skar was staring at Mamie, dumbfounded.

‘Sorry, what? You’re a bookwanderer?’

‘Why, yes,’ she said.

‘Is Dad?’

‘Sadly, I do not believe so,’ she said. ‘If one could artwander into a painting I have no doubt he would be adept at that, and who knows, perhaps there is a secret community of these people we do not know about. But books, no.’

‘When did you realise I could bookwander too?’

‘I did not know for certain,’ Clara said, smiling. ‘But, Matilda, I know of your grandparents, and so as soon as I heard your name, I thought it interesting that my grandson had become friends with you. And when you were asking to go to a bookshop, my heart sang a little as I thought perhaps it was true. And I am so happy to find myself correct!’

‘So you’re a bookwanderer too?’ Tilly asked Gretchen.

‘I am indeed,’ she said.

‘Do you know my grandparents?’

‘I know of them, yes,’ Gretchen said. ‘But I keep myself to myself rather. I was never one for all the rules and regulations of the Underlibraries … I’m more of a free spirit. Speaking of which, you guys should go and have some fun! Find a book you’d like to visit!’

‘I can’t remember the last person who told us to have fun bookwandering,’ Tilly said, that rebellious feeling bubbling up inside her again. Maybe Oskar was right and she had been overcautious, she thought. Gretchen and Clara were adults – and bookwanderers – and they clearly trusted her and Oskar. Her grandparents were just anxious because of what had happened to her mum, and that made sense, but they weren’t here and what they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them, surely? She took a deep breath. ‘Shall we come and tell you when we’ve decided where to wander?’

‘Whyever would you need to do that?’ Gretchen replied.

‘Well, in case something goes wrong, I suppose,’ Tilly said. ‘My grandparents like to know where we go, just in case. There are bad people out there – even bookwanderers.’

‘I mean, of course that’s true,’ Gretchen said. ‘But there are bad people everywhere, even in the Underlibraries. Do you know—?’

‘Come now, Gretchen,’ Clara interrupted, laughing affectionately. ‘Just because you did not find a home at an Underlibrary, does not mean they aren’t right for Tilly and Oskar. Now is not the time for conspiracy theories. We shall let Oskar and Matilda choose their own path, yes?’

‘That’s exactly my point!’ Gretchen said. ‘Find your own path! Don’t just blindly follow the one laid out in front of you.’

‘But I thought we had to follow Underlibrary rules?’ Oskar said, and Gretchen rolled her eyes.

‘Of course you don’t,’ she said. ‘This bookshop doesn’t. It’s not on any Underlibrary map, or subject to any of their rules. I only recognise the authority of the Archivists – who don’t meddle in individual people’s lives.’

‘They do not meddle at all at the moment,’ Clara said. ‘Whether we want them to or not.’

‘But I thought the Archivists were just legends?’ Tilly said.

‘I bet those squares at the Underlibrary told you that, didn’t they?’ Gretchen groused, and Clara laid a conciliatory hand on her arm.

‘The Archivists haven’t been involved in bookwandering for many, many years now,’ she said. ‘And so we should not be surprised that many bookwanderers have ceased to believe in them with no evidence. But I still have faith that they would help if our need was dire.’

‘How would they know, though?’ Tilly asked, thinking of Melville Underwood. ‘Can you, like, email them or something?’

‘I do not think they have email,’ Clara said, smiling. ‘They say that there is a map to find them, but I am not sure if that is a story too, or whether anyone would know where to find it any more.’

‘Someone must know,’ Tilly said, frustrated. ‘Otherwise what’s the point of having a map? What’s the point of even having the Archivists, if we can’t find them?’

‘I cannot answer your question, I am afraid,’ Clara said. ‘Now, you two do some exploring, oui? Where would you like to go?’ She cast her eyes around, and picked up a non-descript paperback book from a nearby shelf. ‘Here?’

‘But this is a book of fairy tales,’ Tilly protested.

‘You said you would like to read some old stories?’ Clara prompted.

‘Yes, but I mean read in the traditional sense,’ Tilly said. ‘My grandma told me we weren’t allowed to bookwander into fairy tales, that they’re dangerous!’

‘Well, this grand-mère thinks you two can hold your own.’ Clara smiled.

Tilly and Oskar exchanged a look.

‘I mean, if Mamie says it’s okay …’ Oskar said.

‘So they’re not really dangerous?’ Tilly pushed.

‘They’re a little wilder than stories rooted in the written word, sure,’ Gretchen said. ‘But that’s what makes them beautiful and exciting! You’ll be fine in there – just keep hold of the book, stick together, avoid obviously dangerous situations. Common sense goes a long way.’

‘You’re sure?’ Oskar said directly to Mamie, clearly desperately wanting to trust his grandmother. ‘We’ve been told pretty directly that weird stuff goes on in them.’

‘There is “weird stuff” in many places, Oskar,’ she said. ‘That is what makes life interesting, I think. But it is for you to decide, of course.’ She held a hand out for the book, but Oskar kept hold of it.

‘But aside from the usual weird stuff,’ Tilly said. ‘We heard that it was worse than usual at the moment?’

‘What do you mean?’ Gretchen asked, a little sharply. ‘Where did you hear that?’

‘From the Underlibrary,’ Tilly said. ‘We were told that things were more unstable than they’d ever been before. Had you heard that?’

