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 shed. 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
