‘Free boggarts travel down leys,’ he explained. ‘But sometimes something goes wrong. It can be the result of a storm or maybe even an earthquake. In the County there hasn’t been a serious earthquake in living memory but that doesn’t matter, because leys are all interconnected and something happening to one, even a thousand miles away, can disturb all the others. Then boggarts get stuck in the same place for years and we call them "naturally bound". Often they can’t move more than a few dozen paces in any direction and they cause little trouble. Not unless you happen to get too close to one. Sometimes, though, they can be stuck in awkward places, close to a house or even inside one. Then you might need to move the boggart from there and artificially bind it elsewhere.’
‘What’s a ley?’ I asked.
‘Not everybody agrees, lad,’ he told me. ‘Some think they’re just ancient paths that crisscross the land, the paths our forefathers walked in ancient times when men were real men and darkness knew its place. Health was better, lives were longer and everyone was happy and content.’
‘What happened?’
‘Ice moved down from the north and the earth grew cold for thousands of years,’ the Spook explained. ‘It was so difficult to survive that men forgot everything they’d learned. The old knowledge was unimportant. Keeping warm and eating was all that mattered. When the ice finally pulled back, the survivors were hunters dressed in animal skins. They’d forgotten how to grow crops and husband animals. Darkness was all-powerful.
‘Well, it’s better now, although we still have a long way to go. All that’s left of those times are the leys, but the truth is they’re more than just paths. Leys are really lines of power far beneath the earth. Secret invisible roads that free boggarts can use to travel at great speed. It’s these free boggarts that cause the most trouble. When they set up home in a new location, often they’re not welcome. Not being welcome makes them angry. They play tricks - sometimes dangerous tricks - and that means work for us. Then they need to be artificially bound in a pit. Just like the one that you’re going to dig now . . .
‘This is a good place,’ he said, pointing at the ground near a big, ancient oak tree. ‘I think there should be enough space between the roots.’
The Spook gave me a measuring rod so that I could make the pit exactly six feet long, six feet deep and three feet wide. Even in the shade it was too warm to be digging and it took me hours and hours to get it right because the Spook was a perfectionist.
After digging the pit, I had to prepare a smelly mixture of salt, iron filings and a special sort of glue made from bones.
‘Salt can burn a boggart,’ said the Spook. ‘Iron, on the other hand, earths things: just as lightning finds its way to earth and loses its power, iron can sometimes bleed away the strength and substance of things that haunt the dark. It can end the mischief of troublesome boggarts. Used together, salt and iron form a barrier that a boggart can’t cross. In fact salt and iron can be useful in lots of situations.’
After stirring the mixture up in a big metal bucket, I used a big brush to line the inside of the pit. It was like painting but harder work, and the coating had to be perfect in order to stop even the craftiest boggart from escaping.
‘Do a thorough job, lad,’ the Spook told me. ‘A boggart can escape through a hole no bigger than a pinhead.’
Of course, as soon as the pit was completed to the Spook’s satisfaction, I had to fill it in and begin again. He had me digging two practice pits a week, which was hard, sweaty work and took up a lot of my time. It was a bit scary too because I was working near pits that contained real boggarts, and even in daylight it was a creepy place. I noticed that the Spook never went too far away though, and he always seemed watchful and alert, telling me you could never take chances with boggarts even when they were bound.
The Spook also told me that I’d need to know every inch of the County - all its towns and villages and the quickest route between any two points. The trouble was that although the Spook said he had lots of maps upstairs in his library, it seemed I always had to do things the hard way, so he started me off by making me draw a map of my own.
At its centre was his house and gardens and it had to include the village and the nearest of the fells. The idea was that it would gradually get bigger to include more and more of the surrounding countryside. But drawing wasn’t my strong point, and as I said, the Spook was a perfectionist so the map took a long time to grow. It was only then that he started to show me his own maps, but he made me spend more time carefully folding them up afterwards than actually studying them.
