the bone. Snow always makes everything seem quiet, but a special evening stillness seemed to have fallen over the farmhouse. I entered the yard and the stillness broke as the dogs began to bark.

    There was nobody about, though a light was flickering in one of the back bedroom windows. Was I too late? My heart was down in my boots and I feared the very worst.

    Then I saw Jack: he came stomping across the yard towards me. He was scowling, his bushy eyebrows meeting above his nose.

    'What kept you?' he demanded angrily. 'It doesn't take over a week, does it? Our brothers have been and gone. And James lives halfway across the County! You were the only one not to arrive-'

    'Your letter went to the wrong address. I got it a week late,' I explained. 'But how is he? Am I too late?'

    I asked, holding my breath but already reading the truth in Jack's face.

    Jack sighed and bowed his head as if unable to meet my eyes. When he raised his head again, his eyes were glinting with tears. 'He's gone, Tom,' he said softly, all the harshness and anger gone. 'He died peacefully in his sleep a week yesterday'

    Before I knew it, he was hugging me and we were both crying. I was never going to see my dad again; never hear his voice, his old stories and wise sayings; never shake his hand or ask his advice; and the thought was unbearable. But as I stood there, I remembered someone who'd feel that loss even more than I did.

    'Poor Mam,' I said, when I could finally speak again. 'How's she been?'

    'Bad, Tom. Really bad,' Jack said, shaking his head sadly. 'I've never seen Mam cry before and it was a terrible sight to see. She was beside herself, didn't eat or sleep for days. And the day after the funeral she packed a bag and left, saying she had to get away for a while.'

    'Where's she gone?'

    Jack shook his head, his face filled with misery. T only wish I knew' he said.

    I didn't say anything to Jack, but I remembered what Dad had once told me: that Mam had her own life to lead and that after he was dead and buried she'd probably return to her own country. And he'd said that when the time came I should be brave and let her go with a smile. I just hoped that she'd not gone already. Would she go without saying goodbye to me? I hoped not. I just had to see her again, even if it was for the last time.

    It was the worst supper I could ever remember having at home.

    It was so sad not having Mam and Dad at the table and I kept glancing at Dad's empty chair. The baby was already upstairs in her cot, so there were just the three of us, Jack, Ellie and me, sitting at the table and picking slowly at our food.

    When I caught her eye, Ellie smiled sadly but was really quiet. I had a feeling that she wanted to say something to me but was biding her time.

    'If s a really good hotpot, Ellie' I told her. 'I'm sorry to waste it but I can't eat much. I just don't feel hungry.'

    'Don't worry, Tom' she said kindly. T understand. None of us have any appetite. Just eat what you can manage. It's important to keep your strength up at a time like this.'

    'It's probably not the right time, but I wanted to say congratulations, you two. Last time I was here, Mam told me you're expecting another baby and that it's a boy'

    Jack smiled sorrowfully, his voice subdued. 'Thanks, Tom. If only Dad could have lived to see his grandson born...' Then he cleared his throat as if he were about to say something important. 'Look' he began. 'Why don't you stay with us for a few days until the weather improves? You don't have to get back tomorrow, do you? The truth is, I could do with a bit of help on the farm. James stayed for a couple of days but he had to get back to work.'

    James was the second oldest of my brothers; a blacksmith. I doubted that he'd stayed on after the funeral because Jack
really
needed help with the farmwork. It wasn't like spring planting, or the autumn harvest, when you used all the help you could get. No, Jack wanted me to stay for the same reason he'd needed James. Despite the fact that he hated spooks' business and wasn't usually happy to have me around, he needed me now to fill the emptiness, the loneliness of being here without Dad and Mam.

    'I'd be glad to stay for a few days,' I told him with a smile.

    'That's really good of you, Tom. I appreciate it,' he said, pushing his plate away even though he'd hardly cleared a third of it. 'I'll get off to bed now.'

