Pages & Co: Tilly and the Lost Fairy Tales - Underlibrary

1 some TruT To every sTory illy and Oskar tried to stay calm as the shadows swaddled them and the fairytale lands faded away. There was a pause that seemed to last an eternity and then, suddenly, the darkness started to ease, like the first rays of a sunrise illuminating a bedroom.

They began to make out the outlines of something physical and became aware of something definitively solid under their feet.

‘Okay, well, we’re somewhere,’ Tilly said. ‘As opposed to nowhere. Which is a good start.’ The light continued to brighten around them and within seconds they were standing in a real room in between two desks, which were unfortunately both occupied - 223 -

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Tilly and the Lost Fairy Tales

by people staring in surprise at them. A slim, welldressed man stood up abruptly, knocking over a glass of water in front of him.

‘Qui êtes-vous?’ he shouted. ‘Dîtes-moi! Maintenant!’

The woman at the other desk was still just staring at them, mouth slightly ajar.

‘Uh, je ne . . . je suis anglais,’ Oskar stammered.

‘You are English?’ the man said in a heavy French accent, as if that explained several things.

‘Oui, yes,’ Tilly said, relieved they could at least communicate in the same language. ‘I’m so sorry to, uh, crash into your office, like this. Could we just check where we are?’

‘You are in La Sous-Bibliothèque de France!’ the man said as if that should be obvious. Tilly sagged in relief. They were in an Underlibrary, and in France.

‘So we’re still in Paris?’ she double checked.

‘Mais oui,’ he said. ‘Where else would you be? You two are - 224 -

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Some Truth to Every Story

bookwanderers, obviously. That is how you say it in English, yes? But what are you doing just appearing in our office?’

‘Are you in danger?’ the woman spoke for the first time, and Tilly looked at her gratefully.

‘No. Thank you,’ she said. ‘We just . . . we got stuck in a book.’ She tried an edited truth to test how it went down.

‘Did you get to here from England?’ the woman said, concerned.

‘No, it’s not that bad,’ Oskar explained. ‘We’re staying in Paris and got stuck in a book we read here.’

‘That is good,’ the woman said. ‘Better than having travelled to the wrong country. And we are being rude! My name is Colette Zhou, and this is Marcel Petit.’ The man nodded curtly.

‘I’m Oskar,’ Oskar said. ‘That’s Tilly. We came via the Faery Cabinet. Do you know it? It’s Gretchen . . .

Gretchen . . . What was her surname, Tilly?’

‘You do not mean Gretchen Stein?’ Colette said, looking worriedly at Marcel.

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‘Yes, her,’ Oskar said. ‘You know her?’

‘Why, yes,’ Colette said. ‘Everybody here at the Library knows of her.’

Marcel walked out from behind his desk, and came towards them.

‘You bookwandered from the Faery Cabinet?’ he asked sternly, and all they could do was nod. ‘You must come with me straight away.’

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