Hamlet recoiled in fear, ‘A king of shreds and patches. Save me and hover o’er me with your wings, you heavenly guards! What would your gracious figure?’

  ‘Alas, he’s mad,’ said the queen. She was glancing from Hamlet to where Hamlet was looking – but from the way her eyes roved about, she clearly could not see the ghost herself.

  ‘You can say that again,’ agreed Dan. He still hung onto the queen in case she fainted, and perhaps a bit for support himself. It was chilling to be in the room with the rotting spectre of the ghost.

  ‘Do you not come your tardy son to chide?’ Hamlet asked the ghost. It was weird to see Hamlet regress into a childish tone. He was manly and confident enough when talking to everyone else, but apparently with his own father he would be forever trapped as a disappointing young son. He practically writhed at the ghost’s feet. ‘That, lapsed in time and passion, let’s go by th’important acting of your dread command? Oh say!’

  ‘Do not forget,’ the ghost commanded in a slow quavering voice. ‘This visitation is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose.’

  Hamlet cowered away. But the ghost was not paying attention. He was distracted by the sight of his widow. He walked away from Hamlet and towards her, where she cowered in Dan’s arms. The dead king was clearly heartbroken to see her so distressed. ‘But look, amazement on thy mother sits.’ The ghost reached out to comfort her, but the queen could not see or hear him. There was nothing he could do. The ghost turned back to Hamlet. ‘Oh, step between her and her fighting soul. Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works. Speak to her, Hamlet.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Selby. ‘Your dad specifically said not to be mean to your mother, and you’ve done the opposite. Make it up to her.’

  Hamlet stepped closer to his mother. ‘How is it with you, lady?’ he asked awkwardly, attempting to put his emotions in reverse, and not succeeding entirely.

  ‘Alas, how is it with you, that you do bend your eyes on vacancy?’ asked the queen. She was, after all, his mother. She had already forgiven his bad behaviour and was concerned now with the sanity of her beloved only son. She let go of Dan and moved towards Hamlet. ‘To whom do you speak this?’

  ‘Do you see nothing there?’ asked Hamlet, pointing to the ghost.

  ‘No, nothing but ourselves,’ said the queen.

  ‘Why, look you there! Look how it steals away,’ said Hamlet, watching the ghost trudge towards the doorway. ‘My father in his habit as he lived. Look where he goes, even now, out at the portal.’

  ‘This is the very coinage of your brain,’ said the queen, shaking her head sadly.

  ‘It is not madness that I have uttered,’ Hamlet assured her, now showing a glimpse of normal affection. ‘Mother, for love of grace, lay not that flattering unction to your soul that not your trespass but my madness speaks.’

  ‘Oh, Hamlet,’ said the queen, stroking her son’s face, ‘thou has cleft my heart in twain.’

  ‘Oh, throw away the worser part of it, and live the purer with the other half,’ urged Hamlet. He had calmed down and was regarding his mother with affection again.

  ‘Be thou assured,’ said the queen, tears now streaming down her face, ‘if words be made of breath, and breath of life, I have no life to breathe what thou hast said to me.’

  Now finally, Hamlet looked in part remorseful. ‘I must to England, you know that?’ he said.

  ‘Alack, I had forgot,’ said the queen, clutching her head. ‘’Tis so concluded on.’

  ‘This man shall set me packing,’ said Hamlet, indicating Polonius dead upon the floor. It was a sobering sight. Selby had never seen a dead body before. There was so much blood, pooling on the floor and soaking into his clothes. Polonius looked so old. He had been pathetic in life. He was even more so now.

  Hamlet stood up and grabbed hold of the body. ‘I’ll lug the guts into the neighbour room. Mother, good night. Indeed, this counsellor is now most still, most secret, and most grave who was in life a foolish prating knave.’ Hamlet started dragging Polonius out. As soon as he was gone from sight the queen collapsed on the bed weeping.

  ‘What a mess,’ said Selby.

  ‘We’d better get out of here,’ said Dan. ‘The king is going to enter next.’

  It felt wrong to leave the queen, but they couldn’t be discovered in her bedroom, and her husband would look after her.

  Selby followed Dan out of the room. They caught a glimpse of Hamlet at the end of the corridor, dragging Polonius around a corner. ‘This is like a French farce, people coming and going and hiding behind curtains,’ said Selby.

  ‘It’s not very funny for Polonius,’ said Dan.

