Page 123 of Lost in a Good Book (Thursday Next 2)

'Who are they?' I whispered.

'Okay,' hissed Havisham, not hearing me straight away, 'now we jump to wherever we want by … What did you say?'

I nodded in the direction of the group. One of their number pushed a wheelbarrow along a plank and dumped its contents on to a large pile of spoil.

'Good heavens!' exclaimed Miss Havisham, walking briskly towards the small group. 'It's Commander Bradshaw!'

I trotted after her, and I soon saw that the digging was of an archaeological nature. Pegs were set in the ground and joined by lengths of string, delineating the area in which the volunteers were scraping with trowels, all trying to make as little noise as possible. Sitting on a folding safari seat was a man dressed like a big-game hunter. He wore a safari suit, pith helmet and sported both a monocle and a large and bushy moustache. He was also barely three feet tall. When he got up from his chair, he was shorter.

' 'Pon my word, it's the Havisham girlie!' he said in a hoarse whisper. 'Estella, you're looking younger every time I see you!'

Miss Havisham thanked him and introduced me. Bradshaw shook me by the hand and welcomed me to Jurisfiction.

'What are you up to, Trafford?' asked Havisham.

'Archaeology for the Charles Dickens Foundation, m'girl. A few of their scholars are of the belief that Great Expectations began not in this churchyard but in Pip's house when his parents were still about. There is no manuscriptual evidence so we thought we'd have a little dig around the environs and see if we could pick up any evidence of previously overwritten scenes.'

'Any

luck?'

'We've struck a reworked idea that ended up in Our Mutual Friend, a few dirty limericks and an unintelligible margin squiggle – but nothing much.'

Havisham wished him well; we said our goodbyes and left them to their dig.

'Is that unusual?'

'You'll find around here that there is not much that is usual,' replied Havisham. 'It's what makes this job such fun. Where did we get to?'

'We were going to jump into the pre-book back-story.'

'I remember. To jump forward we have only to concentrate on the page numbers, or, if you prefer, a specific event. To go backward before the first page we have to think of negative page numbers or an event that we assume happened before the book began.'

'How do I picture a negative page number?'

'Visualise something – an albatross, say.'

'Yes?'

'Okay, now take the albatross away.'

'Yes?'

'Now take another albatross away.'

'How can I? There are no albatrosses left!'

'Okay; imagine I have lent you an albatross to make up your seabird deficit. How many albatrosses have you now?'

'None.'

'Good. Now relax while I take my albatross back.'

I shivered as a coldness swept through me and for a fleeting moment an empty, vaguely albatross-shaped void opened and closed in front of me. But the strange thing was, for that briefest moment I understood the principle involved – but then it was gone like a dream upon waking. I blinked and stared at Havisham.

'That,' she announced, 'was a negative albatross. Now you try it – only use page numbers instead of albatrosses.'

I tried hard to picture a negative page number but it didn't work and I found myself in the garden of Satis House, watching two boys square up for a fight. Miss Havisham was soon beside me.

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