First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2020

Published in this ebook edition in 2020

HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,

HarperCollins Publishers

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

The HarperCollins Children’s Books website address is

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Text copyright © Anna James 2020

Illustrations copyright © Paola Escobar 2020

Cover design copyright © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020

Anna James and Paola Escobar assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of the work respectively.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008229948

Ebook Edition © September 2020 ISBN: 9780008229962

Version: 2020-09-11

For Adam

I love writing our story together.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Previously in Pages & Co.

Chapter 1. A Proper Plan

Chapter 2. A Small Inkling of Doubt

Chapter 3. I’ve Always Liked Treasure Hunts

Chapter 4. A Wild Goose Chase

Chapter 5. Though She be but Little

Chapter 6. At Least Eighty Per Cent Sure

Chapter 7. Sounds Like a Real Mess

Chapter 8. Good Bookshops are Hard to Resist

Chapter 9. I Know a Bank Where the Wild Thyme Blows

Chapter 10. Butterscotch and Campfires

Chapter 11. Begin at the Beginning

Chapter 12. A Flaw in the System

Chapter 13. The Library of Alexandria

Chapter 14. Signposts

Chapter 15. We Should’ve Seen This One Coming

Chapter 16. Covert Operations

Chapter 17. New Frontiers of Book Magic

Chapter 18. A Story Within a Story

Chapter 19. Readers Have to Set their Own Compass

Chapter 20. The Last Clue

Chapter 21. The Sesquipedalian

Chapter 22. Up to No Good

Chapter 23. A Short Cut

Chapter 24. Someone Who Knows Someone Who Knows Someone

Chapter 25. Fuelled by Ideas

Chapter 26. There’s Enough Magic to Go Round

Chapter 27. The Bibliognost

Chapter 28. Made of Imagination

Chapter 29. Unread Stories

Chapter 30. Errant Ink Splotches

Chapter 31. Fraying the Very Fabric of Stories

Chapter 32. A First-Time Customer Deal

Chapter 33. Boldness Shall be My Friend

Chapter 34. Endings and Beginnings

Chapter 35. An Extremely Ill-mannered Question

Chapter 36. Green Eggs and Ham

Chapter 37. Favours are Good to Have in Stock

Chapter 38. My Soul is in the Sky

Chapter 39. Slightly Less Normal Than Everything Else

Chapter 40. Hot Buttered Toast

Chapter 41. What a Thrill to be Bookwandering Again

Chapter 42. We Do Not Haphazardly Go into the Breach

Chapter 43. A Twist in Fortunes

Chapter 44. The Source Library

Chapter 45. The Chain of Writers and Readers

Chapter 46. The Fox and the Moon

Chapter 47. Each Book is Its Own Master

Chapter 48. Do Not Wander

Chapter 49. ‘Plays the Violin Well’

Chapter 50. Chosen Ones

Chapter 51. What a Waste of Immortality

Chapter 52. Pure Story

Epilogue: One Week Later

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading …

Books by Anna James

About the Publisher

Previously in Pages & Co.

In Tilly and the Bookwanderers, Matilda Pages discovered that she was a bookwanderer; that she could travel inside her favourite books. While looking for her missing mother with her best friend, Oskar, she discovered that her father was a fictional character and that meant she was half fictional herself.

In Tilly and the Lost Fairy Tales, Tilly and Oskar came up against the Underwood siblings. Melville Underwood has managed to get into power at the British Underlibrary and wants to control who has access to bookwandering. His sister, Decima, is experimenting with book magic in order to try and steal stories’ innate immortality and believes that Tilly’s half-fictional nature may be the key.

Tilly has found or been given several clues while bookwandering, and she and Oskar believe that there may be a map to find the Archivists, who are supposed to protect bookwandering but who haven’t been heard from for many, many years.

m looking for a book.’

Matilda Pages and her grandad looked up from writing book recommendation cards to see a man standing in front of them at the desk of Pages & Co. The shop was quiet and golden-hour sunlight dripped in through the tall windows, making everything feel sleepy and peaceful.

‘Well, we can definitely help you with that,’ Grandad said, glad of a customer. ‘Which book was it?’

‘I can’t quite remember the title, I’m afraid,’ the man went on. ‘Or the author, now I come to think about it. But I know that it has a blue cover. Or at least I think so.’

‘Can you remember anything about what’s inside?’ Grandad said encouragingly. Tilly grinned: she loved watching him work out which book someone wanted from whatever tiny bits of information they could remember.

‘Not really …’ the man said vaguely. ‘How strange! I came to the shop specifically to pick this book up – it was my favourite when I was little, or was it my mum’s favourite? It slips my mind. And, now I’m here, I can’t remember the first thing about it. Maybe it wasn’t so special after all …’

‘Sounds like it meant a lot to you once upon a time,’ Grandad said. ‘I’m sure I can make some educated guesses if you can remember anything at all about it, or maybe we could help you find something different to read?’

‘That’s very kind of you,’ the man said politely, although he was already glancing back at the door. ‘But honestly – and I know this is the wrong thing to say in a bookshop – I just don’t seem to care any more.’

Grandad raised an eyebrow.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude,’ the man went on. ‘It’s just the more I think about it, the more I’m confused about what I even came in for.’

‘A book,’ Grandad reminded him. ‘With a blue cover.’

‘I’m not even sure it was blue,’ the man said, shrugging. ‘Oh well, thank you for your help.’ And with that he was gone.

‘How peculiar,’ said Grandad.

‘People can’t remember what they’re looking for all the time, though,’ Tilly pointed out.

‘Yes, but usually, if they’ve bothered to make it into the bookshop, they’re a little more persistent, sometimes even quite annoyed that we can’t immediately identify what they’re after. He just seemed to forget what he even wanted as we spoke.’

‘Actually, there was another customer like that,’ Tilly said, remembering. ‘The other day a woman was just standing, staring at a bookshelf for about ten minutes, not picking up any books or anything, and, when I asked if I could help her find something, she said she wasn’t sure, and then wandered off.’

‘Mmm, very strange,’ said Grandad, but his attention had been distracted by a list of numbers on the screen of the till, his brow furrowed in concern. ‘Well, let’s hope it’s not a trend,’ he said. ‘We’ve been selling fewer and fewer books over the last couple of months. Maybe it’s just that it’s finally getting warmer and people are getting excited about being outside. As if we didn’t have enough to worry about. How are you coping without bookwandering?’

‘I hate it,’ Tilly said vehemently. ‘I hate that I can’t do it, and that I can’t talk to Anne or bookwander with Oskar, and most of all I hate that the Underwoods could just take it away without asking.’

Since Melville Underwood had become Head Librarian at the British Underlibrary and made his sister, Decima, his official Advisor, they had made good on their threat to limit bookwandering by binding Source Editions. They had promised, in a series of very formal statements, that it was only a short-term measure to keep bookwandering safe while they got to grips with their new roles, but the Pages family had very little trust in statements or promises from the twins.

‘Remind me how bookbinding works?’ Tilly said. ‘Why did somebody even invent that in the first place?!’

