by Anna James
‘It was a curious dream, dear, certainly, but now run in to your tea; it’s getting late.’ And Alice stood up and dashed off up the garden towards the house as her sister lay back on the grass and dozed off in the late-afternoon sun, thinking about the stories she’d just heard.
‘Well, what do we do now?’ Oskar said.
‘We wait for the last page, I suppose,’ Tilly said nervously. They hovered close to Alice’s sleeping sister. ‘It’s nearly here.’
‘What do you think will happen?’
‘I’m not sure – but I’m rapidly realising that reading a book and being inside one are rather different things, and that one is considerably more complicated than the other.’
‘I wonder if—’ but Oskar was interrupted by everything suddenly going slightly out of focus. Tilly felt as though she had just stepped off a roller coaster and her head was still spinning. Oskar grabbed her hand as they struggled to stay upright.
Tilly took a sharp breath as a blurry, transparent version of Alice ran backwards down the hill straight past them, before laying her head back in her sister’s lap. At the same time her sister picked up a book, and a white rabbit in a waistcoat ran past them, similarly hazy at the edges.
‘The story is happening all at once; it’s like it’s being rewound,’ Oskar whispered. ‘What do we do?’
‘We wait,’ Tilly said. They held tightly on to each other’s hands as the world around them sped up even more until all the colours blended into a faded rainbow and then turned abruptly to black.
‘Are you there?’ Tilly whispered into the darkness.
‘Uh-huh,’ Oskar said. ‘Although I think I might be sick.’
‘Okay, let’s see if this has worked,’ Tilly said, letting go of Oskar’s hand and feeling for the walls. She followed them along and breathed a sigh of relief when she found a door and a light switch roughly where she expected them to be. She flicked the light on and they squinted in the sudden brightness. They were standing in the middle of the same room that Tilly had stumbled into two days earlier.
‘We’ve done it,’ she said. ‘We’re back at the Underlibrary. I wonder why we always end up in this room.’
‘Can you remember the way to Chalk’s office?’ Oskar whispered, and Tilly nodded and gestured along the corridor.
They jogged briskly until they came to Chalk’s office door. It was shut, and no light came from inside. Tilly leaned an ear very, very gently against the wood and couldn’t hear anything. Taking a deep breath, she clicked open the door and poked her head round before giving Oskar a silent thumbs up, and slipping inside.
The office was as neat and bland as it had been the last time. Tilly went straight over to the only bookcase that didn’t contain ledgers, running a finger down the spines and pulling out A Little Princess. She sat cross-legged on the floor and started flicking through, trying to find the changed passage. Oskar sat in Chalk’s chair and put his feet up on the desk as he flicked through Chalk’s diary.
Minutes later Tilly threw the book down on the floor in frustration.
‘It’s changed back,’ she said. ‘The bakery bit is exactly like it’s supposed to be. I swear that it was different.’
‘Okay,’ Oskar said. ‘Maybe it’s a different copy or something. Or the change was just something to do with Chalk’s job. Are you sure?’ He joined Tilly on the floor and the two of them pored over the three copies of the book. Tilly read Chalk’s copy, hoping to notice something different, while Oskar checked the same passages in the other two copies of the book.
‘Do you think we could get away with taking that one back with us?’ Oskar asked.
‘Chalk seems like the sort of person to notice something of his going missing,’ Tilly said, staring uncertainly at the book in her hands. ‘Oskar, I’m sorry. I think I was wrong. It must just have been a librarian after all; I’m sorry for dragging you back here when—’
‘Shhh,’ Oskar said.
‘Did you hear something?’ Tilly said, panicking.
‘No! Look!’ Oskar said, jabbing a finger down.
‘This bit with the …’ He seized the book and looked back down at the page. ‘The Montmorencys? There’s a woman wearing a necklace with a bee on it.’ Tilly grabbed the book back out of his hand. It was the chapter where the rich family who live across the square from Miss Minchin’s school are heading out for a Christmas party. Tilly read the passage aloud.
