Dying Fall

Cathbad. ‘I don’t know what for.’
    They go outside into the walled garden. Nelson is about to trample over Dame Alice’s herbs when Cathbad calls him back. Besides, there’s no need to search, they can see the whole garden from the back step. It’s a tangle of long grass and cow parsley. The only plants that Pendragon has cultivated are the herbs. Lemon-balm and rosemary stand in neatly turned earth and there is an old beer barrel full of mint. Otherwise the weeds and the brambles run unchecked. At the back of the garden there are apple trees, already heavy with fruit, and in the centre there’s a sundial. Beyond the wall, the hill climbs steeply up to the sky, dark purple with gorse. From one of the trees, a blackbird watches them.
    Nelson turns to go back into the house and almost falls over a bowl of cherries on the step.
    ‘What the hell’s that doing there?’
    ‘I think it’s an offering,’ says Cathbad. ‘The house used to be owned by Dame Alice Barley, one of the Pendle Witches, and Pendragon told me that he leaves gifts for her.’
    Nelson stares at him. ‘Are you serious?’
    ‘Yes. Pendragon says that the libations have always vanished by morning.’
    Nelson picks up the bowl. The fruit looks sticky and rotten; a worm is poking out of one of the cherries.
    ‘Well, Dame Alice isn’t playing today.’
    They go back into the house, which seems darker and more oppressive than ever. Thing drinks noisily out of a bowl in the kitchen.
    ‘Pendragon’s not here,’ says Nelson. ‘We’d better go back.’
    ‘I’d like to stay for a bit,’ says Cathbad.
    Nelson turns to stare at him. ‘Why?’
    ‘Well, someone’s got to look after Thing.’
    ‘Thing?’
    ‘The dog.’
    ‘He’ll be fine. He’s got enough food for a week.’
    ‘All the same,’ says Cathbad. ‘I want to stay. Something’s wrong. I can feel it.’
    Nelson is about to tell him not to talk rubbish but even he feels something odd about the little house. So odd, in fact, that Nelson suddenly feels desperate to get back to Blackpool, the Golden Mile, traffic, Michelle.
    ‘I can’t leave you here with no car.’
    ‘I’ll be fine. It’s only a few miles to Fence. And I’ve got a phone.’ He brandishes an ancient-looking mobile.
    ‘Well, ring if you’re in any trouble. I’d better get back to the family.’
    When he’s back in the car he thinks that there must be something very sinister indeed about Dame Alice’s cottage. He’s even looking forward to seeing Maureen.

CHAPTER 20
    Ruth is bumping the pushchair down the staircase. Kate is still complaining loudly, pushing against the straps and yelling ‘Out, out, out’ like some miniature activist. Susan Chow had offered to help with the stairs but Ruth just wanted to get away as quickly as possible. Besides it’d take Susan a while to get her room back in order. So Ruth ignores Kate’s shouts and heads for the front door of the library. In a few minutes, she’ll be out in the open air and maybe they can go to a park or something.
    ‘Can I help you?’
    A man appears at the foot of the stairs. Ruth says no thank you, she’s fine and is about to hurry past when the man says, ‘It’s Ruth, isn’t it?’
    Ruth looks round in surprise. She doesn’t expect to know anyone in Blackpool (apart from Maureen, that is, and she wouldn’t put it past her to have mastered the art of shape-changing).
    ‘It’s Sam,’ says the man. ‘Sam Elliot. We met at Clayton’s party.’
    Oh yes. Sam, Dan’s friend. He seems friendly enough but Kate is still yelling and Ruth is terrified that the people in the library will hear her.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘I’ve got to go. We’ll get chucked out in a minute.’
    ‘I’ll help you,’ says Sam, opening the main doors.
    Outside they are on a busy Blackpool street and Kate is quiet immediately. ‘Sun,’ she says, ‘Moon, stars.’ None of these things are visible at the moment – it’s eleven-thirty on a grey August morning – but Ruth is just relieved that she has stopped shouting.
    ‘Thanks,’ she says to Sam. ‘I don’t think Kate’s a big fan of quiet libraries.’
    ‘Libraries aren’t quiet these days,’ says Sam. ‘It’s all multimedia and outreach and gift shops.’
    Blackpool Central Library is a grand old Victorian building, but inside it is indeed a brave new world of plate glass and electronic displays. Ruth rather misses the dusty bookshelves of her student days.
    Sam says, ‘I