  ‘No . . . why am I wet?’ asked Selby, reaching around to touch the back of her sweater. When she drew her hand back, it was red. ‘Oh gross, I’ve got blood on my shirt! That’s never going to come out.’

  ‘Like Lady Macbeth,’ said Dan.

  ‘What?’ asked Selby.

  ‘“Out, out, damn spot,”’ quoted Dan. ‘It’s from Macbeth, you know, another Shakespeare play. She gets blood on her hands and can’t clean it off.’

  ‘I haven’t read that one either,’ said Selby.

  ‘You might want to skip it. It’s even grimmer than this one,’ said Dan.

  ‘I can’t wear this,’ said Selby. She took off her sweater, but then didn’t know where to put it.

  ‘Don’t just drop it,’ said Dan. ‘It’s evidence. The last thing we need is you being accused of Polonius’s murder. You’d better burn it. Here, put this on.’ He took off his own jacket.

  ‘Now you’ll get cold,’ said Selby. Dan only had a t-shirt on underneath and they were in Denmark in an unheated castle. It was pretty nippy.

  ‘I didn’t just accidentally get involved in a stabbing,’ said Dan. ‘I’m less likely to go into shock.’

  ‘How does Hamlet get out of this one?’ asked Selby.

  ‘The king has arranged to have him sent off to England with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern,’ said Dan.

  ‘After all this, he does have to get rid of Hamlet,’ said Selby. ‘At least he doesn’t kill him.’

  ‘Well . . . he tries. The king sends a letter with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to the English king, asking him to kill Hamlet,’ said Dan.

  ‘Wow!’ said Selby. ‘Worst stepdad ever.’

  ‘But Hamlet finds the letter,’ said Dan. ‘And forges a replacement letter, asking the King of England to kill Rosencrantz and Guildenstern instead.’

  ‘And that’s how those two twits are going to die?’ asked Selby.

  ‘Yep,’ said Dan.

  ‘That’s terrible,’ said Selby. ‘They might be misguided, but they don’t deserve the death penalty.’

  ‘Lots of people die in this play who don’t deserve to,’ said Dan.

  ‘If we don’t intervene now, this is going to be a bloodbath, isn’t it?’ said Selby.

  ‘Well, how do you classify a bloodbath?’ asked Dan.

  ‘Three or more people dead,’ said Selby.

  Dan counted on his hands. ‘Yeah, then it’s a bloodbath. The death count is more than twice that.’

  ‘Let’s kidnap him,’ said Selby.

  ‘Who? Hamlet?’ asked Dan.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Selby.

  ‘You can’t kidnap the Prince of Denmark!’ said Dan.

  ‘Of course we can,’ said Selby. ‘People used to do things like that to royalty all the time. Besides, he’s just a man. We shouldn’t be in awe of him because he’s royalty. We should just do it. It would be undemocratic not to.’

  ‘But how?’ asked Dan.

  ‘I’ll bop him on the head,’ said Selby. She looked about for something to use. There was a dish on the nearby table. ‘This will do the trick.’

  ‘You can’t do that!’ exclaimed Dan.

  ‘Here he comes now,’ said Selby.

  She had spotted Hamlet striding towards them, carrying a bag.

  ‘Hamlet, pray tell,’ said Selby. ‘What be that o’er yonder?’ She pointed to a window behind Hamlet. Hamlet turned to look and Selby whacked him on the back of the head with the bowl. He collapsed.

  ‘This is bad, very bad,’ said Dan.

  ‘Grab a foot,’ urged Selby as she picked one up herself.

  ‘Where are we taking him?’ asked Dan.

  ‘To the bookstore,’ said Selby.

  ‘What?’ said Dan.

  ‘We’ve got to get him up to the battlements so we can get him through the portal,’ said Selby.

  ‘If you wanted to try that, why didn’t you lure him up there, then knock him out?’ asked Dan. ‘Now we’ve got to drag him up a spiral staircase.’

  ‘Okay, that was silly,’ conceded Selby. Looking at Hamlet slumped on the floor, she realised how solidly he was built. ‘It must be the air here. It makes people violent.’

  10

  Kidnapping Through Alternate Realities

  Twenty minutes later, Dan and Selby finally dragged Hamlet up the last flight of stairs. They both collapsed, gasping for breath.

  ‘That is worse . . . than anything . . . I’ve ever . . . had to do . . . in PE,’ said Dan between gulping in air.

