A few days later, just after breakfast, Shanks delivered a coffin to our door, the little pony almost staggering under its weight. After I'd helped him to untie it, we lifted it down carefully. It wasn't quite as heavy as it looked but it was a bit on the large side, and I'd never seen a coffin so well made. It had two brass carrying handles at each side and was made out of dark polished wood. We didn't carry it into the house but just left it close to the back door.
'What's this for?' I asked the Spook, as Shanks disappeared into the distance.
'That's for me to know and you to find out,' he said, tapping the side of his nose. 'Have a think and get back to me when you've worked it out.'
It was lunch time before my suspicions were confirmed.
'I'll be away for a few days, lad. Think you can manage on your own?'
My mouth was full, so I nodded and carried on tucking into my lamb stew.
'Aren't you going to ask where I'm going?'
'Spook's business?' I suggested.
'Nay, lad. This is family business. Meg and her sister are going home. They'll be sailing from Sunderland Point and I'm going to see them safely on their way.'
Sunderland Point was south of Heysham and the largest port in the County. Boats from all over the world sailed up the river Lune to anchor there. I knew then that I'd guessed right about the coffin.
'So Marcia will be in the box,' I said.
'Got it first time, lad,' said the Spook with a smile. 'An especially large dose of herb tea should keep her quiet. She could hardly board in the usual way. Might upset some of the passengers. As far as the harbourmaster is concerned, Meg's sister died and she's taking her home for burial. Anyway, as I said, I'll be going with them as far as the port just to see them safely embarked. We'll be travelling by night of course. No doubt we'll book into an inn and Meg will spend the daylight hours behind closed curtains. I'll be sad to see her go but it's for the best.'
'I once overheard you talking to Meg about a garden that you shared together. Was it your garden at Chipenden?' I asked.
'Aye, it was, lad. The western garden, as you might expect. We spent many a happy hour sitting on that very same bench where I often give you lessons now.'
'So what happened?' I asked. 'Why did you bring
Meg to Anglezarke and put her in the cellar. Why did she have to be dosed with herb tea?'
'What went on between Meg and me is our private business!' the Spook snapped, giving me a long, searching look. For a moment he looked really angry and I realized that my curiosity had made me go too far. But then he sighed and shook his head wearily.
'As you know, Meg is still a good-looking woman, but when she was young she was too pretty by far and turned lots of men's heads. I was jealous to a fault and we quarrelled too many times to count. But that wasn't all. She was wilful too and made lots of enemies in the County. Those who crossed her learned to fear her. And those who live in fear for too long become dangerous. She was finally accused of witchcraft and reports were made to the High Sheriff at Caster. It was a very serious business and they sent a constable to arrest her.'
'She'd have been safe in your house at Chipenden, wouldn't she? The boggart would have stopped the constable getting anywhere near her.'
'It would that, lad. It would have stopped him dead! But he was just doing his job, and although I loved Meg, I didn't want the loss of that young constable's life on my conscience so I had to make sure that Meg disappeared. I went down into the village and met him there and, with the help of the blacksmith as witness, managed to convince him that she'd fled the County.
'As a result I brought her here and she spent her summers locked in the room on the cellar steps and her winters confined to the house. It was either that or she'd swing at the end of a rope - as you know, they hang witches at Caster. At one point, years later, she got out and terrified some of the locals. To keep them quiet, I had to promise that I'd bind her in a pit in the cellar. That was why Shanks was so upset when he saw her that morning. Anyway, now, at long last, she's going home. It was something I should have done years ago but I just couldn't let her go.'
'So she wants to go home?'
'I think she knows it's for the best. Besides, Meg no longer feels about me the way I still feel about her,' he said, looking older and sadder than I'd ever seen him before. 'I'm going to miss her, lad. Miss her sorely. Life won't be the same without her. She was the only thing that made the winters here bearable ...'
At sunset I watched the Spook seal Meg's sister, Marcia, into her coffin. Then, when the last of the brass screws had been tightened, I helped him carry it down the clough. It was heavy and we staggered a bit under the weight, struggling to keep our feet on the soft, muddy ground, while Meg walked behind carrying her own bags. As we proceeded in solemn silence down into the gloom of the valley, it reminded me of a real funeral.
The Spook had arranged for a coach to be waiting for us on the road. The four horses became nervous as we approached, their nostrils dilating, breath steaming in the moonlight, and the driver struggled to control them. Once they'd been steadied, he climbed down, looking very nervous himself, came across to the Spook and touched his own cap in deference. His jowls were wobbling and he looked ready to jump out of his skin.
'There's nothing to fear, and as I promised, I'll pay you well. Now help me lift this up,' the Spook said to him, tapping Marcia's coffin. They heaved it up onto the rack at the rear of the coach and the Spook watched closely as the driver secured it with rope.