by Anna James
“What do we do now?” Tilly whispered to Oskar. “You’ve seen enough, right?”
“Not even close,” Oskar said. “I want to see the ship. Let’s stick around and try to follow them.”
“I wonder what would happen if we skipped ahead?” Tilly said. “Try reading a later bit—can we jump forward, do you think? I don’t fancy hanging around in here for hours.”
Oskar pulled the book from inside his jacket and passed it to Tilly.
“You look—I won’t find the bit quickly enough; I can’t skim-read like you can,” he said.
“But . . .”
“Seriously, you do it.”
Tilly looked down the list of chapter titles.
“Okay, ‘Chapter Ten: The Voyage’—sound about right?” She took Oskar’s arm and started to read. The air around them fizzed and fuzzed, but instead of finding themselves back outside on the dock they were standing deep in the creaking innards of the ship itself, in a lavishly decorated room with a huge desk at its center covered by a large parchment map. The room was lined with bookshelves with pile upon pile of rolled-up maps tucked in between the spines.
“Uh, Tilly, I just wanted to see the ship from outside, you know,” Oskar said. “I don’t want to worry you, but we probably shouldn’t stay here too long in case anyone sees us.”
“I know, I know,” Tilly said, flustered. “I don’t know anything about this book—I thought this bit was describing them getting things ready to go on board. I should never have wandered into something I’ve not read; this was an incredibly bad idea.”
“It’s fine,” Oskar said. “We can go anytime we want, remember? We just have to read the end of the book, like Seb said, and we’ll go straight back to the Underlibrary. Pass it here.” But as Oskar reached out to take the book from Tilly the wooden stairs in the corner of the room creaked and one black leather boot and one wooden peg appeared, followed by the man wearing them: Long John Silver.
“What have we here then?” he said, coming toward them, as Tilly held the book behind her back. “Two stowaways? I’m not sure you’ll like where we’re headed, laddies.” He peered closer at Tilly. “A laddie and a lassie stowaway, are we? It’s fiendish bad luck to have a woman on board, so the legends go—and in the captain’s quarters as well?”
“Actually, sir,” Oskar said, “we’ve sort of ended up here by accident, so, if you don’t mind, we’ll just get back off the boat.”
Silver tipped his head back and laughed, revealing a few missing teeth. “Now how, might I ask, did you end up in our esteemed captain’s private rooms accidentally?” He lurched closer. “Who asked you to hide away in here?”
“No one, I promise!” Tilly said. “We didn’t realize these were the captain’s rooms; we were just . . . we were just exploring because Oskar likes boats and, if you’d just let us off again, that would be great, thank you.”
Silver stepped back. “Why, of course, milady, as you asked so politely. Allow me to take whatever you are holding there, to aid you on your way.” Smiling, he offered an arm to Tilly and took the copy of Treasure Island in his other hand. “Let me accompany you to the deck.”
Oskar eyed the book but shrugged at Tilly and followed them, unsure what other options they had. The ship rocked in the water as they made their way upstairs.
“Not got your sea legs yet, I see.” Silver laughed as the boat rocked on the waves beneath them and Tilly wobbled against him. “Now, here we are. Just up there and you two can be off and back to your, what was it you said? Oh yes, your boat exploring.” He smiled crookedly and bent into a sweeping bow. Tilly and Oskar clambered past him up the final steps to the deck to see the ocean stitched to the horizon, with no land in sight.
23
This Is Why You Should Always Follow the Rules
Tilly and Oskar looked at each other in horror as Silver laughed again.
“Now, milady,” he said, bowing sarcastically in front of Tilly, “why don’t you tell your old friend John exactly why you’re aboard the Hispaniola, and why we found you rattling around in our noble Captain Smollett’s rooms.” He examined the book in his hand. “And why might you be borrowing this tome from his private bookshelves?”
