by Anna James
‘I thought you meant—’ Tilly stopped abruptly. ‘They didn’t say anything about the Source Library. They just told me more about my mum being a bookwanderer too,’ she finished lamely.
Amelia looked at her intently.
‘So, what did my mum do?’ Tilly pushed.
‘It’s not really my story to tell, Tilly, but the headline is that she stole your grandad’s key to the Source Library because she was trying to access one of the books to change it permanently, and I’m sure you understand how troubling that is. But really this is something you should talk to your grandparents about properly. We both saw this morning that your grandad is obviously very particular about the way he wants to tell you these sorts of things.
‘In the meantime we need to get back to the matter in hand, Tilly. Don’t worry; you’re not in trouble. It’s just that only very senior bookwanderers have clearance to access the library via any route other than the King’s Library elevator, so we need to understand how you got here.’
‘I wanted to practise bookwandering,’ Tilly explained. ‘So I read myself into a book, and it worked completely fine, but when I tried to get out I saw that the final page was torn, so I just read the last bit that was there, and then everything went black and I ended up in an empty room down the corridor from here. I wasn’t trying to get here, I promise. I didn’t even know where I was to start with. And then, when I realised, I came to try to find you, or one of the other librarians, so I could get home.’
‘Via Mr Chalk’s office?’ Amelia quirked an eyebrow. ‘But we’ll come back to that. Can I ask which book it was you travelled into? Do you have it with you still?’
Tilly paused before handing over her mum’s old copy of A Little Princess.
‘Ah,’ she said gently, looking carefully at Tilly. ‘Your mother’s favourite.’
‘Yes …’ Tilly said, eyeing her warily. ‘How do you know?’
‘Well, Tilly, it’s no secret that your mum and I were good friends a long time ago. It’s why I wanted to speak to you on your own first, without Mr Chalk here. We met in New York. We worked at the same bookshop there. I haven’t seen her since she went back home, pregnant with you. Until your grandad brought you to the library this morning, you didn’t exist according to the bookwandering community. After your grandad resigned as Librarian, he and Elsie went off the radar. Everyone assumed that they just wanted a quiet life away from all of the bookwandering politics, and to try to take care of Bea a bit.’
‘Why does Mr Chalk seem so angry all the time?’ Tilly asked.
‘Well, Enoch is very good at his job, in many ways – he has a bit of a sixth sense for anything going awry – but he has a different perspective on bookwandering. He is fond of rules and I’m afraid your mum broke most of those rules. He thinks we should be far stricter about bookwandering: how we monitor it, how we regulate it, if there should be an age restriction, whether we should allow anyone to do it who demonstrates a natural ability. He’s written seemingly endless reports questioning what books and stories are really for.’
‘But stories are for reading,’ Tilly said. ‘Why do they have to be for something anyway? Can’t they just be?’
‘I am rather inclined to agree with you, Tilly, as are your grandparents, but that doesn’t mean everyone else is. With regards to Enoch I’m not yet sure that we can explain your appearance here in the Underlibrary. Somehow you were pulled back to the library and were able to get past the barriers we have to protect this place. I think we would be ill-advised to share this ability widely. In fact, I think the best plan is for me to handle it, and to try to avoid you crossing paths with Enoch again on this visit. Although I need to ask you, Tilly, why you were in his office?’
Tilly flushed. ‘I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have been. I saw his door and I just didn’t think. I was curious.’
‘We don’t keep the offices locked here, Tilly, because the library is so well protected from the outside world, but that doesn’t mean that you should enter people’s private spaces without their permission. I think you probably understand this. I will pass your apologies on to Mr Chalk.’
Tilly nodded and at that moment Amelia’s phone rang. She listened silently and then put the phone back in its cradle.
‘Okay, your grandparents are on their way. They’ll be here in about fifteen minutes. Do you have any more questions?’
‘Can I ask you about Grandma?’ Tilly said. ‘I know Grandad was the Librarian when he worked here, but Grandma said she worked here too before everything with my mum happened – what did she do?’