  ‘It’s funny, all the stupid things they make you do in PE,’ said Selby. ‘They really should teach you dragging skills. The ability to drag another human is important. You might need to do it to rescue someone from a house fire. Or get a sick person in a car and drive them to hospital.’

  ‘Or get a fictional person into the real world so they won’t go on a killing spree,’ said Dan.

  ‘It sounds silly when you put it that way,’ said Selby.

  ‘It doesn’t feel silly,’ said Dan. ‘Between the stitch in my side and the fear of being discovered by a murderous monarch while we’re kidnapping a member of his royal family, nothing about this feels frivolous at all.’

  ‘Come on, let’s shove him through,’ said Selby. ‘Before we think too much and convince ourselves to do something even more stupid.’ Selby got up and dragged Hamlet closer to the portal.

  ‘What if this doesn’t work?’ asked Dan.

  ‘I haven’t considered that option,’ admitted Selby.

  Dan paused. ‘And what if it does work?’ asked Dan. ‘What are we going to do with him on the other side?’

  ‘I haven’t considered that option either,’ admitted Selby. She rested Hamlet’s weight against her legs for a moment while she shook out her arms. ‘But staying here is definitely not going to work. The death count will be too high. If he does go through, the first thing we should do is get him medical attention, I suppose.’

  ‘For the head injury,’ said Dan.

  ‘Well, yes, that,’ said Selby. ‘But I was thinking more for the delusions, morbid fantasies and violent tendencies.’

  ‘Urgh, who goes there,’ muttered Hamlet, his eyes fluttering open.

  ‘He’s coming round,’ said Dan.

  ‘Quick,’ said Selby. ‘Pull him through. I’ll push.’

  Dan had his back to the portal. He stepped backwards and his leg disappeared. He pulled Hamlet and they both began to pass through. Selby pushed Hamlet’s legs. In a moment, they were entirely gone. Selby was alone on the battlements. The cold wind bit at her face. The night sky was black and empty. Selby realised she was in sixteenth century Denmark and she was totally alone – in every sense. She had always felt alone in life. But nothing could be more alone than this. Suddenly – a hand reached back and grasped her wrist. Dan’s face emerged. ‘Come on, you’re not leaving me to deal with him alone,’ he pulled Selby’s arm. She lurched forward and she started to fall, she could hear her own voice again.

  . . . Alas poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio . . .

  . . . The lady doth protest too much . . .

  . . . Neither a borrower nor a lender be . . .

  Then the next thing she knew, Selby was lying on the floor of the bookstore. She took a deep breath. It was home. It smelled like home. Dan was standing over her smiling. ‘You made it.’

  After the wind on the battlements, it was so quiet and warm. Even the carpet under her back was comforting and soft compared to the stone floors of the castle.

  ‘I did,’ agreed Selby. She turned to see Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, sitting just a couple of metres away, leaning against the cooking section.

  ‘What on earth are you doing?’ accused Mum. She had just rounded the biography stack and was scowling.

  ‘Mum!’ cried Selby. She leapt to her feet and gave her a big hug.

  ‘What’s going on?’ demanded Mum. Selby was not normally a hugger. ‘What’s gotten into you?’ She looked at Selby suspiciously.

  ‘We’re just . . . um . . . enacting a scene from Hamlet, Mrs Michaels,’ improvised Dan.

  ‘Oh,’ said Mum. She eyed Hamlet uncertainly. Apart from wearing period costume, he was as dishevelled as a person would be if they’d been bopped on the head and dragged up a spiral staircase. ‘Well, get up off the floor. You’ll frighten the customers.’

  ‘Pardon my behaviour,’ said Hamlet, ‘My legs will not obey me at present.’

  Selby looked around, ‘What customers?’

  ‘The ones we’d have if your friend wasn’t lying on the floor,’ snapped Mum. ‘And who is this anyway? Is he drunk?’

  ‘No, he just bumped his head,’ explained Dan. ‘Ha–rrison is a friend from my book club . . .’ Apparently, Dan had a gift for fiction. ‘He is a great Shakespeare enthusiast. He has all the costumes and he knows all about Hamlet. I asked for his help getting Selby to understand the motivations of the character.’

