The Spook's Mistake

CHAPTER 8 The fisherman's wife

As it happened, I didn't get any training the next day. We'd no sooner finished our breakfast than there was the sound of a distant bell. It rang three times.

'Sounds like trouble,' Arkwright observed. 'Bring your staff, Master Ward. Let's go and see what the matter is. '

That said, he led the way out into the garden, across the salt moat and towards the canal. A tall elderly man was waiting beneath the bell. He was clutching a piece of paper to his chest.

'So you've decided. ' Arkwright said when we drew near.

The man nodded. He was thin as well as tall, with grey, wispy hair around his temples. It looked as though a strong gust of wind would blow him over. He held the paper out so that Arkwright could see. There were nineteen names on one side; three on the other. 'We had a vote yesterday,' he said, a plaintive whine to his voice. 'It was decided by a large majority. We don't want her living nearby. It's not right. Not right at all. '

'I told you last time,' Arkwright said, sounding irritated. 'We don't even know for sure that she is one. Have they any children?'

The thin man shook his head. 'No children, but if she is one, your dogs will know, won't they? They'll be able to tell?'

'Perhaps, but it's not always as simple as that. Anyway, I'll come and sort it out — one way or the other.'

The man nodded and hastened away northwards along the canal.

When he'd gone, Arkwright sighed. 'Not one of my favourite jobs, this. A bunch of good folks further north think a local fisherman's living with a selkie,' he said, the word 'good' heavy with sarcasm. 'They've been dithering for almost a year, trying to make up their minds. Now they want me to deal with it.'

'A selkie? What's that?' I asked.

'A selkie is a shape-shifter and what's commonly known as a "seal-woman", Master Ward. Mostly they spend their lives in the sea but occasionally they take a fancy to a man — perhaps spying him when he's out in his boat or mending his nets. The more attached to him they become, the more human they appear. The change takes a day or so at the most — they shift into a perfect female form — into the semblance of an extremely attractive woman. The fisherman usually falls head over heels in love at the very first meeting and marries the selkie.

'They can't have children, but apart from that it's a perfectly happy marriage. I don't see the harm in it, but if there's a complaint we have to act. It's part of the job. We have to make people feel safe. That means using the dogs. Selkies sometimes live amongst people for years before there's even the faintest whiff of suspicion. Mostly it's the women who stir up their menfolk to complain. They get jealous. You see, as well as having more than her fair share of beauty, a selkie hardly ages at all.'

'That fisherman — if his wife is a selkie,' I asked, 'is he likely to know?'

'After a while some work it out. But they don't complain. '

With that, Arkwright shrugged his shoulders and let out a long piercing whistle. Almost immediately it was answered by the distant barking of the dogs and they bounded up, jaws agape, teeth threatening. Soon he was leading us north, striding along the canal bank with Tooth and Claw panting at his heels and me following a few paces behind. Before long we passed the man from the village; Arkwright didn't even nod in his direction.

I didn't like the sound of this job at all and, hard though he seemed, Arkwright clearly wasn't happy about it either. In one respect, a selkie reminded me of a lamia — they could also shape-shift slowly into human form. I thought of Meg, the lamia witch my master once loved. How would he have felt if someone had gone after her with dogs? No better than the fisherman would feel when we went after his wife. My mam was probably a lamia too, just like her sisters, and I knew how my dad would feel if she were hunted down like this. The whole situation made me feel bad. If the fisherman's wife did no harm, why did she have to be hunted?

We left the canal, heading west towards the coast, and soon a level expanse of flat, light-brown sand came into view. The day was chilly — there was no warmth in the sun, although it was sparkling on the distant sea. Giving the wolfhounds a wide berth, I moved up to walk at Arkwright's side. I was curious and had questions to ask.

'Do selkies have any powers?' I asked. 'Do they use dark magic?'

He shook his head without looking at me. 'Their only real power is to shift their shape,' he replied morosely. 'Once in human shape, they can revert back in minutes if threatened.'

'Does a selkie belong to the dark?' I asked.

'Not directly,' he answered. 'They're like humans in that respect — they can go either way.'

Soon we passed through a small hamlet of seven or so houses where the faint stink of rotten fish tainted the air. There were fishing nets and a couple of small boats in view but no sign of any people. Not even a twitch of lace curtains. They must have seen Arkwright coming and knew to stay indoors.

Once clear of the hamlet, I saw a solitary cottage in the distance, and on a small hillock behind it, saw a man mending his nets. In front, on the edge of the sands, a washing line stretched from a metal hook in the wall by the front door to a wooden post. Clothes flapped on only half of the line. A woman came out of the cottage carrying an armful of wet clothes and a handful of pegs and started to hang out her washing.