‘It was the Bookbinders,’ Grandad explained. ‘That group of librarians who, years and years ago, first wanted to try to control who could bookwander. They use book magic to do it: that black sticky stuff you saw when the Underwoods were breaking up the fairy tales. It’s barbaric, really, the uses they put book magic to – the very opposite of where it comes from.’

‘But how does it work? Have you ever done it?’

‘Books should only be bound in the most serious of situations,’ Grandad said. ‘And some would say never at all. While I was in charge at the British Underlibrary, we only bound a book once and I’m still not certain it was the right thing to do. However, the process itself is fairly simple. All you have to do is trace an X of book magic over the first word of a book’s Source Edition and it’s like locking the door.’

‘So the Underwoods have done that to all the Source Editions?’

‘All the ones at the British Underlibrary, it would seem. Although, knowing them, they got some of their underlings to do it – no doubt the librarians who’ve gleefully revived the Bookbinder name. But don’t worry, Tilly, we’ll think of something soon.’

‘I don’t understand why you’re so calm about it,’ Tilly said, the anger at having her freedom to bookwander stripped from her still prickling under her skin.

‘I’m not at all calm about it,’ Grandad replied. ‘I’m as angry as you are, but it’s too big a fight to just wade into and cause more problems. We have to make sure the Sources are protected at all times, as well as the people working at the Underlibrary. We need a proper plan.’

‘I suggested a proper plan,’ Tilly said mutinously.

‘I know you think that … I mean, I understand that you believe …’ Grandad faltered under the apparent strain of trying to say what he meant – without actually saying what he meant.

‘I know you don’t believe me that the Archivists are real, or that I know how to find them,’ said Tilly. ‘You don’t need to explain again. You’re not going to convince me, though. Two separate people told me and Oskar that they use maps to tell you where they are – and I’m sure I’ve been sent one.’

‘You weren’t given a map, sweetheart,’ Grandad said gently. ‘You found a collection of items that you think are linked together because you want to be able to help. And we love you so much for that, but it’s too great a risk to follow those clues … Well, we couldn’t follow them. Where would we even start?’

Tilly rolled her eyes. ‘We’d start at the Library of Congress, in America,’ she explained as if speaking to a child who wasn’t paying attention. ‘That’s where the first clue said to go. It had a … what did Mum call it, an American postcode?’

‘A zip code,’ Grandad said.

‘Right, a zip code! And it had a library classmark – you said yourself that classmarks are like maps – that’s how I knew!’

‘We can’t fly all the way to America to find a book, Tilly,’ Grandad said. ‘Now, give me a few moments of quiet so I can look through these sales figures again. Why don’t you go and find your mum, there’s a good girl?’

One of the things that Tilly loved most about her grandparents was that they almost always spoke to her as if she were a proper person who understood things, and felt things, and had good ideas. But that meant it stung even more when they spoke down to her, as though she were just too young to understand what they were dealing with.

She stood up without saying anything else, meaning to go and find Bea and talk to her about the map, but, before she could wander over to the stairs, the phone behind the counter started ringing.

‘Good morning, Pages & Co.,’ Grandad said. ‘Archie speak— Oh, Seb, hello, any news? Oh … Right …’ He looked up to check Tilly hadn’t gone and held a hand out to tell her to stay put. ‘I’ve got her here,’ he said down the phone, and Tilly felt a wave of fear crash over her. Grandad slammed the phone down and dragged her towards the door that connected the bookshop to where the Pages family lived.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. ‘You’re hurting me, Grandad!’

‘I’m sorry, Tilly,’ he said, ‘but we need to get you hidden. Right now. That was Seb. The Underwoods are on their way here – and it’s you they want.’

hat do they want me for?’ Tilly asked as they ran through the kitchen and up the stairs.

‘I dread to think,’ Grandad said, ‘considering that the last time you saw them they were trying to steal your blood.’

‘But it’s not like they can do anything here at Pages & Co.,’ Tilly said, out of breath as she jogged after Grandad right up to the top floor where her bedroom was. ‘And it’s not as though they’ve got anything to bargain with now they’ve already stopped us bookwandering.’

‘I’m not taking that risk,’ Grandad said. ‘As far as they’re concerned, you are at a friend’s house for tea. Your grandma and I will speak to them and find out what they want, and I’ll send your mum up here to wait with you. I’ll lock the door to the shop, and you must promise me that you won’t come downstairs. Yes?’

‘I promise,’ Tilly said sincerely.

‘This is the first time I’ve been glad that you can’t bookwander, so you won’t be able to disappear off somewhere,’ he said grimly as he shut the door behind her firmly.

Tilly listened to his footsteps fade as he headed back downstairs, and realised she’d left her phone in the bookshop and couldn’t even text her best friend, Oskar, to tell him what was happening. She had her bookcase, of course, but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to sit and focus on reading when she was so anxious. Although, judging by the pile of only-just-started books by her bed, her concentration had been all over the place for a while. Tilly realised she hadn’t finished a book for nearly a week – a seriously long time for a reader of her commitment.

Tilly ran her fingers along her shelves, trying to summon that faith she had always had in the serendipity of a bookshelf – that you often ended up finding exactly the right book at the right time. Maybe there was something there that would distract her. Usually, her bookcase was so full that it took quite a yank to even get a book out, but Tilly noticed there were a couple of gaps at the moment. She couldn’t quite place what was missing – she must have left them downstairs or lent them to Oskar.

On one of the shelves was a curious selection of objects: the items that she was sure were clues to lead her to the Archivists. Even though Grandma and Grandad thought the Archivists were nothing more than a bookwandering fairy tale, Tilly just knew it was too much of a coincidence that these particular items had all ended up with her.

A slim book and a ball of red thread given to her by a librarian at the French Underlibrary, a key from The Secret Garden, a bag of breadcrumbs from ‘Hansel and Gretel’. All of them had found their way to her over the course of a few days. Surely they had to mean something? But, when she looked at them lined up like this, she couldn’t ignore a small inkling of doubt. It was hard not to see them as Grandad did – a row of unrelated objects she’d picked up while bookwandering, smothered in wishful thinking.

Tilly sighed. Not for the first time, she wished she could bookwander – to try to find some more clues, to get Anne Shirley’s take on the situation, or just to take her mind off whatever was going on downstairs in the bookshop. All of them had, of course, tried to bookwander after Seb told them what Melville had done, but it just didn’t work. There was a flash of a moment where you felt the familiar pull of the story, the leap in your stomach and even the faint smell of toasting marshmallows, but then there was a feeling like an elastic band that had stretched as far as it could and you were bounced back again.

Tilly grabbed a book at random off her shelf and stared at it in frustration. It was Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. It was one of Tilly’s favourite places to bookwander, and Alice often used to pop into the bookshop to say hello.

Tilly opened the book and, thinking about what Grandad had told her about bookbinding, stared at the first word. She could see that there was the suggestion of a shadow across it. She tried to scratch or rub it off, but nothing happened. There was still a slight mark there, echoing the book magic that had bound the Source Edition at the Underlibrary. She flicked through the pages, stopping at the familiar scene of the Mad Hatter’s tea party, the first place she had ever bookwandered to.

She sat on the edge of her bed and read it aloud, trying to conjure up the feeling of awe that she’d experienced the first time she had been pulled inside the pages of a book.

‘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, but 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?’