  ‘Oh, well . . . that’s nice,’ said Mum, thawing a little. She instinctively didn’t like the look of the young man slumped on the floor of her bookstore. But she was such a literature snob that, to her mind, anyone who liked Shakespeare couldn’t be that bad. ‘How is the study coming along?’

  ‘Very good,’ said Selby. ‘I know a lot more about the play than I did.’

  ‘Really?’ asked Mum. ‘Let’s see about that . . .’ She crossed her arms and eyed Selby. ‘Is the ghost real, or a figment of Hamlet’s unstable mind?’

  ‘Unstable mind?’ interrupted Hamlet. ‘Who dare say this?’ He tried to get to his feet and stumbled.

  ‘Whoa, steady there, big fella,’ said Dan, grabbing hold of Hamlet as he tried to rise.

  ‘Real,’ said Selby. ‘Horatio, Marcellus and Barnardo see the ghost too.’

  Mum nodded. She was impressed. But she wasn’t done with her test questions. ‘What is the significance of the flowers Ophelia picks when she goes mad?’ asked Mum.

  ‘Ophelia, mad?! What lies are these?’ demanded Hamlet. Dan kept a firm hold of him.

  ‘We’re not up to that bit yet,’ said Selby.

  ‘That is late in act four, Mrs Michaels,’ said Dan. ‘Selby is up to act three. She’s done really well for one session.’

  ‘Mrs Michaels?’ said Hamlet. His face lit up. He asked Selby, ‘Is this good lady your mother?’

  ‘Um, yes,’ said Selby, glancing at Mum.

  Hamlet straightened and, through this simple act of adjusting his body language, he took on the persona of a European prince, not just a student who’d been sprawled on the floor. He bowed to Mum. ‘Madam, it is my honour to meet you.’

  ‘Yes, well, that’s all right,’ said Mum, still suspicious that this young person was teasing her. ‘You can stay if you’re a friend of Dan’s.’ Selby noted that she didn’t say ‘a friend of Selby’s’.

  ‘My good lady,’ said Hamlet, addressing Mum formally, ‘I must inform you, because deception would go against my honour, that I come to you not as a mere acquaintance.’

  ‘You don’t?’ said Mum.

  ‘I hold your daughter in the highest esteem,’ said Hamlet. ‘She is the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on.’

  ‘Is he on drugs?’ asked Mum, turning on Selby.

  ‘Aye, well may you ask if I am inebriated,’ said Hamlet, taking Selby by the hand and looking lovingly at her face. ‘I feel bewitched when I look upon her. But I have not drunk of Rhenish wine or a sorceress’s brew. It is herself I love. And not just her beauty in person which I admire, but her wisdom of heart. I intend, God willing, and with the permission of your good husband, to make her my wife.’

  ‘Urgh,’ groaned Selby.

  Dan smothered a laugh.

  ‘This is so embarrassing,’ muttered Selby.

  Mum’s eyes narrowed. She definitely thought Hamlet was messing with her now. ‘I’ve said you can stay. Don’t push your luck.’

  ‘I give you thanks, good lady,’ said Hamlet bowing again. ‘I shall do nothing to make you regret your decision.’

  Mum glowered for a long moment. She was clearly considering changing her mind and throwing him out anyway. ‘Fine,’ she eventually said. ‘But no more sprawling on the floor.’

  ‘Upon my honour, it will be thus,’ said Hamlet, laying his hand across his heart as if it were a solemn oath.

  Mum glared at him one more time and left them to it.

  ‘I see from whence your fighting spirit springs,’ said Hamlet. ‘A proud lady is your mother, and with good reason, with such a precious child to protect.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s one spin on it,’ said Selby.

  ‘You better go and change,’ Dan told her.

  ‘Why?’ asked Selby.

  ‘You’ve got Polonius’s blood on your jeans,’ said Dan.

  Selby looked down. A wave of nausea washed over her. She had seen a man die just moments ago. She realised she was shivering. She hadn’t noticed before. If she had, she would have assumed it was the cold in Denmark. But the shop was warm. It must be shock.

  ‘I’ll take a shower,’ said Selby. ‘Keep an eye on him. I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  11

  Hamlet, Prince of the Bookstore

  When Selby headed back to the bookstore, she was feeling more her old self again. Showered and warm, and wearing fresh clothes – all that had happened felt more like a dream. But as soon as she came down the stairs into the stockroom at the back of the shop, the dream came crashing back into her reality again. She could hear Hamlet out in the store. He was clearly talking to a customer.