Pages & Co.: Tilly and the Bookwanderers. Anna James

grey coat sitting opposite Grandad. To Tilly’s surprise he was smoking a black pipe, which was the cause of the sweet scent in the air, and he was wearing an odd hat with a flap on each side, even though it was always cosy inside the shop.

      ‘I don’t mean to be rude but I don’t think you should be smoking in here,’ she said, putting down Grandad’s cup. The man and Grandad stopped talking abruptly and stared at her, before turning to look at each other.

      ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your meeting, Grandad,’ Tilly said, instantly worried she’d been too terse with someone who looked decidedly important. ‘I just wanted ask you something, but I’ll come back later.’ Grandad nodded mutely and Tilly went back downstairs, but only a few moments later she heard her name being called.

      ‘Tilly!’ Grandad’s voice came down the stairs. ‘Wait for me a sec, will you?’ Tilly paused, so Grandad could catch up with her. ‘Sorry about that, love,’ he said, back to his usual self. ‘I was just deep in conversation and entirely forgot I’d asked for that cup of tea. Sorry if I was strange with you; you know how I get: can’t concentrate on more than one thing at a time.’

      ‘It’s okay,’ Tilly said. ‘Who was that anyway, and why were you letting him smoke?’

      Grandad looked sheepish. ‘Ah, he’s an old friend, and he likes doing things his way, so I let the rules slide for him and turn a blind eye. I know it’s ill-advised.’

      ‘I can’t seem to turn a corner in this place without interrupting someone else’s conversation,’ Tilly said.

      ‘What on earth do you mean, sweetheart?’ Grandad said.

      ‘I barged in on Grandma catching up with a friend yesterday too,’ Tilly said. ‘And that lady vanished as soon as I interrupted; I just seem to make everything awkward.’

      ‘Which lady was that?’ Grandad asked slowly.

      ‘I think she was called Lizzy,’ Tilly said. ‘Grandma said she reminded her of Mum.’

      Grandad took a deep breath, and then smiled warmly at Tilly. ‘Enough reminiscing – what were you coming to ask me about?’

      Tilly showed him the book she still had tucked under her arm.

      ‘Ah, Alice in Wonderland! Perfect research for the party. Can you believe we’ve never had an Alice theme before in all our years of autumn parties?’

      ‘It’s one of Mum’s,’ Tilly explained, passing it to Grandad, who opened the cover automatically and saw the photo that Tilly had shown him yesterday. He stilled for a fraction of a moment before placing his palm on the photo, like it was on the cheek of a child.

      ‘It’s a lovely connection to have, isn’t it?’ Grandad said, holding the photo up to his glasses. ‘Having the same book she’s reading in the photo. She loved Alice in Wonderland too,’ he said, closing the book and pointing at the cover.

      ‘Do you know why she liked them so much?’ Tilly said, remembering her decision to try and find out more about her mother’s tastes in books.

      ‘Well, as I said before, she always felt a very personal connection to A Little Princess,’ Grandad said carefully. ‘And why do any of us love Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland? Magic, mischief, nonsense, all the good stuff.’

      ‘I wish I could talk to her about it,’ Tilly said.

      ‘Me too, sweetheart,’ Grandad said. ‘Me too.’ He looked into her eyes quite seriously for a moment before an extravagant stomach rumble invaded the silence. ‘Well then, I suppose I’d best check on lunch. It’ll be ready soon. Pop down before too long.’ He gave her a kiss on the top of her head and set off towards the kitchen.

      Tilly found the nearest chair, sat down and began reading the familiar first few sentences. Soon she was as lost in Wonderland as Alice, reassured by the scenes and characters she knew so well, and soothed by knowing that her mother had made the same journey years before.

      

      fter a lunch of creamy leek and potato soup with chunks of home-made bread and salty butter, Tilly headed out to find Jack, ready to beg or steal something sweet. But before she made it to Jack’s café at the back of the ground floor she was struck on the forehead by a jelly bean. Turning in the direction it had come from, she saw a girl in a full-skirted blue dress sitting on the stairs, lazily throwing jelly beans towards the nearest bookcase.

      ‘Did I hit you? I’m sorry, I was aiming for the cat. Does it have a name? Do you think it likes sweets?’

      Tilly stared at her and the girl widened her eyes in impatience.

      ‘The cat? What’s it called? My cat is called Dinah.’

      ‘She’s called Al—’ The girl looked directly at her and Tilly felt that little itch in her brain. ‘Alice? She’s called Alice?’

      ‘You don’t seem very sure about it,’ the girl said, peering at Tilly. ‘But never mind that, because my name is Alice too. How curious.’

      ‘Alice,’ Tilly repeated.

      ‘Yes … Al-ice …’ she said again slowly. ‘And … what … is … your … na—’

      ‘Matilda,’ Tilly interrupted.

      ‘Whatever your name is, there is always time for good manners; it’s very rude to interrupt.’

      ‘I’m sorry,’ Tilly said. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Alice. Um, would you like a cup of tea maybe?’

      ‘Nice to meet you, Matilda,’ Alice replied, and bobbed a neat curtsy. Tilly tried to copy, but just ended up doing a small, awkward bow. ‘And thank you, but no thank you. I don’t tend to eat or drink in new places until I’ve thoroughly got my bearings.’ Alice looked Tilly up and down. ‘We both seem to be around the same size, though, which is a good sign. Trouble always starts when you are out of proportion with who you are talking to.’

      ‘Are you looking for a book?’ Tilly asked.

      ‘Not especially, although I’m never averse to finding a book along my way; they can come in handy sometimes, except you never know what’s inside until it’s too late, in my experience.’ She sighed extravagantly. ‘Do you know, someone once told me that explanations take such a dreadfully long time that one should focus on adventures, and I’ve rather come around to their way of thinking. So, if you’ll excuse me …’ And with that Alice skipped towards the back of the bookshop, passing a round little man with a very neat moustache who was coming the other way. The little man gave no indication of having seen her, but gave a neat bow in Tilly’s direction.

      ‘Excusez-moi, mademoiselle.’

      Tilly’s head spun, but as she turned round to watch the man leaving she found herself face to face with the red-headed girl from that morning. They stared at each other.

      ‘You,’ the girl said, sounding surprised.

      ‘You!’ Tilly said. ‘You’re back! You seem so familiar to me from somewhere; what school do you go to?’

      The girl tilted her head to one side and stared hard at Tilly. ‘I go