Pages and Co 3: Tilly and the Map of Stories

by Anna James

  ‘Four pounds fifty!’ he said. ‘For one ice cream! And it’s not even sunny!’ But he was saved from further outrage by the wooden doors of the theatre swinging open and a torrent of people spilling out into the courtyard, making beelines for the toilets or the bar.

  ‘Come on, Will,’ Tilly said, pulling him forward excitedly. The three of them went to stand by the door and stare into the theatre, watched by the eagle-eyed usher.

  A wooden stage stuck out into the pit where some of the audience were waiting, stretching their arms, and peering up into the exposed sky, hoping it wouldn’t rain. The stage itself was dressed with vines, flowers and fairy lights wrapped round its columns and along the edge of the stage. Around the periphery of the theatre ran wooden seats and balconies of benches, everything in golden brown wood. Tilly had visited the Globe twice before – once on a school trip when they were given a tour of the building, and once with her grandparents and Mum to see a play about a woman called Emilia who was said to have inspired Shakespeare. Tilly reminded herself to ask Will about her later on and realised that there were probably quite a lot of questions people would like to ask Shakespeare, given the chance.

  For the moment, though, Will was simply staring, transfixed by the sight in front of him.

  ‘’Tis as if I have been taken backwards through time,’ he said. ‘So much of this place is just how my memory keeps it. Oh! We spent good hours here.’ He stood, facing the empty stage, and closed his eyes, summoning the ghosts and memories of past actors, filling the benches with the rich, the notable and the royal; and the pit with the poor and the rowdy.

  Tilly closed her eyes too and she almost felt transported back to Elizabethan London herself. The noise and chatter of the audience would not have sounded so different, or the smell from the Thames, or the breeze from the open roof, and the chilly edge to the spring evening air.

  They were jerked back to reality by a bell ringing to signal that the second half was about to begin. Will, who was standing closer to the stage than the others, was quickly swept up in the tide of people returning to their seats, or jostling to make sure they had a good view from the pit.

  ‘Will!’ Tilly shouted, realising they hadn’t tested if he had to stay near her now they were out of Story. But, as he was pushed right to the very front, they could still seem him clearly standing there, entranced by the stage. Tilly and Oskar started to try and push their way through the people to get to him.

  ‘Hey there!’ the usher shouted, having lost sight of them in the crowds. ‘Has anyone seen a dude dressed like Shakespeare and two kids?’

  Tilly could hear him shouting, but no one paid any attention, everyone in the pit focused on getting the best view they could, so she grabbed Oskar and let them be carried by the crowds closer to Will. After a few moments, the audience settled and silenced and a tall man entered and started speaking.

  ‘I wonder if Titania be awak’d;

  Then, what it was that next came in her eye,

  Which she must dote on, in extremity.’

  Tilly saw that Will was speaking the lines along with the actor playing Oberon. As the play progressed, the audience laughed, and cried, and cheered as one, and Will stood in the middle of them all as if he were seeing his words performed for the very first time. For a brief moment, the clouds above their heads parted, and the spring moon shone down on Will and his audience, and Tilly saw him wipe a single tear from his eye.

  They stayed for the whole second half of the play, even though Tilly felt a little guilty about not buying tickets. But she did think that bringing Shakespeare to his own play perhaps excused them, especially in the cause of rescuing bookwandering – something she felt that the Globe would surely be onboard with, whether they knew it existed or not.

  After the play finished, Will didn’t move as the crowds started emptying out, but walked towards the stage and touched the boards of it gently with his fingertips.

  ‘To think that this remains still,’ he said quietly to himself. ‘That these words are still spoken, and this stage still stands. That the audiences still come, and that my words still stir their hearts.’

  He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to the wood, as though in prayer, before taking a deep breath and turning back to Tilly and Oskar.

  ‘Is this play performed often?’ he asked, looking nervous as to what they might tell him.

