Pages and Co 3: Tilly and the Map of Stories

by Anna James

  They kept walking, and every few moments they happened across something else perched among the paper trees. They passed a long trestle table, two of its legs buckled so that the origami cups and saucers on top had slid down into a messy heap in the grass. They saw an armchair sitting in the pool of light cast by a tall paper lamp by its side, and more than one empty bookcase, some carved into tree trunks, some leaning up against them, and some lying toppled on the ground. They stopped and wondered at a huge plant made of coarse card that stretched up into the sky, reaching so high that its top disappeared into the inky blackness. The strangest thing that they saw was a whole pirate ship on the grass, listing to one side, paper vines growing up its sides rooting it to the ground like an ancient temple reclaimed by the forest. A huge anchor lay abandoned beside it, grown over with delicate tissue wildflowers.

  ‘Have you noticed?’ Tilly said, the pirate ship being the final element that allowed her to work out the pattern.

  ‘Noticed what?’

  ‘That we keep passing things from books we’ve bookwandered into?’

  ‘Ohhhh!’ Oskar said. ‘That’s what I haven’t been able to put my finger on. But … how could it be so personal to us? That doesn’t make any sense.’

  ‘Unless someone knows we’re coming,’ Tilly said. ‘NOT THAT IT’S MUCH USE IF YOU DON’T SHOW US HOW TO GET TO YOU!’ she yelled up into the sky.

  ‘Tilly!’ said Oskar, stopping suddenly and grabbing her arm, yanking her backwards.

  ‘Hey!’ she said. ‘That hurt!’

  ‘Sorry, but I think I’ve had an … What do you call it? An epiphany! I’ve had an epiphany!’

  ‘And …?’ Tilly prompted.

  ‘Well, what helped us get to the Library of Alexandria?’

  ‘The classmark,’ Tilly said.

  ‘And what got us here?’

  ‘The key.’

  ‘So what else do we have?’

  ‘The thread and … the breadcrumbs!’

  ‘Exactly!’ Oskar said triumphantly. ‘And what did Hansel and Gretel use the breadcrumbs for? To get out of a forest!’ He gestured around them. ‘And where are we?’

  ‘No, no, I’m up to speed!’ Tilly said. ‘I’m there.’

  ‘I’m just enjoying explaining,’ said Oskar.

  ‘The only problem is that Hansel and Gretel used the breadcrumbs to get out,’ Tilly said. ‘And we’re not trying to get out of somewhere – we’re trying to get in.’

  ‘Fair point, but considering we have absolutely zero idea where in this forest we need to go, and that the clues have helped us so far, what’s the harm in trying? The worst-case scenario is that we keep a trail of where we’ve been, so we don’t retrace our steps while we’re searching.’

  Tilly couldn’t argue with that logic and put her bag down, opening it up to fish out the breadcrumbs. She passed them to Oskar.

  ‘Would you like to do the honours?’ she said, smiling.

  ‘At least there aren’t any paper birds to eat them,’ he said. ‘Or any …’ He stopped and stared at the ground where he’d just thrown the first handful of breadcrumbs.

  ‘Not again,’ he said, backing away.

  Tilly looked down to see a thick paper vine creeping over her foot. She shook it off, but it kept coming towards her. It was somehow even more sinister when it was made from paper and ink, even though it moved much more slowly than the vines in the bookshop. And this time no one knew where they were.

  ‘Maybe it’s just friendly?’ Oskar suggested from a safe distance.

  ‘I am not taking that risk,’ Tilly said. ‘Let’s go.’

  She grabbed her bag from the grass and the two of them started running, Oskar tossing breadcrumbs over his shoulder as they went.

  In their rush to escape the creeping paper vines, neither of them noticed the ball of red thread that had rolled out of Tilly’s open backpack and been left behind,

  fter a few moments, the forest seemed to have stopped trying to grab hold of them, and Tilly and Oskar were able to slow down.

  ‘Do you think I should be worried about this?’ asked Tilly.

  ‘Uhhh,’ Oskar said, clearly torn between telling the truth and not wanting to exacerbate Tilly’s concern. ‘Well, let’s just say that we’ve dealt with worse.’