‘Several of the Montmorencys were evidently going to a children’s party, and just as Sara was about to pass the door, they were crossing the pavement to get into the carriage which was waiting for them. Veronica Eustacia and Rosalind Gladys, in white-lace frocks and lovely sashes, had just got in, and Guy Clarence, aged five, was following them. He was led by the hand by a woman who seemed to be the nanny, but who was dressed very finely and who wore a slim gold necklace with a bumblebee charm around her neck, which Sara could see glinting festively.’
Tilly’s face drained of colour as she rifled through the new copy of the book just to be certain and found the right passage. She pointed at the page.
‘Look. She’s definitely an extra character. The family doesn’t have a nanny!’
‘But what does that mean?’ Oskar said. ‘How can it be your mum, Tilly? What if it’s just a weird coincidence? Maybe your mum had this necklace because she likes the book?’
‘But Grandad said that she had tried to get back to my father!’ Tilly said.
‘Yes, but she couldn’t be in Chalk’s copy, could she? Your grandad said they checked all books,’ Oskar said, trying to remain logical.
‘There’s no harm in checking again, though, right?’ Tilly said, looking hopefully at Oskar. ‘As we’re here. There’s definitely something weird going on.’
‘You mean wandering inside Chalk’s book?’ Oskar swallowed. ‘Wouldn’t he know?’
‘I don’t see how. It’s just a normal book, isn’t it? And we’ll have it with us inside. It’s just like wandering inside any other book, and look,’ she said, turning to the last pages, ‘the last page is there so we can get back easily. If it’s not her, we’ll just—’
‘Shhhh,’ Oskar interrupted again.
‘What now?’ Tilly said.
She was focused entirely on finding her mother now, and had almost forgotten where they were.
‘Can you hear footsteps?’ he said.
They looked at each other in horrified silence as the undeniable sound of tapping heels echoed outside.
‘I guess that makes the decision easier,’ Oskar said and held out his hand as Tilly started to read.
he air shimmered and Chalk’s office tumbled down around them, dissolving into the ground. Tilly and Oskar shivered, realising immediately how inadequately dressed they were for the biting wind of Victorian London. They were back in the square that Tilly had visited by herself a few days ago, but they were standing directly opposite Miss Minchin’s school.
They could see Sara, looking much thinner and dirtier since Tilly had first met her, standing on the street, watching a family of richly dressed, happy-looking children clamber into a hansom cab. A little boy with rosy cheeks and dark curls was holding a smiling woman’s hand. Tilly’s heart felt as though it had stopped. It was her mum.
‘It’s her,’ she whispered, drinking in the first glimpse she’d ever had of her mum in the flesh.
‘Are you sure?’ Oskar said gently.
‘She looks exactly like she did in the photo your mum gave me – she doesn’t even look much older. And I just know, Oskar. It’s her.’
Tilly threw the book to Oskar, pulled her bee necklace out of the top of her dress and dashed across the road to where her mum was helping the little boy up the steps. As Tilly reached the kerb, she slipped on the wet ground and fell forward on to her hands and knees. She heard the children gasp and then felt a steady hand grasp her by the elbow and help her up.
‘All you all right, miss?’ Tilly looked up into her mother’s concerned face. She waited
for Bea to recognise her, but she simply held Tilly’s arm gently. ‘Did you bump your head, my love?’
The other children had gathered round, but Tilly barely noticed them.
‘Mum?’ Tilly whispered.
For a moment her mum’s eyes glazed over, before she shook her head as if trying to get rid of a persistent wasp. She took a deep breath and smiled kindly. ‘I don’t have any children, my dear. I’m the nanny and governess to these rascals.’ She smiled warmly at the little boy who was still hovering around.
‘You’re Beatrice, aren’t you?’ Tilly tried again desperately.
‘Why, my name is Beatrice,’ she said, surprise written across her face. ‘How on earth did you know that? Did you overhear one of the children?’
‘Look, Miss Bea,’ one of the girls said. ‘She’s wearing a necklace just like yours!’
Tilly’s hand instinctively went to her necklace, touching the thin gold chain.