‘Ah, good question. Your grandma was our Cartographer. She worked in the Map Room where … Actually, would you like to see it quickly while we wait?’
Tilly nodded.
They walked back through the library hall, which was dimly lit. A handful of librarians were working at desks and another was dozing behind the main desk. Amelia’s footsteps startled the sleeper awake and she sat up straighter, wiping her mouth self-consciously with her cardigan sleeve. Tilly and Amelia went back out the other end, towards the lift, and stopped at one of the rooms Tilly had walked past with Grandad and Oskar earlier that day.
he room was far bigger than any of the offices Tilly had seen so far and was hexagonal in shape. The floor was painted the same deep turquoise as the ceiling of the main hall, but the six walls and the ceiling were all lined with beautiful, intricate maps pricked with constellations of tiny lights in different colours.
‘This is the Map Room,’ Amelia said, smiling.
Tilly looked around in wonder. ‘What’s it for?’
‘This is what your grandma looked after. These lights are all bookshops across the whole world. The white lights are bookshops where there are known bookwanderers, the blue lights are national Underlibraries, the yellow lights are shops where we have no bookwanderers to our knowledge, and the scarlet lights are those where there used to be bookwanderers, but aren’t any more. And the green lights are libraries. We have to keep track because, as you know, bookshops and libraries are key to bookwandering,’ Amelia said. ‘And we must treasure the bookshops and libraries we have left.’
‘How do you keep track of them all? Is that magic too?’ Tilly asked.
‘I’m afraid not,’ Amelia said. ‘It’s old-fashioned emails and letters and phone calls and admin; book magic is the only sort we have at our disposal. The current Cartographer, Aria, is in charge of our relationships with all the other Underlibraries around the world, and she keeps abreast of what’s going on: how many bookwanderers there are in different countries, patterns, agreed international rules, that sort of thing. Go on, take a closer look; here’s the UK,’ Amelia said, pointing at a map centred on one wall.
Tilly traced her finger down the map until she found London: a comforting cluster of glowing lights. Many were white, but there was also a smattering of gold and scarlet. A small, glowing blue beacon identified the Underlibrary itself. Next to every light was a tiny scrawl of writing naming each shop. On the outskirts of the galaxy of London bookshops was one marked ‘Pages & Co.’ in looping handwriting. It shone bright white, and Tilly’s heart glowed in tandem with the pinprick of light.
‘Is the bookshop you worked in with my mum on here?’ she asked.
Amelia took her over to the opposite wall that was nearly all taken up with North America and found a label that said ‘Bennet & Eyre’ among the cluster of New York lights. She touched the words gently. ‘It was a pretty special place – owned by a brother and sister. One day, when we have more time, I’ll tell you all about that shop – but for now we should probably go and check if your grandparents have arrived. This room is not a secret; you can visit it whenever you’re here. You should get your grandma to bring you back and tell you more about it.’
Outside the Map Room, Amelia paused, and handed Tilly her mum’s copy of A Little Princess.
‘It should go without saying, but please do not try to travel inside your mother’s copy of A Li
ttle Princess again; it’s clearly unstable without its final lines. I think we might need to look at this again at some point, and work out why you were brought here, but as long as I can trust you not to wander inside this copy you can keep hold of it for now. I know it belonged to your mum and will mean a lot to you.’ She looked intently at Tilly, who nodded her agreement, but silently thought that she needed to have a much closer look and work out why this book was different before she let anyone else examine it.
They walked down the dim corridor into the main hall, back past the sleepy librarian. Amelia led Tilly through an unassuming door to what looked like a fire exit.
‘Is this another magical lift?’ Tilly asked, suddenly realising quite how exhausted she was after all that had happened that day.
‘No, this one’s just a fire exit,’ Amelia said. ‘We do try to comply with up-to-date fire and safety regulations, even though no one knows we’re here. Good faith, et cetera – we are librarians after all.’
Tilly nodded as if she knew what Amelia meant and then the door swung open and a burst of bracing October night air knocked into her. She was immediately wrapped up in a hug from both her grandparents.
