‘Ow!’ cried Dan, clutching his foot and hopping on the other one. ‘What was that for.’

  ‘The fun of it,’ said Selby. ‘Come on, let’s go back.’

  ‘Where?’ asked Dan.

  ‘To the bookstore,’ said Selby.

  ‘Are you kidding?!’ said Dan. ‘This is mind-blowing. We’re inside Shakespeare’s greatest creation!’

  ‘This is wrong,’ said Selby. ‘It defies the laws of physics, the space-time continuum and common sense. We need to get back to reality.’

  ‘Reality is overrated,’ said Dan. ‘We’re in a work of art. We should explore.’

  ‘But what about home?’ said Selby.

  ‘Home will always be there,’ said Dan. ‘We’re here now. This is an amazing opportunity.’

  ‘What ho, Selby!’ called Hamlet from the top of the staircase. ‘Where art thou?’

  ‘Coming, my lord,’ called Dan.

  ‘My lord?’ said Selby.

  ‘He’s a prince,’ said Dan. ‘You’re supposed to call him “my lord”.’

  ‘La-di-dah,’ said Selby.

  ‘Come on,’ said Dan, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the staircase. ‘It’ll be fun. You might even learn something.’

  ‘What?’ asked Selby, pulling away from him. ‘Why does everybody obsess about fiction and what fiction means? Like reality isn’t enough to deal with?’

  ‘Shakespeare had more insight into humanity and empathy than anyone,’ said Dan. ‘And he had a magical command of the English language, so he could perfectly convey ideas that had never been expressed before. And here we are – you and me – two small-town kids, inside his imagination! It’s unbelievable. We can’t just leave.’

  ‘Yeah, we totally can,’ said Selby. ‘This is insane. We can’t get trapped here.’

  ‘Why not?’ asked Dan.

  ‘Because you can’t run away to the circus,’ said Selby, ‘if the circus is four hundred years old and fictional!’

  ‘No, I’m not running away,’ said Dan. He waved his hands in frustration as he tried to explain to her. ‘This is the literary equivalent of discovering the North Pole. Or travelling to the moon. It’s epic. We can’t leave.’

  ‘What if we’re trapped here?’ asked Selby.

  ‘It’s worth the risk,’ said Dan.

  ‘Are you out of your mind?’ asked Selby. ‘I am sixteen years old. I have my whole life ahead of me. I do not want to get trapped in a play set in sixteenth-century Denmark. Apart from it being crazy-ass cold here and everyone talking in incomprehensible archaic English, I’m pretty sure the flush toilet has not been invented yet.’

  ‘So you just want to go back to your boring small-town life?’ asked Dan.

  ‘Yes!’ cried Selby. ‘I like being bored. I’m comfortable with bored. It’s what I’m used to.’

  ‘Well, I want more,’ said Dan. ‘It’s okay for you. You’ll finish school and go off to the city. Not me. I’m stuck in our town. I can’t go to uni. I can’t travel.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ asked Selby.

  ‘Dad has liver disease,’ said Dan. ‘He’s not getting better.’

  ‘Oh, Dan,’ sighed Selby.

  ‘This may be my only chance to explore,’ he was pleading now.

  ‘But what if you get stuck here?’ said Selby.

  ‘I’d rather be stuck here than at home,’ said Dan. He wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was watching Hamlet disappear down a staircase into the castle. Selby could tell Dan wanted to hurry after him.

  ‘What about all that stuff about being able to travel anywhere through the magic of books?’ asked Selby.

  Dan glanced back and smiled wryly, ‘It came true, didn’t it? Literally. Here we are.’

  ‘Eugh,’ said Selby. She realised he was exactly right while also being a total hypocrite.

  ‘Come on,’ said Dan. ‘We should follow him.’

  ‘This is crazy,’ said Selby.

  Dan was barely listening, ‘The night watch will be along soon, and it’ll be harder to explain to them why a black man and a teenage girl wearing trousers are up here in the middle of the night.’ Dan hurried off.

