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  Lord of Winter. So stay close to your master. He's the only real friend you've got. You must help one another.' 'But what about Alice?'

  Mam shook her head. 'Maybe she'll be all right and maybe not. You see, up on that cold moor you're closer to the dark than most other places in the County, so being near there will put her to the test again. I hope she comes through it but I can't see the outcome. Just do as I say. Work closely with your master. That's what counts.'

  We hugged each other one more time, then I said goodbye and set off down the lane again.

  The Winter House

  It had begun to rain and the cold south-easterly wind increased until it was driving hard into our faces, the grey cloud low and oppressive like a leaden weight hanging above our heads. Later the wind blew even harsher and the rain turned to sleet and hail. The ground became mud under foot and our progress was very slow. To make matters worse, we kept stumbling into areas of moss land and treacherous soggy marsh, and it took all the Spook's knowledge to get us across safely.

  But on the morning of the third day the rain eased

  and the clouds lifted so that we could see a grim line of hills directly ahead.

  'There it is!' the Spook said, pointing at the skyline with his staff. 'Anglezarke Moor. And there, about four miles or so to the south' - he gestured again - 'is Blackrod.'

  It was too far away to see the village. I thought I could just make out a few wisps of smoke but it might have been cloud.

  'What's Blackrod like?' I asked. My master had mentioned it from time to time, so I imagined it would be the place where I'd be collecting our weekly provisions.

  'If s not as friendly a place as Chipenden, so it's best to keep away,' said the Spook. 'Awkward people live there and a lot of them are family. I was born there, so I should know. No, Adlington's a far nicer place and it's not too far ahead now. About a mile to the north of it is the place where we'll be leaving you, girl,' he said to Alice. 'Moor View Farm, it's called. You'll be staying with Mr and Mrs Hurst, who own it.'

  About an hour later we reached an isolated farmhouse close to a big lake. As the Spook went ahead, the dogs started barking; soon he was standing in the yard, talking to an old farmer who didn't exactly look pleased to see him. After about five minutes the farmer's wife joined them. They hadn't one smile to share among the three of them.

  'Ain't going to be welcome here, that's for sure!' Alice said, twisting the corners of her mouth downwards.

  'It may not be all that bad,' I said, trying to make excuses. 'Don't forget, they lost a daughter. Some people never get over a tragedy like that.'

  While we waited, I looked at the farm more carefully. It didn't look very prosperous and most of the buildings were in a state of disrepair. The barn was leaning over and it looked like the next storm would flatten it. Everything in sight looked dismal. I couldn't help wondering about the nearby lake too. It was a bleak expanse of grey water edged with marsh on the far side, with just a few stunted willows on its near shore. Was that where their daughter had drowned? Whenever they looked out of their front windows, the Hursts would be reminded of what had happened.

  After a few minutes the Spook turned and beckoned us forward and we trudged through the mud towards the yard.

  'This is my apprentice, Tom,' the Spook said, introducing me to the old farmer and his wife.

  I smiled and said hello. They both nodded at me but didn't return my smile.

  'And this is young Alice,' continued the Spook. 'She's a hard worker and will be a great help around the house. Be firm but kind and she'll give you no trouble.'

  They looked Alice up and down but said nothing; after a brief nod in their direction and a flicker of a smile she just stared down at her pointy shoes. I could tell that she was unhappy; her stay with the Hursts wasn't getting off to a very good start. I didn't really blame her. They both looked miserable and defeated, as if they'd been beaten down by life. Mr Hurst's face and forehead were deeply lined in a way that suggested he'd had more practice frowning than laughing.

  'Seen much of Morgan lately?' asked the Spook.

  At the sudden use of the name 'Morgan' I looked up sharply to see Mr Hurst's left eyelid twitch and go into a spasm. He looked nervous. Maybe even scared. Was it the same Morgan who'd given me the letter for the Spook?

  'Not much at all' Mrs Hurst answered morosely, without meeting the Spook's gaze. 'He stays the odd night but comes and goes as he pleases. At the moment he mostly keeps away'

  'When was he here last?'

  'Two weeks. Maybe more ...'

  'Well, when he comes visiting again, let him know that I'd like a word or two with him. Tell him to come up to the house.'

  'Aye, I'll tell him.'

  'See that you do. Well, we'll be on our way.' The Spook turned to leave and I picked up my staff and the two bags and followed. Alice came running after me and caught hold of my arm, bringing me to a halt.

  'Don't forget what you promised' she whispered into my left ear. 'Come and visit me and don't leave it longer than a week. Counting on you, I am!'

  'I'll come and see you, don't worry' I said, giving her a smile.

  With that, she walked back to join the Hursts and I watched as all three went into the farmhouse. I felt really sad for Alice, but there was nothing I could do.

  As we left Moor View Farm behind, I told the Spook what had started to worry me.

  'They didn't seem that happy to take Alice in'1 said, expecting that the Spook would contradict me. To my shock and surprise, he agreed with what I'd said.

  'Aye, that's true enough, they weren't too happy at all. But they hadn't much say in the matter. You see, the Hursts owe me quite a tidy sum. Twice I've rid their place of troublesome boggarts. And I still haven't received even a penny for my hard work. I agreed to cancel their debt if they took Alice in.'

