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The Antiquarian -Chapter Two - Draft 1

by  Theo

Posted: Monday, December 26, 2011
Word Count: 1571
Summary: Supernatural suspense; one teenage girl and a lot of old books.
Related Works: The Antiquarian - Chapter One 2nd Draft • 



-Chapter Two -
Rumours

“Mr Nolan killed his brother, so they say.” Mavis confided as she bustled around my room setting my night things out. “Drove him mad they say.”

I had the strong urge to fling open the shutters and hurl Mavis out. Alas, the house lacked sufficient height for the convenient disposal of servants; high towers it seemed were the exclusive preserve of princesses and evil wizards.

So, Mavis would not find herself making the closer acquaintance of the flower bed outside my window. More’s the pity. Mavis had been attached to the mayor’s household for so long that she seemed to me like some fat, ambulatory tapestry. I was amazed that someone so obviously ancient could still work dawn to dusk, chivvy the younger servants into exhaustion and still find time to gossip. I had spent half my life listening to her expound darkly on her suspicions of this person or that. I had never been so glad of the excuse of tiredness to turf her out of my room.

I lay there thinking how my birthday now seemed a small thing against the backdrop of earthquake and suspicious death. I realised I still had the bit of string from the body in my purse. I should probably have given it back. Still, it was tied to Mr Nolan in some way and the only clue I had. I just wish I knew what it is a clue to. ‘Mr Nolan you are going to have some explaining to do when I find you.’ I said to myself as I drifted off to sleep.

I found myself in a long corridor on either side there were doors curving away to vanish in the distance. I very slowly and deliberately, pinched myself then shut my eyes and opened them again. I didn’t wake up.

I looked behind me and it was the same corridor curving away out of sight. I hated dreams like this but with everything that had been going on I couldn’t be too surprised at a bad dream. Still it seemed awfully real.

After a couple of minutes; I started up the corridor, I might as well have not moved at all. The same identical corridor curved away, in front and behind me. I started to feel a little panicked. Weren’t you meant to wake when you knew it was a dream? I started trying door handles. One opened for me and I nearly fell through it in my haste to be out of the corridor.

I found myself strangely transfixed, in the way that sometimes happens in dreams. I was peering in through a window. Inside, two men, one young and the other old, sat talking by a blazing fire. They could not see me in the night outside.

The young one was speaking, he sounded younger than me. I wished that the glass was clearer, so I could see him, he sounded almost familiar.

“I do not understand what they are master”

The old man had a city accent like the Circuit Judge but even more self assured. He was also fat enough to make two of Mavis. “All creatures were given shapes according to their natures.”

“I learned that much with my catechism”

“I know you did lad, but it is important to keep the fundamentals in mind.”

“I am sorry master”

Don’t apologise so much, you’ll need to defend your points to your peers one day.” “Their nature follows from a simple difference, do you know what it is?”

“They have no shape of their own?”

“Quite so, this does not mean they change only their forms, a shape is the essence of the thing, its true nature. Did you read Zhou’s treatise on shapes?”

“Yes Master; each shape is unique, not only to the class of being, but to the individual also.”

“Good, this is what makes the shapeless what they are. To take a shape, they must take inner shape and they must do this quickly.”

“Why quickly Master?”

“They are like honey mimics pretending to be bees to fool the birds, without their camouflage they are vulnerable.”

I woke with a headache. My sheets were all tangled up; small wonder I had dreamt of being trapped. It was still dark outside but the sun would be up soon.

I groaned, there would be no chance of a lie in. If Mavis saw that my sheets were all sweaty and tangled, she might think I was sickening for something. That woman had an unnatural obsession with herbal concoctions. She had probably missed her calling as a witch.

So, I went about straightening my bed sheets. Once done, there seemed little point getting back into bed. I grabbed the clean intimates Mavis had laid out for me and started pawing through the wardrobe for something to wear.

Father was an early bird, like me. Toast forgotten by his side, he was reading the town gazette. I moved someone’s planning application off my chair and sat down. On the way, filching a role from father’s plate.

Father looked up."Even Earthquake and Murder; isn’t enough to clear the complaints about the market day carts, off the front page"

“Father, I don't thing Mr Nolan killed that man”

“He didn't help his cause running off like he did.” I started to speak but he waived me quiet before continuing. “Still I did talk to Mr Dickson.” “He seemed to think it might have been a family member trying to extort money.”

“I didn't even realise he had family.”

“Neither did I.” “Money has a way of attracting relatives, though.” “Mr Nolan is doing well for himself perhaps his twin though he was owed something.”

“You don’t think.” I said, stopping, not wanting to voice the obvious conclusion.

“I don't know.” “Good people can do bad things when they feel threatened.” “Especially in their own home.”

I didn’t want to think about that at all. So, I changed the subject. “Do you think I'll be able to open the shop up today?”

Thankfully father took the hint and said. “I doubt it.” “Mr Dickson has been itching to use that yellow rope of his.”

“Yellow rope?” I asked.

“A new fad from the city.” “Apparently you rope off an area to keep out the curious.”

“I'd imagine it would be more likely to attract them.”

“That's exactly what I said to him.” “Still, you know Mr Dickson all ways talking about progress and such.”

“How is that progress?” “Nevermind.” “Could you speak to Mr Dickson for me?”

“Whatever for?”

“My bicycle is still there and I didn't close the daybook.”

Father smiled he knew I loved the bike. "Oh we can't have that. I'll have a word with Mr. Dickson."

So, an hour later I was ducking under some yellowish rope. Mr Dickson insisted on holding up a section for me. He looked tired. I suppose, a small earthquake and irregular murder, will do that if you are the only policeman in town.

"Thank you" I said.

"I am always happy to assist the mayor" he said.

Not so happy about assisting me though. Especially not get my bike back. Not everyone thought girls should ride. I thought Mr Dickson liked progress. Perhaps he preferred reading about it, to seeing it ride past him. Still, he did look tired. I could try to be nice.

"I won’t be long.” “I just need to close yesterday's daybook and fetch my bike.”

“I didn't realise you kept the books.” He looked genuinely surprised.

“Why ever not?” I asked, sweetly.

Much to my surprise, he avoided placing his foot in his mouth. "You haven’t worked for him for all that long"

Secretly pleased, I decided not to give him an easy time of it. "Long enough it seems."

“Sorry I meant no offence, it is just you might be able to help me”

“How?” I said, warily.

“Well I haven’t had much call to go looking through ledgers and such like.”

Never let pride make a fool of you. If only I had remembered that maxim, before volunteering to help look through Mr Nolan’s ledgers and daybooks. What away to spend a morning. How come accountants were not all short sighted hunchbacks? I wondered, groaning as I tried to massage the stiffness out of my neck.

Mr Dickson chose that moment to stick his head round the door. “Have you found anything?”

“Not really, just some odd payments”

“Odd. How are they odd?”

“There is money coming in.” “No details, just a notation N in the margin.”

“That is strange.” He said, peering at the entry in the ledger. “If he was being blackmailed money would be going out not coming in.”

I was eager to get out of this chair, so I said. “I don’t think I can be of any more help, sorry.”

He was going to ask me to take another look, I could tell. Inspiration hit and I said. “If you really want to know what is going on you’ll need an accountant.”

So, I am inconsistent. I can use his doubts over my ability, to my advantage if I want to.

I was free. I left Mr Dickson looking as stumped as I felt. I hadn't found anything that would clear or condemn Mr Nolan. Just a letter in the margin of a ledger, an answer to a question I didn't know