Pages and Co 2: Tilly and the Lost Fairytales

by Anna James

  ‘Grandma and Grandad don’t like her,’ Tilly pushed.

  ‘I’m not sure that’s fair,’ Bea said. ‘I don’t think it’s a case of liking or not liking. I think that they’ve taken very different approaches to a lot of things in the past, and also shared a lot of big life experiences, and that they’re not sure if they trust her yet. What do you make of her?’

  ‘I … I like that she treats me and Oskar like real people,’ Tilly said eventually. ‘She let us decide for ourselves whether we wanted to go bookwandering in her shop, and she didn’t give us a load of rules.’

  ‘And you feel like your grandparents do?’

  ‘Yes,’ Tilly said vehemently, as she piled up blankets in one corner for her, and Bea did the same for Oskar nearby.

  ‘But Gretchen and your grandparents have very different jobs in your life,’ Bea said. ‘I don’t doubt that Gretchen thinks very highly of you – who wouldn’t? And she wouldn’t put you in danger on purpose. But Grandma and Grandad know you better than anyone, Tilly, and they would put you first over every single other thing in this world. I think you know this deep down.’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ Tilly said. ‘I do. But don’t you think that maybe Gretchen is right about some things?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like, that there are too many rules, and that the Underlibrary is doing too much meddling, and people should be left to decide on their own about how they want to be a bookwanderer?’

  ‘I think that a lot of what Gretchen says is interesting,’ Bea said.

  ‘She believes in the Archivists, you know,’ Tilly said. ‘And Grandad and Grandma don’t. They said they were just a story. But I don’t understand why we can believe in some stories and magic, but not the Archivists? Why are they less real than Alice or Anne or Sara or … my dad!’

  ‘Well,’ Bea said slowly, as if it was hurting her to say it. ‘You know that those people aren’t real in the same way we are? They exist in many ways, but not outside their own stories.’

  ‘So why can’t the Archivists be like that?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘People talk about them as if they have to be people like us, or not exist, but why can’t they be something in between? We spend so much time in the in-between; I’m an in-between person! Maybe people are just looking in the wrong places.’

  Bea nodded. ‘And maybe people should be listening to you a bit more,’ she said. ‘Tilly, I think you might be on to something.’

  nce everyone else had gone to bed, Tilly and Oskar were still up chatting about Gretchen and the Archivists when they heard someone downstairs. Creeping back down to the ground floor of the bookshop they found Gretchen rustling around in the books.

  ‘I’m so sorry to wake you,’ she said. ‘I was just looking for something to read.’

  ‘Do you need any help?’ asked Tilly.

  ‘I’m okay, thank you. I found something that caught my fancy,’ Gretchen said, holding up a blue hardback. ‘And I shall try very hard not to crack the spine so as not to cause your grandfather more anxiety.’

  ‘Okay, then,’ Tilly said. ‘Goodnight. Merry Christmas.’

  ‘Tilly,’ Gretchen called after them. ‘I hope it hasn’t caused you unnecessary stress, me turning up like this. I didn’t mean to make it difficult between you and your grandparents. I am trying to help, you know.’

  ‘I know,’ Tilly said.

  ‘I imagine it must be frustrating for you,’ Gretchen went on. ‘Having to hang around while the adults make a plan. I’m sure they’ll come up with something soon.’

  Tilly shrugged. ‘If they haven’t done anything by now, they’ll probably just wait until Melville does something awful they can use as evidence. But by then it will be too late,’ she said.

  ‘Well, I hope they don’t have to wait too long for him to put a foot wrong,’ Gretchen said. ‘I bet there’s all sorts of evidence out there if you look in the right places.’

  ‘Like where?’ Tilly said, although Oskar was already shaking his head.

  ‘Well, look at how much you two found out from one quick trip to some fairy tales,’ Gretchen said. ‘You found a plot hole, and were the ones that realised that book magic was leaking out, which meant your grandparents could connect the dots with Melville. And I know that you were instrumental in working out what that Chalk man was doing. You’ve clearly got an eye for clues. I’m sure you could find something quickly … if you were allowed to help more.’

  ‘We are allowed,’ Oskar said.

  ‘Not really,’ Tilly said mutinously.