  ‘Dan!’ Selby called after him. She was so afraid. Suddenly she longed for the bookstore. She might not like books, and she might be arguing with Mum and Dad, but everything about the bookstore – the smell, the warmth, the familiarity – it all represented safety. She wanted to get back there.

  Selby crouched down and felt about on the stonework, trying to find where they had come in. The stones were cold and wet. She couldn’t be sure she was even in the right spot, it was so dark. But then she touched it. One stone that felt different. It was warm. Selby leaned in and pushed gently on this one stone. Beneath her hand, it began to vibrate. She could hear a noise. It sounded like muttering. She pressed harder and it was like she was turning up the volume on the radio, only what she could hear was her own voice – reading Hamlet.

  HAMLET

  And what so poor a man as Hamlet is

  May do t’express his love and friending to you,

  God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together . . .

  Selby pushed harder into the stone. The whisper grew louder and her hand started to move through the wall.

  HAMLET

  And still your fingers on your lips, I pray.

  The time is out of joint. O cursèd spite,

  That ever I was born to set it right.

  Nay come, let’s go together.

  ‘Selby, come on!’

  Selby snapped back to reality. Well, this Shakespearean reality. Dan was calling to her from over by the staircase. Selby could only see him in silhouette against the dim light coming from inside.

  Her hand felt warm against the stone. The warmth and comfort of the bookstore was just on the other side. She could be back there in a moment. She imagined Mum and Dad, still angry with her, but somehow that was comforting too.

  ‘Selby!’ called Dan.

  Selby imagined Dan’s dad. She imagined the look on his face when he came to the store looking for Dan, and she couldn’t explain where he was. That look would be heartbreaking. She couldn’t do that. She had to take Dan back to him.

  Selby sighed. She pulled her hand back into the cold of the Danish night, got to her feet and hurried after Dan. The play was only four hours long. She could hang on that long to make sure Dan got back.

  5

  Love

  Selby hurried down the spiral staircase. It was disconcerting, going round and round. The steps were not quite even, so she had to concentrate not to lose her footing. She began to feel dizzy and disorientated. The stone wall was damp with condensation, but she kept her palm against it as she jogged down the steps, not wanting to fall.

  Suddenly the staircase opened out. Now it was bright daylight. They had been through another transformation – a wormhole in the narrative. They weren’t inside the castle anymore. They seemed to be inside a house. Dan was already standing there, marvelling at everything in the room.

  ‘Where are we?’ asked Selby. ‘When are we? How come it’s daylight?’

  ‘It’s a play,’ said Dan. ‘There’s been a scene change. This must be act one, scene three.’

  ‘Huh?’ said Selby.

  ‘Polonius’s house,’ explained Dan. ‘He’s the king’s advisor. His son Laertes is about to leave, and Polonius will be giving him worldly advice before he goes off on his travels. It’s some of the most famous and most frequently quoted bits in all of Shakespeare. You’ve got to see it. This stuff will definitely come up in class discussions at school.’

  Together, they crept through the house. They could hear voices up ahead – an old man talking to a young man, perhaps in his early twenties. The old man was very well dressed but from his manner he seemed pompous and silly. The young man seemed to be taking some effort to keep a straight face.

  ‘. . . Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice,’ said the older man. ‘Take each man’s censure, but reserve thy judgement . . .’

  ‘That’s Polonius talking,’ whispered Dan. He hurried along the corridor and listened at the doorway.

  ‘. . . Neither a borrower or a lender be, for loan oft loses both itself and friend,’ advised Polonius. ‘And this above all, to thine own self be true.’

  ‘I’ve heard that one,’ said Selby.

  ‘Shakespeare came up with all these sayings,’ said Dan. ‘You’re watching the birth of so many common expressions.’

  Selby peeked around the doorway so she could get a glimpse of Polonius and Laertes. She was confused. These were supposed to be wise words, but they seemed silly coming from Polonius – someone who might be smartly dressed and have an impressive amount of facial hair, but who was clearly a fool.

  ‘Wow!’ gasped Dan.

  ‘What?’ said Selby.