‘Thank you, Amelia,’ Grandma said, holding Amelia’s arm tightly. ‘Do we know what happened? We thought she might have headed there; we should have thought in advance …’ She tailed off, realising she’d said more than she had intended.
‘Don’t worry, Elsie; I don’t think it’s anything to cause concern,’ Amelia said. She paused. ‘I think that Tilly may have tumbled out here because of what I’d call a particularly strong connection to the Underlibrary, so when something went wrong she was pulled back here as a sort of protective measure. I wonder if Tilly’s bookwandering may have some unusual side effects …’
‘Why would you say that?’ Grandma asked slowly.
‘Just a hunch,’ Amelia said, looking Grandma directly in the eyes. Neither of them said anything more.
‘So what went wrong?’ Grandad asked.
‘The last page of my book had been torn,’ Tilly said.
‘I genuinely don’t think we have any cause for concern,’ Amelia said firmly. ‘Tilly knows not to travel into that book again, and this is a good lesson in the importance of following the bookwandering rules. Maybe when Tilly’s found her feet a bit more with bookwandering, and had a little time to digest everything she’s learned today, we can revisit this, but no reason to worry for now. Much more important to get her home. But maybe watch some TV tonight instead of reading a book?’ She smiled as she shook Grandad’s hand and gave Grandma a warm hug.
Tilly climbed into the back of the waiting taxi that had brought Grandma and Grandad to the Underlibrary, and she was asleep long before they got back to Pages & Co.
he next morning Grandma woke Tilly up with a glass of orange juice and a plate of peanut butter on toast.
‘Morning, sweetheart,’ she said. ‘How are you feeling? You’ve had a lot to think about – you know you can come and chat to me or Grandad any time, if you want, and we’ll be completely honest with you about bookwandering, or your mum and dad – as much as we know.’
Tilly gave her a bit of a wobbly smile.
‘Or Jack and I were going to do some party planning, if you wanted to join in with that for a bit? Maybe you could see if Oskar wants to come round and help too?’
Tilly nodded more confidently and took a big crunch of toast. A morning of day-to-day bookshop business was exactly what she wanted to give her time to think through everything that had happened yesterday – but first she had research to do. After finishing her breakfast, knowing she’d regret eating her toast in bed later, she picked up the ripped copy of A Little Princess and flicked back to the scene in the bakery. She was relieved to find she hadn’t been imagining things – the story was undeniably, if unremarkably, different.
‘There must be a reason my mum kept this one,’ Tilly said to herself, tucking it under her arm to go and compare it to the bookshop copies.
She went downstairs, through a warm but empty kitchen, and into the shop. Jack and Grandma were clustered round one of the café tables, laughing and making notes.
‘I’m going to go and find Oskar!’ Tilly called over as she made her way out on to the high street, which was littered with autumn leaves. But Crumbs was locked up and all the lights were off. Tilly pressed her face against the glass, but there was quite obviously no one there, and there was no note pinned to the door, or any kind of explanation. She pulled her phone out and sent Oskar a text.
crumbs is closed? are you okay? Tilly x
A few minutes later she had a reply.
my mamie is poorly :( mum closed shop to sort plans at home. Oskar
what’s going on? t x
mum might have to go to paris to help. or emilie might come back here for a bit. O
are you going to france too? t x
not sure. maybe. not today tho. waiting for more news.
do you want to come to the shop and help with the party? we can meet you at bus stop if your mum’s worried?
will ask
And then, after a few minutes: k, coming now. mum says thanks. she will call shop and speak to elsie or archie. no. 81?
no. 81, get off at beech court stop. see you soon. we have fresh doughnuts!!!! t x
Tilly dashed back into the shop.
‘Oskar’s French grandmother isn’t very well,’ she shouted over to Grandma. ‘Crumbs is closed – he’s going to get the bus over from his flat, if that’s okay? Mary’s going to call you.’ And just as she said it the phone started ringing.