‘Goodness, where did you get that from?’ her mum asked. ‘It’s the mirror image of mine.’
‘You got yours from my father! From Captain Crewe! And you had another made for me when I was born. I promise.’
At Captain Crewe’s name Bea’s eyes again went hazy, as if searching for the memory from the very back of her mind, but, again, it passed and she shook her head sadly.
‘My dear, I think you must have had a nastier fall than we realised. Let me take you to Miss Minchin’s where you can lie down and I will come and see how you’re doing after I’ve taken the children to their party. I will only be half an hour.’ She paused and turned to the oldest girl. ‘Janet, would you mind the others getting into the cab while I take this poor child across the square?’
‘Of course, Miss Bea,’ the girl said, guiding the little boy carefully back towards the steps of the cab.
‘I’m really fine,’ Tilly protested, panicking that she might be separated from her mother before she’d even had a chance to explain. ‘I don’t need a lie-down.’ She looked over her shoulder, trying to spot Oskar, who was hovering on the other side of the street, unsure of how to help.
‘I think you need a rest and a glass of water somewhere warm,’ Bea said. ‘Where on earth is your coat? Do you know where your parents are?’
At the last question Tilly started to cry.
‘Oh, come now, my dear; it’s not so bad. We’ll find them and all will be well.’
Putting her arm gently round Tilly’s shoulders, Bea guided her to the door of Miss Minchin’s school and knocked firmly. The door was opened by a pale-faced maid.
‘May I speak with Miss Minchin, please?’ Bea said. ‘This poor girl has had a nasty fall and needs to warm up. Perhaps Miss Minchin could spare some hot food and let her rest for a little while until we can help to locate her family?’
The maid led them silently into a stiflingly hot parlour, where pinch-faced Miss Minchin sat, looking imperiously over her half-moon glasses. Bea repeated the story and explained that she had to return and look after the children.
Miss Minchin gave a polite smile and nod. ‘Of course. Any friend of the Carmichaels is a friend of mine.’
‘What? Aren’t they called the Montmorencys?’ Tilly said, confused.
‘I think she might have had a bit of a bang to the head. I’ll pop back very soon, I promise. Thank you for your hospitality, Miss Minchin.’ Bea gave Tilly a warm hug and headed for the door.
‘What did you say your name was, child?’ Miss Minchin said.
‘Matilda. Matilda Pages.’
The name made Bea stop with her hand on the doorknob, as if she had heard the murmur of a song she once knew, but after a beat she opened the door and left.
As soon as Bea had gone the cold smile on Miss Minchin’s face entirely vanished. ‘Who are your parents, Matilda? Why were you careening around the streets with no coat on, toppling into good families such as the Carmichaels?’
Tilly knew she certainly couldn’t tell Miss Minchin the truth, so she gave her grandparents’ names.
‘Elsie and Archibald Pages,’ she said quietly, brushing away a stray tear from her face.
‘I’ve never heard of them. Where do they live?’ Miss Minchin said sternly.
‘North London,’ Tilly said tentatively, not entirely sure where she was in London herself. Miss Minchin grimaced. ‘Thank you for having me, but I really don’t need to stay here,’ Tilly insisted, struggling to be polite as she remembered the horrible way Miss Minchin treated Sara in the book.
‘Believe me, child, I have no desire to keep you here either, but I cannot simply turn you out on to the street when the Carmichaels’ nanny will be returning to check on your health at any moment. Becky and Sara will keep an eye on you.’ She rang a dainty silver bell on her desk and Becky, the girl Tilly had met in the corridor of the school on her last visit, skidded into the room.
‘Stop gawping, Becky! This is Matilda. She has had a fall. Would you clean her scraped knees, please, and find her somewhere to sit in the attic while we wait for someone to retrieve her? Fetch her a glass of water, and some bread if there is any to be spared.’
Becky nodded mutely.
‘Well, go on then,’ Miss Minchin scolded. ‘I am grossly overworked and this school does not run on kindness and charity, although heaven knows I would be rich if it did.’
Tilly stood up silently and followed Becky out of the parlour.