  ‘Yes,’ Tilly said. ‘It’s performed, and read, and studied all over the world, Will. Children read it in school and actors study it at university, and there are plays and films and books all inspired by your stories – not just this one, but all of them. I think there’s even a show in New York where you can run around after the actors and be part of the story. Almost everyone in the world knows your words, and they mean so much to so many people. How can you say that none of this matters? It must matter, Will.’

  ‘I see your purpose in bringing me here, child,’ Will said, smiling at Tilly. ‘I … I had not imagined that this could be possible. I thank you, truly. I know you did it because you seek my aid, but, whatever the route that has brought me here, I cannot be anything other than glad and grateful in my very soul. To know I hold a place in people’s hearts so many years after I have gone … ’Tis a gift that you do not know the worth of. I am in your debt.’

  ‘Great,’ Oskar said, giving Tilly a thumbs up. ‘Will’s onboard. But what with? What do we do now?’

  ‘Firstly, we need to go home,’ Tilly said. ‘To Pages & Co.’

  illy knew that if she called her grandparents they would immediately insist that they got a taxi home, but she was happy to have the journey on the Tube to get used to being back in London, and out of the layers of stories they had been in.

  ‘Doesn’t it feel like we were there for days, or weeks?’ she said to Oskar as they sat on the familiar seats of the Northern line. They had seated Will in between them to ensure he stayed put.

  ‘I can’t believe it’s the same day,’ Oskar said. ‘I’m glad my mum won’t be worried, but no wonder I’m so exhausted.’

  It wasn’t long before they both fell asleep on the train, their heads resting on Will’s shoulders.

  Tilly woke up as they passed through Camden Town station and a big crowd of tourists piled on.

  ‘Tilly, might you have a quill and some paper to hand?’ Will whispered to her. ‘For new inspirations strike me every moment I am here, observing life as as it is now.’

  Tilly dug around in her backpack and produced a notebook and a pen, and enjoyed watching Will trying to negotiate a biro as he scribbled lines down – covering them with his hand so no one could read them. Despite Will’s obvious resemblance to the world’s most famous playwright, no one on the Tube batted an eyelid, used to seeing all sorts of people and outfits, and the journey up to north London went smoothly.

  They got off the train and started to walk up the hill towards the high street and Pages & Co. Even though they’d only left that morning, it felt like a lifetime had passed. Tilly checked her phone again and saw that she had several text messages from her grandparents, but she didn’t open any of them, wanting just a few more moments of respite before she had to deal with their questions and worry. She hoped that Bea had explained everything to them so they wouldn’t be too angry with her and Oskar. She steeled herself to explain to them that, although she’d been right about the Archivists, they hadn’t been as much help as she’d wanted, and all she and Oskar had were a few more clues, and a lot more problems that needed fixing.

  But the normality of the high street was soothing to her as she walked past the places she knew and loved, all shut up tight for the night. The Italian deli where they were always secretly given any leftover Portuguese custard tarts, the café that advertised every kind of breakfast you could possibly imagine and, of course, Crumbs, the bakery that Mary ran. It was all so thirst-quenchingly, gloriously normal and Tilly felt it wash over her as they headed up towards the shop.

  Will was there, of course, slig
htly less normal than everything else, asking Oskar question after question about how various objects worked, and why different things were as they were. He paused from his questions to scribble in Tilly’s notebook, having mastered the pen.

  ‘Here we are,’ she said to Will, pointing proudly at the outside of Pages & Co. Its tall windows seemed like they were welcoming her home, and through them she could see the shop, dark and calm after-hours. Tilly felt an ache in her heart, one that used to be uncomplicatedly settled by being at home in Pages & Co., but that now had sharper edges and a more difficult shape to grapple with. She found her keys in her backpack and opened the door to the bookshop, hearing the bell jangle over their heads.

  ‘Tilly!’ a voice called almost immediately and the three of them looked up to see Grandma and Grandad running towards them. They gathered Tilly and Oskar up into a huge group hug before noticing Will.

  Grandad cocked his head, clearly trying to work out why he was so familiar. ‘Have we met?’ he asked.

  ‘Grandad,’ Tilly said, relishing the moment. ‘This is William Shakespeare. He’s one of the Archivists, and he’s come to help.’