  ‘But where would the vines even be trying to take me?’

  ‘I think we’re going deeper and deeper into stories here,’ Oskar said. ‘So maybe they want to take you inside another layer of books? We can ask the Archivists if they know … Hang on, you don’t think it’s the Archivists who are trying to grab you, do you?’

  ‘I’m not a big fan of their methods if they are,’ Tilly said. ‘But I suppose better them than the Underwoods.’

  ‘Honestly, I’m getting to the point where I’m not sure I even want to find the Archive if this is how you have to get there, sneaky vines or no sneaky vines,’ Oskar said. ‘We have no real idea about how to reach them, we’re just getting more and more lost, and now we’re being chased by either evil or grumpy plants. We were promised a map, but this is like being given a map in another language, drawn by someone who’s never been there before, that’s then been ripped up and glued back together in the wrong order.’

  Tilly paused. What Oskar said had rung a bell in her head.

  ‘It’s all about maps,’ she said. ‘Do you remember what Grandad always says about bookshops? He says that they’re like a map – but that readers have to set their own compass. Maybe that’s what we need to do – work out how to set the compass. We need to plot our own course.’

  ‘That’s all well and good in theory,’ Oskar said, ‘but how do we even do that? You can’t just say something inspirational and expect it to fix everything. Unless you’ve been hiding an actual compass in your bag?’

  ‘I meant it more straightforwardly,’ Tilly said, ignoring the dig about inspirational comments. ‘I think we should use the pirate ship as our compass. It’s huge and easy to find, and somewhere to shelter too, if we need it. Let’s follow the breadcrumbs back there.’

  ‘Shouldn’t we have passed it by now?’ Oskar said a little nervously as they followed the breadcrumb trail. They’d been walking for what felt like ages, much longer than when they’d first come this way, and there was still no sign of the pirate ship. They had passed an old-fashioned school desk tipped on its side, ink dripping out of a hole in the top, and a broken swing dangling from a thick tree branch, neither of which they’d seen before. ‘And is it just me or are there considerably more breadcrumbs on the ground than I put there?’

  Oskar was right. Instead of the rushed scattering of breadcrumbs he had left as they’d run from the vines, there was now what was undeniably a path made of their breadcrumbs mixed in with tiny screwed-up bits of paper. And it was definitely not taking them back the way they’d come.

  But the one thing both Tilly and Oskar knew from reading a lot of books was that if, while on a magical treasure hunt, a path appears in front of you, you should definitely follow it. It became more and more distinct, the breadcrumbs fading away completely into a paper trail that wound through the trees. They were paper silver birches with translucent layers of tissue wrapped in peeling layers. As they walked, the trees started to form an archway over their heads, not stretching out for them like the vines, but twisting gracefully over their heads as if to shelter them.

  ‘Do you know what this reminds me of?’ Oskar said.

  ‘Anne’s birch path?’ Tilly said, thinking the same thing. ‘Do you remember when bookwandering was all fun and uncomplicated and we could just go and explore with Anne?’

  ‘I’m not sure it’s ever really been uncomplicated,’ said Oskar. ‘But it’s also never stopped being fun, don’t you think? I know everything feels really intense at the moment, but would you rather have lived a life where you didn’t get to walk through a paper forest? If I had the option, I’d still choose this.’

  ‘Me too,’ Tilly said, realising it was true. ‘Every time.’ />
  The path through the paper birches curved round ahead of them, the trees growing closer and closer together so that, before long, they could no longer see through them and they were entirely encased in the silvery walkway. The path wound into tighter and tighter curves as though they were moving into the middle of a circle, before they stumbled out into a small clearing, entirely lined with paper trees, knit together to form a wall of bright whiteness.

  The only thing in the middle was an archway. It looked like it was made of white stone, but on closer inspection it, too, was paper.

  Tilly and Oskar wordlessly approached it. From where they’d entered the clearing, you could see through the arch to the trees behind it. They walked all the way round it and nothing changed except an almost imperceptible shimmer in the air between the pillars, not unlike the secret passage that linked the British Underlibrary to Pages & Co.