He started when he saw the title of the book. “Treasure Island! An interesting book for you to have selected—what do you know of the isle of treasure? And I wonder what our captain knows of it to have this here book among his collection?”
Tilly and Oskar stayed silent. Neither of them had a clue how they might talk their way out of this.
“Not feeling talkative? Let me give you a little time to think while I consult with some of my associates about what to do with you. Might not be any need to involve the captain quite yet.” He took each of them by the shoulder in a firm but painless grip and maneuvered them back down the steps. But instead of turning toward the captain’s quarters he took them down another level into what was obviously the ship’s kitchen.
“Welcome to my galley,” Silver said. “I’m just going to ask you to wait here for a moment. But I’m a kind host, you’ll see.” He tossed them an apple each before he led them into a cupboard stacked with casks and locked the door behind them, taking the book with him.
Tilly took some deep breaths to try to calm down.
“What on earth are we going to do now?” she said to Oskar. “What happens if he reads the book and sees his own name in there? He doesn’t know he’s not real. Oh my goodness, it was such a bad idea to come here, Oskar. This is why you should always follow the rules.”
Oskar crunched his apple loudly and Tilly looked at him, exasperated.
“No need to get hungry, is there?” he said.
“Okay, just give me a minute to think,” Tilly said. They both stood with their backs against the rough wood wall, Oskar crunching and Tilly pressing her fingers to her temples in concentration.
“Okay. Okay. We just need to get the book back. That’s all. If we can get the book, we can read ourselves out straightaway. So we just have to grab it as soon as we see it.”
“I don’t think that will go down very well,” Oskar said. “He doesn’t seem like a man who likes having his stuff grabbed, you know?”
“But if we read ourselves out immediately it doesn’t matter if we make him cross. We just need to do it as quickly as possible. So, when he comes back—”
“Then what?” Silver said, opening the cupboard door.
“We were just hoping we could have our book back, Mr. Silver,” Tilly said as politely as she could.
“I’m afraid that’s not an option quite at this moment, my darlin’. Indeed, my friends are of the opinion that if you two aren’t more forthcoming with some answers, then we’ll have to enact a little sea justice. You understand it’s not your old friend John’s preferred manner of doing things, but sometimes it’s important to uphold the illusion of democracy; we don’t want a mutiny on our hands now, do we? Not over a book. In fact, as the captain has just retired for his afternoon brandy I’m going to take you upstairs to meet with some of them to see if you can satisfy their curiosity. If you’ll follow me . . . And there’s no point running off—very few satisfactory places to hide in for long on a ship.” Silver smiled.
The deck was almost empty save for a small group of distinctly unsavory-looking men gathered in a huddle. Silver coughed and they turned to leer at Oskar and Tilly.
“Now, gentlemen, where’s that book?” Silver said as they approached. A grimy man with a dirty rag tied over his eyes staggered forward with the book in his hand and Silver sighed. “Eyeless Horace. An enlightened choice to try to discern the secrets of the printed word. As always I see that the particulars of a plan rest on my shoulders.”
“I couldn’t read before I lost my eyes anyways,” the man said.
“A tot of rum to the man who is useless twice over,” Silver said sarcastically. “Lad, i
f you’d follow me this way.” He took Oskar’s arm in an iron grip and led him to the side of the boat, where a plank of wood stuck out over the water.
He turned to Tilly. “Now, lassie, I’m going to need to know why you ended up aboard the Hispaniola on this particular voyage and why you are in possession of a book about the isle of treasure. As elegant as we may seem we are not above a little encouragement to telling the truth,” he said as one of the men unceremoniously picked up Oskar and put him on the plank. Silver smiled like a crocodile who’d spotted his dinner and leafed through the pages at a leisurely pace until all of a sudden his face drained of color and he stared closely at the page.
“What witchcraft is this, child?” he said quietly, thrusting the book in Tilly’s face.
“What . . . what do you mean?” she stuttered.
