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Pages & Co.: Tilly and the Map of Stories
‘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.
‘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.
Then he paused. ‘Oh sorry! Hermia! Hermia! I forgot the code word. Welcome to Washington DC!’
‘Um, thanks,’ said Tilly. ‘I’m Tilly, obviously.’
Orlando stepped back and beamed at them. ‘And … Oskar, right?’
‘Right,’ said Oskar.
‘So, how are you guys doing?’ Orlando said gently, clearly trying to tone down his natural exuberance – and, to her surprise and embarrassment, Tilly burst into tears. At the sight of Tilly’s tears, Oskar followed shortly afterwards. ‘Hey, hey, hey!’ Orlando said, looking a little nervous. ‘Did something happen on the way?’
‘No.’ Tilly sniffed. ‘We’re fine. It’s just … the whole … being tricked into flying to America by your own mum to save bookwandering thing.’
‘It’s quite a lot to deal with,’ Oskar said, wiping away a tear.
‘You bet,’ Orlando said gently. ‘Well, I think you’re doing brilliantly by just getting here. And I know someone else who does too. Come meet Jorge – he’ll be getting stressed about parking in the wrong place for too long, I’m sure.’ He put a reassuring hand on their shoulders and guided them through the airport, to where a battered powder-blue station wagon was idling, a slender, nervous-looking man waiting in the driver’s seat.
‘Come on, Orlando!’ the man called out of the open window. ‘That security guard has been glaring at me ever since I parked up here.’
Orlando grinned, tossed their bags in the car and helped them up into the back seat. ‘This is Jorge,’ he said, gesturing to the driver, who was sweating slightly as he manoeuvred the car into a lane of traffic. He had light brown skin and dark curly hair and was wearing a smart button-down shirt.
‘Hi,’ said Jorge from the front seat, with a gentle accent that Tilly couldn’t quite place. ‘I promise I’ll be much more welcoming once we’re out of this godforsaken airport.’ He gesticulated at another driver and swore out of the window, which prompted a slightly sheepish smile from Orlando. But indeed, once they’d left the maze of roads around the airport, Jorge glanced back at them, a warm smile on his face.
‘Welcome,’ he said. ‘Sorry you had to witness that. I do not enjoy driving this beast of a car in busy areas, but Orlando insisted on us buying it. How are you both doing? Did you manage to sleep at all on the plane?’
‘A little bit,’ said Oskar and Tilly nodded. Although she hadn’t slept much and sheer adrenalin had been keeping her alert until they landed.
‘So you know my mum from university?’ she said. ‘We didn’t get a lot of information before we left.’
‘Yep,’ Orlando said cheerfully, twisting round in his seat so he could look at them. ‘We both worked part time at a bookstore in New York – that’s how we each realised the other was a bookwanderer.’
‘So, you knew Mum when …’ Tilly tailed off, not sure how much they knew about who her father was.
‘Yeah, we knew her when she was visiting A Little Princess and fell in love with your father,’ Orlando said straightforwardly but kindly, showing that he knew Tilly was half fictional without making a fuss. ‘When Bea first moved back to London, we had no idea she was even pregnant, but we kept in touch for a bit until we stopped hearing from her. We thought she’d got new friends in London; of course, it didn’t even cross our minds that she was trapped in a book. But we can chat more about all of that kind of stuff later, if you want?’ Orlando said. ‘I have to admit we’re a little bit in the dark about the plan – Bea made it sound like everything was quite urgent.’
‘Yes,’ said Tilly, who was starting to struggle to keep her eyes open. ‘We need to go to the Library of Congress straight away. She told you about the bookbinding, right …?’
‘She sure did,’ Orlando said. ‘It sounds like a real mess. No wonder things have been off in the book world. I’m glad you guys have a plan to help.’
‘Something like that,’ Oskar said sleepily. Orlando eyed the two drowsy children in the back seat.
‘Okay, well, why don’t you two nap a little on the drive into town? We can drop your stuff off at the bookstore, which is close to the Library of Congress, and go from there.’
‘Sounds good,’ Tilly said, letting the rhythm of the car lull her to sleep.
‘Can we … get some … food … too?’ Oskar added, and it was not long before the two of them were fast asleep, heads resting against the car windows as they drove through Washington DC.
‘Hey, sleepyheads,’ he said. ‘We’ve picked up some breakfast burritos for you. I thought you might like to see some of the sights as we get into the city and you can have a moment to wake up properly before we get to the store.’
He passed back two hot, foil-wrapped burritos full of spicy scrambled eggs, avocado and black beans and two glass bottles of fresh orange juice.
Tilly and Oskar ate and drank contentedly while gazing out of the windows at the cherry blossom trees that lined the road.
‘Once all this bookwandering stuff is cleared up, you’ll have to come back and stay – with your families – and do some proper exploring,’ Orlando said as he pointed out some of the famous sights.
They saw the gigantic Lincoln Memorial – a huge stone structure that looked like something out of a Greek myth, the tall, elegant Washington Monument sticking up into the sky as though it were trying to pierce the clouds and, looking up the hill from that tower, they could just about see the famous shape of the White House itself, where the American president lived.
