1
Guess who was landed with the job of looking after the foul-mouthed book?
‘Get this horrid thing out of my library!’ said Val. It was an order, but she looked at me in a desperate, pleading way which, as her friend, I could not ignore. ‘Ves!’
‘Something must certainly be done about it,’ I agreed, though my mind was blank as to what, exactly, one could do with an unusually lively sixteenth-century tome with all the tender sensibility of a guttersnipe.
‘Base, beetle-headed fool!’ raged the book, hovering still before poor Valerie’s face. ‘Thou hast cracked my spine!’
‘Beetle-headed?’ whispered Jay to me. ‘Now it’s just making them up.’
‘I have not!’ protested Val, and truly, I could hardly think of a more vicious insult to direct at our head librarian. She’d probably die before she w
