Spook's Secret (wc-3) (20 page)

    'If she's asleep, we might just get away with it' I said, but I didn't feel that confident.

    'Even asleep it's too much of a risk' Alice said. 'Just you and me should go, Tom. We might be able to find the key and wouldn't have to pick the lock at all. Where does the Spook keep it?'

    'On top of the bookcase usually, but Meg might be keeping it on her now.'

    'Well, if it's not there we'll get your bag from the study and bind her with a silver chain so we can get it off her. Either way we wouldn't need you, Andrew. Me and Tom can do that.'

    Andrew smiled. 'That would suit me' he said. T like to keep my distance from that house and its cellar. But I can't let you do it all by yourselves without some support. Best thing is if I give you a head start and follow on later. If you don't come to the door within half an hour, I
will
go back to Adlington and get a dozen big lads from the village. John will just have to live with the consequences of that.'

    'All right' I said. 'But the more I think about it, the more I'm afraid that going in through the back door's too risky' I told Alice. 'As I said, at night Meg sleeps in the kitchen, in a chair by the fire. She'd be bound to hear us and we'd have to walk past her to get to the study. The front door would be slightly better but there's still a big risk of waking her. No - there's a much better way. We could go in through one of the back bedroom windows. The best one's on the floor directly under the attic, where the cliff's very close to the window ledge. The window catches in the bedrooms are mostly rusty or broken. I think I could reach across and force the window open and climb in.'

    'It's madness' Andrew said. 'I've been in that bedroom and I've seen the gap between the cliff and the ledge. It's too wide. Besides, if you're worried about turning a key in the lock of the back door, just imagine how much noise you'd make forcing open a window!'

    Alice grinned, as if I'd said something really daft, but I soon wiped the smile off her face.

    'Meg wouldn't hear us if someone were to knock hard on the back door at the very moment that I forced the window ...' I said.

    I watched Andrew's mouth open as what I was suggesting slowly dawned on him.

    'Nay' he said, 'you don't mean . ..'

    'Why not, Andrew?' I asked him. 'After all, you are Mr Gregory's brother. You've reason enough to visit the house.'

    'Aye, and I could end up down in the cellar, a prisoner with John!'

   'I don't think so. My guess is that Meg won't even answer the door. She doesn't want anyone from the village to know that she's free or she could attract a mob. You could knock at the door four or five times before you go away, giving me all the time I need to get in through the window.'

    'Could just work, that' said Alice.

    Andrew pushed his plate away and didn't speak for a long time. 'One thing still bothers me' he said at last. 'That gap between the cliff and the window ledge. I can't see you managing it. It'll be slippery too.'

    'It's worth a try' I said, 'but if I can't do it, we could return later and risk the back door.'

    'We might be able to make things easier by using a plank' Andrew said. 'I've got one out back that should do the job. Alice would need to anchor it to the ledge with her foot while you crawled across. It wouldn't be easy, but I've also got a small crowbar that's made for the job' he added.

    'So if s worth a try' I said, trying to appear braver than I felt.

    It was agreed, and Alice seemed to have made up her mind to help. Andrew fetched the plank from the yard. But when we opened the front door to set off, a blizzard was raging outside. Andrew shook his head.

    'If d be madness for you to go now' he said. 'That blizzard's worthy of Golgoth himself. Drifts will form and it'll be dangerous up on the moor. You could get lost and freeze to death. No, best wait till tomorrow morning. Don't worry' he said, clapping me on the shoulder. 'That brother of mine's a survivor, as we well know. Otherwise he wouldn't have lasted as long as he has.'

    There were only two bedrooms above the shop; one for Andrew and one for Alice, so I slept on the settee in the living room, wrapped in a blanket. The fire died in the grate and the room first became chilly, then bitterly cold. I lost count of the number of times I woke up in the night. On the last occasion, dawn light was glimmering behind the curtains, so I decided to get up.

