by Anna James
‘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.