I also began to keep a diary. The Spook gave me another notebook for this, telling me for the umpteenth time that I needed to record the past so that I could learn from it. I didn’t write in it every day, though; sometimes I was too tired and sometimes my wrist was aching too much from scribbling at speed in my other notebook, while trying to keep up with what the Spook said.
Then, one morning at breakfast, when I’d been staying with the Spook for just one month, he asked, ‘What do you think so far, lad?’
I wondered if he were talking about the breakfast. Perhaps there’d be a second course to make up for the bacon, which had been a bit burnt that morning. So I just shrugged. I didn’t want to offend the boggart, which was probably listening.
‘Well, it’s a hard job and I wouldn’t blame you for deciding to give it up now,’ he said. ‘After the first month’s passed, I always give each new apprentice the chance to go home and think very carefully about whether he wants to carry on or not. Would you like to do the same?’
I did my best not to seem too eager but I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. The trouble was, the more I smiled the more miserable the Spook looked. I got the feeling that he wanted me to stay but I couldn’t wait to be off. The thought of seeing my family again and getting to taste Mam’s cooking seemed like a dream.
I left for home within the hour. ‘You’re a brave lad and your wits are sharp,’ he said to me at the gate. ‘You’ve passed your month’s trial so you can tell your dad that, if you want to carry on, I’ll be visiting him in the autumn to collect my ten guineas. You’ve the makings of a good apprentice, but it’s up to you, lad. If you don’t come back, then I’ll know you’ve decided against it. Otherwise I’ll expect you back within the week. Then I’ll give you five years’ training that’ll make you almost as good at the job as I am.’
I set off for home with a light heart. You see, I didn’t want to tell the Spook, but the moment he’d given me the chance to go home and maybe never come back, I’d already made up my mind to do just that. It was a terrible job. From what the Spook had told me, apart from the loneliness, it was dangerous and terrifying. Nobody really cared whether you lived or died. They just wanted you to get rid of whatever was plaguing them but didn’t think for a second about what it might cost you.
The Spook had described how he’d once been half killed by a boggart. It had changed, in the blink of an eye, from a hall-knocker to a stone-chucker and had nearly brained him with a rock as big as a blacksmith’s fist. He said that he hadn’t even been paid yet but expected to get the money next spring. Well, next spring was a long time off, so what good was that? As I set off for home, it seemed to me that I’d be better off working on the farm.
The trouble was, it was nearly two days’ journey and walking gave me a lot of time to think. I remembered how bored I’d sometimes been on the farm. Could I really put up with working there for the rest of my life? Next I started to think about what Mam would say. She’d been really set on me being the Spook’s apprentice and if I stopped I’d really let her down. So the hardest part would be telling her and watching her reaction.
By nightfall on the first day of my journey home, I’d finished all the cheese the Spook had given me for the trip. So the next day I only stopped once, to bathe my feet in a stream, reaching home just before the evening milking.
As I opened the gate to the yard, Dad was heading for the cow she
d. When he saw me, his face lit up with a broad smile. I offered to help with the milking so we could talk but he told me to go in right away and speak to my mam.
‘She’s missed you, lad. You’ll be a sight for sore eyes.’
Patting me on the back, he went off to do his milking, but before I’d taken half a dozen paces Jack came out of the barn and made straight for me.
‘What brings you back so soon?’ he asked. He seemed a little bit cool. Well, to be honest, he was more cold than cool. His face was sort of twisted up, as if he were trying to scowl and grin at the same time.
‘The Spook’s sent me home for a few days. I’ve to make up my mind whether to carry on or not.’
‘So what will you do?’
‘I’m going to talk to Mam about it.’
‘No doubt you’ll get your own way as usual,’ Jack said.
By now Jack was definitely scowling and it made me feel that something had happened while I’d been away. Why else was he suddenly so unfriendly? Was it because he didn’t want me coming home?
‘And I can’t believe you took Dad’s tinderbox,’ he said.