  She turned to see what Dan was looking at. There was a girl coming down the stairs into the corridor where they were standing. She was utterly stunning. Selby had seen plenty of pretty people before – even a couple of beautiful people – but not this level of beauty. It was other-worldly. Her hair was neither blonde nor brown, it was more of a golden colour somewhere in between. It shone. Her face was pale but soft and angelic. She looked like she was smiling even when she wasn’t smiling. Her posture and her clothes were all perfect and elegant. Everything about her was the ideal of virtuous femininity. Just looking at her made Selby feel small. She never even looked neat. Not even when she was trying to. She had a scruffy soul, and that always came through.

  Selby turned to Dan to ask a question, but from the look on his face – it was as if he had been stunned. Like a deer in the headlights of a truck about to hit it. His mouth literally hung open, a stupid dazed look in his eyes, as he watched the girl descend.

  ‘Who is it?’ asked Selby.

  ‘Ophelia,’ whispered Dan.

  ‘Oh,’ said Selby. Even she had heard of Ophelia. She was an icon among literary characters. Selby didn’t know a lot about the play. But she knew Ophelia was Hamlet’s girlfriend. And that she drowned. Or she would drown. Although at the moment, she was very much alive and glowing with beauty.

  Dan unconsciously stepped forward. His feet were drawn to her.

  Ophelia noticed him. ‘Pardon me, sir,’ said Ophelia. ‘I did not see you there.’

  ‘I saw you,’ said Dan.

  Ophelia blushed and glanced down shyly.

  Selby rolled her eyes. ‘Come on, we’ve got to go,’ urged Selby, before nodding to Ophelia. ‘Nice to meet you.’ Grabbing Dan by the arm, Selby pulled him out of the house. Once they were in the brisk air of the courtyard, Dan seemed to gather himself.

  ‘What was that about?’ asked Selby.

  ‘What?’ said Dan.

  ‘Does your tongue taste of carpet?’ asked Selby. ‘Because that’s how far it was hanging out of your head.’

  ‘She was stunning,’ said Dan.

  ‘Yes, I know,’ said Selby. ‘But surely you can retain some use of your intellect when you see a pretty girl.’

  ‘She wasn’t pretty,’ said Dan. ‘She was beautiful. Stunning.’

  ‘Yes, you’ve used that word already, thesaurus boy,’ said Selby. ‘Nice to know that hormones are such a handbrake on your intellect. Come on, you’ve had a look around. You’ve met a pretty girl. Can we go home now?’

  ‘To the bookstore?’ asked Dan. He was still dazed.

  ‘Yes!’ said Selby. ‘Home. You remember home.’ She was getting upset. It was one thing to be stuck in medieval Denmark, but she definitely didn’t want to be stuck with someone who was brain addled with lust.

  Dan relented slightly. ‘Soon,’ he said. ‘There’s a good bit coming up. The actors will arrive for the play within the play. That’s crucial to the whole plot. You’ll probably get an essay question on it in your exam.’

  ‘I don’t care about my exam!’ said Selby.

  ‘We’re here now,’ said Dan. ‘Please. Let’s just stay for that bit. It’s really good, I promise. Come on, we need to find the main gates of the castle. That’s where the players arrive.’ Dan hurried to a passageway between two buildings. Selby didn’t have much choice. She followed him in. The passageway was very dark. When they emerged, it was not into another courtyard – they were in the royal throne room.

  Selby spun round, there was no passageway behind her.

  ‘Did we just go through another wormhole?’ asked Selby.

  ‘We’re in another scene,’ Dan whispered. ‘Act two, scene two.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ asked Selby.

  ‘That we are in the presence of . . .’ said Dan, pointing to an elegantly dressed, middle-aged couple sitting at the far end of the room, ‘. . . the King and Queen of Denmark.’

  The king and queen were the focus of the whole room, like they had been arranged for a perfectly composed portrait. They were flanked by courtiers and servants, but their thrones were raised so they sat above everybody else. They radiated consequence. As Selby watched, the king reached across and took his wife’s hand. The queen smiled at him.

  ‘They’re newlyweds,’ said Dan.