  Oskar shrugged at Tilly and she returned the gesture, and, without needing to say anything, they took each other’s hands and

  here was a split second when they were in two worlds at once, the silver birches behind them still visible, and the high walls of the arch on either side of them, but then Tilly and Oskar felt a shiver run through their bodies and they were through.

  In many ways, the place they found themselves in had the same feel as the paper forest: the empty dark non-sky; the complete lack of people or noise; and the fact that everything was still in shades of black and white. The difference was that everything was made of stone, not paper; stern and ancient rather than wild and whimsical. They were surrounded by walls of pale stone towering above them and their feet were on a road made of the same material. The archway itself had melted back into the wall behind them as soon as they’d passed through, leaving solid walls on both sides of them and a dead-end behind.

  ‘On the plus side,’ Oskar said, with a small wobble in his voice, ‘no one seems to be following us any more.’

  ‘And at least there’s only one way to go this time,’ Tilly said, and they set off up the road, for lack of any other option.

  ‘Do we just assume something will happen?’ Oskar said. ‘Should we be using the red thread, do you think?’

  ‘But we’re not in a maze,’ Tilly said. ‘There’s no turns or breaks or bends. I don’t want to risk using it wrong.’

  ‘Fine,’ Oskar said. ‘But I don’t want to just keep walking forever, trying to stay calm and optimistic. Because you’ll get more and more anxious, and then you’ll go all quiet and, let’s be honest, probably get a little bit passive-aggressive. And I’ll start talking more and more, and making worse and worse jokes to try and help, and I’ll be annoying both of us equally, and then, after hours and hours and hours … Oh. Never mind.’

  They paused as they’d both seen at the same time that a little further ahead there was another archway.

  ‘Is this it?’ Oskar asked as they walked towards it. ‘Surely there can’t be another layer to this.’

  ‘But we haven’t used the thread yet,’ Tilly pointed out. ‘I think this is the last layer. The last clue. Look.’

  As they peered through the archway, they could see that several walled pathways split off from it, all turning sharply so you could only see a few metres down any of the options. They could see the solemn branches of a few paper trees poking above the walls, and a couple of plants made of twisted paper were stationed at the entrance.

  ‘I think we can safely say this is the labyrinth,’ Tilly said. ‘It must be – and they’re going to be in the middle, I can feel it.’

  ‘At least it’s obvious what clue we have to use,’ Oskar said. ‘And even how we use it. We’ve cracked it, Tilly!’ He gave Tilly a high-five and unzipped the bag on her back to fish out the last clue.

  Tilly finally felt some sort of sense of achievement and clarity. Each clue had matched a layer of stories, and now they had a ball of thread and a labyrinth – it couldn’t be more obvious.

  The great pale stones of the entrance stretched high above their heads, but Tilly couldn’t help but feel excitement rather than fear now it was so clear where they were supposed to go. The symbol of the labyrinth had guided them to this central point, this dusty, stone place that felt as though no other people had passed this way for decades, if not longer.

  The Library of Alexandria had still felt alive, somehow, but these stone passages were devoid of noise or natural light or anything that felt familiar. They were deep inside stories now, and there was only one way to …

  ‘I can’t find it,’ Oskar said, interrupting Tilly’s train of thought.

  ‘What?’ Tilly said, her optimism popping like a balloon.

  ‘The thread. It’s not here.’

  She looked at him, and the bag in his hand. ‘But it must be there. We haven’t even got it out before. It was definitely there when we were in Alexandria.’

  ‘But we’ve been pulling things in and out of your bag all day,’ Oskar pointed out. ‘And running around and running away; it must have fallen out when you were getting something else.’

  ‘Oh, so it’s my fault?’ Tilly snapped.

  ‘Well, it’s not mine!’ Oskar retorted.

  ‘Why is it always my responsibility to keep track of everything!’

  ‘Because people keep giving you magical presents!’ Oskar said. ‘And, wherever you go, special things happen, and you’re always the key to everything! None of that happens to me!’

  ‘I didn’t ask for any of it!’ Tilly said, close to tears. ‘Everyone expects me to just work everything out! “Oh, Tilly’s not normal – her bookwandering doesn’t work right; she’s the best person to solve all these stupid magical puzzles.” I don’t want to be half fictional!’ And she couldn’t stop the tears running down her cheeks in frustration and disappointment.