  ‘Oh,’ Grandad said. ‘Right.’

  ‘It’s actual Shakespeare, Archie!’ Oskar said gleefully. ‘You don’t seem very excited.’

  ‘I … I am,’ he said. ‘It’s just— Tilly, we need to tell you something. Your mum … the Underwoods have her.’

  illy went pale.

  ‘What do you mean, they have her?’

  ‘She went to the Underlibrary and gave herself up to them – to try and protect you,’ Grandad said, looking as though telling her was causing him physical pain. ‘She didn’t warn us, or I promise we would have stopped her, Tilly. We didn’t know she’d taken you or Oskar to the airport, or that she’d gone to the Underlibrary, until she called us from there – I don’t think she came back here from Heathrow before she went to find the Underwoods.’

  ‘But what use is she to them?’ Tilly said. ‘I don’t understand why she’d do that.’

  ‘We don’t know what she’s offered them,’ Grandma said. ‘She just called to say where she was, and where you were. She said you were safe and with friends … in America. How are you even here?’ she asked. ‘Did you go to Washington?’

  ‘Yes,’ Tilly said, feeling scared and exhausted and confused all at the same time. ‘But we went to find the Archivists, and we went right inside Story, and you know what time is like when you bookwander. So here we are.’ Tilly swayed a little on her feet as everything overtook her.

  ‘Come on, sit down, both of you,’ Grandma said, shepherding the three of them into the kitchen. ‘You all need a cup of strong, sweet tea and to tell us what’s happened.’

  ‘No,’ said Tilly, trying to keep a clear head. ‘We need to go and get Mum. Now.’

  ‘You’re no use to her like this,’ Grandma said sternly. ‘You’ll only put her in more danger if you go now. I promise you, we’ll get her back, even tonight if we can. But the two of you need to eat and drink something, and shower, and well, we’ll need to work out what to do with you as well,’ she said, looking Will up and down.

  ‘A pleasure to meet you,’ he said, dipping into a low bow, and reaching out for Grandma’s hand to kiss. ‘These two children are a credit to your name and your establishment.’

  ‘They most definitely are,’ Grandad said proudly. ‘By the way, Oskar, your mum thinks you’re with us until tomorrow, if you’re happy to stay?’

  ‘As if you even need to ask,’ Oskar said.

  A few moments later, they were sitting at the familiar kitchen table, hands wrapped round mugs of tea, and a plate of hot buttered toast between them. Tilly and Oskar were trying to tell Grandma and Grandad everything that had happened to them and Tilly felt cold all over when she got to the bit in the Library of Congress.

  ‘Oh no!’ she said, remembering. ‘Orlando and Jorge – they’ll still be prisoners of the American Librarian.’

  ‘The American Librarian?’ Grandad repeated. ‘You mean the librarian in charge of the Library of Congress?’

  ‘No,’ Oskar said. ‘It’s way worse than that. The Librarian at the American Underlibrary. Jacob Johnson is working with the Underwoods – he’s in on it too. And he has Orlando and Jorge.’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ Grandad said, his head in his hands. ‘Well, that’s another thing we need to sort out. Elsie.’ He looked at Grandma. ‘Who do we know at the American Underlibrary who might be able to help? Does Amelia know anyone? Could you give her a call and see if she can find out where these two – Orlando and Jorge?’ Tilly nodded her confirmation. ‘See where they are and get them out if they’re not safe?’

  Grandma nodded, steely focus written across her face, and went to call Amelia.

  Meanwhile, Tilly and Oskar finished telling Grandad about their journey to the Archivists, Artemis’s theory about the hidden books and Horatio.

  ‘I’m sorry the Archivists weren’t much help,’ Tilly said. ‘After I made such a fuss about finding them.’

  ‘But they were,’ Grandad said. ‘For one thing, to prove that they exist – that’s quite an achievement, Tilly. I can only apologise for not believing you. I should have trusted you from the start. But, even if they didn’t give us an easy way to fix it, this Artemis woman has helped. She’s shown us the thing that holds it all together – that books are going missing. It’s somewhere to start. If the Underwoods are involved, as it would be sensible to assume, and we can find out what they’re trying to do with the books, then we’ll really be getting somewhere.’