    'I'll be up later, love,' Ellie said to Jack. 'You don't mind if I stay down a while and keep Tom company, do you?'

    'Not at all,' he said.

    When he'd gone up, Ellie gave me a warm smile. She was as pretty as ever but she looked sad and tired, the strain of the past week having taken its toll. 'Thanks for agreeing to stay a while, Tom,' she said. 'He needs to talk about the old times with one of his brothers. That's how you grieve, by talking it through over and over again. But I also think he needs you because he believes that if you're here, Mam's more likely to come back...'

    I hadn't thought of that. Mam could sense things. She would know that I was staying at the farm. She really might come back to see me.

    'I hope she does.'

    'So do I, Tom. But listen, I want you to be very patient with Jack. You see, there's something he's not told you yet. There was a surprise in your dad's will. Something he didn't expect...'

    I frowned. A surprise? What could that be? The whole family knew that once Dad died, Jack, as the eldest son, would inherit the farm. There was no point in dividing it up among the seven of us and making it smaller and smaller. It was the County tradition. It always went to the eldest son, with the farmer's widow being guaranteed a home for life.

    'A
pleasant
surprise?' I asked uncertainly, not knowing what to expect.

    'No, not the way Jack sees it. But I don't want you to take this the wrong way, Tom. He's only thinking of me and little Mary and, of course, his unborn son,' she said, smoothing her hand across her belly. 'You see, Jack hasn't inherited the whole house. One room has been left to you ...'

    'Mam's room?' I asked, already guessing the answer. It was the room where Mam kept her private things; where she'd kept the silver chain that she'd given to me in the autumn.

    'Yes, Tom,' Ellie said. 'That locked room directly below the attic. That room and everything contained within it. Even though Jack owns the house and land, you're always to be allowed access to that room and to stay there whenever you want. Jack went pale when the will was read. It means you could even live here, had you such a mind.'

    I knew that Jack wouldn't want me near the house much in case I brought something with me; something from the dark. I couldn't argue against that because it had happened once before. The old witch, Mother Malkin, had actually found her way down into our cellar last spring. Jack and Ellie's baby daughter, Mary, had been in real danger.

    'Did Mam say anything about that?' I asked.

    'Not a word. Jack was too upset to talk about it and then she left the following day'

    I couldn't help thinking that giving the room to me now meant that she'd be leaving soon; going off to her own country and leaving us for ever. That was if she hadn't gone already.

    The following morning I got up very early but Ellie was down in the kitchen before me. It was the smell of frying sausages that brought me down the stairs. Despite all that had happened, my appetite was beginning to return.

    'Have a good night's sleep, Tom?' she asked, giving me a big smile.

    I nodded but it was a white lie. It had taken me a long time to drop off and then I'd kept waking up. And each time I'd opened my eyes, the pain had come to me again, as if I was realizing for the first time that Dad was dead.

    'Where's the baby?' I asked.

    'Mary's upstairs with Jack. He likes to spend a bit of time with her each morning. Gives him a good excuse to start work a bit later too. You won't get much done today anyway' she said, gesturing towards the window. Snowflakes were whirling down and the room was brighter than on a summer's day as the light reflected off the snow piled deep in the yard.

    Soon I was tucking into a plate of sausage and eggs. While I was eating, Jack came down and joined me at the table. He nodded and started on his own breakfast; Ellie went off into the front room, leaving us alone. He picked at his food, chewing it slowly, and I started to feel guilty because I was able to enjoy my own breakfast.

    'Ellie told me that you know about the will,' Jack said at last.

    I nodded but didn't say anything:

    'Look, Tom, as the eldest son, I'm the executor of the will and it's my duty to make sure that Dad's wishes are carried out, but I wonder if we could come to some arrangement,' he said. 'What if I buy the room from you? If I could raise the money, would you sell it to me? And as for Mam's things inside it, I'm sure Mr Gregory would let you store them at Chipenden ...'

