Gabriel and the Phantom Sleepers
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‘Not very welcoming.’ Sadie’s ex-stepmother had a voice like a rusty nail scraping the bottom of a saucepan. ‘I thought I’d beaten the rudeness out of you.’
‘It came back when you left,’ said Sadie, feeling more courageous.
Cecily’s pale eyes narrowed, Carver snarled and Septimus squawked, ‘Stupid girl.’
‘What d’you want,’ demanded Sadie, still clinging to the door.
The sorceress thrust her aside and strode into the house.
‘Dad!’ called Sadie.
But he was already standing in the passage, in his dressing gown, his face white with horror.
A breeze smelling of burnt metal followed Cecily into the house. Sadie could feel it pressing about her, numbing her thoughts, muffling sounds. The sorceress, her son and the dog pushed their way into the kitchen, while Sadie and her father followed, helplessly.
Cecily wore a leopard-skin coat, its wide collar cradling her steel grey hair like a bag of knives. ‘You don’t look pleased to see me,’ she grated, staring at Jack.
He didn’t reply.
Sadie could see the pain in her father’s eyes. It made her want to shout at the sorceress.
Cecily shrugged her shoulders and sat down. ‘Do we care if you’re pleased?’
‘No, we do not,’ said Septimus. In his close-fitting grey suit, white shirt and blue tie, he hardly looked like a boy on holiday. He had a round, pink face, and his shiny black hair clung to his head like a skullcap.
Jack sank on to a chair and murmured, ‘Why have you come back?’
‘Oh, I haven’t come back,’ said Cecily, drawing off a tight leather glove. You could see the sparkle even before she thrust out her hand. A large emerald glinted on her ring finger. ‘I was just passing; had to bring a few Christmas gifts to some friends.’
‘Spies, I suppose,’ Sadie muttered. ‘Some of your relatives keeping an eye on us.’
Cecily ignored her. ‘I’m getting married,’ she announced, with an unpleasant smile.
‘Again?’ said Jack.
‘Congratulations, you mean,’ said Septimus, as he wandered around the kitchen.
Sadie hated the way her ex-stepbrother poked about on counters and shelves. Carver growled and snapped at the boy’s ankles and, occasionally, Septimus kicked at the dog, sending him whining under the table. Poor Carver was the result of a spell. He had once been Septimus’s older brother, but Cecily had turned him into a dog: a punishment for bullying his little brother. The spell was supposed to last for a day, but it still hadn’t worn off.
‘Aren’t you interested in my future husband?’ Cecily asked her third husband.
‘Should I be?’ asked Jack, with a wobble in his voice.
Septimus leaned over Jack’s shoulder and crowed, ‘Dr Ichabod Loth of Ludgarth Hall School. He’s famous.’
‘Indeed.’ Jack took a breath. ‘Perhaps now is the time for you to set me free, Cecily? I don’t know what I did to offend you, but surely my punishment has lasted long enough.’
Cecily raised her eyes to the ceiling, ‘Perhaps not,’ she said.
Jack folded his arms and stared grimly at the table.
‘Dr Ichabod Loth is one of the Hundred Heads,’ boasted Septimus. ‘They’re headmasters of great schools all over the world.’
‘We know that,’ Sadie muttered. ‘We’ve got friends at Bloor’s Academy.’
‘They’re for gifted children like me,’ Septimus went on. ‘Weather-mongers, shape-shifters, animal-speakers and stuff. My gift hasn’t developed yet, but I’ve got a lovely voice.’
Cecily smiled fondly at her youngest, and from under the table, Carver gave a forlorn growl.
‘Of course, your nephew attends Bloor’s Academy,’ said Cecily. ‘Though I wouldn’t call him gifted, poor boy. He has that awful affliction.’
‘It’s not an affliction,’ Sadie burst out. ‘It’s the seventh sense. And it’s wonderful, because he can feel all sorts of emotions belonging to other people, and he can see what happened to them through their clothes.’
