droopy eyelids and folds of skin closing over them.
‘I’m making for the river,’ I told him. ‘I’m supposed to meet some friends there.’
‘You’re slightly off track – you should be heading that way,’ he said, pointing in what seemed to be a more easterly direction. ‘Have you been walking all night?’
I nodded.
‘Well, in that case you’ll be cold and hungry. Mistress Scarabek will make you something to eat and let you warm yourself by the fire for a while,’ he said, indicating the front door of the cottage. ‘Knock quietly so as not to wake the young ’un, and ask her for some breakfast. Tell her that Thin Shaun sent you.’
The man’s appearance was odd, but I was in urgent need of food and shelter. I nodded my thanks, approached the cottage and rapped lightly on the door, trying to make as little noise as possible.
I heard the slip-slap of bare feet and the door opened a crack. It was dark inside, but I thought I could make out a single unblinking eye.
‘Thin Shaun sent me,’ I said, keeping my voice low so as not to wake the child. ‘He said you’d give me a little breakfast, please. If that’s not too much trouble …’
For what seemed like an age there was no response, but then the door opened silently and I saw a woman wearing a green woollen shawl. This must be Mistress Scarabek, I thought. She looked sad and, like Shaun, had very pale skin, with red-rimmed eyes that suggested she’d either been crying recently or had been up all night. The baby had probably kept her awake.
‘Come in,’ she said, her voice gentle. I remember thinking what a contrast it was to Thin Shaun’s croaky rasp. ‘But leave your staff outside. We’ll have no need for spook’s work in here.’
Thinking nothing of it, I obeyed without question, leaning my staff against the wall next to the window and stepping into the cottage. It was small and cosy, with a turf fire glowing in the grate. Two stools faced the hearth, and against the wall stood a small cradle on rockers; before going through to the kitchen, Scarabek set the thing in motion to keep the baby happy.
A few moments later she returned carrying a small bowl, which she handed to me. ‘Here – that’s all I have, a little gruel. We’re poor people. Times are hard and I must think of my family’s needs.’
I thanked her and started to eat the thin porridge with my fingers. It was cold and a little slimy, but after what she’d just said I tried not to betray my dislike of it. It didn’t really taste unpleasant – just a little odd, with a spicy tang. But strangely it made my mouth very dry.
‘Thank you,’ I said when I’d finished the gruel, taking care to eat up every last bit. ‘I don’t suppose I could trouble you for a cup of water?’
‘You don’t need water,’ Scarabek said mysteriously. ‘Why don’t you lie down in front of the fire and rest your young bones until it gets dark?’
The stone flags were hard and cold, despite the proximity of the fire, but I suddenly felt very tired and what she suggested seemed a good idea. So I stretched before the hearth.
‘Close your eyes,’ Scarabek commanded. ‘That would be wise. It’ll be better for us all once it’s gone dark.’
I remember thinking her words were really odd and I felt confused. What did she mean? How could the dark be ‘better for us all’? Moreover, the sun couldn’t have been up for more than half an hour or so. It would be another nine hours before it got dark. Did she expect me to lie here all that time? And wasn’t there something I had to do? I had to meet somebody. But I couldn’t remember who or where.
I OPENED MY eyes; it was dark in the cottage and I felt stiff and cold. The fire was out but there was a candle burning on the mantelpiece.
I felt utterly weary and wanted to close my eyes and drift back into a deep sleep. I was about to do just that when I saw something that made me gasp with concern. The baby’s cradle had fallen
‘I’m making for the river,’ I told him. ‘I’m supposed to meet some friends there.’
‘You’re slightly off track – you should be heading that way,’ he said, pointing in what seemed to be a more easterly direction. ‘Have you been walking all night?’
I nodded.
‘Well, in that case you’ll be cold and hungry. Mistress Scarabek will make you something to eat and let you warm yourself by the fire for a while,’ he said, indicating the front door of the cottage. ‘Knock quietly so as not to wake the young ’un, and ask her for some breakfast. Tell her that Thin Shaun sent you.’
The man’s appearance was odd, but I was in urgent need of food and shelter. I nodded my thanks, approached the cottage and rapped lightly on the door, trying to make as little noise as possible.
I heard the slip-slap of bare feet and the door opened a crack. It was dark inside, but I thought I could make out a single unblinking eye.
‘Thin Shaun sent me,’ I said, keeping my voice low so as not to wake the child. ‘He said you’d give me a little breakfast, please. If that’s not too much trouble …’
For what seemed like an age there was no response, but then the door opened silently and I saw a woman wearing a green woollen shawl. This must be Mistress Scarabek, I thought. She looked sad and, like Shaun, had very pale skin, with red-rimmed eyes that suggested she’d either been crying recently or had been up all night. The baby had probably kept her awake.
‘Come in,’ she said, her voice gentle. I remember thinking what a contrast it was to Thin Shaun’s croaky rasp. ‘But leave your staff outside. We’ll have no need for spook’s work in here.’
Thinking nothing of it, I obeyed without question, leaning my staff against the wall next to the window and stepping into the cottage. It was small and cosy, with a turf fire glowing in the grate. Two stools faced the hearth, and against the wall stood a small cradle on rockers; before going through to the kitchen, Scarabek set the thing in motion to keep the baby happy.
A few moments later she returned carrying a small bowl, which she handed to me. ‘Here – that’s all I have, a little gruel. We’re poor people. Times are hard and I must think of my family’s needs.’
I thanked her and started to eat the thin porridge with my fingers. It was cold and a little slimy, but after what she’d just said I tried not to betray my dislike of it. It didn’t really taste unpleasant – just a little odd, with a spicy tang. But strangely it made my mouth very dry.
‘Thank you,’ I said when I’d finished the gruel, taking care to eat up every last bit. ‘I don’t suppose I could trouble you for a cup of water?’
‘You don’t need water,’ Scarabek said mysteriously. ‘Why don’t you lie down in front of the fire and rest your young bones until it gets dark?’
The stone flags were hard and cold, despite the proximity of the fire, but I suddenly felt very tired and what she suggested seemed a good idea. So I stretched before the hearth.
‘Close your eyes,’ Scarabek commanded. ‘That would be wise. It’ll be better for us all once it’s gone dark.’
I remember thinking her words were really odd and I felt confused. What did she mean? How could the dark be ‘better for us all’? Moreover, the sun couldn’t have been up for more than half an hour or so. It would be another nine hours before it got dark. Did she expect me to lie here all that time? And wasn’t there something I had to do? I had to meet somebody. But I couldn’t remember who or where.
I OPENED MY eyes; it was dark in the cottage and I felt stiff and cold. The fire was out but there was a candle burning on the mantelpiece.
I felt utterly weary and wanted to close my eyes and drift back into a deep sleep. I was about to do just that when I saw something that made me gasp with concern. The baby’s cradle had fallen
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