'Let me do this, Thursday. You deserve a long life. You have many wonderful things in front of you.'

'So do you.'

'It's debatable. Battling the undead was never a bowl of cherries. And without Cindy?'

'She's not dead, Spike.'

'If she pulls through they'll never let her out of jail. She was the Windowmaker. No, after the shit I've been through, this actually seems like a good option. I'm staying.'

'You are not.'

'Try and stop me.'

'Sssh!' said the man in front again.

'I won't let you do it, Spike. Think of Betty. Besides, I'm the one that's dead, not you. SECURITY!'

A mouldy skeleton holding a lance and dressed in rusty armour clanked up.

'What's going on here?'

I stabbed a finger at Spike.

'This man's not dead.'

'Not dead?' replied the guard in a shocked tone. The queue of people all turned round to stare as the guard drew a rusty sword and pointed it at Spike, who reluctantly raised his hands and, shaking his head sadly, walked back towards the footbridge.

'Tell Landen and Friday I love them!' I yelled at his departing form, suddenly realising that I should have asked him who'd won the Superhoop. I turned to the queue behind me, which snaked around the boulder-strewn cavern, and said:

'Does anyone know the results of Superhoop '88?'

'Shhh!' said the man in front again.

'Why don't you poke your "shhhh" up your. . . Oh. Hello, Mr President.'

As soon as he recognised me he gave me a broad toothy grin.

'Eeee, Miss Next! Is this that theme park again?'

'Sort of'

I was glad that the trip across the river led up as well as down. One thing was for sure: unless there had been some sort of dreadful administrative mix-up, Formby was certainly not for eternal torment within the all-consuming flames of hell.

'So — how are you?' I asked, momentarily lost for words when confronted with the biggest — and last — celebrity I would be likely to meet.

'Pretty good, lass. One moment I was giving a concert, next thing I was in the cafeteria ordering pie and chips for one.'

Spike had said he had driven for two days to get to me, so it must be the 24th — and, as Dad had predicted, Formby had died as he had meant to, performing for the Lancaster Regiment Veterans. My heart fell as I realised that the days following Formby's death would mark the beginning of the Third World War. Still, it was out of my hands now.

The boat arrived for the ex-President and he stepped in.

The ferryman pushed the small craft into the river and dropped his pole into the dark water.

'Mr Formby, isn't it?' said the ferryman. 'I'm a big fan of yours. I had that Mr Garrick in the back of my boat once. Do you do requests?'

'Ooh, aye,' replied the entertainer, 'but I don't have me uke with me.'

'Borrow mine,' said the ferryman. 'I do a bit of entertaining myself, you know.'

Formby picked up the ukulele and strummed the strings.

'What would you like?'

The ferryman told him and the dour cavern was soon filled with a chirpy rendition of 'We've Been a Long Time Gone'. It seemed a fitting way to go for the old man, who had given so much to so many — not only as an entertainer, but as a freedom fighter and elder statesman. The boat, Formby and the ferryman disappeared into the mist that drifted across the river, obscuring the far bank and muting the sound. It was my turn next. What had Gran said? The worst bit about dying is not knowing how it all turns out? Still, at least I got Landen back, so Friday was in good hands.

'Miss Next?'

I looked up. The ferryman had returned. He was dressed in a sort of dirty muslin cloth; I couldn't see his face.

'You have the fare?'

I dug out a coin and was about to hand it over when—

'WAIT!!!'

I turned around as a petite young woman trotted up, out of breath. She brushed the blonde hair from her face and smiled shyly at me. It was Cindy.

'I'm taking her place,' she told the ferryman, handing over a coin.

'How can you?' I said in some surprise. 'You're almost dead yourself!'

'No,' she corrected me, 'I'm not. And what's more, I pull through. I shouldn't, but I do. Sometimes the Devil looks after his own.'

'But you'll leave Spike and Betty—

'Listen to me for a moment, Thursday. I've killed sixty-eight people in my career.'

'So you did do Samuel Pring.'

'It was a fluke. But listen: sixty-eight innocent souls sent across this river before their time, all down to me. And I did it all for cash. You can play the self-righteous card for all I care, but the fact remains that I'll never see the light of day when I recover, and I'll never get to hold Betty again, or hug Spike. I don't want that. You're a better person than me, Thursday, and the world is far better off with you in it.'

'But that's not the point, surely?' I said. 'When it's time to go—

'Look,' she interrupted angrily, 'let me do one good thing to make up for even one quarter of one per cent of the misery I've caused.'

I stared at her as the skeleton in rusty armour clanked up again.

'More trouble, Miss Next?'

'Give us a minute, will you?'

'Please,' implored Cindy, 'you'd be doing me a favour.'

I looked at the skeleton, who probably would have rolled his eyes if he had had any.

'It's your decision, Miss Next,' said the guard, 'but someone has to take that boat or I'm out of a job — and I've got a bony wife and two small skeletons to put through college.'

I turned back to Cindy, put out my hand and she shook it, then pulled me forward and hugged me tightly while whispering in rny ear:

'Thank you, Thursday. Keep an eye on Spike for me.'

She hopped quickly into the boat before I had a chance to change my mind. She gave a wan smile and sat in the bows as the ferryman leaned on his pole, sending the small boat noiselessly across the river. In terms of the burden of her sins, saving me was only small recompense, but she felt better for it, and so did I. As the boat containing Cindy faded into the mists of the river I turned and walked back towards the pedestrian footbridge, the southside of Dauntsey services, and life.

42

Explanations

'It was touch and go for a moment,' said Landen, who was sitting by my hospital bed holding my hand. 'There was a moment when we really didn't think you'd make it.'

I gave a wan smile. I had regained consciousness only the day before and every movement felt like a dagger in my head. I looked around. Joffy and Miles and Hamlet were there, too.

'Hi, guys.'

They smiled and welcomed me back.

'How long?' I asked in a whisper.

'Two weeks,' said Landen. 'We really thought—