‘Huh! Coming to see you, is he?’ said Cecily.
Sadie opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Almost in a whisper, her father said, ‘How do you know that?’
‘As you suggested, I have my spies.’ The sorceress carefully pulled her gloves back on and stood up. ‘Come along, boys,’ she said, drawing the fur over her shoulders. ‘It’s a long drive to Ludgarth.’
‘So you’ve made it your home already?’ Jack said quietly.
‘Of course. It suits me very well.’ Cecily made for the door, and Septimus marched after her, with Carver snapping at his heels.
Sadie followed, at a distance. When Cecily opened the front door, cold air rushed into the house and Sadie breathed it in gratefully.
The sorceress walked to the gate, her steel-toed boots striking the path like hammers. Sadie pulled the door wider, letting the air flood down the passage and into the kitchen.
Cecily stopped by the gate. ‘Aren’t you going to close the door, stupid girl?’ she said. ‘The house will freeze.’
Sadie stared at her ex-stepmother. ‘I’m cleansing it,’ she said, under her breath.
‘What did you say?’
‘Mumble, mumble,’ Septimus said, sniggering. ‘She always mumbled.’ He climbed into the back of the huge black vehicle parked before the house. ‘Mummy’s car goes faster than a jet,’ he shouted through the open window.
I bet it does, thought Sadie, it’s probably spell-driven.
Cecily remained by the gate. Her small eyes glittered. Sadie’s hand went to the place below her neck where a charm lay hidden beneath her sweater.
The sorceress gave a shrill laugh. ‘Your fairy star won’t protect you forever, Sadie Silk,’ she said with a snort.
‘Why won’t you lift the curse?’ Sadie asked gravely.
A cruel smile tilted a corner of Cecily’s purple lips. ‘Because life isn’t perfect,’ she retorted.
Sadie stepped back and closed the door.
When she returned to the kitchen she found that her father hadn’t moved. He sat at the table, his chin resting on his folded hands, and his grey eyes half-closed. Sadie ran and hugged him. ‘Oh, Dad, let’s forget her.’ Sadie leant her head against his. ‘She can’t do any worse, and you’ll be free, one day, I know you will.’
Her father patted her hand. ‘Of course I will. We’ll get on with our lives as if Cecily was just a nasty dream.’
Sadie threw back her pigtail and smiled. ‘Gabriel’s coming, and I’m going to cook a chicken casserole.’ She went to the fridge to check on the chicken. ‘Phew, it’s still there,’ she said. ‘I thought Cecily might have turned it into a wild boar, just to spite me. I don’t know how to cook one of those.’
Her father laughed heartily, and Sadie knew that they would be all right, for a while at least. She spent the next twelve hours cleaning and cooking, and then she put Christmas lights in Gabriel’s bedroom. Her father emerged from his workroom for quick snacks and cups of tea, but otherwise he remained tapping, scraping and chiselling. He was making a very impressive table for the Mayor of Meldon.
Just before seven o’clock, Sadie had a wonderful surprise. She had been gazing at the Christmas tree in the window when she saw pale flakes drifting past the street lamp.
‘Snow,’ she breathed.
Sadie had longed for snow. She loved the way it iced the mountains and brought enchantment to the land.
‘You’re fanciful like your mother,’ her father would say. His voice, slow and gentle when he mentioned his first wife, always brought Sadie closer to the person who had died when she was six, and she would touch the obsidian star, hanging on a gold chain round her neck. It had been a birthday present from her mother; a charm against evil, given in turn to Mrs Silk by a white witch called Alice Angel. It had kept Sadie safe, always, but sadly not her mother, once she had given it away.
To Sadie the whirling crystals seemed to have come especially for her. Her favourite cousin, Gabriel, was on his way to them. He was already on the evening train, and he was carrying the king’s cloak.
