by Anna James
‘There was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and the March Hare and the Hatter were having tea at it: a Dormouse was sitting between them, fast asleep, and the other two were using it as a cushion, resting their elbows on it, and talking over its head.’
Tilly kept reading and let herself be swept away by the story. A few moments later, she sneezed.
‘Stupid hay fever,’ Tilly said to herself, brushing away the flowers that were too close to her face – before realising they had not been there a moment ago.
‘Where have you come from?’ she said, looking up to realise that it wasn’t just flowers that had appeared. Instead of her wooden floor, there was a carpet of grass, fragrant and slightly damp from the dew. More brightly coloured flowers were sprouting up in the corners of the room, and there was even the unmistakable sound of birdsong in the air, even though her skylight window was firmly closed against April showers. The wooden legs of a table seemed to be growing up out of the grass, creaking as they shimmered into existence.
Tilly started and the book fell shut on her bed, and in the blink of an eye it all disappeared.
illy sat on her bed, staring at the copy of Alice.
She was thinking about when she’d accidentally pulled the secret garden out into her bedroom just before Christmas, and the fairytale forest that had escaped on to the train to Paris. She picked the book up again, a little gingerly, and turned over a few pages to the passage where Alice meets the tricksy caterpillar that sits on top of a mushroom.
Wanting to know more about what was happening, she tried to concentrate on pulling that scene out of the book, but all she managed was to make her bedroom smell like mushrooms. Tilly put the book down again and reached across for the large, ornate key that had stayed put even when the secret garden that had erupted into her bedroom had gone. She looked round her room, wondering if anything had been left behind this time – maybe another clue even – but there was only the faintest scent of spring grass in the air.
‘I bet the Underwoods would love to know about this,’ she said, smiling to herself. ‘They might have been able to stop me travelling inside books, but they haven’t stopped the stories coming to me.’
But her satisfaction in slipping round the edges of the Underwoods’ rules didn’t last long. After all, Melville and Decima were, at that very moment, in Pages & Co. The siblings looked like twins – both slender, blond and cold – but were less alike in character. Melville occupied the most powerful position at the Underlibrary, but it was his sister, Decima, who was the brains behind the operation. Melville had manipulated his way to the top with sly words and charm that he turned on and off as easily as a light bulb, while it was Decima who understood book magic, and what you could do with it. She was the one who had realised that some of the everlasting nature of stories might be contained in Tilly’s half-fictional blood.
Even though she was four floors up, and separated from them by several doors, at least one of which was locked, Tilly felt as though she could sense them downstairs and her knees started to fidget as she resisted the urge to go and stand up for herself. She was saved from having to decide whether to disobey Grandad by a soft knock on her door.
‘It’s Bea,’ her mum said. ‘I mean, it’s Mum.’
After Bea had been away for so long, trapped in A Little Princess for eleven years, they still hadn’t quite settled on what Tilly should call her, and sometimes neither term felt quite right.
‘Come in,’ Tilly called and her mum slipped round the door.
‘How are you doing?’ Bea asked, moving the copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland out of the way and sitting next to Tilly on the bed.
Tilly shrugged, not sure what to say. ‘Kind of scared, and kind of confused, and kind of frustrated,’ she said. ‘I suppose?’
‘All of that makes sense,’ Bea said.
‘Do you know what the Underwoods want?’ Tilly asked.
‘Not yet. Your grandad whisked me away just as they were arriving.’
‘But they can’t do anything bad, can they?’ Tilly said. ‘There are customers around.’
‘I hope not,’ said Bea. ‘But I don’t know, Tilly. Whatever they want unnerved Seb enough to call ahead. We’ll find out when your grandparents come up and get us. But while we’ve got a moment to ourselves …’ Bea glanced around and her eyes settled on Tilly’s collection of clues. ‘Tell me again what you’ve worked out.’
‘You believe me?’ Tilly said.