‘Who do you mean?’ Tilly asked. ‘Melville?’

‘No, no,’ Oskar said. ‘There was another man, wasn’t there? I want to say he was the Underwoods’ … butler? He had some kind of … hat? And was there a fire or something? Maybe I’m just getting confused with something I read in a book.’

‘I have no idea who you’re talking about,’ Tilly said. ‘What kind of hat?’

‘A … Do you know, I can’t remember,’ Oskar said. ‘Never mind. I’m obviously mixing him up with some other story. Strange.’

There was a fraction of a second where Tilly thought that maybe she knew what Oskar meant, but the thought vanished as quickly as it had arrived and she shrugged. There were bigger things to worry about. And so they changed the subject to what Jack had been cooking up for the bookshop café, and said no more about the man in the hat or the fire.

illy woke in the middle of the night to Bea’s finger on her lips. It was dark except for the gentle haze of London’s streetlights soaking through the skylight.

‘Is everyone okay?’ Tilly whispered, glancing over at Oskar, who was snoring gently on the air bed in the other corner of the room.

Bea nodded. ‘Do you trust me?’ she asked very quietly, and Tilly didn’t have to think twice. She nodded.

‘I need you to get together some clothes and other bits very quickly and quietly, and I’ll answer all your questions when we’re in the taxi.’

‘The taxi?’ Tilly said, adrenalin coursing through her, ridding her of any traces of sleepiness. ‘I knew you were up to something! Where are we going? What are we doing with Oskar?’

‘He’s coming too,’ Bea said. ‘I spoke to Mary on the phone earlier and arranged everything.’

She went over and gently shook Oskar awake. He grunted in a somewhat undignified way, which Tilly and Bea pretended they didn’t hear.

‘Huh?’ he said, still half asleep. He took in Bea and the dark and sat upright. ‘Ohhh, are we going? Mum said you’d asked if she was happy for me to go on a trip with you, but I didn’t realise it was going to be in the middle of the night. Where are we going?’

He looked at Tilly, who just shrugged.

‘Get dressed in something comfy,’ Bea said, ‘and grab anything you’d want for weather a little warmer than this. Oh, and make sure you have your passport to hand.’

‘My passport?’ Tilly repeated in surprise, and Bea shushed her, looking a little jumpy. ‘I promise I’ll explain in the taxi. But we need to get going.’

‘Do … do Grandma and Grandad know we’re going?’ Tilly asked, but she knew the answer already.

‘It’s time for us to take matters into our own hands,’ Bea said. ‘I’m going to get your toothbrushes, and I want you ready to go in ten minutes.’

Bea crept out of the bedroom, leaving Tilly and Oskar staring at each other.

‘You knew we were going somewhere?’ Tilly said accusingly. ‘And you didn’t say anything all evening!’

‘I thought you knew!’ he said. ‘And anyway Mum just made it sound as though your family might be going to, like, the countryside for a night, not somewhere that needed a passport! Do you think I should text her?’

‘Let’s find out where we’re going before we worry her,’ Tilly said. She was nervous, but she had a feeling this was going to be their one chance and she didn’t want anything getting in the way. They quickly got dressed and Tilly pulled out a few bits of clothing and shoved them into the small wheelie suitcase her mum had put out.

‘Ready to go?’ Bea whispered, her head round the door, holding out a washbag for Tilly to put in her suitcase.

They nodded, fizzing with nervous excitement, and the three of them crept downstairs, through the kitchen, cold in the spring night air, and into the bookshop, which was still and dark around them. Tilly couldn’t help thinking about her grandparents, and how they were going to wake up tomorrow and realise they were gone.

Hopefully, her mum had left them a note.

On the road a car was waiting in the orange puddle of a streetlight. The driver helped Bea put their bags in the boot as they slid into the taxi and it set off, heading west, out of London.

‘Can you tell us what’s going on now?’ Tilly said, the reality of what they were doing sinking further in with every mile that they got from Pages & Co.

‘I think it’s time that we trust your instincts about the Archivists,’ Bea said. ‘There has to be a reason you can do the things you do, Tilly, and there has to be a reason why you’ve ended up with all those clues. Bookwanderers treat the Archivists as wishful thinking, but it makes sense to me that there are people somewhere who could stop Underlibraries doing such terrible things. I trust you, Tilly. And so does Oskar.’

‘He does?’ Oskar said in surprise. Tilly and Bea stared at him. ‘I mean, of course I do,’ he said. ‘In a general sense, at least.’

‘I’ll take it,’ Tilly grinned. ‘I trust you too … in a general sense.’

‘And anyway,’ Bea went on, ‘I for one am not just going to sit around, waiting for the Underwoods to do even more damage to bookwandering, and goodness knows what other problems they’re causing. They clearly don’t give two hoots about the impact of their actions. However –’ she paused – ‘I could not get your grandparents to agree. I tried one last time this afternoon, and they’re convinced it’s not worth the risk. But this isn’t the time to be sitting around: we have to stand up to the Underwoods. Have you two ever heard the saying, “If not us, who? And if not now, when?” That’s how I’m feeling. Tilly, if you think the start of the map – or the treasure hunt or whatever we want to call it – is at the Library of Congress, then that’s where you need to begin.’

‘Hang on,’ Tilly said as Bea’s words sank in. ‘We’re going to America?’

‘We’re going where?’ Oskar repeated incredulously. ‘Does my mum know?’

‘Sort of,’ Bea said, looking sheepish. ‘She knows you’re going abroad and that you’ll be looked after. You’ll meet one of my old university friends, in fact! He owns a bookshop and his husband is a librarian at the Library of Congress and I’ve filled them in on what’s going on. They’re both bookwanderers, of course. Tilly, I put your clues in your backpack – double-check you have them all?’

Tilly looked inside her backpack and made sure everything was there: the slim book, the key, the thread and the breadcrumbs.

‘Got them,’ she said.

‘Good,’ Bea said. ‘Now I’ll take you into the airport and get you to security, and Orlando will meet you at the other end.’

Tilly stared at her mum in horror. ‘You’re not coming with us?’

‘I can’t, I’m sorry. But I’ll text you a photo of Orlando so you know who to look for when you get there, and I’ve given him a codeword too. Make sure he says “Hermia” to you.’

‘Why Hermia?’ asked Tilly.

‘She’s a character from A Midsummer Night’s Dream.’ Bea smiled. ‘Another character says about her “though she be but little, she is fierce”, and it’s a line that makes me think of you.’

‘That’s very lovely and all,’ Oskar said, ‘but could we focus on the fact that you’re sending us to America by ourselves? Why can’t you come with us?’

‘I have something I need to take care of here,’ Bea said,

ea refused to explain more about why she wasn’t coming with them, which worried Tilly more than the trip itself.

‘Does my mum know you’re just putting us on a plane and leaving us?’ Oskar said.

‘Not in so many words,’ Bea said. ‘But I’m sure she’d understand.’

Oskar’s face suggested he felt otherwise.

‘I’ll deal with your mum,’ she promised. ‘And you’ll be totally safe in DC – you’re being picked up by Orlando. He’s one of the very best people I’ve ever known, and he knows exactly what’s going on. And, crucially, his husband Jorge works at the Library of Congress and they’ll go with you.’ She took a deep breath.

