Page 53 of The Society of Unknowable Objects
***
You are not the first person I have talked to about the book. I told Imelda too. I didn’t tell her by choice... not initially... although I think I always wanted to share the burden. I had Imelda pegged as my successor. I was much closer to her than to Will or to Henrietta, and she had such a gentle, caring nature and such a sharp intellect, she seemed like the perfect choice. I always thought she would know about it all eventually, so when she spotted me with the book one day, I think she had a sense that it was something special. She wore me down over a few weeks. I wasn’t well at the time—you don’t know but I had a health scare about a decade ago, and I thought I might not have long to live—and that made me think it was the right thing to do. So I told Imeldaabout the book, I told her what it was. She understood immediately. She could see the implications. But Imelda was so much smarter than me, and she saw an opportunity as well. Something occurred to her that had never occurred to me: If we have a book that can create any magical item we want, why not create something to help us find the other magical items? Imelda used the book and of course it worked for her. I don’t know why that didn’t surprise me, it just seemed right that it would work for her. She created a map. She called itThe Atlas of Lost Things,an artefact that would lead her to items that were not within the possession of the Society. And then she took that map, and she went on a great adventure—those were her words—looking for items. She was supposed to be away for no more than six months, in between meetings of the Society. She was going to come back and bring with her everything theAtlashad led her to.
But she died on that hiking trail in America. You know this. You got that awful call when the hikers found her after she had fallen. You had to deal with all the arrangements, transporting her body back. I don’t know how you did it, Magda, but I have never been so proud of you.
Sorry, my mind is wandering.
Your mother’s body came back, but theAtlasdid not. And neither did any other magical items, even though I know she found things. We spoke while she was away. She had found some artefacts that are in the book—the crucifix, the blue carnation, and the gold coin. And she was looking for another item in America when she died.
I have never had any reason to believe that anything wicked happened to Imelda. It’s very possible that she did just fall. As you know she was not an experiencedhiker. It’s possible that she left the items and theAtlassomewhere else when she was out walking, and they are sitting in some locker right now. Or they might have been picked up by some random stranger who has no idea what they are. But I always felt responsible for what happened. If Imelda hadn’t been out hunting for items for the Society she would still be here now. You would have a mother and I would have a friend.
Do you see how sometimes the work of the Society, even when we are trying to do good, can have dreadful consequences?
I am sorry, Magda, for what happened to Imelda. I am sorry for any responsibility I bear for the death of your mother.
***
What else do I need to tell you? I’ve been writing for hours, and my hand is sore. I am not used to hand-writing anything anymore.
You need to know that the Society collection is no longer held within the Clockwork Cabinet. I became paranoid after Imelda’s death. I thought people would come looking for us... or perhaps that you or Henrietta or Will could not be trusted. So I put all of the items we possess into the Impossible Box—you remember that box I told you about, in the story I told you about the Society? It is one of the first items my father created with the book. You shouldn’t ever need to remove items from the Impossible Box—it is better that they stay where they are—but in order to withdraw an item you need to know what you are looking for. You can’t just reach in like a normal box and remove something—you have to know what you want and know that it is in there. Picture the item in your mind as best you can as you reach into the box,and it will appear in your hand. And look away while you are doing it. You must never look directly into the Impossible Box.
The Impossible Box is in a safe behind the bookcase immediately on your left when you enter the basement. I have changed the code to the safe so that it is a number you should know: the date of your mother’s funeral (six digits). I hope it’s a date you remember.
Bell Street Books, all of its contents and all of my worldly possessions, have been left to you, Magda. If I am dead my lawyer will sort it all out, you inherit the lot. But I could think of no one better than you to own the shop. Who better to own a bookshop than an author?
And, if I am dead, you are now the chair of the Society. I don’t think Will, as the only other attending member, will mind, and Henrietta hasn’t been around for a few years. If you can get her to come back, please do. She is a good sort beneath it all. She’s just a bit intolerant of authority. Maybe you can run the Society differently... I’ll leave that for you.
And you’ll need a fourth member. I ask all members to nominate someone and write them a letter (have you written your letter yet, Magda...?). I suppose this is my equivalent letter. But I don’t have anyone else to nominate. The people I know best are you and Will and Henrietta. I’ve kept myself distant from other people for most of my life. So I leave it to you to decide on a new member, if you think that’s appropriate. Maybe it only needs you and Will? Maybe you can do something entirely different? I created the Society to tidy up a mess my father’s generation had made. Maybe you can make something new to improve upon what I have done.
Magda—you are one of the good people. I hope whatever you choose to do with all that I leave you, youdo it for the other good people in the world. The poets and the musicians and the book readers. The kind ones and the carers, the people who pursue the happiness of others over the accumulation of wealth and power. Do it for them and make the world a little bit better.
Love,
Frank
The room was silent but for the pattering of rain on the windows. Magda folded up the pages of the letter and slipped them back inside the envelope. It felt like all of the questions and confusion in her mind had been cleared away, like debris on a beach washed away by a strong tide, but she was left numb, unsure what to think about the revelations.
“Well then,” Henry murmured, and Magda looked at her. The other woman was frowning slightly. Her legs were crossed, her foot bouncing slightly. “You know he is right about one thing. I am intolerant of authority. I confess it.” Henry smiled, her face brightening. James laughed once, and when Magda glanced at him his grin fell away into an apologetic shrug.
“Frank wasn’t lying,” Magda said, ignoring Henry’s joke and choosing to revisit the conversation they’d had late the previous evening. “He was just...”
“What?” Henry pressed her.
Magda shrugged, feeling helpless. “I don’t know. Just trying to make the world a better place.”
Henry tossed her head back and barked a laugh at the ceiling. “Please. There’s no reason he couldn’t have told us any of this. He just didn’t trust us enough.”
Annoyance pinched at Magda, but she didn’t want to fight, not with all that had happened. “Never mind,” she muttered. “It doesn’t matter.”
“What do you want to do now?” James asked, his voice quiet and calm.
“Well, we have to get the Society’s collection back from that dreadful man,” Henry said. “I thought that was obvious.”
Magda felt herself swell up with happiness at Henry’s words, andshe admitted to herself that she had been expecting the other woman to simply leave again, to abandon her. The fact that Henry wanted to help was like the sun coming out after a week of rain.
“Yes,” Magda agreed, nodding.
Recovering the Society’s collection felt like exactly what they had to do, but the prospect of doing it was too huge to comprehend. Chasing a dangerous man and tackling him? She was an author living a cosy life in London. How could she possibly begin to do such a thing?