‘He gave to me,’ I said. ‘He wanted me to have it.’
‘He offered it, but that didn’t mean you had to take it. The trouble with you is that you only think about yourself. Think of poor Dad. He loved that tinderbox.’
I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to get into an argument. I knew he was wrong. Dad had wanted me to have the tinderbox, I was sure of it.
‘While I’m back, I’ll be able to help out,’ I said, trying to change the subject.
‘If you really want to earn your keep, then feed the pigs!’ he called, as he turned to walk away. It was a job neither of us liked much. They were big, hairy, smelly pigs and always so hungry that it was never safe to turn your back on them.
Despite what Jack had said, I was still glad to be home. As I crossed the yard I glanced up at the house. Mam’s climbing roses covered most of the wall at the back, and always did well even though they faced north. Now they were just shooting, but by mid-June they’d be covered in red blossoms.
The back door was always jamming because the house had once been struck by lightning. The door had caught fire and had been replaced, but the frame was still slightly warped, so I had to push hard to force it open. It was worth it because the first thing I saw was Mam’s smiling face.
She was sitting in her old rocking chair in the far corner of the kitchen, a place where the setting sun couldn’t reach. If the light was too bright, it hurt her eyes. Mam preferred winter to summer and night to day.
She was glad to see me all right, and at first I tried to delay telling her I’d come home to stay. I put on a brave face and pretended to be happy but she saw right through me. I could never hide anything from her.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.
I shrugged and tried to smile, probably doing even worse than my brother at disguising my feelings.
‘Speak up,’ she said. ‘There’s no point in keeping it bottled up.’
I didn’t answer for a long time because I was trying to find a way to put it into words. The rhythm of Mam’s rocking chair gradually slowed, until at last it came to a complete halt. That was always a bad sign.
‘I’ve passed my month’s trial and Mr Gregory says it’s up to me whether I carry on or not. But I’m lonely, Mam,’ I confessed at last. ‘It’s just as bad as I expected. I’ve got no friends. Nobody of my own age to talk to. I feel so alone - I’d like to come back and work here.’
I could have said more and told her how happy we used to be on the farm when all my brothers were living at home. I didn’t -I knew that she missed them too. I thought she’d be sympathetic because of that but I was wrong.
There was a long pause before Mam spoke and I could hear Ellie sweeping up in the next room, singing softly to herself as she worked.
‘Lonely?’ Mam asked, her voice full of anger rather than sympathy. ‘How can you be lonely? You’ve got yourself, haven’t you? If you ever lose yourself, then you’ll really be lonely. In the meantime, stop complaining. You’re nearly a man now and a man has to work. Ever since the world began, men have been doing jobs they didn’t like. Why should it be any different for you? You’re the seventh son of a seventh son, and this is the job you were born to do.’
‘But Mr Gregory’s trained other apprentices,’ I blurted out. ‘One of them could come back and look after the County. Why does it have to be me?’
‘He’s trained many, but precious few completed their time,’ Mam said, ‘and those that did aren’t a patch on him. They’re flawed or weak or cowardly. They walk a twisted path, taking money for accomplishing little. So there’s only you left now, son. You’re the last chance. The last hope. Someone has to do it. Someone has to stand against the dark. And you’re the only one who can.’
The chair began to rock again, slowly picking up speed.
‘Well, I’m glad that’s settled. Do you want to wait for supper or shall I put you some out as soon as it’s ready?’ Mam asked.
‘I’ve had nothing to eat all day, Mam. Not even breakfast.’
‘Well, it’s rabbit stew. That ought to cheer you up a bit.’
I sat at the kitchen table feeling as low and sad as I could ever remember while Mam bustled about the stove. The rabbit stew smelled delicious and my mouth began to water. Nobody was a better cook than my mam and it was worth coming home, even for just a single meal.
With a smile, Mam carried across a big steaming plate of stew and set it down before me. ‘I’ll go and make up your room,’ she said. ‘Now you’re here, you might as well stay a couple of days.’
