Wilber's Bookshop Tales: The First Tale

H Li Wilhelmina

Description

Now I know you've probably been to lots of bookshops; many shiny new ones with rows and rows of colourful books. But have you ever been in a really old bookshop? They aren't just bookshops you know. Yes, you can see the books on every shelf, but they're not just rooms full of books. They're actually rooms full of doors; bigdoors, little doors, old doors and new doors. You can't see them, but in every book you pick up there is a door into a worldfor you to explore. This is the tale of a bookshop filled to the brim with every type of door imaginable, just waiting for you.What really happens when the lights go off, the shop cools down and the book pages come to life?

Sujets

• Children's

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 10 décembre 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781800468641
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 3 Mo

Extrait

Copyright © 2020 Wilhelmina H Li

The moral right of the author has been asserted.


Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.


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ISBN 978 1800468 641

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.


Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd

To the husband who encouraged it.

To the older child who marvelled at it.

To the younger child who read it and the middle child who had no idea what all the fuss was about.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter One
The bookseller hunched over under her umbrella in an effort to keep warm and dry from the cold morning drizzle. Fumbling in her pocket, she took out a large, black key and placed it in the lock. With a great heave and a low creak, the giant, blue gates swung open and the light flooded into the courtyard. A low, damp mist had settled and as the bookseller made her way through, it parted much like a wave on the bough of a ship. A damp, musty smell settled all around her as she made her way through the small alleyway and out into the cobbled area beyond. Surrounded on all sides by tall buildings, the little courtyard didn’t see much sunlight until late in the afternoon, so it had an almost secret, hidden quality in the early morning air. The bookseller felt the familiar sense of being at home as she unlocked the door to the bookshop and went in.
Flicking on the lights, the shop came alive as light from the many glass chandeliers flooded into every corner of the room. It was a small shop. Just the two rooms, front and back, painted everywhere in a deliciously deep blue colour, even on the ceiling. Every inch of the shop had piles of books and something wonderful to look at; floor-to-ceiling bookcases standing as tall as they could under the low ceilings were crammed with hundreds of books, old and sometimes nearly new. In one corner of the front room stood a tall, gold-framed mirror. Reaching high up to the ceiling, it covered the whole of the wall. The bookseller would often tut as people tried to walk through it to get to the ‘other’ part of the shop they could see in the reflection. After the usual giggles and apologies, they would leave, and then the bookseller would have to clean all the fingerprints off it. Someone even managed to plant their whole cheek on it once!
Opposite the shop counter was the fireplace. Every morning, the bookseller would get the fire going and curl up in the comfy chair with her mug of tea, munching on the treats she had gathered on the way into work. It would take a while for the shop – and the bookseller – to warm up, but by the time the door was opened to customers, the rooms would be cosy, still, and inviting.
This bookshop, much the same as others, stocked books of all different genres. The front room housed the fiction your mum and dad would read, history, music and arts books, and many more of the ‘older’ stuff your grandparents would probably enjoy. The back room was more exciting for the younger visitors to the shop. It housed the children’s books. Shelf after shelf of the older tales, new, exciting stories, large picture books your little brother or sister would like and a rather comfy old chair to sit on in the corner. The ceiling was covered in a vibrant, red material, making it look like a very old, majestic room inside a tent in the desert. Fantastically old, large books adorned the very top of the bookcases, wonderfully dusty with the odd cobweb festooned from cover to cover. The bookseller would smile at the gasps coming from the children as they entered the room. Dimly lit, with a flamboyant glass chandelier and flickering lights, the room felt mysterious, as though it housed a world full of possibilities, a world full of magic.
Now, I know you’ve probably been to many bookshops, probably many shiny ones with rows and rows of gleaming new books. But have you ever been in a really old bookshop? They aren’t just bookshops, you know. Yes, you can see the books on every shelf, but they’re not just rooms with books. They’re actually rooms full of doors; big doors, little doors, old doors and new doors. You can’t see them, but in every book you pick up there is a door to a world waiting for you to visit. This is a tale of a bookshop filled to the brim with every door imaginable, just waiting for you to enter or someone else to come out!
Chapter Two
The key clicked in the lock. The old bookshop was finally closed. It had been a very quiet winter’s day with only a few wet customers braving the weather to visit the shop. They’d almost tumble through the door, dripping over the carpet, shaking their hair much like the wettest of dogs you see in the park! The bookseller would shiver and think, Close the door , whilst she wished for the summer to arrive. The wind and rain never did encourage people to come out and buy books, yet the bookseller patiently sat in her chair day after day waiting to see who would visit.
As the air started to chill, in an old wooden box on the corner of the shop counter someone or something started to stir. The box was the home of a very small wooden figure that delighted many visitors to the shop. Dressed in a long, black gown and a white collar, the figure had a funny looking old, white wig on his head.
I know what you’re thinking – What funny clothes for someone to wear – but the figure was a ‘barrister’ you see. Barristers help people, give them advice and stick up for them when they are in trouble, much like when your mum stands up for you. The wig and gown are the clothes they have to wear, much like the uniform you have at school.
The figure stood up straight, stretched out his arms and let out an almighty yawn. His name was Wilber and he was the shop mascot, if you like. Loved by all the customers, he always stood proudly on the counter, available for all to pick up and admire. And they did so regularly! The adults would marvel at how cute he was and the children would want to play with him. Most of the time Wilber enjoyed the attention, but there was that one time when a toddler covered in chocolate decided she wanted to eat him. Eugh! Wilber shuddered to remember!