Doogie ran to his side; Billy was unconscious and as cold as stone. Quickly, Doogie thought of what Mr Cowley would do – and he slapped Billy hard across the cheek.
Billy groaned but remained unconscious. Doogie was about to slap him again when he remembered the third piece of emergency equipment – a candle, to guide me back.
The blue glimmering of the ghost girl had retreated to the corner of the tavern, but it was still there, flitting back and forth. Was Angry Annie preparing to strike again? With shaking fingers, Doogie got out the candle and fumbled to light a match… But what if Angry Annie blows it out? Doogie rang the bell again, and it seemed to keep the ghost at bay…for now.
With the candle lit, Doogie brought it close to Billy’s face. “Come back,” he said. “Please!”
Billy started to cough; then his eyes fluttered open.
“Well done, mate,” said Billy, struggling into a sitting position. “I owe you one.”
“Ye mean like a reward?” said Doogie, beaming.
“I was thinking more like my deepest thanks,” said Billy.
“Oh,” said Doogie, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice. “That’s nice too.”
“Right,” said Billy, all business again. He took the candle in one hand and the bell in the other. “You stay ready with that book, Doogie. I’m going to try again.”
Doogie saw the ghost-glow spin frantically, like a bird trapped in a cage hurling itself against the bars in an attempt to get free.
“Are all the English as mad as ye?”
That had been close. Angry Annie lived up to her name and Billy now knew that she was able to channel all of that pent-up fury into devastating power. He wouldn’t tell Charley that he had nearly died; she’d be ever so cross with him.
However, now that Annie had been restrained by the combined effect of the bell, book and candle, Billy had to try to get through to her again. This was not just about his life. The Sandman was after a human heart – he had to be stopped.
Billy picked up a stool that hadn’t been broken and set it upright at a table, as casually as if he were meeting an old friend for a chat and a laugh. He kept his eyes fixed on Angry Annie the whole time. The ghost was pacing back and forth like a caged tiger, wary of the power of the bell, book and candle – but not tamed, not safe.
Billy held up the bell for Annie to see. The ghost flinched back, fearing that it would be rung again. “Look,” said Billy, quietly and calmly, “I’m putting down the bell. I’m sorry that we had to use it.” Doogie shifted uncomfortably, obviously less convinced that Angry Annie could be reasoned with.
“Let’s start again, shall we?” Billy continued. “My name is Billy. I’ve not come here to hurt you…” Inside, Billy’s stomach was churning as if he had swallowed a live eel – Annie had nearly frozen the blood in his veins! But outside, he was as calm as a millpond, not a ripple of fear showing on the surface. Annie floated closer…
“I need your help, Annie,” said Billy.
Annie’s black eyes flared. “Why should I help you?” she snarled.
“I can’t make you help me,” said Billy honestly. “But I can help you.”
“You can’t do anything for me!” shouted Annie, her anger building again.
“I can set you free,” said Billy quietly. “You’ve been here for such a long time, wouldn’t you like to go…home?”
That small, simple word had a powerful effect on the ghost girl. It was as if it was Annie’s turn to freeze. She said nothing. Her black eyes were unreadable. She didn’t move at all and after the constant restless movement, the ghost’s sudden stillness scared Billy. What would Angry Annie do now?
“Home?” she repeated slowly. “You mean that I could be free from all this?” Her eyes darted furiously around the Last Drop Tavern, her prison for hundreds of years.
Billy nodded. “Would you like that, Annie? Would you like to be at peace?”
“Peace?” Annie’s lips curled back like a dog about to bark, showing her small sharp teeth. Billy took a step back, ready to grab the bell again if Annie went for him.
But she didn’t.
Billy sensed the air begin to warm ever-so-softly, as if Annie’s endless anger was beginning to thaw.
“Could you really do that?” she breathed.
Billy nodded again. “It would be my pleasure,” he said. In that instant Billy saw Annie as if he was seeing her for the first time; not as a vicious wraith but a little girl. A girl who was lost and so very alone. His heart went out to her…even if she had just tried to murder him.
“And if I don’t help you? Are you going to make me stay here for ever? Punish me more?” The temperature started to drop again.
“No,” said Billy, quite calm. “I’m still going to set you free, whether you help me or not. I promise.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do.”
“But you don’t know me. You don’t know what I did.” Annie’s voice was filled with remorse.
“I don’t need to know. I’m sure that whatever it was, it was a long time ago and I can see from your eyes that you’re sorry now—”
“More than anything,” said Annie, fat tears rolling down her face and freezing on her cheeks like diamonds. “Billy, how can I help you?”
“There is a man – an evil man, who calls himself the Sandman – and he has to be stopped, Annie. I need a description if I’m to have any chance of tracking him down.”
“I know the Sandman,” said Annie. “I’ve heard his whispered plans, his monstrous desires.”
“Did you see his face?”
The ghost girl shuddered “I’ll never forget it.”
“Why?”
“Because the Sandman scares me, Billy. And you should be very afraid too.”
Billy had left the tavern with a description of the Sandman, and the repeated promise to Annie that he would return to keep his half of the bargain.
He ran through Annie’s words over and over, trying to picture the Sandman clearly. Cold and hard, like a rock. Chiselled features, nose like a hawk. Tall. Lean. Dark eyes. Very controlled, precise in his movements. Smartly dressed in a black suit. Not a hair out of place. And he carries a wand made out of bone.
The description reminded Billy of someone but he couldn’t quite place who. It would come to him. For now Billy was exhausted. So tired he could hardly walk, so drained he couldn’t think straight. Although he and Annie had parted as friends, her ghostly touch had been so cold, Billy wondered if he would ever feel warm again.
The day was fading and Billy shivered all the way back to 44 Morningside Place. Doogie didn’t say a word, but as soon as the carriage arrived he jumped out and ran on ahead. “I’ll get Beth to run a bath for you,” he called back. “It might take some of that chill off.”
Following slowly after Doogie, Billy entered the great house. Wellington was waiting in the hallway, his claws clicking on the polished tiles. The dog seemed jumpy, but he was pleased to see Billy and came scampering over. “I feel it too,” whispered Billy, scratching behind Wellington’s ears. “You live in a strange house, don’t you, boy?”
Just then, a sharp trace of supernatural energy hit Billy in the nostrils. It rocked him back on his heels and made his eyes sting as if he had stuck his nose in a mustard jar and had a good sniff. Billy wobbled and flung out a hand to save himself from falling over, almost knocking a plant from its pedestal.