‘We need to let you two have the space to find the Archivists,’ she said. ‘The clues – the map – have all ended up with you, and the Underwoods know that you’re the key to all of it, and you two working together clearly terrifies them. It’s not just your blood they want, Tilly: they want to stop you doing anything to get in their way, because they know that you two are the greatest threat to their plans. It’s why we have to do it this way.’

‘But surely you can come with us?’ Tilly said, feeling incredibly overwhelmed.

‘I need to stop them coming after you,’ Bea said, and wouldn’t go into any more detail. ‘Come on, we’re here.’

Tilly had never been to an airport before, let alone on an aeroplane. Bea made sure they had everything they needed, including texting them both photos of Orlando and all his details. She wasn’t allowed to come through security with them, but presented a form to a security person and Tilly and Oskar were given ‘Unaccompanied Minor’ lanyards and told someone would help them find their gate, and that someone else would take them through customs once they landed in America.

‘Stay together,’ was the last thing Bea said to them. ‘Trust each other and take care of each other. If anyone can find the Archivists, it’s you two.’

Then she stood and watched them, until Tilly and Oskar had to turn a corner and were out of sight.

The two of them sat, a little shell-shocked, next to each other on uncomfortable plastic chairs in the huge terminal at Heathrow airport. People kept glancing at them, but no one stopped and asked if they were okay, and Tilly wasn’t sure what she would say if someone did.

‘Oskar,’ Tilly said, very quietly. ‘What if all of this is just wishful thinking? What if the things I’ve gathered aren’t clues? What if Grandma and Grandad are right and it’s just a pile of junk that I’ve convinced myself means more than it does?’

‘I’m going to be blunt, Tilly,’ Oskar said. ‘One minute you’re absolutely dead certain, and the next you’re not sure at all. I get why you’re worried, but now is the time to decide, one way or the other. I’d really rather not go to America unless you’re, let’s say, at least eighty per cent sure you’re right.’

‘That’s fair,’ Tilly nodded. ‘And I reckon I am eighty per cent sure – just. And that twenty per cent means you don’t get to say I told you so if I’m wrong.’ She was aiming for a joke, but Oskar didn’t laugh; he was still obviously finding it a little difficult to believe that his best friend’s mum had just dropped him off at the airport with no warning.

‘Is it weird to say I feel like I’ve just been kidnapped?’ Oskar said.

‘No,’ Tilly said. ‘I feel the same, and it’s my mum. I’m sorry she didn’t tell us what she was doing. I know this is … extreme. You don’t have to come with me. We can call Grandma and Grandad and they’d come and pick you up straight away and you’d be home before your mum realised anything weird was going on.’

‘You said I’d be home, not we’d be home,’ Oskar said. ‘You’re going to go? Even though you’re not even sure the clues mean anything? Even though we have to go and do this by ourselves?’

‘I have to try,’ Tilly said. She had filled him in on the visit from the Underwoods when he’d arrived at Pages & Co., and the stakes. ‘I have to do something, and this is the only idea I’ve got so I guess this is what I’m doing. I’ve just realised that if the Underwoods have bound all the books at the British Underlibrary, it won’t just be affecting British bookwanderers – no one will be able to bookwander into any copies of those books, wherever they live. Books don’t know what country they’re in.’

‘But won’t other Underlibraries try and stop them in that case?’ said Oskar. ‘I can’t imagine the librarians we met at the French Underlibrary would let that happen. Shouldn’t we leave it up to them?’

‘Maybe they haven’t realised yet,’ suggested Tilly. ‘But no, someone must have. Maybe Mum’s friend will be able to tell us what’s going on in America – they must have noticed.’

‘Tilly,’ Oskar said, ‘if you think there’s something in this map, or whatever you’re calling it, then I’m in too. I’d rather see what we can find than sit around at home, waiting for those two to come and find us. And I am not a fan of someone taking away my bookwandering, after I was just getting good at it.’

He paused, and Tilly thought he was about to come up with a useful idea. ‘Shall we get some food?’ was what he actually said. ‘I hope your mum gave you some money to make up for the whole kidnapping thing.’

They found a café with an empty table and, despite everything that was going on, they couldn’t entirely ignore the joy of having no adults to tell them what they could or couldn’t order.

‘How much have you got?’ Oskar asked as Tilly took out the purse Bea had given her. ‘Because I want a chocolate milkshake, and they’re seven pounds fifty.’

‘We’ve got fifty pounds in English money,’ Tilly said, not sure she’d ever held so much cash before. ‘And –’ she looked at the other notes in the purse – ‘one hundred dollars in American money.’ She said this last part quietly, feeling a little bit like she was announcing a prize on a reality TV show.

‘Kerching!’ Oskar said. ‘Waiter, I’ll have one of everything!’

‘I think it’s for emergencies, really,’ Tilly said.

‘I know, I know,’ Oskar said. ‘But missing breakfast is an emergency. I’m going to have the full English.’

As they ordered, a couple sat down at the table next to them, grinning at each other intently, despite the early hour.

‘We’re on our honeymoon,’ the man said to Tilly without being asked.

‘Oh, congratulations!’ Tilly said, feeling awkward.

‘We’re going to the Seychelles,’ the woman said, holding out her hand so they could see her sparkling diamond alongside a wedding ring. ‘Where are you two off to?’

‘And where are your parents?’ the man asked. ‘You’re awfully young to be by yourselves at an airport.’

‘Someone’s meeting us at the other end,’ Oskar said. ‘Oh, look! Is that our food coming?’ And the two of them watched the kitchen intently, hoping the couple would stop trying to make conversation. Thankfully, their food did arrive only moments later.

‘I wonder what Mum’s planning to say to my grandparents,’ Tilly said quietly over her ham-and-cheese omelette. ‘They’re not going to be thrilled about this. Pretty sure dropping two twelve-year-olds off at an airport with a load of money and a photo of a man to meet in America is not traditionally seen as great parenting.’

‘When you put it like that, it makes us sound like we’re in a spy movie or something,’ Oskar said, eyes lighting up. ‘A contact on the other side of the world. An envelope full of cash. A mysterious map. I feel like Nicolas Cage. I’m starting to get more into this whole treasure-hunt thing.’

After eating, they paid an exhausted-looking waitress and started gathering up their bags to go and wait for the person who was going to take them to their departure gate. Abruptly, as Tilly double-checked that they had their money and passports, noisy crying erupted from the table next to them and they looked over to see the newly married man in floods of tears.

‘I just … think I’ve made a horrible mistake,’ the woman was saying, standing up. ‘I’m so sorry. It’s just … All of a sudden, I was looking at you, and it was like … it was like I was looking at a stranger and I just couldn’t quite remember why we got married or …’ She tailed off, looking uncomfortable, before grabbing her bag and running out of the café. But by this point the man was drying his tears on a napkin and starting to look a bit more composed.

‘Do you know,’ he said to Tilly and Oskar, ‘I think she’s right, really. I can’t even remember why we were together when I come to think about it. Oh well!’ He put some money on the table and followed her out of the café.

‘That was … weird,’ Oskar said as they headed to the information desk.