  Selby realised that made sense. They did look like a loving couple. It was unusual to see an older couple take such simple pleasure in a small gesture of affection.

  ‘But then, isn’t that Hamlet’s uncle? The guy who killed the ghost?’ whispered Selby. They were a good thirty metres away from anyone else and there was no chance they could be overheard.

  ‘Yes,’ said Dan. ‘At least that’s the ghost’s version of events.’

  ‘He doesn’t look like a murderer,’ said Selby. The king was immaculately dressed in fine robes befitting his station. But more than that, he looked personally composed and authoritative.

  ‘What do murderers look like?’ asked Dan.

  ‘Not that regal,’ said Selby. ‘They’re meant to have unwashed hair, dirty clothes and drive panel vans.’

  The door near Selby and Dan pushed open. A courtier led in two young men.

  The king called out to them, ‘Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern!’

  ‘It’s them!’ said Dan under his breath. ‘They’re Hamlet’s childhood friends. The king has sent for them because he wants them to spy on Hamlet.’

  ‘Classic manipulative-parent move,’ said Selby.

  ‘He makes out it’s because he’s concerned for Hamlet’s mental health,’ said Dan. ‘Listen . . .’

  The king and queen were talking to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. The young men seemed over-awed to be in conversation with the royal couple.

  ‘The need we have to use you did provoke our hasty sending,’ said the king as the young men approached him. ‘I entreat you both that, being of so young days brought up with him – that you draw him on to pleasures – to gather so much as you may glean. Whether something unknown to us afflicts him, that lies within our remedy.’

  ‘Good gentlemen,’ added the queen. ‘Hamlet hath much talked of you. And sure I am two men there are not living to whom he more adheres. If it will please you to expend your time with us awhile for the supply and profit of our hope.’

  Selby whispered to Dan, ‘And the friends just go along with this?’

  ‘Ahuh,’ said Dan. ‘Check it out.’

  Guildenstern was addressing the royal couple. You could tell he was nervous from the strain in his voice. ‘We both obey and here give up ourselves, in the full bent, to lay our service freely at your feet to be commanded.’

  ‘What a suck-up,’ said Selby.

  ‘Come on,’ said Dan. He’d spotted the exit to the main courtyard. ‘The players will be arriving soon.’

  6

  Good Bit

  Selby and Dan wound their way through a long dark corridor that eventually emerged into the main courtyard of the castle.

  Hamlet was there, and so were Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

  ‘How did they get here before us?’ asked Selby.

  ‘It’s a new scene,’ said Dan. ‘We’ve jumped ahead.’ As they drew near they could hear what Hamlet was telling his friends.

  ‘I have of late, wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth,’ said Hamlet, ‘forgone all custom of exercises, and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory.’

  ‘He’s describing the symptoms of depression,’ said Selby.

  ‘Yes, that’s clear to us,’ said Dan. ‘But in Shakespeare’s day there was no understanding of mental illness.’

  ‘That must have been hard,’ said Selby. ‘To have strange feelings and thoughts, but no words to describe them.’

  ‘What a piece of work is man!’ continued Hamlet. ‘How noble in reason, how infinite in faculty, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god!’

  ‘Is he comparing himself to a god?’ asked Selby. ‘That’s kind of egotistical.’

  ‘Wait for it,’ said Dan. ‘There’s a but coming.’

  ‘The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals – and yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me – no, nor woman neither.’

  ‘Okay, that is bleak,’ said Selby.

  Just then, there was excited commotion over by the main gate. A group of travelling performers with carts full of props and banners were entering through the arch, heralding their own arrival by playing recorders and horns.

  Hamlet went over to meet them at the gate. He actually looked happy – almost giddy with excitement. Polonius was waiting too, fussing about.

  ‘The actors come hither my lord,’ said Polonius.

  ‘Buzz, buzz,’ said Hamlet, not even looking at his uncle’s bumbling advisor. He called out to the performers as they entered the courtyard, ‘Y’are welcome, masters, welcome all! I am glad to see thee well. Welcome, good friends.’

  The performers were a little over-awed to be met by the prince himself.