And give them a description of Basta. You can describe him between you, right?” What a question! Meggie had tried to forget Basta’s face, but it would live on in her memory for the rest of her life, as clear as a photograph.
“Listen, Meggie.” Perhaps Mo wasn’t quite as calm as he pretended. His voice didn’t sound the same as usual. “I’ll drive back tonight. Tell Elinor and your mother. I’ll be with you by tomorrow morning at the latest. Bolt everything and keep the windows closed, understand?”
Meggie nodded, forgetting that Mo couldn’t see her over the phone. “Meggie?”
“Yes, I understand.” She tried to sound calm and brave, even if she didn’t feel that way. She was scared, badly scared. “See you tomorrow, Meggie!”
She could tell from his voice that he was going to set out right away. And suddenly, seeing the moonlit road in her mind’s eye, the long road back, a new and terrible thought came into her 34
mind. .
“What about you?” she exclaimed. “Mo! Suppose Basta’s lying in wait for you somewhere?” But her father had already hung up. Elinor decided to put Farid where Dustfinger had once slept: in the attic room, where crates of books were stacked high around the narrow bedstead. Anyone who slept there would surely dream of being struck dead by printed paper. Meggie was told to show Farid the way, and when she wished him good night he just nodded abstractedly.
He looked very lost sitting on the narrow bed – almost as lost as on the day when Mo had read him into Capricorn’s church, a thin, nameless boy with a turban over his black hair.
That night, before she went to sleep, Elinor checked the burglar alarm several times to make sure it really was switched on. As for Darius, he went to find the rifle that Elinor sometimes fired into the air if she saw a cat prowling under one of the birds’ nests in her garden. Wearing the orange bathrobe that Elinor had given him last Christmas – it was much too big for him – he settled down in the armchair in the entrance hall, the rifle on his lap, staring at the front door with a determined expression. But when Elinor came to check the alarm for the second time he was already fast asleep.
It was a long time before Meggie could sleep. She looked at the shelves where her notebooks used to stand, stroked the empty wood, and finally kneeled down by the red-painted box that Mo had made long ago for her favourite books. She hadn’t opened it for months. There wasn’t room in it for a single extra book, and by now it was too heavy for her to take it when she went away.
So Elinor had given her the bookcase to hold more of the books she loved. It stood beside Meggie’s bed, and it had glass doors, and carvings that twined over the dark wood, making it look as if it hadn’t forgotten that it was once alive. And the shelves behind the glass doors were well filled, for by now Resa and Elinor, as well as Mo, gave Meggie books, and even Darius brought her a new one now and then. But her old friends, the books Meggie had already owned before they had moved in with Elinor, still lived in the box, and when she opened the heavy lid it was almost as if half-forgotten voices met her ears and familiar faces were looking at her. How well worn they all were. . “Isn’t it odd how much fatter a book gets when you’ve read it several times?” Mo had said when, on Meggie’s last birthday, they were looking at all her dear old books again. “As if something were left between the pages every time you read it. Feelings, thoughts, sounds, smells .. and then, when you look at the book again many years later, you find yourself there, too, a slightly younger self, slightly different, as if the book had preserved you like a pressed flower . . both strange and familiar.”
Slightly younger, yes. Meggie picked up one of the books lying on top and leafed through it.
She had read it at least a dozen times. Ah, here was the scene she had liked best
“Listen, Meggie.” Perhaps Mo wasn’t quite as calm as he pretended. His voice didn’t sound the same as usual. “I’ll drive back tonight. Tell Elinor and your mother. I’ll be with you by tomorrow morning at the latest. Bolt everything and keep the windows closed, understand?”
Meggie nodded, forgetting that Mo couldn’t see her over the phone. “Meggie?”
“Yes, I understand.” She tried to sound calm and brave, even if she didn’t feel that way. She was scared, badly scared. “See you tomorrow, Meggie!”
She could tell from his voice that he was going to set out right away. And suddenly, seeing the moonlit road in her mind’s eye, the long road back, a new and terrible thought came into her 34
mind. .
“What about you?” she exclaimed. “Mo! Suppose Basta’s lying in wait for you somewhere?” But her father had already hung up. Elinor decided to put Farid where Dustfinger had once slept: in the attic room, where crates of books were stacked high around the narrow bedstead. Anyone who slept there would surely dream of being struck dead by printed paper. Meggie was told to show Farid the way, and when she wished him good night he just nodded abstractedly.
He looked very lost sitting on the narrow bed – almost as lost as on the day when Mo had read him into Capricorn’s church, a thin, nameless boy with a turban over his black hair.
That night, before she went to sleep, Elinor checked the burglar alarm several times to make sure it really was switched on. As for Darius, he went to find the rifle that Elinor sometimes fired into the air if she saw a cat prowling under one of the birds’ nests in her garden. Wearing the orange bathrobe that Elinor had given him last Christmas – it was much too big for him – he settled down in the armchair in the entrance hall, the rifle on his lap, staring at the front door with a determined expression. But when Elinor came to check the alarm for the second time he was already fast asleep.
It was a long time before Meggie could sleep. She looked at the shelves where her notebooks used to stand, stroked the empty wood, and finally kneeled down by the red-painted box that Mo had made long ago for her favourite books. She hadn’t opened it for months. There wasn’t room in it for a single extra book, and by now it was too heavy for her to take it when she went away.
So Elinor had given her the bookcase to hold more of the books she loved. It stood beside Meggie’s bed, and it had glass doors, and carvings that twined over the dark wood, making it look as if it hadn’t forgotten that it was once alive. And the shelves behind the glass doors were well filled, for by now Resa and Elinor, as well as Mo, gave Meggie books, and even Darius brought her a new one now and then. But her old friends, the books Meggie had already owned before they had moved in with Elinor, still lived in the box, and when she opened the heavy lid it was almost as if half-forgotten voices met her ears and familiar faces were looking at her. How well worn they all were. . “Isn’t it odd how much fatter a book gets when you’ve read it several times?” Mo had said when, on Meggie’s last birthday, they were looking at all her dear old books again. “As if something were left between the pages every time you read it. Feelings, thoughts, sounds, smells .. and then, when you look at the book again many years later, you find yourself there, too, a slightly younger self, slightly different, as if the book had preserved you like a pressed flower . . both strange and familiar.”
Slightly younger, yes. Meggie picked up one of the books lying on top and leafed through it.
She had read it at least a dozen times. Ah, here was the scene she had liked best
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