‘I’ll take you up to Miss Sara’s room,’ Becky offered nervously.
‘Her father died, didn’t he?’ Tilly said bluntly.
‘Why, yes. Did Miss Minchin tell you? She has to live up in the attic with me now, and help with the teaching and looking after the little ones, as well as all the shopping and cleaning and fetching.’
Tilly followed Becky up two steep flights of stairs; the first was covered by the same opulent carpet that was in Miss Minchin’s parlour; the second was much narrower and darker, with only a threadbare carpet underfoot. At the top of the stairs Becky pushed open a wooden door to reveal a whitewashed room with a slanting roof and very little furniture.
‘This is Miss Sara’s room. I’m sure she won’t mind you sitting in here for a little bit while she’s out running errands.’ Becky shepherded Tilly to an old iron bed with a very thin-looking blanket on top. ‘I’m sorry it ain’t warmer. I’ll get you some water and see if cook will let me have some bread for you.’ She gave Tilly a small smile and closed the door behind her.
Tilly slumped back on the cold, hard bed and fought to keep more tears from coming. She knew she needed to get out of the attic, and the school, find Oskar and get back to Pages & Co., but the thought of having to leave behind her mum, who did not even recognise her, felt too much to bear.
The sound of something being thrown at the glass skylight above her head forced her out of her melancholy. She climbed up on to a rickety-looking table under the skylight and heaved it open. Her head emerged into a different land above the rooftops of London. Brick chimneys and slate roofs were laced with curling smoke and birds darted through the higgledy-piggledy maze of mismatched buildings. Tilly could even see the familiar dome of St Paul’s Cathedral half hidden in the smog.
Something about the glimpse of a building that was present in her London too gave her a rush of determination just as a tiny stone hit her on the head.
‘Ow,’ she muttered under her breath.
‘Tilly!’ yelled a very familiar voice. She twisted to look round and saw Oskar’s head sticking out of a skylight in the house next door.
‘What are you doing?’ she called across. ‘How did you get in there?’
‘It was empty!’ Oskar shouted. ‘I tried ringing the bell of the school, but that grumpy maid wouldn’t let me in, so I tried next door. When I knocked, the door just swung open. No one lives here! Come on then!’
‘What do you mean, come on?’ Tilly shouted.
‘Climb across!’ Oskar shouted. ‘Look, the roof’s really flat, you’ll be fine.’
‘You want me
to climb across?’ Tilly said in horror, looking down at the street far below, slick with rain. ‘I’ll fall! You know if I die in this book, it’s real, right?’
‘Have you got a better plan?’ he asked. ‘Come on. I can grab you when you’re close. We need to get home before anyone notices, or before Chalk realises where we are.’
Tilly took a deep breath and started pulling herself up through the window by her arms.
‘Excuse me, but who are you, and where are you going out of my window?’ a polite voice said behind her, causing Tilly to jump and bang her head on the window frame. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.’
Tilly dropped back down on to the table and turned to see Sara, her half-sister, standing in her threadbare dress, damp from the drizzle outside.
‘I’m Matilda,’ she said, not at all sure how to explain herself. ‘I fell over outside the school and my … and the nanny of the family across the square brought me here. I think she thought a school might be a slightly more welcoming place than it is …’
‘Oh! The Large Family! That is what I call them as there are so many of them. They always seem so happy and rosy and content, don’t you think? It doesn’t surprise me at all that they have employed a thoughtful nanny, even if she was misguided in believing Miss Minchin to be a charitable woman. You mustn’t think me silly, but I like to imagine their names when I see them. I call the baby girls Ethelberta Beauchamp Montmorency and Violet Cholmondeley Montmorency. I suppose it is rather silly when I say it out loud, but telling myself stories is the way I cope with living up in this lonely cold attic, you see. Everything is a story, really.’
‘I don’t think it’s silly at all,’ Tilly said.
‘So why are you trying to escape? I realise that this room is hardly welcoming, but I am sure Miss Minchin would let you leave.’
‘She says I have to stay until the nanny returns so she makes a good impression on the family,’ Tilly explained.
