The Last Apprentice: Complete Collection Page 7

  At its center 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 afterward 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 top 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 burned 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 cowshed. 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 it 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 talks 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 this,” 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 center was a huge, steaming hot pot. I was so hungry I helped myself and had almost polished off the lot when I saw the note under the salt shaker.

  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.

  But at the same time I couldn’t help feeling a bit annoyed. All that time waiting for something to happen, then the moment I’m away the Spook goes off without me!

  I slept well that night, but not so deeply that I failed to hear the bell summoning me to breakfast.

  I went downstairs on time and was rewarded with the best plate of bacon and eggs I’d eaten in the Spook’s house. I was so pleased that, just before leaving the table, I spoke out loud, using the words that my dad said every Sunday after lunch.

  “That was really good,” I said. “My compliments to the cook.”

  No sooner had I spoken than the fire flared up in the grate and a cat began to purr. I couldn’t see a cat, but the noise it was making was so loud that I’ll swear the windowpanes were rattling. It was obvious that I’d said the right thing.

  So, feeling right pleased with myself, I set off for the village to pick up the provisions. The sun was shining out of a blue, cloudless sky, the birds were singing, and after the previous day’s rain the whole world seemed bright and gleaming and new.

  I started at the butcher’s, collected the Spook’s sack, moved on to the greengrocer’s, and finished at the baker’s. Some village lads were leaning against the wall nearby. There weren’t as many as last time, and their leader, the big lad with the neck like a bull’s, wasn’t with them.

  Remembering what the Spook had said, I walked straight up to them. “I’m sorry about last time,” I said, “but I’m new and didn’t understand the rules properly. Mr. Gregory said that you can have an apple and a cake each.” So saying, I opened the sack and handed each lad just what I’d promised. Their eyes opened so wide that they almost popped out of their sockets and each muttered his thanks.

  At the top of the lane someone was waiting for me. It was the girl called Alice, and once again she was standing in the shadow of the trees as if she didn’t like the sunlight.

  “You can have
an apple and a cake,” I told her.

  To my surprise she shook her head. “I’m not hungry at the moment,” she said. “But there’s something that I do want. I need you to keep your promise. I need some help.”

  I shrugged. A promise is a promise and I remembered making it. So what else could I do but keep my word?

  “Tell me what you want and I’ll do my best,” I replied.

  Once more her face lit up into a really broad smile. She wore a black dress and had pointy shoes, but that smile somehow made me forget all that. Still, what she said next set me worrying and quite spoiled the rest of the day.

  “Ain’t going to tell you now,” she said. “Tell you this evening, I will, just as the sun goes down. Come to me when you hear Old Gregory’s bell.”

  I heard the bell just before sunset, and with a heavy heart went down the hill toward the circle of willow trees where the lanes crossed. It didn’t seem right, her ringing the bell like that. Not unless she had work for the Spook, but somehow I doubted that.

  Far above, the last rays of the sun were bathing the summits of the fells in a faint orange glow, but down below, among the withy trees, it was gray and full of shadows.

  I shivered when I saw the girl, because she was pulling the rope with just one hand yet making the clappers of the big bell dance wildly. Despite her slim arms and narrow waist, she had to be very strong.

  She stopped ringing as soon as I showed my face, and rested her hands on her hips while the branches continued to dance and shake overhead. We just stared at each other for ages, until my eyes were drawn down toward a basket at her feet. There was something inside it covered with a black cloth.

  She lifted the basket and held it out to me.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “It’s for you, so that you can keep your promise.”

  I accepted it, but I wasn’t feeling very happy. Curious, I reached inside to lift the black cloth.

  “No, leave it be,” Alice snapped, a sharp edge to her voice. “Don’t let the air get to them or they’ll spoil.”

  “What are they?” I asked. It was growing darker by the minute, and I was starting to feel nervous.