‘Very,’ agreed Tilly. ‘How can you just forget why you’re in love with someone?’

But they didn’t have much time to dwell on it as they were quickly collected by an airport official and taken to their gate to board. After a lot of sitting around, waiting for their section to be called, and then a lot of standing in a queue, finally they were in their seats.

Once safely onboard, the novelty of her first plane journey wore off quickly, and so Tilly tried to lean into the strange, otherworldly experience of being on a plane. The next eight hours went by in a blur of napping, half watching films, and eating strangely textured foods that arrived at seemingly random intervals and then were whisked away.

It was only when she landed that Tilly realised she hadn’t even picked up the book she’d brought with her.

he time difference meant they’d gone the wrong way in time, and it was still very early when they landed in Washington DC. They were accompanied through customs by another airport official and got through with no problems other than an extremely long queue, and a slight pause when the border security guard asked why they were visiting the US. They had Orlando’s address to show him, but assumed telling him that they were on a magical treasure hunt to save bookwandering wasn’t something he could type into his computer, so they just said they were visiting friends.

‘Have a nice trip,’ he said, stamping their passports and waving them through.

‘Okay,’ Tilly said, showing Oskar the photo of Orlando on her phone again as they walked out into the arrivals area. The picture showed a smiling white man with a beard and blond hair tied up in a messy bun. Tilly and Oskar looked around the bustling space anxiously, before a loud American voice boomed across the crowd.

‘Beatrice Pages’ daughter! I never thought I’d see the day!’

Orlando looked exactly like his photo, right down to the broad smile. He was wearing Doc Martens, worn jeans and a denim shirt open over a T-shirt. He wrapped them both up in a huge hug.

Then he paused. ‘Oh sorry! Hermia! Hermia! I forgot the code word. Welcome to Washington DC!’

‘Um, thanks,’ said Tilly. ‘I’m Tilly, obviously.’

Orlando stepped back and beamed at them. ‘And … Oskar, right?’

‘Right,’ said Oskar.

‘So, how are you guys doing?’ Orlando said gently, clearly trying to tone down his natural exuberance – and, to her surprise and embarrassment, Tilly burst into tears. At the sight of Tilly’s tears, Oskar followed shortly afterwards. ‘Hey, hey, hey!’ Orlando said, looking a little nervous. ‘Did something happen on the way?’

‘No.’ Tilly sniffed. ‘We’re fine. It’s just … the whole … being tricked into flying to America by your own mum to save bookwandering thing.’

‘It’s quite a lot to deal with,’ Oskar said, wiping away a tear.

‘You bet,’ Orlando said gently. ‘Well, I think you’re doing brilliantly by just getting here. And I know someone else who does too. Come meet Jorge – he’ll be getting stressed about parking in the wrong place for too long, I’m sure.’ He put a reassuring hand on their shoulders and guided them through the airport, to where a battered powder-blue station wagon was idling, a slender, nervous-looking man waiting in the driver’s seat.

‘Come on, Orlando!’ the man called out of the open window. ‘That security guard has been glaring at me ever since I parked up here.’

Orlando grinned, tossed their bags in the car and helped them up into the back seat. ‘This is Jorge,’ he said, gesturing to the driver, who was sweating slightly as he manoeuvred the car into a lane of traffic. He had light brown skin and dark curly hair and was wearing a smart button-down shirt.

‘Hi,’ said Jorge from the front seat, with a gentle accent that Tilly couldn’t quite place. ‘I promise I’ll be much more welcoming once we’re out of this godforsaken airport.’ He gesticulated at another driver and swore out of the window, which prompted a slightly sheepish smile from Orlando. But indeed, once they’d left the maze of roads around the airport, Jorge glanced back at them, a warm smile on his face.

‘Welcome,’ he said. ‘Sorry you had to witness that. I do not enjoy driving this beast of a car in busy areas, but Orlando insisted on us buying it. How are you both doing? Did you manage to sleep at all on the plane?’

‘A little bit,’ said Oskar and Tilly nodded. Although she hadn’t slept much and sheer adrenalin had been keeping her alert until they landed.

‘So you know my mum from university?’ she said. ‘We didn’t get a lot of information before we left.’

‘Yep,’ Orlando said cheerfully, twisting round in his seat so he could look at them. ‘We both worked part time at a bookstore in New York – that’s how we each realised the other was a bookwanderer.’

‘So, you knew Mum when …’ Tilly tailed off, not sure how much they knew about who her father was.

‘Yeah, we knew her when she was visiting A Little Princess and fell in love with your father,’ Orlando said straightforwardly but kindly, showing that he knew Tilly was half fictional without making a fuss. ‘When Bea first moved back to London, we had no idea she was even pregnant, but we kept in touch for a bit until we stopped hearing from her. We thought she’d got new friends in London; of course, it didn’t even cross our minds that she was trapped in a book. But we can chat more about all of that kind of stuff later, if you want?’ Orlando said. ‘I have to admit we’re a little bit in the dark about the plan – Bea made it sound like everything was quite urgent.’

‘Yes,’ said Tilly, who was starting to struggle to keep her eyes open. ‘We need to go to the Library of Congress straight away. She told you about the bookbinding, right …?’

‘She sure did,’ Orlando said. ‘It sounds like a real mess. No wonder things have been off in the book world. I’m glad you guys have a plan to help.’

‘Something like that,’ Oskar said sleepily. Orlando eyed the two drowsy children in the back seat.

‘Okay, well, why don’t you two nap a little on the drive into town? We can drop your stuff off at the bookstore, which is close to the Library of Congress, and go from there.’

‘Sounds good,’ Tilly said, letting the rhythm of the car lull her to sleep.

‘Can we … get some … food … too?’ Oskar added, and it was not long before the two of them were fast asleep, heads resting against the car windows as they drove through Washington DC.

rlando gently shook them awake after about forty-five minutes.

‘Hey, sleepyheads,’ he said. ‘We’ve picked up some breakfast burritos for you. I thought you might like to see some of the sights as we get into the city and you can have a moment to wake up properly before we get to the store.’

He passed back two hot, foil-wrapped burritos full of spicy scrambled eggs, avocado and black beans and two glass bottles of fresh orange juice.

Tilly and Oskar ate and drank contentedly while gazing out of the windows at the cherry blossom trees that lined the road.

‘Once all this bookwandering stuff is cleared up, you’ll have to come back and stay – with your families – and do some proper exploring,’ Orlando said as he pointed out some of the famous sights.

They saw the gigantic Lincoln Memorial – a huge stone structure that looked like something out of a Greek myth, the tall, elegant Washington Monument sticking up into the sky as though it were trying to pierce the clouds and, looking up the hill from that tower, they could just about see the famous shape of the White House itself, where the American president lived.

Before too long, Jorge turned the car into a crisscross of streets lined with Chinese restaurants and coffee shops. They drove past a huge stadium right in the middle of the city and a tall, glass-fronted theatre before Jorge parked behind a large red-brick building, and he and Orlando helped get the luggage out of the boot.

‘Enough history for now,’ Orlando grinned. ‘Time for the important stuff – books.’

