‘Okay, before you get your revenge,’ said Selby, grabbing hold of Hamlet’s sword arm again. ‘I’ve got one more thing to say about that. The poison your uncle used is called hebenon. It does not cause death when administered through the ear. But if administered through food or drink, it will cause delusional thinking, mood swings and erratic behaviour.’

  ‘What is your point?’ asked Hamlet.

  ‘Think about it,’ said Selby. ‘Delusional thinking, mood swings, erratic behaviour – does that sound familiar?’

  Hamlet still looked baffled.

  ‘Why, ’tis you, Hamlet,’ said the queen. ‘You have been all these things these past months.’

  ‘I have?’ asked Hamlet.

  ‘You just said so yourself to Laertes,’ said Selby. ‘You said that you are mad, that your madness has made you do these terrible things and that you, more than anyone, are a victim of your own madness.’

  ‘That is what you did say,’ agreed Laertes.

  ‘Your behaviour has been totally out of character,’ said Selby. ‘Everyone says you’re a smart, academic guy and you’re beloved by the people of Denmark. But all I’ve seen, since I’ve been here, is you been behaving terribly.’

  ‘Not so very bad, surely,’ said Hamlet. ‘’Tis is but a tempest of the mind.’

  ‘Oh no,’ said Selby. ‘You’ve been dreadful. You’ve been horrible to your girlfriend, really rude and rough with your mother and sociopathically unconcerned about the fate of your university friends. I think someone has been systematically poisoning you, which has been driving you literally mad, and that has been why your mind is so tortured.’

  Hamlet turned to the king. ‘Is this true?’ he asked. ‘Have you been poisoning me?’

  ‘’Tis is an outrageous slander,’ said the king, ‘that shall not go unpunished.’

  ‘Poison isn’t normally something people administer in one dose,’ said Selby. ‘They give lots of small doses over a long period of time. Your family all eat together. That would be easy to do. Think about it. When you visited my world, you said all the food tasted so much better. Perhaps that’s because someone has been putting hebenon in your food here.’

  ‘So you have you been driving me to this insanity?’ accused Hamlet, turning on his uncle.

  ‘Not I,’ said the king. ‘Your addled brain is entirely of your own making. There is no proof for these outlandish, treasonous claims.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Selby. ‘If I’m totally wrong, then drink from that cup.’ She pointed to the cup that the king had placed at the front of the table for Hamlet.

  The king looked at the goblet. ‘This is a trick,’ he protested. ‘You poisoned the cup to implicate me.’

  ‘I haven’t been anywhere near that cup,’ said Selby. ‘You poured the wine and offered it to Hamlet.’

  ‘Drink,’ said Hamlet. ‘If you have nothing to hide, drink.’

  Everyone in court was watching. No-one was coming to the king’s defence.

  ‘This is all nonsense,’ said the queen. She did not want to believe badly of her son or her husband. ‘I will drink it,’ she said, snatching up the cup.

  The king looked horrified, ‘Gertrude!’

  ‘No, mother,’ cried Hamlet.

  ‘Don’t!’ pleaded Selby.

  But the queen took a deep draught.

  ‘Mother?’ cried Hamlet, rushing to her.

  The guards used the opportunity to come forward and seize Selby, but she barely noticed. She was watching the queen. Hamlet’s mother seemed fine . . . for a moment. But then the queen started to grow uncomfortable, and then distressed.

  ‘Mother are you well?’ asked Hamlet.

  ‘No, no,’ said the queen. She looked at the goblet in her hand. Hamlet took it from her and put it back on the table. ‘The drink, the drink – o, my dear Hamlet. I am poisoned.’

  Hamlet held his mother as she collapsed in his arms. She struggled to keep breathing for a few more moments, but then – she was dead.

  ‘Oh, villainy!’ cried Hamlet, pressing his mother’s face to his own. He gently laid her down, then turned on his uncle. ‘Treachery!’

  ‘Oh, yet defend me, friends,’ pleaded the king, but no-one moved to help him.

  Hamlet leapt up and grabbed the king by the neck. He picked up the cup and held it to the king’s mouth. ‘Here, thou incestuous, murderous, damned Dane, drink off this potion!’ ordered Hamlet. ‘Is thy union here? Follow my mother.’