  ‘Of course, we could do some quick detecting now, if you wanted,’ Gretchen said casually.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Tilly said, although she had a feeling she knew exactly what Gretchen meant.

  ‘Well, I admire your bravery in wanting to go and find evidence of what that Chalk man is doing, and I think that, whatever age you are, you should be allowed to pursue what is right, and try to find the truth.’

  ‘Do you really think things are getting much worse very quickly?’ Tilly asked.

  ‘I’m only going on what I’ve seen so far,’ Gretchen said. ‘And I am worried about what is happening to our fairy tales. Will you help me protect them, Tilly?’

  ‘Tilly and I are fine, thanks,’ Oskar said, climbing a few steps towards bed. Tilly stayed still.

  ‘So, what, you think we could just pop in quickly, and see if we could find Chalk, or more about what Melville is doing?’ Tilly said, moving towards Gretchen.

  ‘Bad idea,’ Oskar said. ‘Definitely a bad idea.’

  ‘Yes, exactly,’ Gretchen said, ignoring Oskar. ‘We’re not hunting anyone down. We’ll maybe chat to some of the characters who’ve seen Chalk wandering around, and just observe – see if we spot anyone collecting book magic, or causing problems, and if we don’t find anything, then nothing is lost, and we’ll see what plan the others can come up with. What do you think?’

  ‘And you promise we’ll be able to come straight back? That we won’t get lost in a different book?’

  ‘We’ll be incredibly careful,’ Gretchen said. ‘I promise.’

  ‘Honestly, this is a bad idea,’ Oskar repeated.

  ‘Clara always says how brave her grandson is,’ Gretchen said. ‘But I understand if you’d rather get to bed.’

  ‘I’m only going if you come with me,’ Tilly said, looking at Oskar.

  ‘I’m obviously not going to let you go by yourself,’ Oskar said, resigned. ‘Just promise I get to say I told you so if I’m right.’

  ‘Deal,’ Tilly said and turned back to Gretchen. ‘Okay. We can try. But we’re both coming, and any sign of anything really weird, and we’re heading straight back.’

  ‘Of course,’ Gretchen said. ‘It’s a research mission, nothing more. Shall we?’ And Tilly realised the blue book she was already holding was a book of fairy tales.

  ‘But we’re in our pyjamas,’ Tilly said.

  ‘Well, it was good enough for Arthur Dent,’ Gretchen said.

  ‘Who?’ Tilly said, confused.

  ‘The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy?’ Gretchen said. ‘By Douglas Adams? You should read it one day. It contains the meaning of life.’

  ‘In a novel?’ Tilly said.

  ‘Where else would you find it?’ Gretchen said, smiling. She held out her hand.

  Tilly looked at Oskar, who was now struggling to keep a look of excitement off his face, and they linked hands, and took a deep breath.

  As the shadows folded down around them, they found themselves shivering in the night air, regretting that they hadn’t changed out of their pyjamas.

  ‘Where are we exactly?’ Tilly said, teeth chattering.

  ‘We’re on the edge of “Hansel and Gretel”,’ Gretchen said. ‘Somewhere in there is the gingerbread house.’

  ‘The one where the witch who eats children lives?’ Oskar said. ‘I thought we weren’t going anywhere dangerous.’

  ‘Don’t worry, we’re n
ot going to talk to the witch,’ Gretchen said. ‘This is just where I came last time when I heard people mentioning Chalk, so I thought it was a sensible place to start. Let’s get out of the forest. Look, you can see the field through the trees.’

  They headed along the path into a grid of fields, which looked very similar to those that Tilly and Oskar had visited from the fairytale book in Paris. Except that here there was a large stone castle on a hill, complete with a turret and a drawbridge over a moat.

  ‘Let’s try there,’ Gretchen said, and they started heading in that direction. ‘Remember, we’re just on the lookout for someone who could help.’

  ‘Speaking of people who might help,’ Tilly said, ‘I was talking to my mum about the Archivists and I was thinking that maybe they’re from books, like the characters we meet? What do you think?’

  ‘An interesting idea,’ Gretchen said, as they walked through the damp grass.