  ‘But how long is that going to take?’ said Tilly. ‘Horatio won’t be getting in contact until tomorrow. And when are we going to get Mum back?’

  ‘We need to have some leverage to offer,’ Grandad said. ‘And we need to know what she’s offered them. And we need to keep you safe, Tilly.’

  ‘But I want to—’

  ‘Your mum has decided to sacrifice her own freedom for now in order to keep you safe and we must respect that, Tilly, however hard it is. We won’t achieve anything by putting you both in danger, by just turning up there without any extra knowledge, or a plan. She said you would know what to do when you got back … And we do have more of a plan now – we suspect the Underwoods are involved in hiding books so they’re breaking the chain of imagination. And, of course, we also need to decide what to do with Mr Shakespeare here,’ he said, eyeing Will a little nervously. ‘You said he might have to stay with you at all times?’

  ‘Possibly,’ Tilly said. ‘We haven’t really had time to test it properly outside Story.’

  ‘We didn’t really think it through,’ Oskar admitted.

  ‘I can only apologise for the inconvenience my presence causes,’ Will said. ‘I freely admit that my exit was motivated solely by my desire to find a way out of that godforsaken Archive, and I was focused only on my own escape. I was drunk on the idea of freedom and I now understand that I bring your family even more complications at a time of great strife. But I swear to you that I am for your cause. Tilly and Oskar have demonstrated to me the worth of your goals and I would be honoured to fight alongside you. Mayhap I shall be able to offer some wisdom once the situation has become clearer. I have spoken with many bookwanderers over the decades and I earnestly hope I may be of use.’

  ‘Well, thanks, Mr Shakespeare,’ Grandad said.

  ‘Please, call me Will,’ he said, and Grandad just nodded. Tilly realised he was more than a little bit starstruck.

  ‘Have we got any way of contacting Mum?’ asked Tilly. ‘Has she got her phone with her?’

  ‘If she does, she’s not answering it,’ Grandad said. ‘And I don’t want to risk sending any of our plans via text if she’s with the Underwoods, especially as she believes you to be safe with her American friends. We cannot give the Underwoods the power of knowing you’re back in London. I know it feels impossible, but you have to let your mum do what she’s chosen to do for now.’

  ‘I know,�
� said Tilly, trying to force herself to think as rationally as she could through her exhaustion and worry. ‘So what do you think we should do?’

  They talked through the options and, by the time the toast was finished, they had a plan. In the morning, they would split into two teams. Grandma would go with Tilly and Oskar to meet with Horatio and start tracking down the missing books. Grandad and Amelia would go and get Bea back. Tilly desperately wanted to help her mum, but she knew she needed to work with Horatio, and that, as former Librarians, Grandad and Amelia were best placed to find Bea and get her out safely. It wasn’t a solution. But it was somewhere

  t felt as though she had only put her head on her pillow a few moments before, but when Tilly was shaken awake and glanced at her alarm clock it was the middle of the night.

  ‘Not again,’ Oskar said, stirring from the air bed on the floor. ‘Didn’t we already do this? Who is it this time?’

  ‘I have dreamed up a plan,’ Will said, sitting at the foot of Tilly’s bed as though it were the most normal thing in the world to be woken up by Shakespeare.

  ‘Can’t it wait until morning?’ Oskar yawned.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Will said. ‘But I believe you will be keen to hear of it now. I have realised what the best course of action is to save your gentle mother.’

  This woke Tilly up much more quickly. ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  ‘I shall offer these people, these Underwoods, myself in exchange for her safety,’ Will said proudly.

  ‘Huh?’ said Oskar.

  ‘I was thinking on what you have shared with me thus far,’ he explained. ‘And please do enlighten me if I have misunderstood any of the pertinent facts. Whatever they are working towards, these Underwood siblings desire Tilly for her blood because ’tis partly of this world, and partly of the world of stories, correct?’

  ‘Yes,’ Tilly confirmed.