“I never was,” I protested. “What makes you say such a thing?”

“I thought you could remember all of your life, Gary. All the missing pieces. All the pieces that it seemed that you slept through.”

“I can,” I said.

“So you’re not, perhaps, blocking one or two of them out?”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Because you don’t want to remember what you did. Not what the being that controlled you did. But what you did, when you were young.”

“Oh,” I said. “I know what you’re talking about. You’re talking about Mr Penrose. How I brought him back from the dead. Well, I am sorry about that and if I see him I will apologize for that.”

Mother Demdike shook her head. “Not him,” she said. “Before him. What you did to me.”

“To you?”

And then I remembered. Oh yes. I remembered what I’d done to Mother Demdike.

“I …”

“Say it, Gary.”

“I …”

“Go on.”

“I … killed … you …” I said.

“Yes,” said Mother Demdike. “You did. That night in my hut. You said that I was hideous. Ugly. You said that you were doing me a favour. Doing everyone a favour. And you cut my head off and used my skull to mix up the herbs you needed to reanimate Mr Penrose. You said that at last I’d be useful for something.”

“Oh God,” I said. And I wept. I did, and the tears fell down whatever face I had. “I did do it. I’m so sorry.”

“You were psychopathic from childhood. You were just the kind of person Valdec Firesword was looking for. He entered you moments after you killed me. You opened yourself up for him, Gary, once you had murdered someone by your own hand.”

And I wept some more. Like a child, like a baby. Because it does make you weep when you find out for the first time in your life, or in my case for the first time after you’ve died, that you’re a psycho.

A thing like that can really upset you.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” I said with a sob.

And Mother Demdike smiled and patted my shoulder. “I know,” she said. “I knew that you would be. Which was why I came to see you. And to see the look on your face, of course.”

“When I found out what I’d done?” I blubbered.

“That too.”

“That too?”

“It was the other look I wanted to see. And I think I’m about to see it now. Oh yes, here it comes.”

I stared at her and I’m sure some strange kind of look must have come over the face I had. Because I could feel something altogether odd happening to me. Something really uncomfortable. Painful, in fact. Really, really painful. Something was pulling at me. Pulling in all directions at the same time. As if all the little bits of universality that had been filling up my emptiness were being torn right out of me again. And it hurt like crazy, it really, really did.

“Oooh,” I went, and “Ow,” and “Eeeek!” And I clutched at myself and writhed from the ghastly pain.

“That’s the look,” I heard Mother Demdike say. “That’s the look I wanted to see. But I can’t stay to see more – I’ll get stuck. Goodbye, Gary. Enjoy eternity. If you can.” And she laughed. And I saw her rise up before me and float off into the sky. Then my eyes crossed with all the terrible pain and I blacked out and tumbled once more down into that whirling pit of oblivion so often tumbled into by Mr Lazlo Woodbine.

And then I woke up.

I opened my eyes and stared up. At what? Surely that was my kitchen ceiling. And I could feel something. I felt cold, very cold. And wet. And horrible all over, really.

Then I heard this voice. And it was a voice I knew.

And this voice was joined by another voice that I also knew. And both these voices shouted a single word.

“Surprise!”

I turned my head and I stared through foggy, bleary eyes. And, yes, it was Dave. And, yes, it was Sandra. And they both shouted, “Surprise,” once more.

And Sandra blew one of those plastic whistle things. And Dave popped a party popper.

“What?” I went. And I spat out something, lots of something. Dirt. Dirt? Dirt?

“Surprise,” said Dave. “We’ve brought you back from the dead.”

25

It must have been a horrible scream, and a dreadfully loud one too. I’ll bet it rattled the chimneypots. And, had it continued, it would probably have awakened the neighbours from their beds. But it didn’t continue, because Dave rammed his hands across my mouth.

“Shut up!” he said. “You’ll wake the dead. Hey, wake the dead! Eh, that’s a good’n, isn’t it, Sandra?”

“That good’n, Dave.”

I fought to disengage Dave, but I didn’t have much strength in me. No muscle tone, what with my heart not pumping and no blood reaching my muscles and everything.

“Easy, boy,” said Dave. “I know this must have come as a bit of a surprise. But just compose yourself. You can thank Sandra later.”

“Thank Sandra,” said Sandra.

Dave lifted a hand from my mouth.

“Thank Sandra?” I said slowly, spitting out a bit more dirt.

“Her idea,” said Dave. “Her idea to nick your body from the prison, bury it in Mr Doveston’s grave, then reanimate you using that book you borrowed from the library all those years ago. The one you used to reanimate Sandra. She was returning the favour.”

“Gary belong to Sandra now,” said Sandra. “Gary call Sandra ‘Mistress Sandra’.”

“I’ll do no such thing,” I mumbled. Then I felt the pain and remembered just how the spell worked. Whoever reanimates a dead person has control over that dead person. As I’d had control over Sandra. And abused that control. “All right,” I mumbled and spat this time as I mumbled. “I know how it works. But it wasn’t my fault, Sandra. You were at my trial. You know it wasn’t me who did those awful things.”

“Gary belong to Sandra now,” said Sandra once more.

“No need to repeat yourself, you silly cow.”

“Sandra punish Gary if Gary cuss Sandra.”

“Tell her, Dave,” I said to Dave, as I dragged myself painfully into the vertical plane. Because it did hurt, I can tell you, every bit of it hurt. “Tell her not to mess about with me. Not to order me to do things. Come on, Dave, mate, bestest friend.”

Dave shrugged and smiled. Rather stupidly, I thought.

“I’m not her boss,” he said. “Her masser. She’s her own woman now.”

“But, Dave …”

“Gary, kneel,” said Sandra. “Kiss Mistress Sandra’s shoe.”

“No,” I said. “No.” But I did it. I had to do it. I was compelled to do it. I was helpless to resist. And I felt desperate, wretched, doomed and lost. All at one and the same time. Eternity had been snatched from me. The beauty, the wonder, the magic.

“Silence,” said Sandra.

And I shut right up.

“Oh, come on,” said Dave to Sandra. “That’s a bit harsh. I’d quite like to hear about this flying around the universe business. And I’m sure your shoe is clean by now.”

“Not underneath,” said Sandra. “Sandra step in dog poo earlier.”

“That’s gross,” said Dave. “Don’t make him lick dog poo. Please, Sandra. I’ll tickle your back later and pick the maggots out.”

“Slave can talk again,” said Sandra. “Stop licking now. Finish licking when tell you.”

I looked up at Sandra and I don’t think I had love in my eyes. And then I looked across at Dave.

“Don’t look at me like that,” said Dave. “Being looked at like that by a dead bloke is quite unsettling.”

“You want kick Gary’s arse, Dave?” asked Sandra.

“No, I’m fine,” said Dave. “Let’s give him a nice cup of tea, or something.”

“A nice cup of tea?” I collapsed onto the floor. It was still the same lino and still in need of a sweep. I collapsed and I wept. Once more. Like a child. Like a baby. It was undignified but I was very miserable. “Dave, reverse the spell, please. Send me back to my grave. Don’t do this to me. We were bestest friends.”