"Peregrine remembers his childhood."
I turned my attention to an antique oak bookcase set back from the counter. Besides it, there were half a dozen chairs and a small coffee table for the use of waiting clients. On the shelves stood lines of beautifully bound books.
The complete set of the Chronicles of Narnia, my favourite childhood reading, and Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, Tom's Midnight Garden, The Labyrinth Gate, and others, side by side with a shelf of Greek and Roman classics, including The Odyssey and The Aeneid, and books on ancient philosophy and myth.
As well as fiction, I am interested in classical civilisation and all things ancient. The past shapes the present and the future, and it is wrong to think of them as separate zones or something. There are no borders to cross; it is like going from one country to the next; it is all one world. I also have a great interest in how ordinary people lived after the Industrial Revolution and the unfair class system that kept the wealth of a country in the hands of the few. I am a complex person, and people tend to jump to the wrong conclusions. I have always been quiet and introverted, keeping myself to myself and getting on with my work. I have a reputation for being dull and studious, and some people call me a swot, but I don't study just to pass examinations. I want to acquire knowledge about the world and discover my own identity in the process because it seems clear to me that we know extraordinarily little about who we are. Not only me, of course; I am nothing special, but all of us.
School was never a happy time for me, and I became increasingly withdrawn. I was always the youngest of my year, and the older boys often bullied me.
Dad said I should take a year out before going to college to toughen myself up a bit and see the world. That was fine with me. I thought I might get the chance to visit ancient ruins and even have an adventure or two. I'm not a complete geek.
I got into the habit of keeping my mouth shut when I was small, but young people mistook my shyness for me thinking I was superior. I have never once thought that I was better than anyone else—quite the opposite—but people gave me a tough time, and not just at school.
My dad was quick to fly into a temper, and he took it out on me. My mother said that it was his artistic temperament, and I soon learnt to keep out of his way. I was often lonely and used to read to cheer myself up. I even got into the habit of pretending that the characters I read about in books were real friends, especially in school stories. Sometimes I made up adventures with myself, having lots of friends and being popular at school.
Aunty's voice interrupted my thoughts and brought me back to the present.