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

‘I look forward to working for you,’ he said, bowing his head reverently as the applause washed over him. Once it had died down a little, Cassius approached, and Melville took off his suit jacket, and rolled up his cardigan and shirt sleeves. A librarian had opened the book, and smoothed the pages down reverently.

‘So he just signs his name now and he’s the Head Librarian?’ Tilly asked.

‘There’s a little more commitment than that required,’ Grandad said. ‘You guys aren’t squeamish, right?’

‘Nope,’ Oskar said, craning to make sure he had a good view. Cassius stepped forward and looked at Melville, who gave a firm nod and held out his hand for the quill.

‘The ink of the Underlibrary represents our stories, which are now part of you,’ Cassius said formally. He took Melville’s wrist and held his fingers over the ink pot before quickly and firmly pricking his finger with the quill, and letting a drop of blood fall into the ink below. Tilly was watching Melville’s face, and he swallowed but didn’t make a sound. ‘And by giving a drop of your blood, you are now part of the Underlibrary,’ Cassius continued, handing Melville the quill, which he dipped into the ink before signing the great book on the table. ‘With this Inking Ceremony, the lifeblood of both you and the Underlibrary are one and the same.’ Cassius shook Melville’s other hand, and Melville’s face broke into a wide, warm smile. He pulled Cassius into a one-sided embrace, breaking the solemn mood of the moment.

‘Was that it?’ Oskar said, sounding a little disappointed.

‘Did Amelia have to do that?’ Tilly asked Grandma.

‘Why, yes,’ she said. ‘And your grandad too, of course.’ Grandad smiled and held up the ring finger on his right hand, where a tiny, faded blackdot was visible.

‘Isn’t that dangerous?’ Tilly asked. ‘Won’t you get, like, ink-poisoned or something by it?’

‘Oh no,’ Grandma said. ‘It’s just like getting a tiny tattoo, really.’

‘And I seem to be doing all right so far,’ Grandad said, smiling and absent-mindedly rubbing the pad of his finger where the tiny mark was. ‘Now, let’s get out of here before we have to make any awkward small talk. I could use a cup of tea.’

‘Not so fast,’ a voice cut in. They turned to see Cassius standing by their seats. ‘Melville would like to have a word. With all of you.’

he group followed Cassius back into the room where they had been talking before the ceremony. The fire had been stoked into a roaring blaze and the room was stiflingly hot. Seb, who was sticking to them like toffee, followed silently and closed the door behind them. The only person who still looked fresh and comfortable was Melville Underwood, who was sitting in a leather armchair right in front of the fire, a neat plaster wrapped round the tip of his finger. The charming man who had spoken at the Inking Ceremony had evaporated and his face was stern as he observed them.

‘Good to see you again, Melville,’ Grandad said in the voice he used when he meant precisely the opposite of the words coming out his mouth. ‘How on earth have you got Chalk’s hat? You claim a moment of heroism, yet surely when you met him you had no idea who he was? There’s no need for secrets at this stage. We’re all on the same side, right?’

‘I have a few orders of business to get through,’ Melville said, ignoring Grandad. ‘Firstly, while you have been invited here as a courtesy to your previous role, Archibald, you and your family are no longer welcome at the British Underlibrary except in cases of extreme bookwandering emergencies or at my personal invitation.’

‘You can’t do that!’ Oskar said, outraged. ‘Can you?’

‘Who are you?’ Melville said as if he had just noticed Oskar.

‘I’m Oskar, obviously, and you should know who I am because I helped rescue Tilly’s mum last year and find out the truth about Chalk.’

‘Ah, you were the other child who allowed him to escape through your meddling,’ Melville said coldly. ‘Of course there is no need to worry about that any more. We will be bringing him to justice shortly.’

‘So where is he?’ Tilly asked.

‘That is none of your concern,’ Melville said dismissively. ‘Why two children have already become so involved in this issue is beyond me. Your inability to see the big picture, let alone put it before your own personal vendettas and childish desire for adventure, is what’s got us here, with this dangerous man on the loose.’

‘Good grief, Underwood,’ Grandad said. ‘You know it’s not their fault – beneath all your posturing, you can’t get away from the fact that without Tilly and Oskar none of us would have realised that Chalk was an escaped Source character. Now, will you tell us why you have the man’s hat? This is no time for riddles and obfuscation.’

‘That’s the second time in mere hours that I’ve had to repeat myself to you. You must try and be a better listener, Archibald,’ Melville responded icily. ‘As I said, I was aided by characters in the fairytale land. As I searched for a way out I had heard rumours about a man asking questions, and I assumed he was an errant bookwanderer. I hoped I would be able to wander back to the real world with him. But when I found him, he was instantly combative and refused to talk to me, just muttered on and on about some nonsense I couldn’t understand. Once I’d realised he wasn’t in his right mind, I distracted him and slipped a book out from his pocket to ensure my escape route. Naturally I attempted to bring him with me but he resisted, and ran away, leaving only his hat on the ground. I picked it up in the hopes of identifying him when I’d found my way home. And once back in the Underlibrary, I was quickly able to work out who I had encountered. It also put his mutterings about a child who had ruined his plans into context.’

Melville looked at Tilly. ‘Which brings me to the next item on my agenda. I have become increasingly concerned about the effects that children have on the security of bookwandering. The exploits of your granddaughter – and her friend – do nothing to change my mind. I plan to limit bookwandering for under-eighteens until they can learn discipline, not to mention learn the history and traditions of our great institution.’

‘You can’t stop us bookwandering!’ Tilly said in horror.

‘That’s barbaric,’ Grandma said. ‘Why would you want to cut children off from the magic and wonder of bookwandering?’

‘Because they do not have enough respect for the rules, and because bookwandering is about more than magic and wonder ,’ he said, managing to imbue those words with pure disdain.

‘Anyway, regardless of your shoddy logic, it’s not possible to stop someone bookwandering,’ Grandad said. ‘As you well know.’

‘We may not be able to stifle someone’s natural ability,’ Melville said calmly. ‘But we can certainly bind the books here at the Underlibrary and restrict access.’