I went across and she held me close. Then I drew up a chair next to her. A lot had happened since I'd last seen Mam in the autumn, but I'd sent her a long letter telling her all about the dangers I'd faced with
my master during the final stages of a job in Priestown. 'Did you get my letter, Mam?'
'Yes, Tom, I did, and I'm really sorry for not writing back, but things have been busy here and I knew you'd be calling in on your way down south. How's Alice getting on now?'
'She's definitely turned out all right in the end, Mam, and she's been happy living with us in Chipenden, but the trouble is, the Spook still doesn't trust her. We're going to his winter house but Alice is going to stay on a farm with people she's never even met.'
'It might seem harsh,' Mam replied, 'but I'm sure Mr Gregory knows what he's doing. It'll all be for the best. As for Anglezarke, you take care there, son. It's a grim, bleak moor. Reckon Alice has been let off lightly.'
'Jack told me about Dad. Is it as bad as you expected, Mam?' I asked. Last time I'd seen her she'd kept the worst of her fears from Jack but had hinted to me that Dad's life was drawing to a close.
'I'd hoped he'd gain a little more strength. He'll take careful nursing to get him through the winter, which I suspect is going to be as bad as any I've witnessed since coming to the County. He's upstairs sleeping now. I'll take you up to see him in a few minutes.'
'Jack seems more cheerful though,' I said, trying to lighten the mood. 'Perhaps he's come round to the idea of having a spook in the family.'
Mam smiled broadly. 'And so he should, but I suspect it's got rather more to do with the fact that Ellie's expecting again and it's going to be a boy this time - I'm certain of it. Jack's always wanted a son. Someone to inherit the farm one day.'
I was pleased for Jack. Mam was never wrong about things like that. Then I realized that the house seemed quiet. Almost too quiet.
'Where is Ellie?' I asked.
'Sorry, Tom, but you've chosen the wrong day to call. Most Wednesdays she goes to visit her own mam and dad, taking little Mary with her. You should see that child now! She's a big girl for eight months and she crawls so fast, you need eyes in the back of your head!
Anyway, I know your master's waiting for you and it's cold out there, so let's go up and see your dad.'
Dad was fast asleep but there were four pillows at his back so that he was almost sitting up.
'Makes it easier for him to breathe in that position,' said Mam. 'He's still got some congestion in his lungs.'
Dad was breathing noisily; his face was grey and there was a line of sweat on his brow. Truth was, he looked really ill - a mere shadow of the strong, healthy man who'd once run the farm single-handed while being a good loving father to seven sons.
'Look, Tom, I know you'd like a word or two with him but he didn't sleep at all last night. It's better if we don't wake him now. What do you say?'
'Of course, Mam,' I agreed, but I felt sad I couldn't talk to my dad. He was so ill, I knew I might never see him again.
'Well, just give him a kiss, son, and we'll leave him to his slumber ...' I looked at my mam in astonishment. I couldn't remember the last time I'd kissed Dad. A pat on the shoulder or a quick handshake was more like it.
'Go on, Tom, just kiss him on the forehead,' Mam insisted. 'And wish him well. He may be asleep but part of him will hear what you say and it'll make him feel better.'
I looked at Mam and her eyes met mine. There was iron in her gaze and I felt the force of her will. So I did exactly what she asked. I leaned over the bed and kissed Dad lightly on his warm, damp forehead. There was a strange smell that I couldn't quite identify. A smell of flowers. A type of flower that I couldn't put my name to.
'Get well soon, Dad,' I whispered very softly. 'I'll call back in the spring and see you then.'
My mouth was suddenly dry, and when I licked my lips, I tasted the salt from his brow. Mam smiled sadly and pointed to the bedroom door.
As I followed her out, Dad started to cough and splutter behind me. I turned back in concern, and at that moment he opened his eyes and looked at me.
'Tom! Tom! Is that you?' he called before starting another bout of coughing.
Mam brushed past me in the doorway and bent over Dad anxiously, stroking his forehead gently until the coughing finally subsided.
'Tom is here,' she told him, 'but don't you go tiring yourself out with too much talking.'
'Are you working hard, lad? Is your master pleased with you?' Dad asked, but his voice was weak and croaky, as if there was something caught in his throat.
'Aye, Dad, it's going well. In fact that's one of the reasons I'm here,' I said, approaching the bed. 'My master's definitely keeping me on and he wants the last ten guineas you owe him to pay for my apprenticeship.'
'That's good news, son. I'm really pleased for you. So you've enjoyed working up at Chipenden?'
T have that, Dad,' I said with a smile, 'but now we're off to spend the winter at his house on Anglezarke Moor.'
Suddenly Dad looked alarmed. 'Oh, I wish you weren't going there, son,' he said, glancing at Mam. 'There are strange tales about that place, and none of them good. You'll need eyes in the back of your head up there. Make sure you stay close to your master and listen carefully to everything he says.'