‘I always believe you,’ Bea said. ‘And I want to try and understand what you’re saying about the Archive, because I for one cannot bear just sitting around, waiting to see what those creepy siblings are going to do next, especially when they’re so focused on you.’
‘So, there’s that string of numbers and letters that we found in that pamphlet,’ Tilly said, forgetting a little of her fear as she got to explain her theory to someone who was taking it seriously. ‘And Grandad said it looked like a classmark, which is how you find books in a library.’
‘Right,’ Bea agreed. ‘And therefore you think it’s telling us we need to go and find something at the Library of Congress in Washington DC, because the zip code matches the address of that building?’
‘Yep, exactly,’ Tilly said. ‘See, it’s not complicated.’
‘But what about all this other stuff?’ said Bea, pointing to the objects on Tilly’s shelf. ‘How do they all link up?’
‘I don’t know,’ Tilly admitted. ‘But surely they found their way to me on purpose? And Oskar’s grandma, in Paris, she said that there’s a map to the Archive.’
‘How do you turn a key, a ball of thread and some breadcrumbs into a map?’ Bea asked.
‘Maybe map is the wrong word,’ Tilly said, looking up at her mother. ‘I think it might be more of a treasure hunt.’
‘I’ve always liked treasure hunts.’ Bea smiled. ‘And I think it’s probably fair to assume that finding the most secretive group of bookwanderers that have ever existed would involve a little more effort than following a dotted line.’
‘Exactly,’ Tilly said, pleased. ‘But what can we do about it stuck here?’
‘There are always options,’ Bea said. ‘And—’ But she was interrupted by a knock at the door.
Tilly’s bedroom door opened to show Grandma, her face pale with worry.
‘They’ve gone,’ she said quietly.
‘What did they want?’ asked Tilly nervously.
‘Come downstairs and have a cup of tea and a slice of cake and we’ll talk properly,’ Grandma said. ‘We’ve closed the shop for the rest of the day.’
Ten minutes later, the four members of the Pages family assembled round their battered old kitchen table. Grandma had been stress-baking ever since the Source Editions had been bound and they were all picking at slices of carrot cake with cream-cheese icing, too worried to enjoy it.
‘So?’ Bea said, a little impatiently.
‘The Underwoods are keen to understand more of your heritage, Tilly,’ Grandad started. ‘They were all forced smiles today, aiming to sweet-talk us on to their side.’
‘They want compliance among bookwanderers,’ Grandma said. ‘They would like us, and you, to help them willingly.’
‘But why on earth would we do that?’ Tilly said, baffled.
‘Well, quite,’ said Grandad forcefully. ‘But they’re trying to set themselves up as legitimate guardians of bookwandering, and it’s not a good look to have a former Librarian and his family so publicly against them.’
‘If they want to be seen as respectable, they shouldn’t have tried to steal a child’s blood!’ Bea said angrily.
‘Again, we’re all on the same page,’ Grandma said. And Tilly knew things were bad because usually Grandad could never resist making a joke about their surname when someone used that expression.
‘They’ve asked that Tilly voluntarily help with their research into book magic,’ he said. ‘They are positioning what they’re doing as
an important exploration into how bookwandering works, and what book magic can do, with the suggestion being that anyone opposing them must be against progress.’
‘But we already kind of knew that, didn’t we?’ Tilly said. ‘Why did they come here? What do they want from me?’
‘Well,’ said Grandma, ‘they wanted you to go with them to the Underlibrary to see what they’re working on, with one of us. That’s obviously out of the question.’
‘So we say no,’ Tilly said. ‘That’s not so scary. What can they do if I don’t go?’
‘Stop us bookwandering,’ said Grandad.
‘But they already have,’ Tilly pointed out.
‘Temporarily,’ Grandad said. ‘And, if that was the whole price, then we would pay it – while we worked out what to do next. But that’s not what they’re threatening.’
‘If we don’t help,’ Grandma explained, with a grim look on her face, ‘then they’re going to stop all children from bookwandering – forever.’
ll children?’ said Tilly
‘Yes,’ Grandad said. ‘They were very specific.’