  The king tried to resist, but Hamlet forced him to take the drink in his mouth. The king spluttered but couldn’t help but swallow some. Hamlet kept pouring more into his mouth. The king swallowed and was soon clutching at his throat. He gurgled and wretched, trying to spit it back out, but it was too late – the poison had taken its grip. The king clutched his throat as it contracted, starving oxygen from his heart and collapsed immobile on the ground at Horatio’s feet – his face a hideous purple mask of death.

  ‘The king is dead,’ said Horatio.

  ‘Nay, that murderer t’was never a king,’ said Hamlet. ‘He was a devil deceiving us all.’

  ‘He is justly served,’ said Laertes.

  Hamlet sank to his knees beside his mother. He picked up the cup again. ‘Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee,’ he said, bringing the cup to his own lips.

  ‘No,’ cried Selby, running over and smacking the cup out of his hands. The poison spattered across the floor. Courtiers leapt out of the way as if the liquid could hurt them by splashing on their legs. ‘You are the King of Denmark now!’ said Selby, grabbing Hamlet by the collar and looking into his eyes. ‘Your mind will clear. You will think rationally again in a few days when the poison is cleared from your body. Have faith in yourself. Hold strong.’

  Outside, they could hear the sound of trumpets.

  ‘What does this fanfare herald?’ asked Hamlet.

  A courtier hurried forward. ‘Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from Poland,’ the courtier explained. ‘To the ambassadors of England, he gives this warlike volley.’

  Hamlet turned to his mother. Her eyes were glassy and her skin was pale. Her last expression, a look of horror, was frozen on her contorted face as she lay dead. ‘Good night, sweet queen,’ murmured Hamlet. ‘And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.’ He kissed her forehead.

  The sound of drumming was getting closer. The doors were flung open and Fortinbras entered. He looked young and splendid in his military uniform. On seeing the room, he baulked.

  ‘What is this sight?’ asked Fortinbras, shocked to see the king and queen both dead.

  Hamlet laid his mother down tenderly and rose to his feet. ‘The queen was poisoned by her husband’s hand,’ explained Hamlet. ‘Her love for him was too great for her to believe that he had done so. And he met justice with the same cup.’

  There was a pause where no-one seemed to know what to say or do. Fortinbras was a triumphant general from Norway. His entire army was right outside the castle. What happened in the next moments would decide the fate of Denmark. If Fortinbras denounced Hamlet, he would be dethroned and executed.

  Selby knew she had to do something. She called out in a clear voice, ‘All hail Hamlet, King of the Danes!’

  This galvanised the crowd of courtiers and attendants into action. They responded in kind. ‘Hail! Hail! Hail!’

  Fortinbras came forward and bowed to Hamlet.

  Selby felt a tugging at the back of her sweater. She turned. Dan was behind her. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.

  ‘Come on, it’s time to go,’ whispered Dan. He took her hand and drew her back towards the curtain.

  ‘But it’s all still a mess,’ said Selby.

  ‘The fifth act is resolved,’ said Dan. ‘The story has come full circle.’

  ‘We couldn’t save the queen,’ said Selby. She had tears in her own eyes. She had liked the queen, despite her faults. Selby looked back at the horrible scene.

  Dan shook his head sadly. ‘In stories, if you commit a sin, you must pay a price. The queen may not have known that she had married her husband’s murderer, but she did. That is an irredeemable sin in folklore. In can only be absolved by a virtuous death. She got that. This is the best end she could have.’

  ‘It’s all so violent,’ said Selby.

  ‘Not as violent as it was,’ said Dan. ‘Hamlet survived. Laertes too. And Ophelia, as well as Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. This is a better ending.’

  ‘What would Shakespeare think?’ asked Selby.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Dan. ‘He’s been dead for four hundred years. It wasn’t his story to start with anyway. Shakespeare took the story from even more ancient folklore and changed it to suit his times. Now you’ve lifted your story from his. That’s how storytelling works – it’s rewritten and retold to make sense to each generation. But the kernel holds true through the ages. Come on.’

  Dan led her back towards the drapery. Selby glanced back for one last look at Hamlet. He was shaking hands with Fortinbras. They were much the same age. The tableau looked right.