'Well, let's see what's what,' Arkwright growled, giving a low whistle. Immediately both dogs bounded forward. 'Don't worry, Master Ward,' he continued. 'They're well-trained. If she's human, they won't so much as lick her!'

He suddenly began to sprint towards the house, and at that moment the fisherman looked up from his mending and came to his feet. His hair was white and he looked quite old. I saw then that my master wasn't running towards the woman; his target was the fisherman. But the dogs were. The woman looked up, dropped her washing, pulled her skirts above her knees and began to run towards the distant sea.

Without thinking I began to run too, following the dogs towards their prey. Was she a selkie? If not, why had she run away? Perhaps her neighbours were vindictive and she'd been expecting trouble. Or maybe she was simply afraid of dogs — some people were. And Tooth and Claw would scare anybody. But something about the way she made directly for the sea unnerved me.

She looked young — far younger than the fisherman; young enough to be his daughter. We were closing on her now, despite the fact that she was running fast, long hair streaming behind her, legs pumping. She seemed to have no chance of outrunning Tooth and Claw. The sea was still a long way out. But then I noticed the channel directly ahead. It was like a river running through the sands and the tide was racing in from the west. The choppy water already looked deep. Claw was at the woman's heels now, jaws open wide, but suddenly she put on an extra spurt, almost leaving the dog standing.

Then she began to throw off her clothes as she ran and dived straight into the water. I reached the edge of the channel, looking down into the gulley. There was no sign of her. Had she drowned? Chosen to die that way rather than be ripped apart by the dogs?

The dogs were howling, running along the banks but not following. Then a face and shoulders appeared briefly above the water. The woman glanced back towards me and I knew.

It was no longer a human face. The eyes were bulbous, the skin sleek. She was a selkie all right. And now she was safe in her watery home. But I was surprised by the dogs. Why hadn't they pursued her into the sea?

She was swimming powerfully up the channel against the surge of the tide, heading for the open sea. I watched her bobbing head for a few moments until she disappeared from sight, then turned and walked slowly back towards the cottage, the dogs following forlornly at my heels. In the distance I could see Arkwright, his arms wrapped around the fisherman, holding him fast. He'd prevented him from going to the aid of his wife.

As I drew closer, Arkwright released the man, who began to wave his arms frantically. Up close, he looked older than ever.

'What harm were we doing? What harm?' wailed the fisherman, tears streaming down his face. 'My life's over now. She was all I lived for. Nearly twenty years we've been together and you end it like that. And for what? The word of a few jealous so-called neighbours. What kind of man are you? She was gentle and kind and wouldn't harm a soul!'

Arkwright shook his head but didn't answer. He turned his back on the fisherman and we strode away towards the hamlet, beyond which dark heavy rain clouds were gathering. As we approached, doors started opening and curtains twitched. Only one person came out into the street, however — the thin man who'd rung the bell and summoned us to this unhappy task. He approached and held out a handful of coins. It looked like they'd taken a collection to pay my master's bill. It was a surprisingly prompt payment. John Gregory rarely got paid immediately after a job. He often had to wait months — sometimes until after the next harvest.

I thought for a moment that Arkwright wasn't going to accept the money. Even when it was in his hand, he looked more likely to throw it back in the man's face than put it in his pocket. But pocket it he did, and without a word moved on up the street.

'Won't she come back when we've gone?' I asked as we began to walk back towards the canal.

'They never come back, Master Ward,' Arkwright answered, his face grim. 'Nobody knows why but she'll spend years out at sea now. Maybe the rest of her long life. Unless she spies another man she takes a fancy to. Perhaps she'll get lonely out there. '

'Why didn't the dogs follow her into the water?' I asked.

Arkwright shrugged. 'Had they caught her first she'd have been dead by now — make no mistake. But she's very strong in her own element, and well able to defend herself. Left alone, she's harmless, so I don't ever put the dogs at risk unnecessarily. With a water witch it's different and I expect the animals to put their lives on the line. But for a seal-woman, why bother? She's no real threat to anybody. She's away now and the villagers will feel safer in their beds tonight. So our job's done.'

It seemed cruel to me and I was far from happy at having taken part in what seemed an unnecessary act. Nearly twenty years they'd been together, and now the fisherman would face a lonely and bitter old age. I vowed to myself, there and then, that when I became a spook, there were some jobs I wouldn't touch.