  I couldn't believe what I was hearing. 'But that's not fair on Alice!' I said. 'They might treat her badly.'

  'That girl can take care of herself, as you well know' he said with a grim smile. 'Besides, no doubt you won't be able to keep away and will be calling in from time to time to see if she's all right.'

  When I opened my mouth to protest, the Spook's grin became even wider so that he looked like a hungry wolf, widening its jaws to snap the head off its prey.

  'Well, am I right?' he asked. I nodded.

  'Thought so, lad. I know you well enough by now. So don't go worrying too much about the girl. Worry about yourself. It's likely to be a hard winter. One that'll test the both of us to the limits of our strength. Anglezarke is no place for the weak and faint-hearted!'

  Something else had been puzzling me, so I decided to get it off my chest. T heard you ask the Hursts about somebody called Morgan,' I said. Ts that the same Morgan who sent you the letter?'

  'Well, I certainly hope there aren't two of them, lad! One's trouble enough.'

  'So he sometimes stays with the Hursts?'

  'He does that, lad, which is to be expected seeing as he's their son.'

  'You've sent Alice to stay with Morgan's parents!' I uttered in amazement.

  'Aye. And I know what I'm doing so that's enough questions for now. Let's get on our way. We need to be there long before nightfall.'

  From the very first moment I saw them up close, I'd liked the look of the fells around Chipenden, but somehow Anglezarke Moor was different. I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was, but the nearer we got the lower my spirits sank.

  Maybe it was the fact that I was seeing it at the tail-end of the year, when it was gloomy and winter was drawing in. Or perhaps it was the dark moor itself rising up before me like a gigantic slumbering beast, clouds shrouding its sombre heights. Most likely it was that everyone had been warning me against it and telling me how severe the winter was going to be. Whatever it was, I felt even worse when I saw the Spook's house, the grim place where we'd be staying for the next few months.

  We approached it by following a stream towards its source, climbin
g up into what the Spook called a 'clough', which was a cleft in the moor, a deep narrow valley with steep slopes rising up on either side. At first the slopes were just scree, but those loose stones soon gave way to tussocks of grass and bare rock, and the dark cliffs of the clough seemed to close in on either side.

  After about twenty minutes the clough curved away to the left, and suddenly there was the Spook's house directly ahead, built right back against the cliff face to our right. My dad always said that your first impression of something is almost always correct, so my spirits dropped right down into my boots. It was late afternoon and the light was already past its best, so that didn't help. The house was bigger and more imposing than the one at Chipenden, but was constructed from much darker stone, which gave it a distinctly sinister appearance. Additionally the windows were small which, combined with the fact that the house was built in a clough, would surely make the rooms inside very dark. It was one of the most uninviting houses I'd ever seen.

  The worst thing, though, was that it had no garden. As I said, the house was built right against the sheer rocky crag behind it; in front, five or six paces brought you to the edge of the stream, which wasn't very wide but looked deep and very cold. Another thirty paces, crunching across the pebbles, and you'd be stubbing your big toe against the opposite rock face. That's if you managed to get across the slippery stepping stones without falling in.

  There was no smoke rising from the chimney, which suggested there would be no welcoming fire. Back in Chipenden, the Spook's pet boggart had always known when we were returning, and not only was the house already warm, but a piping hot meal would be waiting on the kitchen table.

  Far above, the sides of the clough almost seemed to meet over the house and there was just a narrow strip of sky. I shivered because it was even colder down in the clough than it had been on the lower slopes of the moor and I realized that even in the summer, the sun wouldn't be visible for more than an hour or so each day. It made me appreciate what I'd had back in Chipenden, with woods, fields, the high fells and the wide sky above. There we'd looked down on the world; here we were trapped in a long, deep, narrow pit.

  I glanced up nervously at the dark edges of the clough where it met the sky. Anybody or anything could be up there peering down at us and we wouldn't know it.

  'Well, lad, here we are. This is my winter house. We have a lot to do: tired or not, we'll have to get busy!'

  Rather than walking up to the front door, the Spook led the way round to a small flagged area at the back of the house. Three paces from the back door brought us to the rock face, which was dripping with water and hung with ice stalactites, like the teeth of the dragon in a tall story that one of my uncles used to tell me.

  Of course, in a hot mouth like that those 'teeth' would have turned to steam in an instant; in this cold spot behind the house they'd last most of the year, and once it snowed, there'd be no getting rid of them at all until late spring.

  'We always use the back door here, lad,' the Spook said, taking from his pocket the key that his brother Andrew, the locksmith, had made for him. It would open any door as long as the lock wasn't too complicated. I had a similar key myself and it had come in useful more than once.

  The key was stiff in the lock and the door seemed reluctant to open. Once inside, I was depressed by how dark the room was, but the Spook leaned his staff against the wall, pulled a candle from his bag and lit it.

  'Put the bags there,' he said, pointing to a low shelf next to the back door.

  I did as I was told and then placed my staff next to the Spook's in the corner before following him further into the house.