I mumbled my thanks and wasted no time in starting. As soon as Mam went upstairs, Ellie came into the kitchen.
‘Nice to see you back, Tom,’ she said with a smile. Then she looked down at my generous plate of food. ‘Would you like some bread with that?’
‘Yes, please,’ I said, and Ellie buttered me three thick slices before sitting at the table opposite me. I finished it all without once coming up for air, finally wiping my plate clean with the last big slice of freshly baked bread.
‘Feel better now?’
I nodded and tried to smile but I knew it hadn’t worked properly because Ellie suddenly looked worried. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing what you told your mam,’ she said. ‘I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that. It’s just because the job’s all new and strange. You’ll soon get used to the work. Anyway, you don’t have to go back right away. After a few days at home you’ll feel better. And you’ll always be welcome here, even when the farm belongs to Jack.’
‘I don’t think Jack’s that pleased to see me.’
‘Why, what makes you say that?’ Ellie asked.
‘He just didn’t seem that friendly, that’s all. I don’t think he wants me here.’
‘Don’t you worry about your big mean brother. I can sort him out easily enough.’
I smiled properly then because it was true. As my mam once said, Ellie could twist Jack round her little finger.
‘What’s mainly bothering him is this,’ Ellie said, smoothing her hand down across her belly. ‘My mother’s sister died in childbirth and our family still talk of it to this day. It’s made Jack nervous, but I’m not bothered at all because I couldn’t be in a better place, with your mam to look after me.’ She paused. ‘But there is something else. Your new job worries him.’
‘He seemed happy enough about it before I went away,’ I said.
‘He was doing that for you because you’re his brother and he cares about you. But the work a spook does frightens people. It makes them uneasy. I suppose if you’d left right away it would probably have been all right. But Jack said that on the day you left, you went straight up over the hill into the wood, and that since then the dogs have been uneasy. Now they won’t even go into the north pasture.
‘Jack thinks you’ve stirred something up. I suppose it all comes back to thi
s,’ Ellie went on, patting her belly gently. ‘He’s just being protective, that’s all. He’s thinking of his family. But don’t worry. It’ll all sort itself out eventually.’
In the end I stayed three days, trying to put on a brave face, but eventually I sensed it was time to go. Mam was the last person I saw before I left. We were alone in the kitchen and she gave my arm a squeeze and told me that she was proud of me.
‘You’re more than just seven times seven,’ she said, smiling at me warmly. ‘You’re my son too and you have the strength to do what has to be done.’
I nodded in agreement because I wanted her to be happy, but the smile slipped from my face just as soon as I left the yard. I trudged back to the Spook’s house with my heart right down in my boots, feeling hurt and disappointed that Mam wouldn’t have me back home.
It rained all the way back to Chipenden, and when I arrived, I was cold, wet and miserable. But as I reached the front gate, to my surprise the latch lifted on its own and the gate swung open without me touching it. It was a sort of welcome, an encouragement to go in, something I’d thought was reserved only for the Spook. I suppose I should have been pleased by that but I wasn’t. It just felt creepy.
I knocked at the door three times before I finally noticed that the key was in the lock. As my knocking had brought no response, I turned the key then eased the door open.
I checked all the downstairs rooms but one. Then I called up the stairs. There was no answer so I risked going into the kitchen.
There was a fire blazing in the grate and the table was set for one. At its centre was a huge, steaming hotpot. I was so hungry I helped myself and had almost polished off the lot when I saw the note under the saltshaker.
Gone east to Pendle. It’s witch trouble, so I’ll be away for some time. Make yourself at home but don’t forget to pick up this week’s provisions. As usual, the butcher has my sack, so go there first.
Pendle was a big fell, almost a mountain really, far to the east of the County. That whole district was infested with witches and was a risky place to go, especially alone. It reminded me again of how dangerous the Spook’s job could be.