She went up to the guest room for the tenth time that day, her long pigtail swinging behind her. She plumped up the pillows, straightened the bed cover and went downstairs again. As usual her father was in the big workshop beyond the kitchen. Sadie waited patiently while he tapped a wooden peg in the end of the mayor’s table. Jack Silk was a fussy carpenter and hated being interrupted.
‘Perhaps I should put some holly in Gabriel’s room?’ Sadie suggested, when her father had laid aside his mallet.
Mr Silk mopped his forehead with a red handkerchief. ‘Why?’ he asked.
‘Because it’s still the Christmas holidays,’ said Sadie.
Her father’s grey eyes twinkled behind his gold-rimmed spectacles. The lenses were streaked with oil and sawdust. Sadie wondered if he could actually see her. ‘So it is,’ he said. ‘Let’s have some of your magnificent fruit cake.’
Sadie beamed with pleasure. ‘Gabriel’s train is taking a long time.’
Mr Silk consulted his watch. ‘He’ll be here in less than an hour. I’ve asked Ned-next-door to meet the train.’
Ned-next-door was the best friend anyone like housebound Jack Silk could have. But whenever Ned helped out, Sadie thought of her stepmother’s curse.
While the Silks ate fruit cake, Sadie kept an eye on the clock. She had laid a place for Gabriel, ready for his arrival. Half an hour passed, and then another. At eight o’ clock the doorbell rang. Sadie ran to open the front door. Ned stood there, looking serious. Snow fell steadily about him. Sadie took him into the kitchen.
‘Train never arrived,’ said Ned, pulling off his woolly hat. ‘They said at the station that it was held up by snow.’
‘Ah, the snow,’ said Jack.
‘What shall I do? Go back to the station and wait?’ Ned didn’t look too keen on this idea.
‘No, no.’ Mr Silk began to pace up and down the kitchen. ‘They’ll send a bus. They usually do. We’ll just sit tight. You go home, Ned, and thank you.’
But when Ned had gone, Mr Silk began to rub his head, hunch his shoulders and pace even faster. Sadie knew why. Her father was worried about the cloak. Would Gabriel keep it safe? He was known to be a bit dreamy, forgetful even. But Sadie trusted him. He would never let the magic cloak out of his sight, not for a moment. He was the Keeper for a whole week. What an honour!
Sadie had seen the cloak once before. Gabriel’s father had brought it to Meldon, hoping it could break Cecily’s cruel spell. But it was too late. The cloak had been made as a protection against evil; it could not undo a spell that had already been cast.
And yet . . . and yet . . . Sadie remembered how the cloak had gripped her in its silent power when she touched it. There was such great magic there, and it was coming back to them. Gabriel was on his way. ‘I’ll ring railway enquiries,’ she said. Her father was not a practical man. Someone in the family had to be.
But railway enquiries were out of reach, even on the landline.
‘It’s the snow,’ muttered Mr Silk.
Sadie made another pot of tea, and her father sat down again. But Sadie found herself going to the front door. When she opened it there was no one there. So she stood on the step and gazed at the falling snow. For some reason she felt as she had when she touched the cloak, held in thrall by some wonderful enchantment. It was as if the snow was watching her.
CHAPTER THREE
The Woman in the Red Coat
Gabriel was still on the train. He dared not turn around to see who was behind him. He stared straight ahead, telling himself that there was no one there, no one with such an overpowering stink it made him feel sick. He held his nose and closed his mouth. As long as he didn’t see the thing that smelled so bad, as long as he didn’t look it in the eye, he hoped that it might just disappear.
But a person can’t last forever without taking a breath, and eventually Gabriel had to release his nose. The smell lingered but it was gradually fading. Gabriel stood up and looked along the carriage. It appeared to be empty. Suddenly, above his head, the conductor’s voice informed passengers that, due to a fall of snow ahead of them, the train could go no further. However, a bus would arrive within the hour.