‘I think that’s rather exaggerated,’ Gretchen said. ‘I visited the golden goose the other day and everything was fine – positively domestic.’

‘Did you go and get a golden egg?’ Oskar said, eyes lighting up.

‘If only!’ Gretchen smiled. ‘You can’t bring things out of books – you know that.’

‘But we saw a hat that …’ Oskar paused and started again. ‘We have definitely seen someone bring something out of a book.’

‘And my mum brought something home too,’ Tilly said, thinking of the bee-shaped necklace she wore all the time. The one that matched the one her father had given Bea while inside A Little Princess.

‘Well, I’m not sure what your mum brought home, or how,’ Gretchen said, giving Tilly another appraising look. ‘Or where the hat came from that you don’t want to tell me about. But the rules are that you can’t bring something that is of that particular story out. Obviously you can bring out things like the clothes you go in wearing – imagine if everyone’s glasses disappeared as soon as they came out of a book! So the items you’ve seen must not have originated in the story they’ve come out of. So, sadly, no golden eggs for me.’

‘So you went into this book?’ Oskar asked, eager to move the conversation away from Melville. He held up the fairytale collection he’d been given.

‘That very one,’ Gretchen said. ‘So you can trust me. It was only the other day. How much can have changed since then?’

Tilly and Oskar climbed a steep, rickety set of stairs that led into another warren of rooms full of books, and one which housed a piano and a cat.

‘How are you feeling?’ Tilly asked Oskar carefully.

‘It’s just, like … Imagine a family member keeping that big a secret from you for your whole life!’ Oskar said, shell-shocked. Tilly raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Right, of course,’ he said. ‘Been there, done that.’

‘It does explain a lot, though,’ Tilly said. ‘About how you could bookwander with me and all of that. You were a bookwanderer all along.’

‘That’s cool,’ Oskar said. ‘I’m not just the best-friend character any more. I’m, like, legit magic in my own right.’

‘You were always magic in your own right,’ Tilly insisted, and Oskar grinned sheepishly, before sitting down at the piano and bashing out a very wonky version of ‘Chopsticks’.

As he played, Tilly wandered the shelves, pulling books out at random and flicking through the pages until she noticed there was a pattern.

‘Do you know,’ she said, starting to look properly, ‘a lot of these books are collections of fairy tales?’ She opened the book she was holding at random and it was ‘Little Red Riding Hood’. Again. Weird, she thought. The same story I was reading on the train.

‘I guess she collects them?’ Oskar said. ‘The shop is called the Faery Cabinet after all. And it’s not like fairy tales are particularly unusual. How dangerous do you think they really are?’ He held up the book Mamie had given them downstairs.

‘It’s not that I don’t trust Clara or Gretchen,’ Tilly said uneasily. ‘But Chalk is hiding in a fairy tale somewhere, and Underwood got lost in one for decades, and his sister got killed.’

‘We don’t know that really happened,’ Oskar said. ‘I don’t believe anything Melville says.’

‘Fair,’ Tilly said. ‘But I trust Grandma and Grandad and they seem pretty sure. Grandma’s worked inside fairy tales so she knows what she’s talking about when it comes to bookwandering there.’

‘Yeah,’ Oskar agreed. ‘But I just think if Mamie says it’s okay and we’re doing it from here then it’s pretty low-risk, surely? And I just found out that I’m a full-on, in-my-blood bookwanderer! I want to do some bookwandering! And we can come straight back out again, I promise. Let’s just go to a really boring one, just to see. How about “Red Riding Hood”?’ he suggested.

‘I mean, safe apart from the wolf trying to eat everyone,’ Tilly said.

‘But we’ll just avoid that bit!’ Oskar said. ‘We’ll go in at the very beginning – just to see!’

Tilly shrugged nervously.

‘Okay, then, but right at the beginning,’ she said, steeling herself. She thought about what Anne would do, and instantly felt a little braver.

Once upon a time, there lived in a certain village, a little country girl, the prettiest creature that was ever seen. Her mother was excessively fond of her; and her grandmother doted on her much more. This good woman got made for her a little red riding-hood; which became the girl so extremely well, that everybody called her Little Red Riding-Hood.

Tilly and Oskar found themselves standing on the very edge of a wood, next to a pretty thatched cottage. The door opened as they arrived and out came a little girl holding a basket and wearing a bright red cloak.

Tilly and Oskar watched as she skipped away from the cottage and towards the woods.

‘Looks normal to me!’ Tilly said, trying not to think about the little girl wandering off into the dangerous forest. ‘Had enough?’

‘The thing is,’ Oskar said, ‘I know we said we were going to avoid any mention of wolves, but I feel kind of weird about letting her just disappear off and get eaten.’

‘Isn’t there a woodcutter around to help her?’ Tilly said, trying to convince herself as much as Oskar.

‘Not in this version,’ he replied, showing her the page he’d just checked. ‘She fully gets eaten.’

‘Well, she’s not really real anyway, is she?’ Tilly said quietly, watching the small girl walk into the shadowy trees. The problem was, though, she realised, as a cold feeling took root in her stomach, that if Red Riding Hood wasn’t really real, then neither was her father, and then where did that leave her? If this wasn’t real in some way, then neither was she. Tilly sighed, resigned. ‘I’m not helping if you get eaten by a wolf, though,’ she said to Oskar as they set off towards the woods.