  Dan opened their copy of Hamlet. Selby looked down at the words on the page. ‘Who knew words could have so much power,’ she muttered.

  ‘Read us home,’ said Dan.

  Selby took the play and she read . . .

  FORTINBRAS

  . . . Take up the bodies.

  Such a sight as this becomes the field,

  but here shows much amiss.

  Go, bid the soldiers shoot.

  17

  Full Circle

  As they were drawn into the book, they could hear the crackle of cannon fire behind them in the castle. They were falling through words and phrases . . .

  . . . To be, or not to be . . .

  . . . What a piece of work is man . . .

  . . . Madness in great ones must not unwatched go . . .

  . . . Conscience doth make cowards of us all . . .

  . . . When sorrows come, they come not single spies but in battalions . . .

  Then Selby heard her own voice. It was distant as if she was speaking aloud to an audience in a theatre. She heard herself say . . .

  ‘Absent thee from felicity awhile,

  And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,

  To tell thy story.’

  With those last words ringing in her ears, Selby tumbled head first onto the floor of the shop. She was so exhausted she just lay there for a moment. It was actually nice to smell the carpet. It smelled like home.

  Selby turned sideways, so she could see through the shop window. It was dark outside.

  ‘Are you okay?’ asked Dan.

  Selby pushed up from the ground onto her hands and knees. Dan was getting to his feet a few metres away.

  ‘Not really,’ said Selby.

  ‘You did so well,’ said Dan.

  ‘But what did I do?’ asked Selby. ‘They were fictional characters. But they were real. And all that violence. It’s not like in the movies. Or at a play. It was all so real. The horror in the queen’s eyes. Polonius’s blood – when it got on my hand – it was warm.’

  ‘You helped them,’ said Dan. ‘You helped make sense of it all. I don’t know why you had to do it, but you did it. And that’s what matters.’

  ‘All this has done is put me off reading books more than ever,’ said Selby. A tear started to run down her face, then another and another.

  ‘Oh no,’ said Dan. ‘There’s no going back now. You have a gift. You can’t get away from that.’

  ‘I hope the next thing we study for English is more gentle,’ said Selby, laughing between sobs. ‘Something where nothing happens, like Jane Austen.’

  ‘No such luck,’ said Dan with a smile. ‘You’ve got Ms Karim and you’re in year 10.’

  ‘So?’ asked Selby.

  ‘Next term you’re studying King Lear,’ he grinned.

  ‘Is that a messy one too?’ asked Selby.

  ‘You’ll see,’ said Dan. ‘I don’t want to ruin it for you.’

  Dan reached out and gave Selby a hug. She hugged him back. They had been through so much together. It felt like an eternity since he’d first stepped into the bookstore and announced he was her tutor.

  ‘What are you two doing now?’ demanded Mum.

  Dan quickly let Selby go. She toppled backwards into the biography section.

  ‘I thought you were meant to be studying!’ said Mum. ‘Is it really too hard for you to sit and work for just one hour.’

  ‘Selby has been working hard, Mrs Michaels,’ said Dan. ‘After just two days, she now has a deeper understanding of Hamlet than anyone else I know.’

  ‘And this involves hugging, does it?’ demanded Mum.

  ‘We were re-enacting the queen’s death scene,’ said Selby. She looked so serious and she still had tears in her eyes, it made Mum pause. Although she was still sceptical.

  ‘Really?’ said Mum. ‘Tell me – what is Hamlet about then?’

  Selby thought for a moment, trying to order her ideas into words. ‘Loss. Grief,’ she said eventually. ‘It’s about being full of emotions and feelings that no-one understands. It’s about not knowing what to do, and not feeling brave enough to do what needs to be done. It’s a play about broken people making bad choices and ruining the lives of everyone around them. It’s about indulging in words when you should be taking action. It’s about self-absorption. And Hamlet’s self-absorption is really a self-portrait of Shakespeare’s own self-absorption in the wake of his son’s death.’

  ‘You actually read it!’ said Mum.

  ‘Bits of it,’ said Selby. ‘We watched other bits get acted out.’

  Mum burst into tears.