‘Yes, of course, Mary. Yes, don’t worry … We’ll be there at the bus stop to meet him, I promise … Yes, Tilly has his phone number … No problem, as long as you need … Tell us if there’s anything else we can do at all … Yes, speak soon …’
About half an hour later Tilly got a text from Oskar that he was nearly there and Jack went with her to wait at the bus stop round the corner. An exhausted-looking Oskar arrived a few minutes later. They exchanged glances that had to replace words that couldn’t be said in front of Jack.
‘All right, mate?’ Jack said. ‘Sorry to hear your mamie is poorly. Do you want to talk about it or just get on as usual?’
‘Get on as usual,’ Oskar said firmly. ‘I do not want anyone making a fuss.’
‘Sure thing,’ Jack said. ‘There’s heaps to do around here for the party. Plenty to keep you occupied for hours! Elsie’ll have you cutting out decorations all day, if you’re not careful.’
Grandma waved them over to her as they arrived back at the shop. Oskar stared at all the pieces of paper littering the table. Bad sketches, lists of people and ideas, lots of empty coffee mugs.
‘Right, team,’ Grandma said, ‘on today’s agenda: decorations, RSVP list, confirming food and drink.’
‘Isn’t that everything?’ Tilly asked, and Grandma laughed.
‘Not even close, my darling. The party is tomorrow night after all. Now, how do we feel about the decorations? Something to do with playing cards, I suppose?’
‘Well, I was thinking I could do something along those lines in the window,’ Jack said. ‘Maybe try to copy one of the illustrations from the book? I’m not sure what would work best.’
‘Oskar’s good at art,’ Tilly volunteered.
‘Uh, no I’m not,’ he said.
‘Yes you are. I saw you drawing the other day.’
‘Just because I like doing it doesn’t mean I’m any good at it,’ Oskar said.
‘Well, I bet you are,’ Tilly said.
‘Why don’t you have a doodle, see if you can come up with anything?’ Grandma said encouragingly, pushing a pen and some blank paper towards Oskar. ‘We’re not expecting you to be Picasso, don’t worry. All ideas are useful. Look at what a state we’re in!’ Oskar looked unconvinced, but shielded the paper with his arm and started scratching.
After an hour of companionable silence, Jack went to refill the teapot,
juice glasses and the plate that had only a scattering of crumbs left on it. Oskar had gradually forgotten to keep his arm over his paper and now had several sheets laid out in front of him covered in colourful flowers and vines as well as sketches of impossibly high cream cakes. Interspersed with party ideas were doodles of pirate ships and treasure maps.
‘Have you always enjoyed art, Oskar?’ Grandma asked.
‘Uh-huh.’ Oskar nodded as he drew. ‘Actually it was my mamie who first encouraged me. I used to always be scrawling on bits of paper, and she was a book illustrator when she was younger and helped me learn a bit more about, you know, actually making things look like real things.’
‘Ah, Oskar, I knew there had to be some literary lineage somewhere!’ Grandma said in delight.
‘Literary what?’ he said.
‘Lineage … It means your ancestors, your family, the people you’re descended from. No wonder you were so attuned to bookwandering if your grandmother was an artist – what sort of thing did she illustrate, do you know?’
‘All sorts, I think, although she always says the thing she was most proud of was this huge version of a book of fairy tales – she has some of her artwork from it up in her apartment in Paris.’
‘How wonderful,’ Grandma said. ‘We’ll have to ask your mum which edition it is and see if we can track it down; I’d love to see her work. We should send her some of your drawings, Oskar; I’m sure it would make her happy to see them.’
Oskar flushed and nodded, a small smile on his face.
‘The thing is about bookwandering—’ Grandma started, but stopped abruptly as Jack came back with a tray. Tilly and Oskar exchanged a look and went back to their paper.
‘All still being very studious, I see,’ Jack said, setting down a plate of scones with cream and jam. ‘I’m very impressed indeed. Oskar, you’re clearly a good influence; it normally takes Elsie and Tilly forever to get anything done.’