‘Well, I have to go then,’ Tilly said, trying to sound brave, even though her stomach had just turned inside out. She steeled herself. This was what her favourite heroines would do: sacrifice themselves for the greater good. She’d be just like … just like … Tilly found that she couldn’t quite put her finger on the name, but this is what they would want. She was almost sure of it.
‘No,’ Bea said firmly. ‘Absolutely not.’
‘It’s not an option, Tilly,’ Grandad said, and Tilly couldn’t deny the huge wave of relief that washed over her. ‘Both on a personal level, because we love you and it’s our job to keep you safe, and on principle, because we do not give in to people like this.’
‘But how could they stop just children bookwandering?’ Bea questioned. ‘If you bind a Source Edition, you bind it. For everyone.’
‘Well, they seem to be requiring people to swear loyalty to the new regime, and then they’re finding a way to sneak them into bound books – or at least dangling that prospect in front of them, as they just did to us, as if it might sway our allegiance. But I’m not at all sure that they’ve actually worked out a way to do it. I think it’s just something to string people along while they plot their next move.’
‘But what exactly do they want me to do?’ Tilly asked.
‘We don’t know,’ said Grandma. ‘But it can’t be good, whatever it is.’ She and Grandad shared a glance.
‘We have to go and find the Archivists,’ Tilly said firmly. ‘There’s nothing else to do – you have to see that now?’
‘No!’ Grandad snapped. ‘Tilly, I need you to stop talking about them and stay put in the real world.’
‘Why won’t you believe me?’ Tilly said, struggling to fight back tears.
‘Because there’s no evidence that the Archivists are real, and I will not have us going on a wild goose chase around the world based on one scribbled note.’
‘Dad …’ Bea started.
‘Not you too,’ Grandad said, his head in his hands. ‘You have to trust me on this.’
‘I just don’t understand how you can believe in bookwandering – in actual magic – and not understand that the Archivists are real,’ Tilly persisted, carefully ignoring Grandma’s warning glance.
‘Because I have been bookwandering!’ Grandad said. ‘Because I have seen and experienced the evidence. Bookwandering is not some old wives’ tale, rumour or gossip – unlike the existence of the Archivists. I love you, Tilly, but a pile of miscellaneous objects you were given or found in books does not constitute a reason to go hunting for a fairy tale.’
‘Fairy tales are real!’ Tilly said in frustration.
‘That’s not the point,’ Grandad said.
‘Well then, I don’t know what the point is!’ said Tilly.
‘The point is that we’re in a bit of a bind,’ Grandma sighed. ‘But this family is a team and together we’ll come up with a plan. Archie, why don’t you go and call Amelia and get her take on this new development.’
Grandad nodded. ‘I’m sorry I snapped at you, Tilly,’ he said, standing up. ‘I just … I just want to keep you safe. I want to keep you all safe.’
‘We’ll keep each other safe,’ Grandma said firmly.
‘If we just sit here, trying to stay safe, they’re going to keep coming back until something awful happens,’ said Tilly. ‘It’s not enough to hide at home – we have to go and find some answers.’
After Grandad had gone back out to the empty bookshop to phone Amelia Whisper, who had been the Head Librarian before Melville had forced her out, Grandma let out a huge sigh.
‘What a to-do,’ she said. ‘What times we’re living through.’
‘Why do the Head Librarians even have so much power?’ Tilly asked. ‘No one should be allowed to stop bookwandering.’
‘You’re right,’ Grandma said. ‘But there has to be someone in charge, and what we’re learning now is that the system isn’t best set up for when someone abuses that position. People are scared and so they believe the lies that the Underwoods are spewing about progress, or whatever they’re dressing up their power grab as. And, of course, there are others who have always shared their opinions, but have previously – and rightfully – been too embarrassed to publicly say so until now.’
Bea had stayed quiet throughout the conversation, seemingly lost in thought, occasionally looking at Tilly without saying anything.