  ‘Why are you crying?’ asked Selby.

  ‘I’m just so grateful that you finally read a book,’ said Mum. Now she was wrapping Selby in a hug.

  ‘It’s not a book,’ said Selby. ‘It’s a play. And a play is just a story. I’ve always liked stories. I’m just not as good at reading as most people, so I find them easier to enjoy when they’re on the television.’

  ‘But when words are written down and you create the meaning from your own imagination, it’s so much more profound,’ said Mum.

  ‘I’m not like you and Dad, or Eric or Amanda,’ said Selby. ‘My brain doesn’t work the same way. Reading is hard for me. The words on the page don’t translate into my head the way they do for other people. I’m never going to read like the rest of you.’

  ‘But if you try,’ said Mum, ‘it will get easier. You’ll get better.’

  ‘Mum, listen to yourself,’ said Selby. ‘You’re like one of those athletic parents who can’t handle the fact that one of their kids isn’t good at sport.’

  ‘But you’re not good at sport either,’ said Mum. ‘You don’t read. You don’t play sport. You don’t draw. You don’t play an instrument. What are you good at? What is your passion?’

  Selby couldn’t speak. She had a lump in her throat so big she didn’t think she could get any words out, even if she did know what to say.

  ‘That isn’t fair,’ said Dan. ‘Selby is brilliant.’

  Selby assumed Dan was joking, but when she looked at him, she realised he wasn’t.

  ‘Really?’ said Mrs Michaels.

  Dan nodded. ‘She has a true moral compass. It guides her through the complexity of the language in Hamlet and so she can see it for what it is – a man under enormous pressure behaving badly,’ he said. ‘She understood the play better than me.’

  Mrs Michaels dabbed a tear from her eye. ‘You two must have had quite the tutoring session.’

  ‘We did,’ agreed Selby.

  ‘Reading is important,’ said Dan. ‘But stories are even more important, because stories are the patterns that make humans tick. Selby gets that better than anyone I’ve ever known. You should be proud of her.’

  ‘I am,’ said Mrs Michaels. ‘I wish I had a more tangible reason for it.’

  ‘Hamlet was diabolical,’ said Selby, ‘but his mother still loved him. At least I’m not diabolical. I haven’t stabbed anyone with a sword.’

  ‘I am grateful for that,’ said Mrs Michaels. She blew her nose loudly on a tissue. ‘We’ll just have to get you to stop throwing rocks at echidnas.’

  ‘You know I didn’t do that, right?’ said Selby.

  Mrs Michaels smiled. ‘But we’re never going to stop teasing you about it. It’s such a good story.’

  Selby kissed her mum on the forehead. She knew she was as tall as her mother, but this was the first time she had felt the same height.

  ‘You’d better run along home,’ Mum said to Dan. ‘Your dad will have your dinner ready.’

  ‘I’ve just got to check something in a book first,’ said Dan. ‘If that’s okay?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Mrs Michaels. ‘I’ll leave Selby to lock up.’

  Mum took the account ledgers upstairs to the apartment while Dan disappeared down the aisle with the classics.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Selby asked.

  ‘I wanted to check that Hamlet’s happy ending stuck,’ said Dan.

  Dan took a new copy of Hamlet off the shelf and flicked to the last page. But then he looked up at Selby – offering her the book. ‘Do you want to read it?’

  ‘You’d better do it,’ said Selby. ‘If I start reading, who knows where we’ll end up and I’ve had enough of Denmark for today.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Dan. ‘Okay, let’s see . . .’ He scanned the page. ‘Act five, scene two. The stage directions say Fortinbras places the crown upon Hamlet’s head.’

  ‘That’s great!’ said Selby. ‘What did Hamlet say?’

  ‘The last line is . . .’ said Dan, ‘For me, with sorrow, I embrace my fortune.’

  Selby thought about this. ‘That’s good. It’s restrained and appropriate. Maybe the poison was wearing off.’

  ‘And he didn’t stab anyone,’ said Dan.

  ‘That’s definitely an improvement,’ said Selby.

  Dan smiled at Selby. She looked into his eyes. Really looked. She felt like she was falling into his sadness the same way she had fallen into the play. She dropped her eyes to the floor.