  ‘I know,’ Oskar said quietly. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean that I think it’s all up to you. It’s just that … you know, I want to be useful, not just someone who ends up being dragged along.’

  ‘But you’re useful all the time!’ Tilly said, surprised that he felt like that. ‘I wouldn’t have worked out the clues without you. I wouldn’t have found the door in the Library of Alexandria without you. There’s no way I’d be stuck in a deserted stone labyrinth if it wasn’t for you. I couldn’t do any of this without you. Not to mention, like you said, that I’d probably get very anxious and passive-aggressive and no one would give me any magical presents any more.’ She tried a small smile, and Oskar leaned over and gave her a hug.

  ‘The thing is,’ he said, ‘that if someone has gone to all this effort to give you these clues surely they’re not going to leave us stranded. So, let’s just have a go at the maze without the thread. We can ad-lib. I’ve done the maze at Hampton Court Palace so I’m pretty confident, actually. Now, my tactic is always to …’

  But Oskar’s description of his tactics was drowned out by a high-pitched whistle. A whistle that sounded very much like it was coming from a steam train, and one that was awfully close. Once the whistle had subsided, there was the unmistakable noise of clickety-clacking and the huffing-and-chuffing of a train pulling into station.

  ‘COULD YOU PLEASE STOP GETTING WEIRDER EVERY SINGLE SECOND!’ Tilly yelled at the sky, pounding her foot on the stones underneath them.

  ‘Did you … Did you just stamp your foot?’ Oskar asked in delight. ‘Seriously, I haven’t seen anyone do that in ages! Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone do it in real life.’

  ‘I’m very cross,’ Tilly said, trying not to laugh. ‘But come on – why is there a train here! What do you use red thread for on a train?!’

  ‘I haven’t the foggiest idea,’ Oskar said. ‘But shall we go and see if we can cadge a lift?’ And at that they both burst out into near-hysterical laughter. ‘Come on, Tilly,’ said Oskar, crying with laughter. ‘Obviously, there’s a train station here in this mysterious stone city by the paper forest. I can’t believe you didn’t work it out already!’

  ‘Maybe the T
hree Bears were supposed to give me a train timetable,’ Tilly said, her stomach starting to hurt from laughing so hard.

  ‘Only grown-ups would come up with something like this,’ Oskar said. ‘If I was an Archivist, do you know what the system would be? A nice email saying what you needed, or a text message checking if they could help. Maybe an online FAQ.’

  ‘I feel very light-headed,’ Tilly said, leaning against the wall. ‘Do you feel light-headed? Why am I laughing so much?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s good for us to be diving so deep within stories,’ said Oskar. ‘You’re not even supposed to bookwander into one book inside another book, remember? And goodness knows how we’re going to get back out again.’

  ‘No offence, Oskar,’ Tilly said, ‘but I am not going into that labyrinth without the thread, however many mazes you’ve done. So, as a train must be going somewhere, I suggest we go and find it.’

  ‘I second that motion,’ Oskar said. ‘Now, if you were a train station in an imaginary maze, where would you be?’

  ‘I would put myself right where I needed to be,’ said Tilly wistfully. ‘Somewhere just behind here, across the road from the imaginary labyrinth. Can you imagine if we could …’

  ‘Tilly, turn round,’ Oskar said quietly.

  Behind them was another archway that led to a neat, stone-gravelled path curving away from them. One that had definitely not been there before. ‘No big deal, but did you just wish that into existence?’ Oskar asked.

  ‘That’s impossible,’ said Tilly. ‘It must have been there … But it wasn’t, was it?’

  ‘Does it work with other things?’ Oskar said hopefully. ‘I’m imagining a veggie burger with sweet potato fries and a Fanta orange.’ And suddenly, at his feet, there was a tray of food. ‘This is the BEST!’ he shouted. ‘How did we only work this out now?’ He grabbed the burger and shoved it in his mouth jubilantly before his joy turned to a grimace and he spat it out again. ‘It’s made of paper,’ he said, looking as though someone had just cancelled Christmas.