That night I found it very hard to sleep. I kept thinking about the dark pit and worrying about having to visit it again the following night.

I only just made it down to breakfast on time and the bacon was burnt and the bread a bit on the stale side. I couldn’t understand why this was – I’d bought the bread fresh from the baker’s only the day before. Not only that, the milk was sour. Could it be because the boggart was angry with me? Did it know what I’d been up to? Had it spoiled the breakfast as some sort of warning?

Working on a farm is hard and that was what I was used to. The Spook hadn’t left me any tasks to do, so I’d nothing to fill my day with. I did walk up to the library, thinking that he probably wouldn’t mind if I found myself something useful to read, but to my disappointment the door was locked.

So what could I do but go for a walk? I decided to explore the fells, firstly climbing Parlick Pike; at the summit I sat on the cairn of stones and admired the view.

It was a clear, bright day and from up there I could see the County spread out below me, with the distant sea an inviting, twinkling blue, way out to the northwest. The fells seemed to go on for ever, great hills with names like Calder Fell and Stake House Fell – so many that it seemed it would take a lifetime to explore them.

Nearby was Wolf Fell and it made me wonder whether there actually were any wolves in the area. Wolves could be dangerous and it was said that in winter, when the weather was cold, they sometimes hunted in packs. Well, it was spring now, and I certainly didn’t see any sign of them but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. It made me realize that being up on the fells after nightfall would be quite scary.

Not as scary, I decided, as having to go and feed Mother Malkin another of the cakes, and all too soon the sun began to sink towards the west and I was forced to climb down towards Chipenden again.

Once more I found myself carrying the basket through the darkness of the garden. This time I decided to get it over with quickly. Wasting no time, I dropped the second sticky cake through the bars into the black pit.

It was only when it was too late, the very second it left my ringers, that I noticed something that sent a chill straight to my heart.

The bars above the pit had been bent. Last night they’d been perfectly straight, thirteen parallel rods of iron. Now the centre ones were almost wide enough to get a head through.

They could have been bent by someone on the outside, above ground, but I doubted that. The Spook had told me that the gardens and house were guarded and that nobody could get in. He hadn’t said how and by what but I guessed it was by some sort of boggart. Perhaps the same one that made the meals.

So it had to be the witch. She must have climbed up the side of the pit somehow and begun working at the bars. Suddenly the truth of what was happening dawned inside my head.

I’d been so stupid! The cakes were making her stronger.

I heard her below in the darkness, starting to eat the second cake, making the same horrible chewing, snuffling and snorting noises. I left the trees quickly and went back to the cottage. For all I knew she might not even need the third one.

After another sleepless night I’d made up my mind. I decided to go and see Alice, give her back the last cake and explain to her why I couldn’t keep my promise.

First I had to find her. Straight after breakfast I went down to the wood where we’d first met and walked through to its far edge. Alice had said she lived ‘yonder’ but there was no sign of any buildings, just low hills and valleys and more woods in the distance.

Thinking it would be faster to ask directions, I went down into the village. There were surprisingly few people about, but as I’d expected, some of the lads were hanging about near the baker’s. It seemed to be their favourite spot. Perhaps they liked the smell. I know I did. Freshly baked bread has one of the best smells in all the world.

They weren’t very friendly considering that last time we’d met, I’d given them a cake and an apple each. That was probably because this time the big lad with piggy eyes was with them. Still, they did listen to what I had to say. I didn’t go into details – just told them I needed to find the girl we’d met at the edge of the wood.

‘I know where she might be,’ said the big lad, scowling fiercely, ‘but you’d be stupid to go there.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘Didn’t you hear what she said?’ he asked, raising his eyebrows. ‘She said Bony Lizzie was her aunt.’

‘Who’s Bony Lizzie?’

They looked at each other and shook their heads as if I were mad. Why was it that everyone seemed to have heard of her but me?

‘Lizzie and her grandmother spent a whole winter here before Gregory sorted them out. My dad’s always going on about them. They were just about the scariest witches there’ve ever been in these parts. They lived with something just as scary though. It looked like a man but it was really big, with too many teeth to fit into its mouth. That’s what my dad told me. He said that back then, during that long winter, people never went out after dark. Some spook you’ll be if you’ve never even heard of Bony Lizzie.’

I didn’t like the sound of that one little bit. I realized I’d been really stupid. If only I’d told the Spook about my talk with Alice he’d have realized that Lizzie was back and would have done something about it.

According to the big lad’s dad, Bony Lizzie had lived on a farm about three miles south-east of the Spook’s place. It had been deserted for years and nobody ever went there. So that was the most likely place she’d be staying now. That seemed about right to me, because it was in the direction that Alice had pointed.

Just then a group of grim-faced people came out of the church. They turned the corner in a straggly line and headed up the hill towards the fells, the village priest in the lead. They were dressed in warm clothing and many of them were carrying walking sticks.

‘What’s all that about?’ I asked.

‘A child went missing last night,’ answered one of the lads, spitting onto the cobbles. ‘A three-year-old. They think he’s wandered off up there. Mind you, it’s not the first. Two days ago a baby went missing from a farm over on the Long Ridge. It was too young to walk, so it must have been carried off. They think it could be wolves. It was a bad winter and that sometimes brings them back.’

The directions I was given turned out to be pretty good. Even allowing for going back to pick up Alice’s basket, it was less than an hour before Lizzie’s house came into view.

At that point, in bright sunlight, I lifted the cloth and examined the last of the three cakes. It smelled bad but looked even worse. It seemed to have been made from small pieces of meat and bread, plus other things that I couldn’t identify. It was wet and very sticky and almost black. None of the ingredients had been cooked but just sort of pressed together. Then I noticed something even more horrible. There were tiny white things crawling on the cake which looked like maggots.

I shuddered, covered it up with the cloth and went down the hill to the very neglected farm. Fences were broken, the barn was missing half its roof and there was no sign of any animals.

One thing did worry me though. Smoke was coming from the farmhouse chimney. It meant that someone was at home and I began to worry about the thing with too many teeth to fit into its mouth.

What had I expected? It was going to be difficult. How on earth could I manage to talk to Alice without being seen by the other members of her family?

As I halted on the slope, trying to work out what to do next, my problem was solved for me. A slim, dark figure came out of the back door of the farmhouse and began to climb the hill directly towards me. It was Alice – but how had she known I was there? There were trees between the farmhouse and me, and the windows were facing in the wrong direction.