  My mam would have been shocked by the state of the kitchen. I was pretty sure by now that there was no boggart to do the work. It was clear that nobody had looked after the place since the Spook left at the end of last winter. There was dust on every surface and cobwebs hung from the ceiling. The sink was piled high with unwashed pots and there was half a loaf of bread on the table, green with mould. There was also a faint, sweet, unpleasant smell, as if something were slowly rotting away in a dark corner. Next to the fire was a rocking chair similar to Mam's back at the farm. Draped over the back was a brown shawl that looked in need of a good wash. I wondered who it belonged to.

  'Well, lad,' the Spook said, 'we'd better get to work. We'll start by warming the old house up. That done, we'll set about cleaning.'

  At the side of the house was a big wooden shed heaped with coal. I didn't like to think how so much coal had been brought up the clough. At Chipenden I'd been sent for the weekly provisions and just hoped that fetching sacks of coal wouldn't be one of my jobs here.

  There were two big coal scuttles and we filled these and brought them back into the kitchen.

  'Know how to get a good coal fire burning?' asked the Spook.

  I nodded. In winter, back home at the farm, my first chore each morning had been to light the kitchen fire.

  'Right, then,' said the Spook. 'You attend to this one and I'll see to the one in the parlour. There are thirteen fireplaces in this old house, but lighting six should start to warm things up for now.'

  After about an hour we managed to get the six fires alight: one in the kitchen, one in the parlour, one in what the Spook called his 'study', which was on the ground floor, and one in each of the three upstairs bedrooms on the first floor. There were seven other bedrooms, including an attic, but we didn't bother with those.

  'Right, lad, that's a good start,' the Spook said. 'Now we'll go and fetch some water.'

  Carrying a big pot jug each, we went out through the back door again and round to the front, where the Spook led the way to the stream. The water was as deep as it had looked so it was easy to fill our jugs; and clean, cold and clear enough to see the rocks at the bottom. It was a quiet stream and hardly did more than murmur its way down the clough.

  But just as I'd finished filling my jug, I sensed a movement somewhere far above. I couldn't actually see anything; it was more a feeling of being watched really, and when I glanced up to where the rock formed a dark edge against the grey sky, there was nothing there.

  'Don't look up, lad,' snapped the Spook, an edge of irritation in his voice. 'Don't give him the satisfaction. Pretend you haven't noticed.'

  'Who is he?' I asked, feeling very nervous as I followed the Spook back towards the house.

  'Hard to say. I didn't look so I can't be sure,' said the

  Spook, suddenly coming to a halt and putting his jug down. Then he quickly changed the subject. 'What do you think of the house?' he asked.

  My dad had taught me to tell the truth whenever possible and I knew the Spook wasn't a man whose feelings were easily hurt. 'I'd rather live on top of a hill than like an ant in a deep crack between paving stones,' I told him. 'So far, I prefer your house at Chipenden.'

  'So do I, lad,' said the Spook. 'So do I. We've only come here because it has to be done. We're right on the edge here, on the edge of the dark, and it's a bad place to be in winter. There are things up on the moor that don't bear too much thinking about, but if we can't face them, then who can?'

  'What sort of things?' I asked, remembering what Mam had told me but interested to see what the Spook would say.

  'Oh, there are boggarts, witches, ghosts and ghasts a-plenty and other things even worse ...' 'Like Golgoth?' I suggested.

  'Aye, Golgoth. No doubt your mam's told you all about him. Am I right?'

  'She mentioned him when I told her we were heading for Anglezarke but she didn't say that much. Just that he sometimes stirs in winter.'

  'That he does, lad, and I'll be adding to your knowledge about him at a more appropriate time. Now look at that,' he said, pointing up at the big chimney stack to where thick brown smoke was rising high into the air from the two rows of cylindrical pots. He jabbed towards the smoke with his forefinger. 'We're here to show the flag, lad.'

  I looked for a flag. All I could see was the smoke.

  'I mean that just by being h
ere we're saying this land belongs to us and not to the dark,' the Spook explained. 'Standing up to the dark, especially up on Anglezarke, is a hard thing to do, but it's our duty and well worth it. Anyway' he said, picking up his jug, 'let's get inside and start cleaning.'

  For the next two hours I was really busy scrubbing, sweeping, polishing and going outside to beat clouds of dust from the rugs. Finally, after washing and drying the dirty dishes, the Spook told me to make up the beds in the three first-floor rooms.

  'Three beds?' I asked, wondering if I'd misheard him.

  'Aye, three it is, and when you've finished you'd better go and wash your ears out! Go on! Don't stand there gawping. We haven't got all day'

  So, with a shrug, I did as I was told. The linen was damp but I turned the sheets down so that the fires would dry them out. That done, exhausted with my efforts, I went downstairs. It was as I passed the cellar steps that I heard something that made the hair on the back of my neck start to rise.

  From below, I heard what sounded like a long shuddering sigh, followed almost immediately by a faint cry. I waited at the top of the steps on the edge of the darkness, listening carefully, but it wasn't repeated. Had I imagined it?

  I went into the kitchen to find the Spook washing his hands in the sink.

  T heard something cry out from the cellar' I told him. Ts it a ghost?'