They walked round to the front. ‘For the full effect,’ Orlando said proudly as they looked up at a huge building with big windows, through which they could see a busy bookshop. A large sign over the door read ‘Shakespeare’s Sisters’ with a large quill illustration as a logo.

‘Why’s it called that?’ Oskar asked, staring up at the sign. ‘How many sisters did Shakespeare even have?’

‘Well, he had one sister who lived to be an adult,’ Orlando said. ‘But that’s just one of the reasons for the name. You’ll see when we go inside that it’s a pretty special building – it actually used to be a theatre, and we’ve tried to keep as much of the structure as it was – we still have the stage and everything. We’ve added a lot of bookshelves, of course. People come from all over to look at our Shakespeare collection.’

‘So … why is it named after his sisters then?’ Tilly asked.

‘I’m getting there.’ Orlando smiled. ‘I’m just giving you the full spiel as it’s your first time here! It’s because it’s not about Shakespeare’s real sisters; it’s about a made-up one called Judith.’

‘You know the British writer Virginia Woolf?’ Jorge interrupted, with a smile, seemingly used to hearing this explanation and trying to speed Orlando up a little.

The name rang a bell with Tilly, but she couldn’t place it, and shook her head; she had a rule never to pretend she’d read a book that she hadn’t, however tempting it sometimes was.

‘She lived a while ago,’ Orlando went on. ‘And part of the reason I love her is because I was named after one of her characters. But another one of her books was about women and writing, and in it she imagined what life might have been like for a made-up version of Shakespeare’s sister. It’s about what would have happened to a woman who wanted to be a writer in Elizabethan times and the stories she might have written if she’d had the same education and opportunities as good old Will Shakespeare. So that’s what I named the shop for – all the stories that didn’t make it out into the world, for one reason or another.’

‘I like it.’ Oskar nodded approvingly. ‘But it’s kind of complicated. You had to do a lot of explaining.’

‘Well, we like to think it sounds good even if you’re just walking past the store,’ Orlando said. ‘But sometimes it’s worth getting the whole story, don’t you think?’ He gazed up at the shop. ‘You know, bookstores are monuments to writers, in a way,’ he said. ‘Lincoln and Washington have their statues, and Shakespeare has this. It’s a little less grand, but I think he’d like it anyway.’

‘You sound just like Tilly’s grandad,’ Oskar said. ‘He loves a speech about the importance of bookshops.’

Once they were inside, it was obvious the building had previously been a theatre. Although various walls had been removed, there was a huge wooden stage at the far end to where they stood, with heavy scarlet curtains framing it. But instead of actors or lights or props on the stage there were shelves and shelves of books. One wide staircase wound upwards towards a balcony, and another down to another floor. The bookshop was all artfully curated faded glamour, with a kitsch chandelier still hanging from its high ceiling and some old velvet theatre chairs arranged in pockets among the shelves for people to sit and read.

‘Welcome to Shakespeare’s Sisters!’ Orlando said proudly. ‘Let’s store your stuff somewhere safe and then you can come see our Shakespeare balcony quickly before we head up to the library.’

Orlando looked so proud of his bookshop that Tilly didn’t have the heart to insist that they go straight to the library to start the hunt for the Archivists.

They were already here, so what was an extra ten minutes to see the shop properly? Good bookshops are hard to resist after all.

hey left all their luggage in Orlando’s locked office, but Tilly made sure that she kept the small backpack with the clues in with her.

Then they followed Orlando and Jorge up the stairs, passing an archway that revealed a small room hung with more colours and patterns of wrapping paper than Tilly could count, as well as reams and reams of ribbons and tissue paper and other accoutrements. A petite woman with warm amber-coloured skin was standing at a desk piled high with books. She had at least five different brightly coloured ribbons woven through her black hair, and was focused intently on wrapping a large hardback book in brown paper.

‘Ah, that’s Deepti, and our wrapping room,’ Orlando said. ‘If customers need a book wrapped for a special occasion, then we bring them here where they can choose how they want it.’

The woman looked up and grinned widely at them. ‘Friends of yours?’ she said.

‘The best of friends,’ Orlando said. ‘This is Matilda – the daughter of one my closest friends at university. And this is Matilda’s best friend, Oskar.’

‘Are you guys over on vacation?’ Deepti asked, and Tilly said no at the same time as Jorge said yes and Deepti raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, either way, if you buy a book while you’re here, be sure to come get it wrapped. I’m certain it will be on the house. By the way, Orlando, have you caught up with Candy? She was looking for you – a couple more books have gone missing over the last few days, and she thinks maybe it’s a shoplifter? Although they’re choosing strange books, if that’s the case – anyway, you should go find her when you can so she can tell you about it.’

‘Thanks, Deepti, I will,’ Orlando said.

‘Is Deepti a bookwanderer too?’ Tilly asked as they continued up the stairs to the balcony.

‘I don’t think so,’ he said.

‘Haven’t you asked?’ Oskar said, surprised. ‘I thought there was some kind of record of bookwanderers at the Underlibrary.’

‘I’m sure there is, but I wouldn’t go check up on my booksellers,’ Orlando said. ‘If she is, I’m sure we’ll work it out at some point. I think the Pages family might have given you a false impression of how common bookwandering is! But there’s probably at least one more here – booksellers are, of course, particularly likely to be bookwanderers.’

By this time, they had reached the balcony that stretched all the way round the bookshop. The shelves were full of plays by Shakespeare, in every sort of edition from cheap paperbacks to beautiful, ornate hardbacks, as well as books about Shakespeare, about the time he lived in, and lots and lots of Shakespeare merchandise.

Tilly wondered if she had time to buy a calendar full of Shakespeare’s best insults as a peace offering for Grandad before she forced herself to focus. As tired as she was, and as much as she wanted to spend hours exploring the bookshop, they had to keep going.

‘It’s a beautiful shop, Orlando,’ she said, ‘but we—’

‘Thank you!’ said Orlando, cutting her off. ‘We’re pretty proud of it. We have the best customers in the world as well. What do you think of this Shakespeare balcony, eh? Balcony, get it?’

‘Huh?’ Tilly said, thrown.

‘Balcony!’ Orlando said, delighted by his own joke. ‘“Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo …”?’

‘Ohhhh,’ Tilly said, the penny dropping. ‘Yeah, I get it. Cool, but the thing is we really need to …’

‘Have you seen this?’ asked Orlando, pulling a particularly lovely edition of A Midsummer Night’s Dream off a shelf. ‘Have you ever read it?’ He opened it and put it in Tilly’s hands, and she could see a beautiful illustration of the forest where the play was set.

‘We read bits of it at school,’ Tilly said. ‘But I’ve not seen it on stage before. I think our teacher said it was on at the Globe, though, so I might get to see it soon. But anyway how far away did you say …’

‘It’s one of my favourite places to bookwander,’ said Orlando dreamily. ‘“I know a bank where the wild thyme …”’ He looked embarrassed. ‘I always forget if it’s “blows” or “grows” – what is it?’

‘I know a bank where the wild thyme blows …’ Tilly read out loud, stopping as she felt something move against her arm. She brushed it away, thinking to herself that she hoped Washington didn’t have any particularly horrible types of spiders – but, instead of a spider, her hand met a thin rope of vine.

‘How do you get them to move like that?’

