did, Alex heard a voice screaming.
‘Help me! Please help me! The old man is cruel – he is killing me! Nooooo!’
Archie covered his ears with his hands and tried to block out the pitiful shrieks. Old Zeb turned the screw another turn and the screaming stopped. Archie felt a mix of sadness and relief.
Old Zeb looked at him. ‘Whatever is the matter?’
‘Didn’t you hear it?’ asked Archie, shocked.
‘Hear what?’
Archie glanced at Old Zeb but the old man looked unmoved. If he had heard the cries he didnot show it. What the books had told him must be true, then – no one else could hear their voices.
Old Zeb unclamped the almanac. To Archie’s great relief the book was silent.
The old man handed the almanac to Archie. ‘Go and ask Marjorie if we know anything else about its history.’ He paused and then added, ‘But bring the book straight back to me. That’s very important. Don’t let it out of your sight. And remember …’
‘I know,’ said Archie, ‘third door on the right.’
*
Archie’s mind was still reeling as he made his way up the stairs. What was this strange gift that he possessed? What was he meant to do with it? He peeked through the velvet curtain. The bookshop was empty except for Marjorie.
‘The almanac you wanted Old Zeb to look at,’ he said, holding it up. ‘Do we know anything about its history?’
Marjorie peered at the book in his hand. ‘No,’ she said. ‘All we know is that it came from the Ripley family. But remind him it’s urgent. With Greaders about we can’t take any chances. The other new arrivals are in there,’ she added, indicating the cardboard box where Archie had put his book, ‘but they can wait.’
At that moment the doorbell clanged announcing the arrival of a customer.
‘Yes?’ Marjorie said. ‘Can I help you?’
Archie stared at the almanac in his hand. Did Marjorie suspect that it was the book the Greaders were after? Was that why it was urgent? And if the almanac was in danger, was his book at risk too?
Archie glanced at the bookcase. He hadn’t heard the books whispering for several days.
The Little Book of Blessings
had said that a book whisperer could talk to magical books. Perhaps the almanac could tell him what was going on. It was worth a try.
‘Hello,’ he whispered. ‘Can you hear me?’
Silence.
He tried again. ‘Are you all right?’
Still nothing. He shook his head. He must be mad, he thought, trying to talk to a book. He made his way back down the spiral stairs. When he reached the shadowy, flagstoned passageway, he heard a soft voice.
‘So,
you
are the book whisperer?’ it said. ‘How interesting.’
Archie peered into the shadows. ‘Who’s there?’ he cried, his voice cracking. ‘Who are you?’
‘You started the conversation,’ said the voice. It was coming from the almanac.
Archie felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. ‘What sort of book are you?’ he asked, suddenly wary.
‘My last master wished me to be an almanac,’ the voice replied, slyly. ‘But I can be any sort of book you desire. What is your pleasure?’
Archie was taken aback.
‘Er … I don’t know,’ he mumbled. ‘I just thought you might need protecting from Greaders …’
‘How perceptive of you!’ said the book. ‘But it’s not just Greaders – the old bookbinder can’t be trusted either. He means me harm. He didn’t need to put me in that clamp. He is cruel. He’s working for the Greaders.’
‘Old Zeb?’ said Archie. ‘Surely not.’
‘The old man isn’t what he seems,’ said the almanac. ‘He has a secret he doesn’t want you to know. It’s behind the second door.’
‘You are mistaken,’ said Archie.
‘If you don’t believe me, look for yourself.’
‘He warned me not to open the other doors,’ said Archie.
‘Exactly, and why do you think that is?’ sneered the almanac.
‘He’s trying to protect me, that’s all. It’s not safe,’ said Archie. He didn’t want to
‘Help me! Please help me! The old man is cruel – he is killing me! Nooooo!’
Archie covered his ears with his hands and tried to block out the pitiful shrieks. Old Zeb turned the screw another turn and the screaming stopped. Archie felt a mix of sadness and relief.
Old Zeb looked at him. ‘Whatever is the matter?’
‘Didn’t you hear it?’ asked Archie, shocked.
‘Hear what?’
Archie glanced at Old Zeb but the old man looked unmoved. If he had heard the cries he didnot show it. What the books had told him must be true, then – no one else could hear their voices.
Old Zeb unclamped the almanac. To Archie’s great relief the book was silent.
The old man handed the almanac to Archie. ‘Go and ask Marjorie if we know anything else about its history.’ He paused and then added, ‘But bring the book straight back to me. That’s very important. Don’t let it out of your sight. And remember …’
‘I know,’ said Archie, ‘third door on the right.’
*
Archie’s mind was still reeling as he made his way up the stairs. What was this strange gift that he possessed? What was he meant to do with it? He peeked through the velvet curtain. The bookshop was empty except for Marjorie.
‘The almanac you wanted Old Zeb to look at,’ he said, holding it up. ‘Do we know anything about its history?’
Marjorie peered at the book in his hand. ‘No,’ she said. ‘All we know is that it came from the Ripley family. But remind him it’s urgent. With Greaders about we can’t take any chances. The other new arrivals are in there,’ she added, indicating the cardboard box where Archie had put his book, ‘but they can wait.’
At that moment the doorbell clanged announcing the arrival of a customer.
‘Yes?’ Marjorie said. ‘Can I help you?’
Archie stared at the almanac in his hand. Did Marjorie suspect that it was the book the Greaders were after? Was that why it was urgent? And if the almanac was in danger, was his book at risk too?
Archie glanced at the bookcase. He hadn’t heard the books whispering for several days.
The Little Book of Blessings
had said that a book whisperer could talk to magical books. Perhaps the almanac could tell him what was going on. It was worth a try.
‘Hello,’ he whispered. ‘Can you hear me?’
Silence.
He tried again. ‘Are you all right?’
Still nothing. He shook his head. He must be mad, he thought, trying to talk to a book. He made his way back down the spiral stairs. When he reached the shadowy, flagstoned passageway, he heard a soft voice.
‘So,
you
are the book whisperer?’ it said. ‘How interesting.’
Archie peered into the shadows. ‘Who’s there?’ he cried, his voice cracking. ‘Who are you?’
‘You started the conversation,’ said the voice. It was coming from the almanac.
Archie felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. ‘What sort of book are you?’ he asked, suddenly wary.
‘My last master wished me to be an almanac,’ the voice replied, slyly. ‘But I can be any sort of book you desire. What is your pleasure?’
Archie was taken aback.
‘Er … I don’t know,’ he mumbled. ‘I just thought you might need protecting from Greaders …’
‘How perceptive of you!’ said the book. ‘But it’s not just Greaders – the old bookbinder can’t be trusted either. He means me harm. He didn’t need to put me in that clamp. He is cruel. He’s working for the Greaders.’
‘Old Zeb?’ said Archie. ‘Surely not.’
‘The old man isn’t what he seems,’ said the almanac. ‘He has a secret he doesn’t want you to know. It’s behind the second door.’
‘You are mistaken,’ said Archie.
‘If you don’t believe me, look for yourself.’
‘He warned me not to open the other doors,’ said Archie.
‘Exactly, and why do you think that is?’ sneered the almanac.
‘He’s trying to protect me, that’s all. It’s not safe,’ said Archie. He didn’t want to
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