by I.D. Blind
22. Old Friends
Eric was climbing the stairs of the Old Curiosity Shop when Dinah and Marion passed across the alley.
“I wouldn’t advise you to enter this shop,” Dinah said with a scowl.
“This shop doesn’t bite. You can come inside and see for yourself.”
She looked proudly away. “I won’t go in there.”
“What are you afraid of?” I go there, and as you see, nothing has happened to me.”
Dinah pouted.
“There are a lot of interesting things. You can come inside and see for yourself.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You mean you’ll take me on a tour?”
“If you promise not to break anything,” Eric said with a smile.
Dinah whispered something to Marion. The girl shrugged. Then they both giggled. “Alright, we will let you show us this shop.” They were on the stairs already when Thomas Baldric appeared in the alley.
“O'Brian, you’re not losing your time,” he said with a sneer.
“Hello, Thomas.”
“Hello, hello. O'Brian, tell me, what’s your secret?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Come on, stop pretending. Share your secret of success.”
“I don’t understand what you mean, but if you’re not going to express your thoughts clearer, better leave us.”
“Already leaving,” Thomas snorted.
“We’ll go, too” Dinah said.
“Because of Thomas? If you want I’ll talk to him, and he won’t tell anyone.”
“That’s not necessary. It’s not like I’m afraid of anyone. We just don’t want to enter this shop,” Dinah said, and dragged Marion away with her.
An active trade was going on in the shop. Foreigners were bargaining with Pickering.
“No diskont for tree bosses?” one of the buyers was repeating over and over again.
“I can’t,” Pickering was saying. “It’s handmade; it’s not some imitation, it’s wrought by hand. I gave you a discount on the crystal balls and masks, but I can’t give a discount on the boxes.”
“Mister Pikerrrink not good trade, and we ofen buy at Pikerrrink!” said the second with a funnier accent.
The shop was full of customers, with two little boys among them, touching everything across the shelves. Eric asked them to stay away from the flasks and crystals, but they didn’t even look at him. One of the boys grabbed a box of cards from the shelf and scattered them across the floor.
“I told you not to touch anything,” Eric said angrily.
The boy didn’t pay attention to him and turned to the jars and flasks.
“Wow, bones!” he exclaimed. “Are they real?”
“Sure, they are the real thing,” Eric said, “mind you, they are a kid’s.”
The boy gaped at Eric, his hand on its way to the jar with the bones.
“The big ones won’t get inside, so we have to cut the kids’,” Eric said with feigned composure.
The horrified boys threw themselves out of the shop. Eric smirked. It was cruel, but the customers’ children were real brats and constantly broke things.
Finally, Pickering bade goodbye to the last customers.
“Gone,” he breathed out. “And yet forced me to give them a discount.”
“I'm afraid I scared away your customers,” Eric admitted to Pickering.
“You mean that disobedient child, who has already broken three lamps, and his inquisitive, but never-paying-for-anything parents? Good riddance. If you do that a few more times, I’ll raise your salary,” Pickering snorted a laugh, and lit up his pipe.