faded. ‘Well done, lad,’ he said. ‘There are two things that respond well to flattery. The first’s a woman and the second’s a boggart. Gets them every time.’
Well, I hadn’t seen any sign of a woman in the kitchen so it confirmed what I’d suspected - that a boggart cooked our meals. It was a surprise, to say the least. Everyone thought that a spook was a boggart-slayer, or that he fixed them so they couldn’t get up to any mischief. Who would have credited that he had one cooking and cleaning for him?
‘This is the western garden,’ the Spook told me, as we walked along the third path, the white pebbles crunching under our feet. ‘It’s a safe place to be whether it’s day or night. I often come here myself when I’ve got a problem that needs thinking through.’
We passed through another gap in the hedge and were soon walking through the trees. I felt the difference right away. The birds were singing and the trees were swaying slightly in the morning breeze. It was a happier place.
We kept walking until we came out of the trees onto a hillside with a view of the fells to our right. The sky was so clear that I could see the dry-stone walls that divided the lower slopes into fields and marked out each farmer’s territory. In fact the view extended right to the summits of the nearest fell.
The Spook gestured towards a wooden bench to our left. ‘Take a pew, lad,’ he invited.
I did as I was told and sat down. For a few moments the Spook stared down at me, his green eyes locked upon mine. Then he began to pace up and down in front of the bench without speaking. He was no longer looking at me, but stared into space with a vacant expression in his eyes. He thrust back his long black cloak and put his hands in his breeches pockets then, very suddenly, he sat down beside me and asked questions.
‘How many different types of boggart do you think there are?’
I hadn’t a clue. ‘I know two types already,’ I said, ‘the free and the bound , but I couldn’t even begin to guess about the others.’
‘That’s good twice over, lad. You’ve remembered what I taught you and you’ve shown yourself to be someone who doesn’t make wild guesses. You see, there are as many different types of boggart as there are types of people and each one has a personality of its own. Having said that, though, there are some types that can be recognized and given a name. Sometimes on account of the shape they take and sometimes because of their behaviour and the tricks they get up to.’
He reached into his right pocket and pulled out a small book bound with black leather. Then he handed it to me. ‘Here, this is yours now,’ he said. ‘Take care of it, and whatever you do, don’t lose it.’
The smell of leather was very strong and the book appeared to be brand new. It was a bit of a disappointment to open it and find it full of blank pages. I suppose I’d expected it to be full of the secrets of the Spook’s trade - but no, it seemed that I was expected to write them down, because next the Spook pulled a pen and a small bottle of ink from his pocket.
‘Prepare to take notes,’ he said, standing up and beginning to pace back and forth in front of the bench again. ‘And be careful not to spill the ink, lad. It doesn’t dribble from a cow’s udder.’
I managed to uncork the bottle, then, very carefully, I dipped the nib of the pen into it and opened the notebook at the first page.
The Spook had already begun the lesson and he was talking very fast.
‘Firstly, there are hairy boggarts which take the shape of animals. Most are dogs but there are almost as many cats and the odd goat or two. But don’t forget to include horses as well - they can be very tricky. And whatever their shape, hairy boggarts can be divided up into those which are hostile, friendly or somewhere between.
‘Then there are hall-knockers, which sometimes develop into stone-chuckers, which can get very angry when provoked. One
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