    I yawned and stretched and walked up and down a bit to get the stiffness out of my joints. It was then that I heard a noise from the front. It sounded as if someone had rapped three times on the shop window.

    When I walked into the shop, it was bright with light reflecting off the snow. There'd been drifts in the night all right and the snow was heaped right up to the base of the window. And there, leaning against the glass, was a black envelope. It had been positioned in such a way that I could see what was written upon it. It was addressed to me! It had to be from Morgan.

    One part of me wanted to just leave it there. But then I realized that the streets would start to get busy soon and anyone could walk by and see it. They might pick it up and read it, and I didn't want a stranger knowing my business.

    There was so much snow piled against the front door that I couldn't open it and had to go out through the back door, open the yard gate and walk round. It was only as I prepared to plunge into the drift that I realized something very odd. There were no footprints. Facing me was a large mound of snow without a mark upon its surface. How had the letter got there?

    I retrieved the letter and, in doing so, gOuged out a deep channel in the snow. I went round to the back again and into the kitchen, tore open the letter and read it.

    
I'll be in St Georges Churchyard, just west of the village. If you want what's best both for you and your old master, don't keep me waiting. Don't make me come to you. Yuo you won't like it

    
Morgan G

    I hadn't noticed the signature on his last letter but now it caught my eye. Had he changed his name? The initial of his second name should have been
H
for
Hurst.

    Puzzled, I folded up the letter and pushed it into my pocket. I wondered about waking Alice and showing her the letter. Perhaps I should take her with me. But the last person she'd want to see now was Morgan. She'd already said how she'd left Moor View Farm because she couldn't stand him another minute. And I knew I couldn't really tell Alice even if I wanted to: I was afraid of Morgan and what he might do to Dad. To be honest, I was also scared about what he might do to me. With so much power, he was really dangerous: not someone to disobey. So I pulled on my cloak, picked up my staff and went out, heading directly for the churchyard.

    It was an old church, almost hidden by the ancient yew trees clustered about it. Some of the stones marked the graves of locals who'd died centuries earlier. I saw Morgan in the distance, silhouetted against the grey sky, leaning on his staff, his hood up against the cold. He was in the newest part of the churchyard, where those who'd died relatively recently were buried.

    At first he didn't acknowledge me. His head was bent down towards a grave, his eyes closed as if he were praying. I stared down too in astonishment. The churchyard was either inches or feet deep in snow, the result of last night's wind, but this grave was completely free of it, just an oblong of wet soil. It was almost as if it had been freshly dug. I looked around but could see no sign of a spade or any other implement that could have been used to clear away the snow.

    'Read the inscription on the stone!' Morgan commanded, looking at me for the first time.

    I did as I was told. Four bodies had been buried in the same grave, stacked one above the other as was the County custom, in order to save space in the churchyard and ensure that kin were together in death. Three were children but the last one was their mother. The children had died fifty or so years earlier, aged two, one and three years old respectively. The mother had died recently and her name was Emily Burns, the woman the Spook had once been involved with. The woman he'd taken from one of his own brothers, Father Gregory.

    'She had a hard life,' Morgan said. 'Lived most of it in Blackrod, but when she knew she was dying, she came here to spend her last months with her sister. Losing three children like that broke her heart, and even after all those intervening years she never fully recovered. Four others lived though. Two are working in Horwich and have families of their own. The eldest left the County ten years ago and I've heard nothing of him since. I was the seventh and the last...'

    It took a few moments before it all started dropping into place. I remembered what the Spook had said to him in the bedroom at the Hursts':

    
'I cared about you and I cared about your mother. I loved her once, as you well know ...'

    I also remembered how he'd signed his letter to me with the initial 'G'.

    'Yes,' he said. 'Soon after I was born, my father left the family home for the last time. He never married my mother. Never gave us his name. But I took it anyway.'

    I looked up at him in astonishment.

    'Yes,' he said with a grim smile. 'Emily Burns was my real mother. I'm John Gregory's son.'

