Chapter Ten. Poor Billy
I was so weak afterwards that I fell to my knees, and within moments I was sick – sicker than I’d ever been before. I kept heaving and heaving even when there was nothing but bile coming out of my mouth, heaving until my insides felt torn and twisted.
At last it ended and I managed to stand. Even then, it was a long time before my breathing slowed down and my body stopped trembling. I just wanted to go back to the Spook’s house. I’d done enough for one night, surely?
But I couldn’t – the child was in Lizzie’s house. That was what my instincts told me. The child was the prisoner of a witch who was capable of murder. So I had no choice. There was nobody else but me and if I didn’t help, then who would? I had to set off for Bony Lizzie’s house.
There was a storm surging in from the west, a dark jagged line of cloud that was eating into the stars. Very soon now it would begin to rain, but as I started down the hill towards the house, the moon was still out – a full moon, bigger than I ever remembered it.
It was casting my shadow before me as I went. I watched it grow, and the nearer I got to the house, the bigger it seemed to get. I had my hood up and I was carrying the Spook’s staff in my left hand, so that the shadow didn’t seem to belong to me any more. It moved on ahead of me until it fell upon Bony Lizzie’s house.
I glanced backwards then, half expecting to see the Spook standing behind me. He wasn’t there. It was just a trick of the light. So I went on until I’d passed through the open gate into the yard.
I paused before the front door to think. What if I was too late and the child was already dead? Or what if its disappearance was nothing to do with Lizzie and I was just putting myself in danger for nothing? My mind carried on thinking, but just as it had on the riverbank, my body knew what to do. Before I could stop it, my left hand rapped the staff hard against the wood three times.
For a few moments there was silence, followed by the sound of footsteps and a sudden crack of light under the door.
As the door swung slowly open, I took a step backwards. To my relief it was Alice. She was holding a lantern level with her head so that one half of her face was lit while the other was in darkness.
'What do you want?’ she asked, her voice filled with anger.
‘You know what I want,’ I replied. ‘I’ve come for the child. For the child that you’ve stolen.’
‘Don’t be a fool,’ she hissed. ‘Go away before it’s too late. They’ve gone off to meet Mother Malkin. They could be back any minute.’
Suddenly a child began to cry, a thin wail coming from somewhere inside the house. So I pushed past Alice and went inside.
There was just a single candle flickering in the narrow passageway, but the rooms themselves were in darkness. The candle was unusual. I’d never seen one made of black wax before, but I snatched it up anyway and let my ears guide me to the right room.
I eased open the door. The room was empty of furniture and the child was lying on the floor on a heap of straw and rags.
‘What’s your name?’ I asked, trying my best to smile. I leaned my staff against the wall and moved closer.
The child stopped crying and tottered to its feet, its eyes very wide. ‘Don’t worry. There’s no need to be scared,’ I said, trying to put as much reassurance into my voice as possible. ‘I’m going to take you home to your mam.’
I put the candle on the floor and picked up the child. It smelled as bad as the rest of the room and it was cold and wet. I cradled it with my right arm and wrapped my cloak about it as best I could.
Suddenly the child spoke. ‘I’m Tommy,’ it said. ‘I’m Tommy.’
‘Well, Tommy,’ I said, ‘we’ve got the same name. My name’s Tommy too. You’re safe now. You’re going home.’
With those words, I picked up my staff and went into the passageway and out through the front door. Alice was standing in the yard near the gate. The lantern had gone out, but the moon was still shining, and as I walked towards her, it threw my shadow onto the side of the barn, a giant shadow ten times bigger than I was.
I tried to pass her but she stepped directly into my path so that I was forced to halt.
‘Don’t meddle!’ she warned, her voice almost a snarl, her teeth gleaming white and sharp in the moonlight. ‘Ain’t none of your business, this.’
I was in no mood to waste time arguing with her, and when I moved directly towards her, Alice didn’t try to stop me. She stepped back out of my way and called out after me, ‘You’re a fool. Give it back before it’s too late. They’ll come after you. You’ll never get away.’
I didn’t bother to answer. I never even looked back. I went through the gate and began to climb away from the house.
It started to rain then, hard and heavy, straight into my face. It was the kind of rain that my dad used to call ‘wet rain’. All rain is wet, of course, but some kinds do seem to make a better and a faster job of soaking you than others. This was as wet as it got and I headed back towards the Spook’s house as fast as I could.
I wasn’t sure if I’d be safe even there. What if the Spook really was dead? Would the boggart still guard his house and garden?
Soon I had more immediate things to worry about. I began to sense that I was being followed. The first time I felt it, I came to a halt and listened, but there was nothing but the howling of the wind and the rain lashing into the trees and drumming onto the earth. I couldn’t see much either because it was very dark now.
So I carried on, taking even bigger strides, just hoping that I was still heading in the right direction. Once I came up against a thick, high hawthorn hedge and had to make a long detour to find a gate, all the time feeling that the danger behind was getting closer. It was just after I’d come through a small wood that I knew for certain that there was someone there. Climbing a hill, I paused for breath close to its summit. The rain had eased for a moment and I looked back down into the darkness, towards the trees. I heard the crack and snap of twigs. Someone was moving very fast through the wood towards me, not caring where they put their feet.
At the crest of the hill I looked back once more. The first flash of lightning lit up the sky and the ground below, and I saw two figures come out of the trees and begin to climb the slope. One of them was female, the other shaped like a man, big and burly.
When the thunder crashed again Tommy began to cry. ‘Don’t like thunder!’ he wailed. ‘Don’t like thunder!’
‘Storms can’t hurt you, Tommy,’ I told him, knowing it wasn’t true. They scared me as well. One of my uncles had been struck by lightning when he’d been out trying to get some cattle in. He’d died later. It wasn’t safe being out in the open in weather like this. But although lightning terrified me, it did have its uses. It was showing me the way, each vivid flash lighting up my route back to the Spook’s house.
Soon the breath was sobbing in my throat too, a mixture of fear and exhaustion, as I forced myself to go faster and faster, just hoping that we’d be safe as soon as we entered the Spook’s garden. Nobody was allowed on the Spook’s property unless invited -I kept telling myself that over and over again, because it was our only chance. If we could just get there first the boggart would protect us.
I was in sight of the trees, the bench beneath them, the garden waiting beyond, when I slipped on the wet grass. The fall wasn’t hard but Tommy began to cry even louder. When I’d managed to pick him up, I heard someone running behind me, feet thumping the earth.
I glanced back, struggling for breath. It was a mistake. My pursuer was about five or six paces ahead of Lizzie and catching me fast. Lightning flashed again and I saw the lower half of his face. It looked as if he had horns growing out of each side of his mouth, and as he ran, he moved his head from side to side. I remembered what I’d read in the Spook’s library about the dead women who’d been found with their ribs crushed. If Tusk caught me, he’d do the same to me.
For a moment I was rooted to the spot, but he started to make a bellowing sound, just like a bull, and that started me moving again. I was almost running now. I would have sprinted if I could but I was carrying Tommy and I was too weary, my legs heavy and sluggish, the breath rasping in my throat. At any moment I expected to be grabbed from behind, but I passed the bench where the Spook often gave me lessons and then, at last, I was beneath the first trees of the garden.
But was I safe? If I wasn’t it was all over for both of us because there was no way I could outrun Tusk to the