“Don’t play the innocent,” he whispered, pointing to a page that quite clearly showed his name several times. “Where did you get this grimoire? Did Flint send you? Is the captain in on this?” Silver took a step toward her, forcing Tilly backward until she was pressed against the side of the boat where Oskar wobbled on the plank, trying desperately to keep his balance. “You have one more chance remaining, before you and your friend are dealt with once and for all. We may be pirates, but we’ll not risk this vessel with sorcery.” He took a last look at the book, then threw it overboard. In a split second Tilly knew there was only one option left.
“Jump!” she bellowed at Oskar and threw herself after the book and over the side of the Hispaniola. She hit the choppy water in an ice-cold splash that momentarily took her breath away. Her clothes were immediately soaked through as she thrashed around, desperately looking for the book. She saw it floating a few meters from her and launched into a front crawl toward it, waves slapping against her, rescuing it just as it started to become too waterlogged to stay on the surface.
Tilly gasped, and looked on in horror as Oskar wobbled on the edge of the plank. “You have to jump!”
“I can’t swim!” he shouted down to her as one of the pirates climbed onto the other end of the plank.
“Oskar, you have to!” she shouted as she tried to find the last page of the book while kicking her feet to stay above the waves. “Aim for me!”
Oskar locked eyes with her and she nodded. He closed his eyes and launched himself off the end of the plank, arms and legs windmilling through the air as Tilly splashed toward him. He landed in the water with a huge splash as the pirates jeered from the boat. He surfaced but almost immediately started sinking again.
“We have to be touching!” Tilly yelled, holding her arm out. As Oskar’s fingertips brushed hers she took a huge gasp of air and bellowed the last line of the book. “Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!”
It was as if someone had pulled the plug of the ocean and suddenly Tilly could breathe properly again as the Underlibrary REBUILT ITSELF around them.
Oskar fell to his knees, coughing up water, while Tilly pressed her forehead against the wood of the wall, letting its reassuring warm solidness anchor her back to dry land. They both stood dripping on the carpet as Grandad appeared at the top of the stairs. Tilly kicked the nearly disintegrated copy of the book under the table.
“Why on earth are you both wet?” he asked.
“We fell in the sea,” Oskar said without thinking.
“You fell in the sea? On your induction?” Grandad said.
“We, um, we landed in the wrong bit of the book,” Tilly said.
“Honestly,” Grandad muttered. “Sending new bookwanderers to scenes by the sea. Standards are obviously slipping; would never have happened in my day. Anyway, let’s go. Goodness knows what we’re going to say to your mum about the state of your clothes, though, Oskar.”
* * *
Although they got several funny looks on the train home, by the time they were back at Pages & Co. Oskar’s and Tilly’s clothes were mostly dry, if lightly crusted with salt.
“Tilly, go and get changed, and see if you can find Oskar a clean T-shirt to wear,” Grandad said. “We’ll put these things through the wash while we’re chatting.”
Fifteen minutes later they were sitting round the kitchen table with Grandma putting mugs of hot chocolate and plates of toasted brioche with cherry jam in front of them. Oskar was wearing a T-shirt with the cover of The Phantom Tollbooth printed on it.
“So, how did it go?” Grandma asked gently.
“It was awesome,” Oskar said, grinning.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Tilly said. “Why didn’t you tell me about bookwandering, and that Grandad was the Librarian? I thought you’d always lived here?”
“Well, we have lived here a long time,” Grandma said. “This bookshop has been in my family for decades and I’ve been in charge since my mum died years ago.”
“But why’s Archie called Pages too?” Oskar asked.
“Because he took my name when we got married, the same way people often take each other’s names,” Grandma said.
“We wanted to keep the Pages name because of the bookshop’s legacy,” Grandad said. “Not to mention what bookseller or librarian wouldn’t seize the chance of such a booky surname!”