  ‘You seemed pretty convinced that the Archivists are out there somewhere,’ Tilly said. ‘Why are you so sure? No one else seems to be.’

  ‘All stories are rooted in something real, even the most fantastical and impossible ones,’ Gretchen said. ‘Just like these fairy stories all grew from real people or ideas or feelings. I think that Archivists are based in fact. I’m just not sure who or where they are. I agree that they’ve been mythologised, but I firmly believe that something bigger than us exists out there to protect bookwandering and its fundamental nature. It has to. Something rooted in the history of stories and libraries and bookshops, to help us if we need it. The magic in books that lets us be part of them, and them part of us. I have to believe that if the world were in danger of ignoring the power of stories, or that people started thinking in terms of the limits of their bodies and not the scope of their imaginations, there is something, or someone, or a group of someones, who would do something. And I believe the Archivists are those someones.’

  ‘But whoever they are, what use are they if no one knows where they are or how to talk to them?’

  ‘I believe they’d know when they were needed,’ Gretchen said. ‘Your theory is interesting, though. One of the rumours I’ve heard is that the Archivists have hidden themselves in layers and layers of books. It shouldn’t be possible to travel into books inside books, but they may have found a way. Nothing is truly impossible inside a book.’

  ‘But that means there are infinite potential places they could be?’ Oskar said.

  ‘Yes,’ Gretchen said. ‘Goodness knows where you’d even start, if you didn’t have any clues. I imagine you would need some kind of map, but … Hang on.’ She paused. ‘Can you hear something?’

  Tilly stopped walking and listened.

  ‘What is that?’ she said, as the rumbling noise grew louder. ‘It sounds like a Tube train arriving at a station …’ Suddenly, huge chunks of the ground around them started falling away into more of the black nothingness that they had seen behind the doors of the Seven Dwarves’ and the Three Bears’ houses.

  ‘RUN!’ Gretchen shouted.

  Gretchen grabbed Oskar and Tilly’s hands, pulling them away from the crumbling ground and towards the castle. After a few moments the rumbling stopped, and they were at a safe distance from the holes in the ground. The three of them looked back from where they stood, breathing heavily. The moonlight the land, but seemed to sink straight into the holes and be absorbed entirely.

  ‘What was that?’ Tilly said. ‘Are they more plot holes?’

  ‘That was why we were right to come tonight,’ Gretchen said. ‘Fairy tales are collapsing around us. I think this is even more serious than the odd plot hole. I think those are the stories crumbling away.’

  ‘What?’ Tilly said. ‘Can that happen while we’re inside a story?’

  ‘Yes,’ Gretchen said, looking out at the broken landscape. ‘The fabric of these stories is fraying. I think that the Endpapers are starting to encroach on the stories as they decay around us. The Endpapers are there to hold stories together, as I’m sure you know, but I think this might be a side effect of the stories breaking. The Endpapers don’t know what to hold together and where. I am sure the person we’re going to visit can help.’

  ‘The person who told you about Chalk?’ Oskar asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Gretchen said. ‘I spoke to her last time I was here, and she was the first person who told me she’d seen him. Although I didn’t know who he was at the time, of course.’

  ‘Well, it’s somewhere to start,’ Tilly said.

  The castle at the top of the hill stood cold and quiet against the night sky.

  ‘It doesn’t look very friendly,’ Tilly said nervously.

  Gretchen pointed. ‘Look, the drawbridge is down, so they obviously don’t mind visitors.’

  The trio walked across the creaking wooden bridge, and into a small courtyard. In one wall was a great oak door, and Gretchen strode over to it and took hold of a huge iron ring hanging from it, swinging it heavily against the wood. The knocking rang out into the still night air, and after a few moments, it swung open to reveal warm yellow light in the corridor, and the smell of something hearty cooking somewhere.The lack of anyone who had obviously opened the door felt rather ominous, but the comforting light and smells reassured Tilly and Oskar, and they followed Gretchen inside. The door swung shut behind them.

  ‘This way,’ Gretchen said cheerfully, leading them down a stone corridor lit with torches hung in iron sconces on the wall. At the end of the corridor was a series of stone steps leading downwards into darkness.

  ‘This very much has a horror-film vibe,’ Oskar said, peering into the inky light.

