Free Skull in the Wood by Sandra Greaves

matter much.
    It was only when Dad came in from the fields withJez, both of them soaked to the skin, that Matt finally showed up. He just expects to be fed – he doesn’t seem to realise that it has to be cooked first. It’s like he hasn’t even noticed that Mum’s not here any more. Anyway, Dad changed quickly, and we all sat down and tore into supper. Honey chicken, potatoes, carrots and broccoli. For a while there was nothing but contented chomping. Dad finally put his fork down and told me how good it was.
    â€˜I helped,’ said Kitty.
    â€˜And you’re a very good cook, too. There’s no stinting on the honey with you.’
    All through the chitter-chatter you could see Matt was squirming to say something. Finally he turned to Dad.
    â€˜Uncle Jack, have you ever heard of the gabble ratchet?’
    I frowned. Wasn’t that the thing Gabe had mentioned? How come Matt suddenly knew all about it?
    â€˜Can’t say I have,’ said Dad. I thought he’d leave it at that – he hasn’t been talking much to Matt, which is totally fair enough. But Dad can’t resist a story.
    â€˜Do you know what it is?’ he said.
    To my annoyance, Matt had one up on me. He toldus what Gabe had been spouting to him – that at the beginning it sounds like a load of geese flying over and honking. Big deal.
    â€˜I seem to remember something about that legend,’ said Dad. ‘Geese turning into something else – and if you see it, hideous things will happen to you. Maybe the gabbleratchet’s another word for it.’ He glanced at Kitty. ‘OK, darling, you can get down now.’ He waited till she’d disappeared.
    â€˜So,’ he said. ‘From what I remember, the story they tell here is that wild geese are the devil’s servants. And when they change, they become a pack of demonic creatures charging across the moor. Hunting. Get in their way and you’re doomed.’
    Matt was silent for a moment. He takes all this supernatural stuff way too seriously. Then he started up again.
    â€˜Old Scratch is another name for the devil, isn’t it? So has the gabbleratchet got anything to do with Old Scratch Wood?’
    Dad shrugged. ‘There are loads of places on Dartmoor with a connection to the devil. All I know is that anyone unlucky enough to find themselves in the path of these creatures would be cursed. They’d go home and find someone in their family had died. Orthey’d be chased over a cliff and smashed to pieces. That’s what the folk tales say, anyway.’
    â€˜You sound as bad as Gabe,’ I said, crossly. I don’t like it when Dad tries to scare me about the moor.
    None of us had noticed Kitty slip back in from the living room. Suddenly she made her presence felt.
    â€˜Gabbleratchet,’ she said. ‘Gabbleratchet. Gabble ratchet. Gabbleratchet.’ She was shouting now. ‘Gabbleratchet! Gabbleratchet! Gabbleratchet!’ She started running in circles round the table, yelling and whooping.
    The word was pulsating in my ears. Kitty often gets over-excited about stuff, but this time it was freaking me out. Matt looked totally horrified, and even Dad seemed a bit pained.
    â€˜Enough!’ I shouted. I grabbed her and held on. ‘Bedtime for you!’
    â€˜Not going to bed,’ Kitty said, struggling.
    â€˜Shush,’ I said. ‘No more arguments.’
    I frogmarched her upstairs, did her teeth and a quick wash and got her into her bunny pyjamas. I sat with her for a while, reading her favourite book, but she wasn’t really listening. Finally I put the light out.
    â€˜Is the gabbleratchet coming, Tilda?’ she murmured.
    â€˜Don’t be silly,’ I said. ‘Of course not. There’s nosuch thing.’
    I shut the door softly and crept away.
    When I came down again, Dad was sprawled in his usual place on the sofa and Matt was nowhere to be seen. Good, I thought.