Gabriel pulled out his mobile and tried to contact his uncle. There was no signal. ‘Of course not,’ Gabriel said with a sigh, ‘we’re in the wild.’
The door at the end of the carriage opened and the woman in the red coat came in. She walked briskly down the aisle, saying, ‘Oh, there you are.’
‘The train seems to be stuck,’ Gabriel remarked, a little nervously.
‘We must get off right now,’ she said.
‘Must we?’ said Gabriel. ‘But it’s cold outside, and the bus might not arrive for an hour.’
‘We’re not waiting for a bus,’ said the woman.
‘Er,’ Gabriel said hesitantly, ‘my friend hasn’t come back from the toilet.’
‘If you mean that man with the white moustache,’ said the woman, ‘he got off at the last station.’
Gabriel gaped at her. ‘But he can’t have. He never said goodbye.’
‘The train probably arrived at his station sooner than he expected. Never mind. Let’s get off now.’
‘I saw him,’ she went on as Gabriel continued to look uncertain. ‘I asked him why you weren’t with him and he told me to mind my own business. We’re getting off now.’
Maybe she had decided to try and escape the hooded man, Gabriel thought. ‘OK,’ he said.
The woman lifted Gabriel’s bag off the table, but he jumped up, crying, ‘No. You can’t. It’s mine.’
‘Ssh!’ the woman hissed. She handed the bag to Gabriel. ‘I’m sorry, you must be very confused.’ She smiled again and said, in a hushed voice, ‘I’m Hetty Bean, a friend of Cook’s, you know, at Bloor’s Academy. She asked me to watch over you, and so I’m what she calls a Guardian now. Please trust me. We must get away from that stinking stranger as soon as we can.’
Gabriel nodded in agreement. ‘I think I’ve seen you in the dining hall at Bloor’s.’
Hetty smiled. ‘That’s me. Cook’s assistant – well, apprentice, really.’ She picked up Albert’s black hat. ‘Is this yours?’
‘No, it’s Albert’s, my companion. He must have left it behind.’
Hetty thrust the hat into her pocket. ‘Come on, then,’ she said, and hurried down the aisle.
Gabriel followed, hugging his bag. Hetty was already opening the train door when he reached her. She stepped down on to the platform and held up a hand to help with the bag. Gabriel clung to it and jumped out. The cold wind wrapped itself round their legs, and flurries of snow drifted into their faces. Gabriel turned his back to the wind and gulped. ‘I’m not sure about this.’
Hetty patted his shoulder. ‘Everything will be fine. I called my father before we lost signal. He won’t be long.’
Gabriel stared at the train. It looked very cosy in there. He couldn’t see the hooded stranger in any of the windows. Where was he? And why had Albert got off without saying goodbye? It didn’t make sense. Gabriel turned away from the train and looked over the platform railing. Fields of grey snow stretched into the darkness. ‘We’re nowhere,’ he said.
‘We’re in Humbledown.’ Hetty pointed to a sign, halfway down the platform. ‘We had to get away from it, Gabriel. Hopefully it doesn’t know we got out, but you’d better stand back, out of the light from the windows.’
Gabriel shuffled backwards into the shadows, and Hetty squinted at her watch in the weak beam from a lamp post. ‘Come on, Dad,’ she muttered.
‘Just now, you said IT,’ said Gabriel. ‘It?’
‘You know what I mean,’ said Hetty.
Gabriel nodded. ‘It smelled like something dead.’
‘I think it was, Gabriel.’ Hetty grimaced. ‘Dead but dangerous.’
Gabriel stared speechlessly at Hetty’s friendly face. And then, through the whine of the wind he caught the distinct sound of an engine.
‘Here he comes,’ said Hetty.
The engine noise was accompanied by a loud crunching sound, and then, between two rows of snow-laden hedges, a large vehicle rolled into view.