    'I need time to think, Jack,' I told him. 'It's all come as a shock. Too much has happened too quickly. Don't worry I've no plans to keep coming back here. I'll be too busy'

    Jack reached into his breeches pocket and pulled out a bunch of keys. He placed them on the table in front of me. There was a large key and three smaller ones: the first was for the door of the room; the other three for the boxes and chests inside.

    'Well, there are the keys. No doubt you'll be wanting to go up and see your inheritance.'

    I reached across and pushed the keys back towards him. 'No, Jack,' I said. 'You keep them for now. I'll not go into that room until I've spoken to Mam.'

    He looked at me in astonishment. 'Are you sure?'

    I nodded and he thrust the keys back into his pocket and nothing more was said about it.

    What Jack had said was sensible enough. But I didn't want his money. To buy me out, he'd need to raise a loan and, financially, things would be difficult enough now that he had to run the farm by himself. As far as I was concerned, he could have the room. And I was sure the Spook would let me keep Mam's boxes and chests at Chipenden. But I suspected that it was Mam's wish that the room should be mine, and this was the only thing that stopped me from agreeing immediately. It was in Dad's will but had probably been her decision. Mam always had a very good reason for everything she did, so I couldn't make up my mind properly until I'd talked to her face to face.

    That afternoon I went to visit Dad's grave. Jack was going to come with me but I managed to talk him out of it. I wanted time on my own. An hour or so to think and grieve alone. And there was something else I needed to know. Something that I couldn't do if Jack came with me. He wouldn't have understood or, at best, he would have been really upset.

    I timed my walk so that I would arrive at sunset, with just enough light to find the grave. It was a bleak snow-covered graveyard about half a mile from the church. The churchyard itself was full so they'd consecrated this as additional holy ground. It was really just a small field bounded by a hawthorn hedge with a couple of sycamores on its western boundary. It was easy to find Dad's grave in the front line of burial plots advancing month by month across the field. His grave didn't have a stone yet but they'd marked it temporarily with a simple cross, his name carved deeply into the wood:

    John Ward

     RIP

    For a while I stood near that wooden cross, thinking of all the happy times we'd had as a family; remembering being small, with Mam and Dad happy and busy and all my brothers living at home. I recalled the last time I'd spoken to Dad and how he'd told me that he was proud to have such a brave son and that, although he hadn't any favourites, he still thought that I'd turn out the best of all.

    Tears came into my eyes and I wept aloud at the side of the grave. But as it grew dark, I took a deep breath and steadied myself, focusing on what had to be done. This was spooks' business.

    'Dad! Dad!' I called into the darkness. 'Are you there? Can you hear me?'

    Three times I called exactly the same, but on each occasion the only sounds I could hear were the wind whistling through the hawthorn hedge and a lone dog barking far in the distance. So I sighed with relief. Dad wasn't here. His spirit wasn't bound here. He wasn't a graveside lingerer. I just hoped he'd gone to a better place.

    I hadn't really made up my mind about God. Maybe God existed and maybe He didn't. If He did, would He bother to listen to me? I didn't usually pray, but this was Dad so I made an exception.

    'Please, God, give him peace,' I said softly. 'It's what he deserves. He was a good hard-working man and I loved him.'

    Then I turned and, very sadly, made my way back home.

    I stayed at the farm for almost a week. When the time came for me to leave, it was raining, the snow turning to slush in the yard.

    Mam hadn't come back and I wondered if she ever would. But my first duty was to get back to Anglezarke and see how the Spook was. I just hoped he was continuing to recover. I told Jack and Ellie that I'd visit them in the spring and that we'd talk about the room then.

    I began the long walk south, minking of Dad and how much things had altered. It didn't seem that long since I was living at home happily with my parents and six brothers, and Dad was strong and fit. Now it was all changing. All falling apart.

    In one sense I could never visit home again because it wouldn't be there any more. It was all too different now. The buildings would still be the same and so would the view of Hangman's Hill from my old bedroom window. But without Dad and Mam it simply wouldn't be home.