Anna James - Pages & Co. - Tilly and the Lost Fairy Tales

Cassius climbed down from the platform, and Melville Underwood took to the stage. The silence in the room was absolute and Tilly found herself leaning forward, eager to hear what he would say.

‘My friends,’ Melville started. His voice sounded as though it had been dipped in honey. ‘I am so grateful to have found my way back to you. I have endured years balancing on the brink of survival in the fairytale worlds, alone in my grief for my poor sister, Decima. The thought of coming home, to my British Underlibrary family, has sustained me. Although I have come close to the most dangerous elements of bookwandering, my experiences have not diminished my love for it. Indeed, they have, if anything, deepened my respect and awe for the bookwandering magic we are so fortunate to use. But that magic is by no means guaranteed, and I have witnessed first hand, and learned from my esteemed friends here, that there are signs that this precious magic is becoming unpredictable. At this time, we need to band together and protect bookwandering while we still can.’ He looked around the room, assessing how his words were going down, his eyes lingering just a second too long as he noticed Grandma and Grandad.

‘British bookwandering has long been at the heart of the whole global community, and we must keep it this way,’ he continued. ‘Now that the fairytale lands are increasingly unstable, I fear whatever is causing that will spread to our other stories. We must be vigilant! I, as we all should be, am grateful to Amelia for her work leading our community for the last decade, but the time has come for a different approach. We simply cannot allow incidents like the Enoch Chalk disaster to happen. It has threatened the very principles by which we live. I would ask us to unite! Unite in the face of instability and threats to the power and sanctity of our stories – and the British Underlibrary itself. I agree with both of my esteemed colleagues; Ebenezer is right that we must come together, and Catherine raises important points about our core purpose. I am grounded in both these principles, but I hope that my time in the fairytale lands – on the front line of our storytelling – has given me the clarity and purpose needed at this moment in our history. We have such wisdom and experience among our fellow British Underlibrarians. As well as Ebenezer and Catherine, I understand that while I have been away, some of our colleagues have been diligent in their research into the best ways to preserve and protect bookwandering under the ancestral name of the Bookbinders. If I were so fortunate as to be elected, I would be honoured to work alongside them, and you all, to unite us on the most effective and efficient ways of ensuring characters – and bookwanderers – are less likely to go astray!’ He smiled to the crowd, like they were all in on the same joke. ‘Now, I’ll be happy to answer any questions you may have,’ he finished. ‘And I appreciate you will have many.’ A round of polite, appreciative applause rippled across the hall, and Tilly saw a flicker of anxiety run across Amelia’s face.

‘Thank you, friends,’ Melville said graciously.

Grandad raised his hand.

‘Tell me, Melville. Why are you the right person to lead now?’ he said. ‘When you have not been with us for so many years? Could you not stay, and learn, and observe, and look to take the helm in the future?’ Grandad’s voice was ice-cold, despite the politeness of his words.

‘Well, Archibald,’ Melville said, smiling at Grandad, ‘I believe that I can offer much to the Underlibrary, as I have just set out. But there is one other thing, something that I had not planned to mention, as it should not have any bearing on the election here today. But as you have forced my hand, Archibald, and in answer to your excellent question, let me share something with you now. I come to you not just armed with information about how we can save our beloved fairy tales, but also with incontrovertible evidence as to the whereabouts of Enoch Chalk.’

here was a second of absolute silence, before the room erupted into chaos. People were gesturing wildly and shouting over each other. Melville simply surveyed the crowd with a look of complete calm on his face. Tilly felt cold all over and saw Grandma and Grandad exchange ominous looks.

‘Now, see here,’ Cassius spluttered into the microphone. ‘That’s quite a thing to claim, Melville. What do you know? You are obliged to share it with us, you must see that!’

‘Of course,’ Melville said, quietening the crowd with one hand raised. ‘I did not want to sway the feelings of my colleagues at this delicate point, that is the only reason I did not mention it before. But I am eager to share what I have learned with you all. While on my travels searching for a way back from the fairytale lands, I happened across several characters complaining of a man being discourteous, and poking around, asking questions. I attempted to find him myself, assuming he was a bookwanderer and seeking a way home.’

‘What proof do you have?’ a voice from the back called.

‘Will you permit me a moment?’ Melville asked Cassius, who nodded helplessly as Melville slipped off stage and returned a few moments later with a cardboard box in his hand. The tension in the air was electric as he set the box down on the desk.

‘Will this suffice as proof?’ And with one hand he pulled out a grey bowler hat that was unmistakably Enoch Chalk’s.

A brief pause hung in the air, and then the majority of the audience started applauding loudly. Amelia raised an eyebrow at Grandad.

‘Isn’t that a good thing?’ Tilly whispered to Grandma, confused. ‘I thought we wanted to find Chalk. Doesn’t that prove Mr Underwood is on our side?’

‘Perhaps,’ Grandma said. ‘But perhaps not. I don’t trust Melville, but I do trust Amelia’s instincts. There are many questions unanswered – how would Melville know Chalk was a threat in the first place? And we – of course – want Chalk found and dealt with, and we may align with Melville on other things too. Who knows. The one thing I am sure of is that something strange is afoot.’

Cassius was back on stage, trying to calm everyone down again.

‘I think … I think the only thing we can do now is vote,’ he said. ‘We will invite you up a row at a time to cast your ballot, so please return to your chairs until you’re called, and well, we shall go from there. Current employees of the Underlibrary only,’ he said, looking directly at Grandad, who rolled his eyes. There was a lot of hushed conversation as, row by row, nearly fifty librarians filed up to the front, marked a piece of paper, and posted it through a large wooden casket, all under Cassius’s flustered glare. Once everyone had voted, Cassius and another librarian carried the ballot box out of the hall. Half an hour later, Cassius returned, looking slightly pale.

‘We have counted and verified – more than once – the votes, and I am, well, I am happy, yes, to announce that the next Librarian of the British Underlibrary will be Melville Underwood.’

There was thunderous applause as the name was announced, although as Tilly craned her neck, she could see small pockets of librarians who weren’t clapping at all. But the mood was undeniably in Melville’s favour, and he approached the stage once more, still clutching Chalk’s hat in his hand.