Spook's Secret (wc-3) Read Online Free PDF Page B

the clough seemed to close in on either side.
        After about twenty minutes the clough curved away to the left, and suddenly there was the Spook's house directly ahead, built right back against the cliff face to our right. My dad always said that your first impression of something is almost always correct, so my spirits dropped right down into my boots. It was late afternoon and the light was already past its best, so that didn't help. The house was bigger and more imposing than the one at Chipenden, but was constructed from much darker stone, which gave it a distinctly sinister appearance. Additionally the windows were small which, combined with the fact that the house was built in a clough, would surely make the rooms inside very dark. It was one of the most uninviting houses I'd ever seen.
        The worst thing, though, was that it had no garden. As I said, the house was built right against the sheer rocky crag behind it; in front, five or six paces brought you to the edge of the stream, which wasn't very wide but looked deep and very cold. Another thirty paces, crunching across the pebbles, and you'd be stubbing your big toe against the opposite rock face. That's if you managed to get across the slippery stepping stones without falling in.
        There was no smoke rising from the chimney, which suggested there would be no welcoming fire. Back in Chipenden, the Spook's pet boggart had always known when we were returning, and not only was the house already warm, but a piping hot meal would be waiting on the kitchen table.
        Far above, the sides of the clough almost seemed to meet over the house and there was just a narrow strip of sky. I shivered because it was even colder down in the clough than it had been on the lower slopes of the moor and I realized that even in the summer, the sun wouldn't be visible for more than an hour or so each day. It made me appreciate what I'd had back in Chipenden, with woods, fields, the high fells and the wide sky above. There we'd looked down on the world; here we were trapped in a long, deep, narrow pit.
        I glanced up nervously at the dark edges of the clough where it met the sky. Anybody or anything could be up there peering down at us and we wouldn't know it.
        'Well, lad, here we are. This is my winter house. We have a lot to do: tired or not, we'll have to get busy!'
        Rather than walking up to the front door, the Spook led the way round to a small flagged area at the back of the house. Three paces from the back door brought us to the rock face, which was dripping with water and hung with ice stalactites, like the teeth of the dragon in a tall story that one of my uncles used to tell me.
        Of course, in a hot mouth like that those 'teeth' would have turned to steam in an instant; in this cold spot behind the house they'd last most of the year, and once it snowed, there'd be no getting rid of them at all until late spring.
        'We always use the back door here, lad,' the Spook said, taking from his pocket the key that his brother Andrew, the locksmith, had made for him. It would open any door as long as the lock wasn't too complicated. I had a similar key myself and it had come in useful more than once.
        The key was stiff in the lock and the door seemed reluctant to open. Once inside, I was depressed by how dark the room was, but the Spook leaned his staff against the wall, pulled a candle from his bag and lit it.
        'Put the bags there,' he said, pointing to a low shelf next to the back door.
        I did as I was told and then placed my staff next to the Spook's in the corner before following him further into the house.
        My mam would have been shocked by the state of the kitchen. I was pretty sure by now that there was no boggart to do the work. It was clear that nobody had looked after the place since the Spook left at the end of last winter. There was dust on every surface and cobwebs hung from the ceiling.