‘It’s a tractor,’ said Gabriel. For all that it was decked out in fairy lights, tinsel and holly, there was no denying that the big vehicle in the car park was a tractor.
‘Only thing in this weather,’ said Hetty. ‘Come on!’ She dashed to the end of the platform and began to descend the steps.
For a moment, Gabriel found himself gazing at the falling snow. There was something unusual about those elegantly dancing crystals. They seemed to be watching him.
He ran to the end of the platform and down the steps; there he found Hetty embracing a large man in a green boiler suit.
‘Gabriel!’ Releasing Hetty, the big man grabbed Gabriel’s hand and shook it so vigorously Gabriel thought his arm might fall off. ‘Fred Bean,’ the man said in a rumbly voice. ‘Pleased to meet one of the gifted ones, and one with SUCH a big responsibility.’
‘It’s only for a few days,’ said Gabriel, wondering how Fred Bean knew so much.
‘Indeed, but what a privilege.’
Unsure as to which of them was privileged, Gabriel allowed himself to be bundled up into the cab of the tractor. Hetty hauled herself after him, and Fred climbed into the driving seat. It was a bit of a squash, but at least they were dry.
The tractor bumped its way round the small parking area and then they were off, down the narrow lane, the snow thickening around them and the large wipers squeaking across the windscreen.
Fred Bean began to sing carols and Hetty explained that her father always did this for at least a month after Christmas. She invited Gabriel to join in. ‘Everyone knows a carol,’ she said cheerfully. And so they sang their way through the silent countryside with the wind whistling at their backs, and the headlights sweeping across glistening drifts of snow. Gabriel found that he felt completely safe with two people that he really didn’t know at all. He even forgot to ask where they were going until he saw the lights of a small town twinkling ahead of them. Behind the town, the lower slopes of a mountain could be seen, before it disappeared up into the dark sky.
‘Here we are, Meldon itself,’ Fred happily announced.
Gabriel suddenly realised he hadn’t told either of his rescuers where he wanted to go. ‘How did you know?’ he asked Hetty, who was squeezed into his side.
‘Cook,’ she said. ‘You might not have needed us at all, but your father rang her, just in case. And she did the rest.’
They were now rolling along Meldon High Street. The tractor made a difficult manoeuvre round a corner and then they were driving down a long steep road, with snow piled at the kerbs, and terraced houses with holly wreathes on their brightly painted doors. After the lonely wilderness of the fields, it was a surprise to see Christmas lights still twinkling in windows, and trees festooned with coloured globes and tinsel.
They came, at last, to three older buildings, timber-framed and roofed in lichen-covered slate.
‘Number twenty-nine, if I’m not mistaken,’ said Fred, bringing the tractor to a grinding halt. ‘The Carpenter’s Cabin.’
‘You knew the number.’ This time Gabriel wasn’t surprised.
‘Dad knows your uncle,’ said Hetty, climbing from the cab. ‘Jack Silk made him a table.’
‘A fine table,’ said Fred.
Gabriel thanked Fred for the lift and jumped out. Hetty followed him down the path to the front door, and waited while he rang the doorbell. His uncle’s Christmas wreath was hung with strong-smelling cloves and wrinkled tangerines. ‘Sadie’s work,’ Gabriel said with a grin. ‘My cousin,’ he told Hetty.
The door opened and there was Sadie, with the widest smile Gabriel had seen in a long while.
‘Gabriel!’ she shrieked and, flinging her arms round his neck, dragged him into the hall.
‘Hold on, Sadie,’ Gabriel said through slightly embarrassed giggles.
Sadie caught sight of Hetty, lingering on the doorstep. Releasing Gabriel with a squeak of surprise, she said, ‘Who are you?’
‘This is Hetty Bean, who rescued me,’ said Gabriel. He pointed to the tractor and added, ‘And that’s her dad, who brought us here!’
In a tractor,’ cried Sadie, delightedly. ‘Hetty, do you want some tea? And your dad, in the tractor, would he like some?’