“The history of this shop stretches way back,” Grandma said. “You come from a long line of booksellers, Tilly. Your family tree is full of them, as well as librarians and writers and readers; it’s in your blood.”
Oskar cleared his throat. “Uh, I think I’m going to go home now, and leave you guys to it for a bit,” he said quietly, giving Tilly an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Thank you for taking me today, and thank you for the T-shirt; I’ll bring it back tomorrow.”
Grandma gave him a smile. “Do come round tomorrow and we can chat further, Oskar. I know you must have more questions. And I’m sorry to be blunt, but you know you can’t tell your mum about this?”
“Like she’d believe me anyway,” Oskar said.
24
Everything Has Tilted on Its Axis
After Grandad had seen Oskar to the door, the three of them settled down round the kitchen table in a slightly uneasy silence. Tilly was cycling through a whirlwind of different feelings and she didn’t know where it would settle. She wasn’t sure if she felt cross or excited or scared.
“I don’t understand why you couldn’t tell me sooner,” she decided to begin with.
“I already explained at the Underlibrary,” Grandad started to answer. “There are so many reasons that—”
“I would have believed you,” Tilly interrupted.
“It’s easy to feel like that now you know,” Grandma said. “But try to imagine how you would have reacted if you had been told this before anything had happened to prove it to you.”
“I would have believed you,” Tilly repeated more firmly. “I hate secrets.”
“I promise you we’ve kept as little as possible from you,” Grandad said. “I know it feels like everything has tilted on its axis today, but we’ve always been honest with you about everything that isn’t linked to bookwandering.”
“But you never tell me anything about my mum and dad,” Tilly went on. “How do I know what else you’ve been keeping from me? I’m not some little kid anymore; I can cope with the truth, even if it’s something bad. How am I supposed to know who I really am if I don’t know anything about my family?”
“We’re your family, Tilly,” Grandad said. “And we talk about your mum all the time.”
“That’s not true at all!” Tilly exploded. “You never talk about her. When I ask you about her you change the subject as soon as possible, and you mention her in passing, but you never tell me anything real about her.”
“But what else do you want to know?” Grandad said.
“I want to know everything!” Tilly said, feeling angry tears threaten to fall. “I want to know what she was like when she was little, when she wa
s my age, when she was pregnant. I want to know her favorite meal and her favorite film and her . . . her . . . her favorite type of cheese! I want to know what made her laugh and what made her cross and what made her excited. I want to know what it would have been like to have her help me with my homework; I want to know what it would be like to remember her reading to me; I want to know what she would say to me to make Grace stay friends with me; I want to know how she’d make sure Oskar didn’t get bored of me either.”
Tilly took a deep breath. “I just want to know what it would be like to know that she was always here, what it’s like just having a normal mum.”
Grandad looked stricken and half stood up as if to go to her, before sitting back down abruptly.
Grandma sniffed loudly and then steeled herself. “Tilly, I am sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry that we haven’t shared more of your mum with you. I’m sorry that we haven’t been able to see outside our own sadness to realize we’ve left you with gaps. Let us try harder? I hope that being able to bookwander will help you feel a little closer to her, and all things considered I think that now is probably the time to—”
“Not now, Elsie,” Grandad said. “It’s too much.”
“No,” Grandma said gently. “Tilly can cope. I don’t think we should keep it from her anymore.”
“She left because of me, didn’t she?” Tilly said, feeling sick. “I always knew it.”
“No, that is the farthest thing from the truth,” Grandma said firmly. “This is about her relationship with your father.”
Tilly felt even sicker. “What did he do?” she asked.
“Tilly, when your mum finished university she stayed on in New York for a year. We thought everything was completely normal until she turned up on our doorstep, heavily pregnant. She wouldn’t tell us much to start with; she just kept saying that it was incredibly important that you were born at home. We assumed she meant at Pages & Co., that she wanted to have you at home, with us, not in a different country. But, once you were born, and we were all so in love with you, she told us the truth.”