    Morgan stared into the distance as he spoke. 'He left us. Left his children. That's not what a father should do, is it?'

    I wanted to defend the Spook but I didn't know what to say. So I said nothing.

    'He did provide for us financially though,' Morgan said. 'I'll give him that. We managed for a while, but then my mother had a breakdown and couldn't cope. Each of us was fostered out to a family. I drew the short straw and ended up with the Hursts. But when I was seventeen, my father came back for me and took me on as his apprentice.

    'For a while, I'd never been happier. I'd wanted a father for so long and now I had one, so I was desperate to please him. I tried really hard at first, but I suppose I couldn't forget what he'd done to my mother, and gradually I began to see through him. After three years he was starting to repeat himself. I already knew everything he did and more besides. I knew I could be better and stronger than him. I'm the seventh son of a seventh son of a seventh son. A three times seven.'

    I heard the note of arrogance in his voice and it annoyed me. 'Is that why you didn't write your name on the bedroom wall at Chipenden like all the other apprentices?' I blurted out. 'Is it because you think you're better than the rest of us? Better than the Spook?'

    Morgan smirked. 'I won't deny it. That's why I left to follow my own path. I'm mainly self-taught but I'm still learning. And I can do things that old fool never even dreams of. Things that he's afraid to try. Think about it! Knowledge and power like mine - and the assurance that your father rests in peace. That's what I'm offering you in return for a little bit of help ...'

    I was astonished by all that Morgan was telling me. If what he said was true, it showed the Spook in a really bad light. I already knew that he'd left Emily Burns for Meg. But now I'd just discovered that he was a father, who'd had seven sons by her but had left them all. I felt hurt inside and let down. I kept thinking about my own dad, who'd stayed with his family and worked hard all his life. And now he could suffer at the whim of Morgan. I was upset and angry. The graveyard seemed to lurch up into the sky and I almost fell.

    'Well, my young apprentice, have you brought it for me?'

    My face must have looked blank.

    'The grimoire, of course. I asked you to bring it to me. I hope you've obeyed me or your poor father will really suffer.'

    'I haven't been able to get it. Mr Gregory has eyes in the back of his head,' I said, hanging my head.

    I certainly wasn't going to tell Morgan that my master was at the mercy of Meg. If he thought the Spook was out the way he might just go and help himself to the grimoire. Yes, my master might have some terrible dark secrets, but I was still
his
apprentice and I respected him. I needed more time. Time to rescue my master and tell him all about Morgan. Together we'd defeated the stone-chucker; surely together we could stop Morgan.

    'I need more time,' I said. T can do it but I need to wait for an opportunity.'

    'Well, don't take too long about it. Bring the book to me next Tuesday night, soon after sunset. Remember the chapel in the graveyard?'

    I nodded.

    'Well, that's where I'll be waiting.'

    'I don't think I can do it that quickly-'

    'Find a way!' he snarled. 'And do it without Gregory realizing that it's gone.'

    'What will you do with it?' I asked.

    'Well, Tom, when you bring it to me you'll find out, won't you? Don't let me down! If you start to waver, think of your poor father and what he could be made to suffer ...'

    I knew how cruel Morgan could be. I'd seen the way he'd reduced poor Mr Hurst to tears; heard Alice's account of how he'd dragged the old man to his room and locked him inside. If Morgan could hurt my dad, he would do it, I was in no doubt about that.

    And then, as I stood there trembling, right inside my head I heard once again my father's anguished voice as, all around me, the air shivered and moved.

    
'Please, son, I'm begging you, do as he asks or I'll be tortured for all eternity. Please, son, just get it for him.'

    As the voice faded away, Morgan smiled grimly. 'Well, you heard what your father said. So you'd better be a dutiful son . ..'

    With that he smiled grimly, turned on his heel and left the graveyard.

    I knew that it was certainly wrong to steal the grimoire for Morgan, but as I watched him go, I knew that I'd no choice. Somehow I'd have to get it as we rescued the Spook.

Down to the Cellar