on its own and the gate swung slowly open as if moved by an invisible hand.
‘Thank you,’ I heard the Spook say.
The front door didn’t move by itself because first it had to be unlocked with the large key that the Spook pulled from his pocket. It looked similar to the one he’d used to unlock the door of the house in Watery Lane.
‘Is that the same key you used in Horshaw?’ I asked.
‘Aye, lad,’ he said, glancing down at me as he pushed open the door. ‘My brother, the locksmith, gave me this. It opens most locks as long as they’re not too complicated. Comes in quite useful in our line of work.’
The door yielded with a loud creak and a deep groan, and I followed the Spook into a small, gloomy hallway. There was a steep staircase to the right and a narrow flagged passage on the left.
‘Leave everything at the foot of the stairs,’ said the Spook. ‘Come on, lad. Don’t dawdle. There’s no time to waste. I like my food piping hot!’
So leaving his bag and my bundle where he’d said, I followed him down the passage towards the kitchen and the appetizing smell of hot food.
When we got there I wasn’t disappointed. It reminded me of my mam’s kitchen. Herbs were growing in big pots on the wide window ledge and the setting sun was dappling the room with leaf-shadows. In the far corner a huge fire was blazing, filling the room with warmth, and right at the centre of the flagged floor was a large oaken table. On it were two enormous empty plates and, at its centre, five serving dishes piled high with food next to a jug filled to the brim with hot, steaming gravy.
‘Sit down and tuck in, lad,’ invited the Spook, and I didn’t need to be asked twice.
I helped myself to large slices of chicken and beef, hardly leaving enough room on my plate for the mound of roasted potatoes and vegetables that followed. Finally I topped it off with a gravy so tasty that only my mam could have done better.
I wondered where the cook was and how she’d known we’d be arriving just at that exact time to put out the hot food ready on the table. I was full of questions but I was also tired, so I saved all my energy for eating. When I’d finally swallowed my last mouthful, the Spook had already cleared his own plate.
‘Enjoy that?’ he asked.
I nodded, almost too full to speak. I felt sleepy.
‘After a diet of cheese, it’s always good to come home to a hot meal,’ he said. ‘We eat well here. It makes up for the times when we’re working.’
I nodded again and started to yawn.
‘There’s lots to do tomorrow so get yourself off to bed. Yours is the room with the green door, at the top of the first flight of stairs,’ the Spook told me. ‘Sleep well, but stay in your room and don’t go wandering about during the night. You’ll hear a bell ring when breakfast’s ready. Go down as soon as you hear it -when someone’s cooked good food they may get angry if you let it go cold. But don’t come down too early either because that could be just as bad.’
I nodded, thanked him for the meal and went down the passage towards the front of the house. The Spook’s bag and my bundle had disappeared. Wondering who could have moved them, I climbed the stairs to bed.
My new room turned out to be much larger than my bedroom at home, which at one time I’d had to share with two of my brothers. This new room had space for a bed, a small table with a candle, a chair and a dresser, but there was still lots of room to walk about in as well. And there, on top of the dresser, my bundle of belongings was waiting.
Directly opposite the door was a large sash window, divided into eight panes of glass so thick and uneven that I couldn’t see much but whorls and swirls of colour from outside. The window didn’t look as if it had been opened for years. The bed was pushed right up along the wall beneath it, so I pulled off my boots, kneeled up on the quilt and tried to open the window. Although it was a bit stiff, it proved easier than it had looked. I used the sash cord to raise the bottom half of the window in a series of jerks, just far enough to pop my head out and have a better look around.
I could see a wide lawn below me, divided into two by a path of white pebbles that disappeared into the trees. Above the tree line to the right were the fells, the nearest one so close that I felt I could almost reach out and touch it. I sucked in a deep breath of cool fresh air and smelled the grass before pulling my head back inside and unwrapping my small bundle of belongings. They fitted easily into the dresser’s top drawer. As I was closing it, I suddenly noticed the writing on the far wall, in the shadows opposite the foot of the bed.
It was covered in names, all scrawled in black ink on the bare plaster. Some names were larger than others, as if those who’d written them thought a lot of themselves. Many had faded with time, and I wondered if they were the names of other apprentices who’d slept in this very room. Should I add my own name or wait until the end of the first month, when I might be taken on permanently? I didn’t have a pen or ink so it was something to think about later, but I examined the wall more closely, trying to decide which was the most recent name.
I decided it was BILLY BRADLEY – that seemed the clearest and had been squeezed into a small space as the wall filled up. For a few moments I wondered what Billy was doing now, but I was tired and ready for sleep.
The sheets were clean and the bed inviting, so wasting no more time I undressed, and the very moment my head touched the pillow I fell asleep.
When I next opened my eyes, the sun was streaming through the window. I’d been dreaming and had been woken suddenly by a noise. I thought it was probably the breakfast bell.
I felt worried then. Had it really been the bell downstairs summoning me to breakfast or a bell in my dream? How could I be sure? What was I supposed to do? It seemed that I’d be in trouble with the cook whether I went down early or late. So, deciding that I probably
On my way down I heard a clatter of pots and pans coming from the kitchen, but the moment I eased open the door, everything became deathly silent.
I made a mistake then. I should have gone straight back upstairs because it was obvious that the breakfast wasn’t ready. The plates had been cleared away from last night’s supper but the table was still bare and the fireplace was full of cold ashes. In fact the kitchen was chilly and, worse than that, it seemed to be growing colder by the second.
My mistake was in taking a step towards the table. No sooner had I done that than I heard something make a sound right behind me. It was an angry sound. There was no doubt about that. It was a definite hiss of anger and it was very close to my left ear. So close that I felt the breath of it.
The Spook had warned me not to come down early and I suddenly felt that I was in real danger.
As soon as I had entertained that thought something hit me very hard on the back of the head; I staggered towards the door, almost losing my balance and falling headlong.
I didn’t need a second warning. I ran from the room and up the stairs. Then, halfway up, I froze. There was someone standing at the top. Someone tall and menacing, silhouetted against the light from the door of my room.
I halted, unsure which way to go until I was reassured by a familiar voice. It was the Spook.
It was the first time I’d seen him without his long black cloak. He was wearing a black tunic and grey breeches and I could see that, although he was a tall man with broad shoulders, the rest of his body was thin, probably because some days all he got was a nibble of cheese. He was like the very best farm labourers when they get older. Some, of course, just get fatter, but the majority – like the ones my dad sometimes hires for the harvest now that most of my brothers have left home – are thin, with tough, wiry bodies. ‘Thinner means fitter,’ Dad always says and now, looking at the Spook, I could see why he was able to walk at such a furious pace and for so long without resting.
‘I warned you about going down early,’ he said quietly. ‘No doubt you got your ears boxed. Let that be a lesson to you, lad. Next time it might be far worse.’
‘I thought I heard the bell,’ I said. ‘But it must have been a bell in my dream.’
The Spook laughed softly. ‘That’s one of the first and most important lessons that an apprentice has to learn,’ he said; ‘the difference between waking and dreaming. Some never learn that.’
He shook his head, took a step towards me and patted me on the shoulder. ‘Come, I’ll show you round the garden. We’ve got to start somewhere and it’ll pass the time until breakfast’s ready’