  ‘Don’t worry, guys,’ Gretchen said. ‘Surely it takes more than a little darkness to frighten you?’

  ‘It’s more the combined effect,’ Oskar said. ‘You know, spooky castle, holes in the ground, doors opening on their own …’

  In the end, there was nothing to do but follow Gretchen down, and at the bottom there was another door, which she confidently pushed wide open. They found themselves in a large room with no windows, lit by more torches and lined with benches heaving with piles of paper covered in complicated notes, and bottles full of black liquid. Tilly couldn’t get the word ‘dungeon’ out of her mind.

  ‘Gretchen, my dear, how good to see you.’

  They heard a voice like honey, and from out of the shadows walked a tall, elegant woman dressed in a sweeping purple velvet dress with tight, long sleeves that ended in points that hooked round her middle fingers. Her blonde hair was piled up elaborately, and a long black lace veil hung from the back of it. Her lips were painted blood red. She embraced Gretchen warmly as if greeting an old friend, then took the book of fairy tales from under her arm and laid it on a bench behind her.

  ‘You know each other?’ Oskar said, standing closer to Tilly.

  ‘Yes,’ Gretchen said. ‘This is the woman who helped me before.’

  ‘Please take no notice of the get-up,’ the woman said. ‘It’s all part of the role. We stepmothers get the short straw every time, never mind if we’ve never even glanced in a magic mirror, or plotted to kill our stepdaughters.’

  ‘What’s all this stuff in the bottles?’ Tilly said, gesturing around. ‘Is that book magic?’

  ‘Well spotted,’ the woman said.

  ‘But how do you know what that is?’ Tilly said suspiciously. ‘You’re a fairytale character, right …?’

  ‘Tilly!’ Gretchen reprimanded her. ‘Lady Vesper is helping us! There’s no need to be so antagonistic.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Tilly apologised out of instinct, her horror of being told off in front of other people overriding her sense of something being not at all right.

  ‘Please don’t worry,’ Lady Vesper said. ‘And there’s no need to be so stern, Gretchen. It’s a fair question with an easy answer. I did not even know that this was book magic until very recently when Gretchen arrived looking for help. I had been experimenting with this substance for years, not having any
idea what it was. Then I realised it was everywhere now that my world had started to fall apart.’

  ‘So, what, you’re a mad-scientist, non-evil stepmother?’ Oskar said, and Lady Vesper laughed.

  ‘Something like that,’ she said. ‘Now, was there something you came to ask on your way through? I promise you, there’s no need to be so skittish, Tilly. Look, the door behind you is wide open. You’re free to go any time you’d like.’

  ‘We wanted to know if you had seen that man again,’ Gretchen said. ‘We think he might have something to do with all of this chaos.’

  ‘All of what chaos?’ a voice said from behind them – and down the stairs and into the light walked Enoch Chalk.

  ll trace of pleasantness immediately fell from Vesper’s face.

  ‘What are you doing here, Chalk, you idiot?’ she said, voice dripping with poison, as Tilly stared in horror at the man who had trapped her mother for eleven years.

  ‘Have I come at the wrong time, my lady?’ he said obsequiously, backing away.

  ‘It’s too late now, you fool,’ Vesper said. ‘Come back and lock the door behind you. At least we can do away with pretences now you’re here.’ Chalk did as he was told, and pocketed the large iron key. Tilly’s mind was racing.

  ‘Were you in on this?’ she said to Gretchen, who was looking somewhere between exhilarated and queasy.

  ‘Don’t worry, Tilly,’ she said. ‘This is all part of the plan.’

  ‘What plan? Whose plan?’ Oskar said.

  ‘Calm down, child,’ Vesper said. ‘It’s considerably less dramatic than it seems. Let’s sit down and talk this through. Chalk, will you find some wine and some honey wafers, please? Through there.’ She pointed at a door in corner. ‘Come, let’s all sit.’

  ‘I would not drink anything she gives you,’ Oskar whispered to Tilly.

  ‘No kidding,’ Tilly said, glad Oskar was there too, even if it was her fault they were both in this situation.

  Chalk brought out a tray of wine and delicate wafer biscuits and offered them to Vesper and to Gretchen.