‘Have you got plans to see Oskar soon?’ she said eventually.
‘He’s supposed to be coming round tomorrow,’ said Tilly. ‘Why?’
‘I was just wondering … It’d be nice to see him. I might just give Mary a quick ring and … see what her plans are,’ she finished vaguely as she stood up and left the room to make the call.
Then it was just Tilly and her grandma, who stretched out her hands across the table and grasped Tilly’s tightly.
‘It will work itself out,’ she said. ‘I promise. Don’t be scared.’
‘I’m not,’ said Tilly, although she wasn’t sure if that were true. ‘But I don’t want bookwandering to end for children forever because of me. If I could stop it, surely I should try? We could at least go and see what they want.’
Grandma didn’t say anything, but a look of uncertainty crossed her face.
‘Did they already say what they want?’ Tilly said quietly.
Grandma shrugged helplessly. ‘Your grandad doesn’t want you to be scared,’ she said.
‘I can deal with it,’ Tilly said. ‘And I don’t think it’s fair to keep it from me.’
‘I know, I know,’ Grandma said, clearly conflicted. ‘Anyway, I’m sure you can imagine. You know what they wanted when they lured you to the fairytale book. They think your blood, or something to do with your very nature, is the key to permanently being able to steal the true immortality of stories. It’s just not worth the risk – we don’t know what they’re capable of.’
‘And we’re not going to find out,’ Bea said from the doorway.
Tilly and her grandma looked up. They hadn’t noticed her come back in.
‘Oskar’s coming round this evening for a sleepover,’ Bea continued. She turned to Grandma. ‘Mum, can I have a word with you and Dad in the shop?’
Tilly went to protest, but saw something in her mum’s eyes that stopped her in her tracks.
‘I’ll go and get a bed ready,’ she said instead, and Bea gave her a tight smile as she headed back into the bookshop. Tilly and Bea were still getting to know each other, but one thing Tilly knew for sure was that her mum was definitely up to something. And Tilly wanted to find out what it was.
That evening, a few hours after Oskar had arrived, and after a dinner of potato-and-spinach curry, the two friends were chatting on the sofa in front of the fireplace in Pages & Co. There were not many days left before Grandma would clear out the fire and replace it with garlands of fresh flowers, b
ut it still felt cosy and warm for now.
Tilly had started carrying the key from The Secret Garden around with her as if it might suddenly reveal how she was supposed to use it, and was playing with it as they watched the flames dance.
‘Do you have any more idea why you ended up with that?’ Oskar asked, pointing at the key.
‘No,’ said Tilly with a sigh. When she’d spoken to her mum, it had seemed so clear and so logical, but it was hard to maintain her confidence in the clues when it was questioned over and over again by her grandparents, not to mention the Underwoods’ new threat adding even more pressure to what she chose to do. ‘Over Christmas there was so much going on, and I was convinced it all meant something, but now I don’t feel so sure.’
‘There was the key, and that really thin book, and something else, right?’ Oskar asked.
‘The thread,’ Tilly said. ‘The red thread. I just can’t ignore the feeling that they mean something important. I said to my mum that it seems like a treasure map, as though, if I could just work out how all the clues fit together, it would become obvious. But now we can’t even bookwander, and aren’t allowed at the Underlibrary, I don’t know what we’re supposed to do. And Grandma and Grandad are just cross about it all the time, but don’t seem to be actually doing anything to stop the Underwoods.’
‘Can I tell you something weird?’ Oskar said.
‘Of course.’
‘It’s just that I feel more cross about not being allowed to bookwander than not actually bookwandering. Does that make sense?’
‘Kind of,’ Tilly admitted. ‘I wonder if it’s like learning a language or an instrument or something, where if you don’t use it you sort of forget about it. And sometimes I get this bad feeling in my stomach, but I can’t work out what’s causing it.’
‘What a weird six months we’ve had,’ Oskar said. ‘Finding Bea, and going to Paris, and getting lost in fairy tales, and dealing with … what was his name?’