Before too long, Jorge turned the car into a crisscross of streets lined with Chinese restaurants and coffee shops. They drove past a huge stadium right in the middle of the city and a tall, glass-fronted theatre before Jorge parked behind a large red-brick building, and he and Orlando helped get the luggage out of the boot.
‘Enough history for now,’ Orlando grinned. ‘Time for the important stuff – books.’
They walked round to the front. ‘For the full effect,’ Orlando said proudly as they looked up at a huge building with big windows, through which they could see a busy bookshop. A large sign over the door read ‘Shakespeare’s Sisters’ with a large quill illustration as a logo.
‘Why’s it called that?’ Oskar asked, staring up at the sign. ‘How many sisters did Shakespeare even have?’
‘Well, he had one sister who lived to be an adult,’ Orlando said. ‘But that’s just one of the reasons for the name. You’ll see when we go inside that it’s a pretty special building – it actually used to be a theatre, and we’ve tried to keep as much of the structure as it was – we still have the stage and everything. We’ve added a lot of bookshelves, of course. People come from all over to look at our Shakespeare collection.’
‘So … why is it named after his sisters then?’ Tilly asked.
‘I’m getting there.’ Orlando smiled. ‘I’m just giving you the full spiel as it’s your first time here! It’s because it’s not about Shakespeare’s real sisters; it’s about a made-up one called Judith.’
‘You know the British writer Virginia Woolf?’ Jorge interrupted, with a smile, seemingly used to hearing this explanation and trying to speed Orlando up a little.
The name rang a bell with Tilly, but she couldn’t place it, and shook her head; she had a rule never to pretend she’d read a book that she hadn’t, however tempting it sometimes was.
‘She lived a while ago,’ Orlando went on. ‘And part of the reason I love her is because I was named after one of her characters. But another one of her books was about women and writing, and in it she imagined what life might have been like for a made-up version of Shakespeare’s sister. It’s about what would have happened to a woman who wanted to be a writer in Elizabethan times and the stories she might have written if she’d had the same education and opportunities as good old Will Shakespeare. So that’s what I named the shop for – all the stories that didn’t make it out into the world, for one reason or another.’
‘I like it.’ Oskar nodded approvingly. ‘But it’s kind of complicated. You had to do a lot of explaining.’
‘Well, we like to think it sounds good even if you’re just walking past the store,’ Orlando said. ‘But sometimes it’s worth getting the whole story, don’t you think?’ He gazed up at the shop. ‘You know, bookstores are monuments to writers, in a way,’ he said. ‘Lincoln and Washington have their statues, and Shakespeare has this. It’s a little less grand, but I think he’d like it anyway.’
‘You sound just like Tilly’s grandad,’ Oskar said. ‘He loves a speech about the importance of bookshops.’
Once they were inside, it was obvious the building had previously been a theatre. Although various walls had been removed, there was a huge wooden stage at the far end to where they stood, with heavy scarlet curtains framing it. But instead of actors or lights or props on the stage there were shelves and shelves of books. One wide staircase wound upwards towards a balcony, and another down to another floor. The bookshop was all artfully curated faded glamour, with a kitsch chandelier still hanging from its high ceiling and some old velvet theatre chairs arranged in pockets among the shelves for people to sit and read.
‘Welcome to Shakespeare’s Sisters!’ Orlando said proudly. ‘Let’s store your stuff somewhere safe and then you can come see our Shakespeare balcony quickly before we head up to the library.’
Orlando looked so proud of his bookshop that Tilly didn’t have the heart to insist that they go straight to the library to start the hunt for the Archivists.
They were already here, so what was an extra ten minutes to see the shop properly? Good bookshops are hard to resist after all.
Then they followed Orlando and Jorge up the stairs, passing an archway that revealed a small room hung with more colours and patterns of wrapping paper than Tilly could count, as well as reams and reams of ribbons and tissue paper and other accoutrements. A petite woman with warm amber-coloured skin was standing at a desk piled high with books. She had at least five different brightly coloured ribbons woven through her black hair, and was focused intently on wrapping a large hardback book in brown paper.
‘Ah, that’s Deepti, and our wrapping room,’ Orlando said. ‘If customers need a book wrapped for a special occasion, then we bring them here where they can choose how they want it.’
The woman looked up and grinned widely at them. ‘Friends of yours?’ she said.
‘The best of friends,’ Orlando said. ‘This is Matilda – the daughter of one my closest friends at university. And this is Matilda’s best friend, Oskar.’
‘Are you guys over on vacation?’ Deepti asked, and Tilly said no at the same time as Jorge said yes and Deepti raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, either way, if you buy a book while you’re here, be sure to come get it wrapped. I’m certain it will be on the house. By the way, Orlando, have you caught up with Candy? She was looking for you – a couple more books have gone missing over the last few days, and she thinks maybe it’s a shoplifter? Although they’re choosing strange books, if that’s the case – anyway, you should go find her when you can so she can tell you about it.’
‘Thanks, Deepti, I will,’ Orlando said.
‘Is Deepti a bookwanderer too?’ Tilly asked as they continued up the stairs to the balcony.
‘I don’t think so,’ he said.
‘Haven’t you asked?’ Oskar said, surprised. ‘I thought there was some kind of record of bookwanderers at the Underlibrary.’
