But maybe it wasn’t a question of
I heard the cellar door open and the thump of boots in the kitchen. I pressed myself back into the corner, trying to make myself small, waiting for the kitchen door to open.
And open it did, very slowly, with a loud creak. Something stepped into the room. I felt coldness then. Real coldness. The kind of coldness that told me something was close that didn’t belong on this earth. It was like the coldness of Hangman’s Hill, only far, far worse.
I lifted the candle, its flame flickering eerie shadows which danced up the walls and onto the ceiling.
‘Who’s there?’ I asked. ‘Who’s there?’ my voice trembling even more than the hand holding the candle.
There was no answer. Even the wind outside had fallen silent.
‘Who’s there?’ I called out again.
Again no reply, but invisible boots grated on the flags as they stepped towards me. Nearer and nearer they came, and now I could hear breathing. Something big was breathing heavily. It sounded like a huge carthorse that had just pulled a heavy load up a steep hill.
At the very last moment the footsteps veered away from me and halted close to the window. I was holding my breath and the thing by the window seemed to be breathing for both of us, drawing great gulps of air into its lungs as if it could never get enough.
Just when I could stand it no longer, it gave a huge sigh that sounded weary and sad at the same time, and the invisible boots grated on the flags once more, heavy steps that moved away from the window, back towards the door. When they began to thump their way down the cellar steps, I was finally able to breathe again.
My heart began to slow, my hands stopped shaking and gradually I calmed down. I had to pull myself together. I’d been scared, but if that was the worst that was going to happen tonight, I’d got through it, passed my first test. I was going to be the Spook’s apprentice, so I’d have to get used to places like this haunted house. It went with the job.
After about five minutes or so I began to feel better. I even thought about making another attempt to get to sleep, but as my dad sometimes says, ‘There’s no rest for the wicked.’ Well, I don’t know what I’d done wrong, but there was a sudden new sound to disturb me.
It was faint and distant at first – someone knocking on a door. There was a pause, and then it happened again. Three distinct raps, but a little nearer this time. Another pause and three more raps.
It didn’t take me long to work it out. Somebody was rapping hard on each door in the street, moving nearer and nearer to number thirteen. When they finally came to the haunted house, the three raps on the front door were loud enough to wake the dead. Would the thing in the cellar climb the steps to answer that summons? I felt trapped between the two: something outside wanting to get in; something below that wanted to be free.
And then, suddenly, it was all right. A voice called to me from the other side of the front door, a voice I recognized.
‘Tom! Tom! Open the door! Let me in!’
It was Mam. I was so glad to hear her that I rushed to the front door without thinking. It was raining outside and she’d be getting wet.
‘Quickly, Tom, quickly!’ Mam called. ‘Don’t keep me waiting.’
I was actually lifting the latch to open it, when I remembered the Spook’s warning:
But how could I leave Mam out there in the dark?
‘Come on, Tom! Let me in!’ the voice called again.
Remembering what the Spook had said, I took a deep breath and tried to think. Common sense told me it couldn’t be her. Why would she have followed me all this way? How would she have known where we were going? Mam wouldn’t have travelled alone either. My dad or Jack would have come with her.
No, it was a something else waiting outside. Something without hands that could still rap on the door. Something without feet that could still stand on the pavement.
The knocking started to get louder.
‘Please let me in, Tom,’ pleaded the voice. ‘How can you be so hard and cruel? I’m cold, wet and tired.’
Eventually it began to cry, and then I knew for certain that it couldn’t possibly be Mam. Mam was strong. Mam never cried no matter how bad things got.
After a few moments the sounds faded and stopped altogether. I lay down on the floor and tried to sleep again. I kept turning over, first one way and then the other, but try as I might, I couldn’t get to sleep. The wind began to rattle the windowpanes even louder, and on every hour and half hour the church clock chimed, moving me closer to midnight.
The nearer the time came for me to go down the cellar steps, the more nervous I became. I did want to pass the Spook’s test, but, oh, how I longed to be back home in my nice, safe, warm bed.
And then, just after the clock had given a single chime – half past eleven – the digging began again…
Once more I heard the slow
I felt myself being lifted roughly by the hair and skin at the nape of my neck, just like a mother cat carries her kittens. Then an invisible arm wrapped itself around my body, pinning my arms to my sides. I tried to suck in a breath but it was impossible. My chest was being crushed.
I was being carried towards the cellar door. I couldn’t see what was carrying me but I could hear its wheezing breath and I struggled in a panic, because somehow I knew exactly what was going to happen. Somehow I knew why there’d been the sound of digging from below. I was going to be carried down the cellar steps into the darkness and I knew that a grave was waiting for me down there. I was going to be buried alive.
I was terrified and tried to cry out, but it was worse than just being held in a tight grip. I was paralysed and couldn’t move a muscle.
Suddenly I was falling…
I found myself on all fours, staring at the open door to the cellar, just inches from the top step. In a panic, my heart thumping too fast to count the beats, I lurched to my feet and slammed the cellar door shut. Still trembling, I went back into the front room to find that one of the Spook’s three rules had been broken.
The candle had gone out…
As I walked towards the window, a sudden flash of light illuminated the room, followed by a loud crash of thunder almost directly overhead. Rain squalled against the house, rattling the windows and making the front door creak and groan as if something were trying to get in.
I stared out miserably for a few minutes, watching the flashes of lightning. It was a bad night, but even though lightning scared me, I would have given anything to be out there walking the streets; anything to have avoided going down into that cellar.
In the distance the church clock began to chime. I counted the chimes and there were exactly twelve. Now I had to face what was in the cellar.
It was then, as lightning lit the room again, that I noticed the large footprints on the floor. At first I thought they’d been made by the Spook, but they were black, as if the huge boots that made them had been covered with coal dust. They came from the direction of the kitchen door, went almost to the window and then turned and went back the way they’d come. Back to the cellar. Down into the dark where I had to go!
Forcing myself forward, I searched the floor with my hand for the stub of the candle. Then I scrabbled around for my small bundle of clothes. Wrapped in the centre of it was the tinderbox that Dad had given me.
Fumbling in the dark, I shook the small pile of tinder out onto the floor and used the stone and metal to strike up sparks. I kindled that little pile of wood until it burst into flame, just long enough to light the candle. Little had Dad known that his gift would prove so useful so soon.
As I opened the cellar door there was another flash of lightning and a sudden crash of thunder that shook the whole house and rumbled down the steps ahead of me. I descended into the cellar, my hand trembling and the candle stub dancing till strange shadows flickered against the wall.
I didn’t want to go down there, but if I failed the Spook’s test, I’d probably be on my way back home as soon as
