Bill had heard of breaking into houses, she’d heard of breaking into banks, but she’d never heard of anyone breaking into a public library.
As if she needed more proof that the Doctor wasn’t just anyone.
‘Are you absolutely sure this is a good idea?’ she asked, looking furtively over her shoulder. The high street was quiet, most of the shops still shut, but cars were already passing back and forth, a single-decker bus trundling by.
‘Of course it is,’ the Doctor insisted, unlocking the door with the sonic screwdriver. ‘When have I ever have a bad idea?’ He bundled her in before she could answer, locking the door behind them.
‘Just tell me that you’re not going to steal any books!’
‘What do you take me for?’
‘The man who tried nick a diamond on Saturn?’ she said, remembering their recent visit to the far future.
‘That was different,’ the Doctor said, disappearing between the stacks.
‘Then what are we looking for?’ she called after him.
‘Books and stuff.’
‘What kind of stuff?’
‘Interesting stuff. Useful stuff.’
‘Yeah, that narrows it down …’
She looked up at the clock above the librarian’s desk. Quarter to nine. Bill removed her watch and twisted the dial.
‘What are you doing?’ the Doctor said, poking his head over a bookcase.
‘Setting my watch to local time,’ she said, slipping it back on her wrist. ‘First rule of travel.’
‘That’s the second rule,’ he told her, vanishing again. ‘The first rule is never forget the Wirrn repellent.’
‘Either way, we haven’t got long,’ she said, finding him with his nose in a copy of A Bear Called Paddington. ‘The library opens at ten.’
He slipped the book back into a rack. ‘How do you know that?’
‘The sign on the door. The last thing we need is an angry librarian.’
‘Nonsense,’ he said, running his fingers along the spines of the shelves. ‘Librarians love me. Except for that lot in Alexandria, but the fire wasn’t my fault. Ish.’ He stopped, pulling a heavy black tome from the shelf. ‘Here we are. Hold your arms out.’
‘Why?’
He start piling book after book into her hands. ‘Because you need to hold this, and this, and this, and this!’
‘Er, heavy …’ she complained, nearly dropped the steadily growing pile.
‘Sorry, allow me,’ he said, plucking the thinnest possible pamphlet from the top of the stack and rushing over to a reading table. ‘Well, come on, we haven’t got all day.’
Bill slammed the books down, the pile immediately toppling over.
‘Careful,’ he said, stopping the books from crashing down on the cup of tea that had appeared on the table. She had a sneaking suspicion that the Doctor had produced the cup from his jacket pocket, complete with a shortcake biscuit, but knew better than to ask too many questions.
‘Where’s mine, then?’ she asked.
‘What?’
She pointed at the china cup.
‘Oh sorry,’ he said, sliding it over to her. ‘Please, have this one.’
She wasn’t going to argue, although she couldn’t help but notice that the biscuit had disappeared from the saucer. ‘So, what do we need?’ she asked, taking a sip and wincing at the amount of sugar.
‘I’ll know when we find it,’ he said unhelpfully, brushing crumbs from his lapel. He shoved a hardback book towards her.
Bill picked it up, reading the name on the spine. ‘Lore of the Land by Amelia Rumford.’ She opened it at random, finding a chapter on standing stones. ‘Haven’t you got a library on the TARDIS?’
‘It’s out of bounds at the moment,’ the Doctor admitted, as he flicked through a book of his own. ‘The books are possessed.’
Bill actually laughed at that. ‘They’re what?’
‘Possessed,’ he repeated as if such things happened every day. ‘Last time I went in there, poor Hattie got attacked by the 1986 Bash Street Kids annual. It had grown teeth the size of bananas.’ Bill was just about to ask who Hattie was when the Doctor slapped the page he was reading. ‘A-ha!’
‘A-ha what?’
He flashed the cover of the book at her. ‘The Encyclopaedia of British Myth and Legend, seventh edition. B for Boggart.’
‘That bloke from old movies?’
The Doctor looked up at her. ‘Sorry?’
Bill put on an American accent that admittedly needed work. ‘Play it again, Sam.’
He sighed. ‘Not Bogart … Boggart. Listen …’ He returned to the page, reading out loud. ‘“A mischievous goblin or sprite most notably associated with the counties of Lancashire and Yorkshire”.’
‘Oh yeah,’ Bill remembered. ‘There’s one in Harry Potter.’
He shot her a grin. ‘You wait to see what happens in book ten. Ron and Hermione have to find an Occamy’s scale and …’
‘Doctor …’
‘Oh yes, sorry. So, Boggarts were the original Bogey-Men, or Bugges.’
‘Bugs Close!’ Bill realised.
He nodded, running his finger along the page as he read. ‘“Other names for the creature includes Bo-ghasts, Bogillboos and Boggles.”’
‘As in Boggle Wood.’
‘The very same. According to this, they’re why you shout “Boo” if you’re trying to scare someone.’
‘What did they look like?’
The Doctor scanned the page. ‘It doesn’t say. What about Amelia?’
‘Who?’ she asked.
He nodded at the book.
‘Oh.’ Bill checked the index, finding an entry on Boggarts. She flicked to the page and her eyebrows shot up.
‘What is it?’ asked the Doctor.
She turned the book around so that he could see. There was an illustration of a Boggart, tall and lanky, with swinging arms, long clumpy hair and eyes that burned like torches. ‘Look familiar?’ she asked.