Almost before I realized what I was doing, I went up to the chapel door, opened it and walked in. To my surprise there was nobody there, but immediately I noticed something really strange about the layout inside. Instead of rows of benches facing towards the altar, with an aisle between them, the benches were in four long rows against the wall and they were facing towards a single large confessional box against the wall to my right, which had two large candles positioned like sentries at either side of it.

    The confessional box had the usual two entrances, one for the priest and one for the penitent. A confessional box is really two rooms with a dividing screen so that, although the priest can hear confessions through a grille, he can't see the face of the person making the confession. But there was something strange here. Someone had removed the doors so that I was facing two oblongs of utter blackness.

    As I stared towards the doors, feeling very uneasy, someone stepped out of the darkness of the priest's entrance on the left and walked towards me. He wore a cloak and a hood just like the Spook.

    It was Morgan, although the voice that called me hadn't been his. Was there somebody else in the chapel? As he approached, I had a sudden feeling of intense cold. Not the routine cold that told me something from the dark was close. It was different somehow. It reminded me of the cold I'd experienced when facing the evil spirit called the Bane in Priestown.

    'We meet again, Tom,' Morgan said with a faint, mocking smile. 'I'm sorry to hear the news about your father. But he had a good life. Death comes to us all in the end.'

    My heart lurched inside my chest and I stopped breathing. How did he know about Dad's illness?

    'But death isn't the end, Tom,' he said, taking another step towards me. 'And for a while we can still talk to the ones we love. Would you like to speak to your father? I could summon him for you now, if that's what you want...'

    I didn't reply. What he was saying was only just starting to sink in. I felt numb.

    'Oh, I'm sorry, Tom. Of course, you don't know, do you?' Morgan continued. 'Your father died last week.'

Mam's Room

    Morgan smiled again, but my heart lurched up into my mouth and I was filled with panic: the world spun about me. Without thinking, I turned and ran for the door. Once through it, I continued on down the path, my feet cmnching on the gravel. When I reached the gate, I turned and looked back. He was standing in the open doorway of the chapel. His face was in darkness so I couldn't see his expression, but he lifted his left hand and waved to me. The sort of wave you might give to a friend.

    I didn't wave back. I just opened the gate and carried on down the hillside, a mixture of thoughts and emotions running through my head. I was distraught to think that my dad might already be dead. Could Morgan be right about that? He was a necromancer, so had he summoned some ghost who'd told him that? I refused to believe it and tried to push it to the back of my mind.

    And why had I run away? I should have stayed and told him what I thought of him. But a lump had surged into my throat and my legs had carried me through the door before I'd had time to think. It wasn't that I'd been afraid of him, even though it had been really creepy to hear him say things like that in the chapel, with candles flickering behind him. It was being confronted with news like that.

    I don't remember much about the rest of the journey, apart from the fact that it seemed to be getting colder and windier. By the evening of the second day, the wind had veered to the north-east and the sky seemed heavy with snow.

    Snow didn't actually start to fall until I was within half an hour of home. The light was beginning to fail but I knew the way like the back of my hand and it didn't hinder my progress. By the time I opened the gate to the yard there was a white blanket covering everything and I was chilled to the bone. Snow always makes everything seem quiet, but a special evening stillness seemed to have fallen over the farmhouse. I entered the yard and the stillness broke as the dogs began to bark.

    There was nobody about, though a light was flickering in one of the back bedroom windows. Was I too late? My heart was down in my boots and I feared the very worst.

    Then I saw Jack: he came stomping across the yard towards me. He was scowling, his bushy eyebrows meeting above his nose.

    'What kept you?' he demanded angrily. 'It doesn't take over a week, does it? Our brothers have been and gone. And James lives halfway across the County! You were the only one not to arrive-'

    'Your letter went to the wrong address. I got it a week late,' I explained. 'But how is he? Am I too late?'

    I asked, holding my breath but already reading the truth in Jack's face.

    Jack sighed and bowed his head as if unable to meet my eyes. When he raised his head again, his eyes were glinting with tears. 'He's gone, Tom,' he said softly, all the harshness and anger gone. 'He died peacefully in his sleep a week yesterday'

    Before I knew it, he was hugging me and we were both crying. I was never going to see my dad again; never hear his voice, his old stories and wise sayings; never shake his hand or ask his advice; and the thought was unbearable. But as I stood there, I remembered someone who'd feel that loss even more than I did.

    'Poor Mam,' I said, when I could finally speak again. 'How's she been?'

    'Bad, Tom. Really bad,' Jack said, shaking his head sadly. 'I've never seen Mam cry before and it was a terrible sight to see. She was beside herself, didn't eat or sleep for days. And the day after the funeral she packed a bag and left, saying she had to get away for a while.'

    'Where's she gone?'

    Jack shook his head, his face filled with misery. T only wish I knew' he said.

    I didn't say anything to Jack, but I remembered what Dad had once told me: that Mam had her own life to lead and that after he was dead and buried she'd probably return to her own country. And he'd said that when the time came I should be brave and let her go with a smile. I just hoped that she'd not gone already. Would she go without saying goodbye to me? I hoped not. I just had to see her again, even if it was for the last time.

    It was the worst supper I could ever remember having at home.

    It was so sad not having Mam and Dad at the table and I kept glancing at Dad's empty chair. The baby was already upstairs in her cot, so there were just the three of us, Jack, Ellie and me, sitting at the table and picking slowly at our food.

    When I caught her eye, Ellie smiled sadly but was really quiet. I had a feeling that she wanted to say something to me but was biding her time.

    'If s a really good hotpot, Ellie' I told her. 'I'm sorry to waste it but I can't eat much. I just don't feel hungry.'

    'Don't worry, Tom' she said kindly. T understand. None of us have any appetite. Just eat what you can manage. It's important to keep your strength up at a time like this.'

    'It's probably not the right time, but I wanted to say congratulations, you two. Last time I was here, Mam told me you're expecting another baby and that it's a boy'

    Jack smiled sorrowfully, his voice subdued. 'Thanks, Tom. If only Dad could have lived to see his grandson born...' Then he cleared his throat as if he were about to say something important. 'Look' he began. 'Why don't you stay with us for a few days until the weather improves? You don't have to get back tomorrow, do you? The truth is, I could do with a bit of help on the farm. James stayed for a couple of days but he had to get back to work.'