‘We don’t,’ Orlando said, staring at the foliage as it kept growing.

‘Oh no,’ Tilly said, realisation dawning on her as the vines snaked over the books, leaves rustling. ‘It’s happening again. And I barely even read anything!’

‘It’s happening … again?’ repeated Orlando.

‘Yeah,’ Tilly said nervously. ‘Sometimes … I seem to … Well, a couple of times, when I’ve been reading a book, the scenery has sort of, well, escaped the book a bit.’

‘Ah,’ Jorge said, his eyes widening. ‘And this just … happens?’

‘Well, it’s only happened a few times,’ Tilly said, a little defensively. ‘And never this quickly. I’m not exactly in control of it.’

‘And does it just keep coming?’ Orlando said, taking a step backwards as he eyed the ever-expanding forest and looking to see if any customers had noticed.

‘Not usually,’ Tilly said. ‘But it doesn’t normally happen this quickly or this much!’

‘And that doesn’t usually happen either, right?’ Oskar said, pointing down at Tilly’s ankle where a vine was curling itself round her leg.

‘Uh, no,’ Tilly said, panicking and shaking her leg, trying to free herself. ‘They’re not usually so …’

‘Alive?’ Jorge said, pale-faced. ‘Are they hurting you?’

‘No.’

‘But I kind of think that’s beside the point at the moment,’ Oskar said, bending down and trying to pull the vine off Tilly’s ankle, but another one crept out from a bookcase and wrapped itself round his wrist.

‘Why is a tree trying to eat us!’ Oskar said through gritted teeth, fighting a losing battle against the increasingly strong vines.

‘I don’t think it’s the tree,’ Tilly said. ‘I think it’s the book.’

Orlando stared at her, then down at the book in her hands. He grabbed it from her and shook it, as if that might stop the vines.

‘Put it down!’ said Oskar. Orlando panicked and threw it behind a bookcase instead, which did nothing to stop the twisting plants from getting a tighter and tighter hold on Tilly and Oskar.

‘Sorry!’ Orlando said desperately, going to retrieve the book.

‘Um, a little help?’ Tilly said to Jorge, who was watching all of this, mouth open in shock.

‘Yeah, sorry, of course,’ Jorge stammered. ‘I’ll go get some scissors!’

‘Grab a knife too!’ Orlando yelled after him while scrabbling for the book. And then, before Orlando could work out what to try next, Tilly felt a pull around her tummy button and the unmistakable smell of toasting marshmallows

he majestic ceiling of Shakespeare’s Sisters dissolved away into nothingness, its bookshelves collapsing down until Tilly and Oskar found themselves, free of vines, in a forest glade that seemed too lovely to be real. They stood up and dusted themselves off, glancing around for any characters.

‘That was weird,’ Tilly said. ‘And I feel like I’m saying that a lot at the moment.’

‘Too much,’ Oskar said, rubbing his wrists where the vines had got hold of him. ‘But hey! At least we can bookwander!’

‘That’s … Well, that’s weird too, isn’t it?’ Tilly said. ‘Because isn’t the Source Edition of A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the British Underlibrary, locked up with book magic?’

‘Maybe they forgot this one,’ Oskar said optimistically. ‘Or it’s because the book ate us and that doesn’t count as proper bookwandering?’

‘Can we think of a different way of describing it, please?’ Tilly said. ‘Rather than books eating us.’

‘Sure,’ Oskar said. ‘I wonder why the book kidnapped us. I wonder why it … No, I’m out. I’m sticking with ate.’

‘At least Orlando has the book,’ Tilly said. ‘So he can come and get us. Unless …’

‘Unless the book is bound, then he won’t be able to bookwander in it, will he?’ Oskar finished. ‘So, what do we do?’

‘We need to get into the Endpapers and hope they take us to an Underlibrary,’ Tilly said. ‘We need to get to the end of the play. I guess we just have to let it happen and hope not too much time passes in the real world. Or that Orlando works something out.’

They looked around, trying to work out where they were in the play at the moment. The trees surrounding them were growing closely enough that there was a mysterious feel to the place, but not so tightly packed to be intimidating. Vines wrapped round their trunks and an improbable array of delicate pastel-coloured flowers exploded in garlands from all the greenery. It looked almost as though there were strings of fairy lights threaded among the leaves, but, when Tilly got closer, she saw it was simply the late-afternoon sunlight glinting perfectly through the leaves. The grass under their feet was bright and soft and the sound of birdsong drifted on the breeze, which was refreshing but not chilly. The air somehow smelled of butterscotch and campfires.

Even though the manner of arriving there was rather disconcerting, the place itself was peaceful and lovely. Oskar elbowed Tilly and put a finger to his lips, pointing to a break in the trees, just beyond where they stood.

As they watched, two creatures emerged gracefully from either side of the clearing and met in the middle. One was dressed in shades of brown, with a crown of twigs resting on his tightly curled hair. The other had white-blonde hair so fine that it fizzed round her head like candyfloss, just like her dress, which was floating about her in wisps of tulle.

Both figures were beautiful but sharp somehow, moving without the weight and awkwardness of a human body. They were all lightness and strangeness; Tilly felt instinctively scared of them and yet couldn’t tear her eyes away.

The two circled each other, speaking too quietly for Tilly and Oskar to hear.

‘What’s happening?’ Oskar whispered.

‘I think that must be Puck,’ Tilly replied, pointing at the one in brown. ‘We did this in school, remember?’

‘All I can remember is that there was a man who got turned into a donkey, to be honest,’ Oskar said. ‘And I definitely didn’t picture the fairies being so …’

‘So lovely,’ Tilly finished.

‘So weird,’ Oskar corrected. ‘There’s that word again. And look, someone else is coming.’

He pointed back to the other side of the clearing, where a tall, slender man was emerging from the trees, wearing a robe made of leaves. A delicate circlet of gold sat on his head, and he was followed by other smaller sprites, who were the same size as Puck and the fairy with the candyfloss hair. He was met by a woman who approached from the other side of the glade, flanked by her own attendants. She was as tall as he was, wearing a dress of green silk that seemed to blend into the grass she stood on, so it was impossible to tell where she ended and the forest began.

‘Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania,’ the man said, his voice carrying easily to Tilly and Oskar, who had edged backwards so as to be hidden by the trees.

‘What, jealous Oberon?’ the woman replied, gesturing for the fairies gathered round her to take a step back.

‘Am I not thy lord?’ the man said, stepping closer to her. Tilly raised an eyebrow at Oskar.

‘Then I must be thy lady,’ Titania replied, the suggestion of a smile on her lips.

‘But I know when thou hast stolen away from fairy land.’

‘Are they enemies?’ Oskar asked, confused. ‘I thought they were married. The details, as I mentioned, are fuzzy.’

‘They are,’ Tilly said. ‘Sort of. I don’t think fairies care about marriage – but they’re definitely, like, together. Romantically. Anyway, Oberon is the worst. He uses Puck to cast a spell on Titania and she falls in love with Bottom.’