Hetty shook her head. ‘I’ll just come in and make sure Gabriel’s safe.’
‘Of course he’s safe.’ Sadie led the way into the kitchen.
Uncle Jack gave Gabriel a hug and shook Hetty’s hand, and then Hetty gave a brief account of the stranger on the train, Albert’s disappearance and her role in Gabriel’s rescue.
Mr Silk looked concerned. ‘I don’t like the sound of this hooded stranger,’ he said. ‘What do you mean about his smell?’
Hetty struggled for an answer and Gabriel said, ‘He smelled like something rotten, you know, dead.’
‘And he knew you were the Keeper?’ asked his uncle.
Gabriel nervously pinched his nose and nodded. ‘He said I’d failed in my duty –’ he shrugged – ‘and then he vanished.’
‘Vanished? Just like that?’ Sadie raised her hands questioningly. ‘Pouff ! Into thin air?’
‘That’s just about it,’ Gabriel agreed.
‘Well!’ Mr Silk sighed. ‘Stranger things have happened, I suppose. These are mysterious times.’
‘Indeed,’ said Hetty.
Mr Silk wasn’t quite satisfied. ‘Wait,’ he said as Hetty turned to go. ‘So you’re a friend of the cook at Gabriel’s school?’
‘I’m the assistant cook,’ she admitted. ‘Sort of apprentice really, learning on the job. I love cooking. And then, because I live in Meldon, Cook recruited me, so to speak.’ Hetty began to look nervous. ‘This is my first assignment, and I hope I haven’t made a mess of it. I’ve done my best, I’m sure.’
Uncle Jack was still looking puzzled, so Hetty went on to explain that Cook had gathered together a group of people who could be trusted to watch out for vulnerable children. ‘Not that Gabriel is at all vulnerable,’ she added quickly. ‘But because of his great . . . responsibility, I was chosen to watch out for him, and his bag, of course. His designated companion, Albert Blackstaff, appeared to have deserted him.’
Uncle Jack stroked his chin and said, ‘I see.’ Gabriel noticed that his uncle looked very pale and anxious.
‘I think I am what is called a Guardian,’ said Hetty, now looking rather flustered.
Sadie suddenly piped up, ‘We should look in Gabriel’s bag. I mean, it is in your bag, isn’t it, Gabe? The great responsibility?’
‘The cloak, yes.’ Gabriel put his bag on the table and unzipped it. Everyone watched as he took out his father’s old jacket and unrolled it. There lay the folded cloak, glimmering softly under the kitchen light.
‘Wow!’ said Sadie. ‘All that magic lying on our old table.’
Gabriel grinned. He passed his hand over the velvet and felt – nothing. But it was surely the king’s cloak, just as it had been when his father had folded it into the jacket. ‘Yes,’ he murmured. ‘There it is.’ But was it? A chill ran down his spine. Something was wrong. He caught Sadie’s eye. She looked puzzled.
‘Thank goodness,’ said Hetty. ‘I thought perhaps I hadn’t been vigilant enough.’
‘All’s well, Hetty,’ said Mr Silk, looking very relieved, ‘and thank you for delivering our Gabriel.’
‘It was such an – an exciting experience,’ said Hetty beaming, ‘but I must dash now. Dad will be freezing. I’ll be up at Swallow Farm for a while – so if I’m needed . . .’
‘We know where to find you,’ said Mr Silk. He saw Hetty to the door and came back holding a black fur hat. ‘She gave me this,’ he said.
‘Albert Blackstaff ’s hat!’ Gabriel exclaimed. ‘Hetty put it in her pocket.’
‘That man should have told you he was leaving the train,’ said his uncle, frowning. ‘Your father will have something to say about this.’
Sadie took the hat from her father and hung it in the hall. ‘I’ve cooked your favourite supper,’ she told Gabriel when she came back. ‘But first I want to show you your room.’