‘The man who gets turned into a donkey!’ Oskar said. ‘It’s all coming back to me. I swear if I wrote a story at school with a character called Bottom who turns into a donkey, I would not be treated as a genius like Shakespeare was. Honestly, it’s not fair! Can you even imagine Ms Webber’s face if I called someone Bottom at school! The thing with famous writers is that—’

‘Oskar, shush,’ Tilly said, watching Titania and Oberon walking closer and closer to each other, speaking angry words with half-smiles and the occasional brush of a hand on an arm.

But it was too late, and Oskar’s voice had carried too clearly towards the fairy king and queen so that, by the time he’d finished speaking, they were staring straight at Tilly and Oskar.

ew human mortals venture here

For fear that they may wish to stay,’ Titania said in a curious, lilting voice.

‘Why come you here without the moon

For her light makes shadows darker?

Many choose to shelter ’neath her,

But you come with cloaks of sunlight.’

‘How long do you intend to stay?’ Oberon demanded.

‘For we have much to do today.’

‘We’re really sorry,’ Tilly said nervously. ‘We didn’t mean to disturb you.’

‘But while we have your attention,’ Oskar said mischievously, ‘do you know a man called Bottom?’

Titania raised an elegant eyebrow at Oskar, who was struggling not to laugh. Oberon just looked annoyed.

‘It seems that you have travelled far,

And must have further yet to go?’ he said.

‘My lady, shall you let them pass?

If your eye has not been captured.

For of late you have not rendered

Unto me what should be mine.’

Titania flicked her attention from the bookwanderers back to Oberon in annoyance and said something under her breath that made Oberon’s cheeks darken with anger. Even though he was so elegant and ethereal, Tilly found him just as insufferable as she had when they read bits of the play at school. She remembered again with a flash of annoyance the way Oberon used Puck to cast a spell on Titania that made her fall in love with the man with a donkey’s head.

A thought occurred to her. Given that the rules of bookwandering meant that the play had to snap back to normal after they left, so she couldn’t change anything permanently, surely there was no harm in altering the story a little just this once?

‘My lady,’ she said, dipping into a deep, if wobbly, curtsy.

Titania said nothing, but gestured with a delicate hand to indicate that Tilly had permission to speak. Oberon was barely paying attention.

‘I just thought that you’d like to know that your lord Oberon has plans to bewitch you,’ Tilly said, trying to mimic the way the fairies were speaking.

Oberon let out a snort of derision. ‘Imp, you know not what you say. It is not wise to question me,’ he said.

‘Please speak on, child. I give you leave,’ Titania said.

‘Tell me more of this grievous plan.’

‘He’s going to ask Puck to find a flower that will make you fall in love with whoever you see next,’ Tilly explained, edging backwards as Oberon stopped smirking and started to look annoyed. ‘And it will be a man with a donkey’s head! But, even if it was the nicest man in the world, I don’t think it’s very fair to make you fall in love with someone without you having any say-so!’

‘You dare to spread such dreadful lies?’ Oberon said, towering above them.

‘I swear it’s true!’ Tilly said, looking at Titania, who she could see knew that Oberon had it in him.

‘Uh, was this a good idea when we can’t get out of the book, Tilly?’ Oskar said, pulling her backwards into the trees, away from Oberon’s worsening temper.

At that moment there was a crackle in the air, and all of a sudden Orlando was standing next to them, breathing heavily, and holding the copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream in his hand.

‘You found us,’ Tilly breathed in relief. ‘You can bookwander!’

‘Oh, thank goodness,’ Orlando said. ‘I didn’t know how I was supposed to tell Bea that a book had eaten her daughter.’

‘See,’ Oskar said. ‘Eaten! We got eaten by a book. What took you so long?’

‘I came straight away!’ Orlando said. ‘You know how time works in books. I was trying to follow you in the text, watching where you were going, and I wandered in as soon as I had you pinned down in a scene.’

‘Okay, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt,’ Oskar said. ‘And anyway it was just in time – Tilly is annoying the fairy king.’

Orlando hadn’t even noticed Titania and Oberon standing in the trees and nearly jumped out of his skin when he did.

‘Let’s go,’ he said, taking Tilly and Oskar firmly by the hands.

‘Make sure you don’t go to sleep where he can find you!’ Tilly yelled to Titania. ‘And watch out for fairies with flowers!’

‘I shall not forget this kindness,’ Titania called back to Tilly.

‘And if your words prove fair not false,

Then in your debt will I remain.

And if you find you are in need,

I now swear one gift or favour.’

She gracefully inclined her head towards Tilly, gave Oberon an icy look, and disappeared back into the forest, her green silk dress

‘It is definitely time for us to go,’ Orlando said and, before Oskar or Tilly had a chance to disagree, he read the final lines of the play.

‘Now to ’scape the serpent’s tongue,

We will make amends ere long:

Else the Puck a liar call.

So, good night unto you all.

Give me your hands, if we be friends,

And Robin shall restore amends.’

The grand pillars and walls of Shakespeare’s Sisters re-formed around them and the three of them breathed a sigh of relief.

‘What on earth was that about, Tilly?’ Orlando asked, pale-faced. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’

‘My bookwandering can be … unpredictable,’ Tilly said, the impact of what had just happened starting to sink in. ‘I guess I should be careful about reading anything until we find the Archivists – maybe they’ll know how the book … well, how it …’

‘Ate us,’ Oskar supplied.

‘How it ate us,’ said Tilly, giving in.

‘But how did you even get in to find us?’ Oskar asked Orlando. ‘Isn’t the Source Edition bound at the British Underlibrary?’

‘We’re lucky with a lot of Shakespeare,’ Orlando said, with a small smile. ‘Or rather we readers are lucky – not so much the British Underlibrary. A lot of the versions of the plays that were designated as Sources were stolen from the British Library years and years ago and have never turned up. And you can’t make a new Source Edition, so, as long as it’s never destroyed, anyone will be able to keep bookwandering inside it. You’d better keep this,’ Orlando said, giving Tilly the copy of the book. ‘In case the Archivists need it to work out what happened. And I don’t think I should risk having it in the store any more … Anyway, we clearly need to get to the Library of Congress as soon as possible before anything even stranger happens. Let’s find Jorge and go.’

Seconds later, Jorge ran up the stairs.

‘I have scissors!’ he said, out of breath. ‘And a knife!’ He held up a pair of plastic scissors and a butter knife. ‘Oh,’ he breathed. ‘You’re back. Never mind.’

‘Come on,’ Orlando said. ‘We need to go to the library. Tilly, you can tell us the plan on the way.’

‘The plan?’ said Tilly nervously.

‘The plan to find the Archivists?’ Orlando said. ‘Bea said you knew how.’

‘It’s not so much of a plan as a … map,’ Tilly said vaguely, trying not to worry them with how little of a plan there was.

‘Okay, well, we can work with a map,’ Jorge said, still trying to get his breath back. ‘We know it starts at the library, yes?’

Tilly nodded.

‘Knowing where you’re starting from is always a good … well, a good start.’

‘Begin at the beginning,’ Orlando said.

‘And go on till you come to the end: then stop,’ Tilly said, completing the quote from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

As the four of them left the bookshop, none of them heard the bookseller who picked up the phone as soon as the door had closed behind them.

‘Yes,’ she said into the receiver. ‘They’ve just gone. They’re going to the Library of Congress. They said something about a map.’

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.