"Love at First Sight"
"My apologies for this undignified reception, young man," she said. "Somebody more important will be here to deal with you shortly."
"Her voice was loud and intimidating, but she gave me a warm smile.
"Are you one of the owners?" I asked.
She laughed aloud. "Why no
– I'm Aunt Gladys. Most people just call me Aunty. Chief cook and bottle-washer for the boys since they were both in nappies. It's young Mr. Albert that you will be wanting to see."
Aunt Gladys went behind the counter and pulled down a speaking tube that was hanging from the ceiling. Puckering up her lips, she sent a piercing whistle down the open end, and then, taking a deep breath, she bellowed down the tube.
"ALBERT, SHOP!"
Her voice was so loud that I could have sworn the chandeliers rattled. Wherever Albert was, he could not have failed to hear. She put the tube down and gave me such a demure and ladylike smile that I could hardly believe it was the same woman. I took an immediate liking to this larger-than-life character and returned her greeting.
"He'll be with you shortly, my dear. Please take a seat. Browse through the books if you like; they are all for sale. Make me an offer if one takes your fancy; most are first editions."
She gave me an exaggerated wink and began her dusting.
A girl about my age popped her head out from a door behind the counter and stared openly at me. Her skin was the colour of beaten copper, and her eyes shone a luminous green. Tall and slim, with sleek black hair that fell to her shoulders, she stepped out into the open wearing a silk blouse and a tailored skirt. Our eyes met, and she blushed but still held my gaze.
It was the girl in the image!
She walked over to where I was sitting and gave me a broad grin.
"Hi, I'm Montana."
Her voice was pleasant and assured, with a faint accent that I could not place.
"Peregrine," I replied.
I had to act normally until I could work out what was happening in this weird emporium.
I guessed that she must work here, and the clothes were probably a high-class uniform. I told myself to forget the smile; she was just being professionally friendly to a new client, and I wondered if I should offer to shake hands.
"Nice to meet you, Peregrine," she said. "I heard you earlier talking to Cluan Cheap."
"Oh," I said, "is he a friend of yours?"
The fact that she knew that rattlesnake on first-name terms cut deep, but the depth of emotion it aroused in me was inexplicable, and I tried to ridicule my overreaction.
Never seen a pretty girl before? Calm down.
But my heart was pounding. The French call it a coup de foudre, but it was love at first sight in any language.
"Cluan Cheap, him?" said Montana contemptuously.
"No, he's not my friend."
"I'm glad," I said.
The words came out without thinking, and the heat rose in my cheeks. I tried hard to convince myself that I was just another customer as far as she was concerned.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. None of my business."
"That's all right," she said. "I'm glad you're glad."
She put her hand over her mouth in embarrassment, and we laughed, both of us red in the face.
"We don't get many people around my age in here," she said.
"You look about seventeen. Are you?"
I nodded.
"Right, the first time. And you?"
"The same," she said. "Well, nearly. I'm sixteen, but it's my birthday next week."
"Happy Birthday," I said. "In case I'm not around to say it on the day, I'd like to be, though," I added.
I was suddenly desperate that I might not see her again and tried to keep the conversation on safer ground.
"You have a slight accent, and if it's not rude to ask, where do you come from? Montana?"
"No, it's not rude. I am a Native American; my mother is Cheyenne, and my father is French Canadian."
"Quite a combination!"
"Yes, I am immensely proud of having such a unique heritage, but sadly, both my parents were killed in a plane crash when I was eight years old."
She spoke calmly, but I could see the hurt in her eyes. I wanted to hug her, but it was way too early for that, if ever, and I had to settle for more formal commiseration.
"I am so sorry, Montana. It must have been awful for you at such an early age."
"At any age," said Montana.
"They were wonderful people and wonderful parents that I will never forget, but I am lucky that Uncle Ernest was there to care for me and later adopt me. But here I am telling you my life story, and we have only just met; this is so unlike me, and I had better stop before I go too deep."
"Of course," I said hurriedly, "I didn't mean to pry."
"You didn't. It all came out without thinking."
We both became silent, and then we heard Aunty shouting from the back of the shop, where she was still dusting.
"Montana! Have you nothing better to do than stand around chatting? You have work to do, my girl."
She spoke sternly, but there was amusement in her voice.
"Sorry, Aunty," said Montana. Just taking a quick look so I'll know him if he comes in again."
She smiled at me, and my stomach lurched.
"Would you like to go out with me sometime?" I said it impulsively.
I don't know where that came from. I'm usually shy with girls. Then it hit me. What was I doing? A gorgeous girl like her—no way could she be unattached.
"That is if you haven't already got a boyfriend, of course."
Montana raised her eyebrows in comic surprise.
"So, you're to be my boyfriend, are you?"
"No! Sorry, I didn't mean that—not that I don't want to be, of course. What I'm trying to say is, "
I gave up. "Look, I'm making a bit of a mess of this."
"No, you're not," she said softly. "I think it's sweet, and I don't have a boyfriend."
"Montana!" shouted Aunty, and this time she was serious.
"Sorry, Aunty! I'm coming. I love to go out with you, Peregrine," she called over her shoulder as she ran back towards the counter.
"Great! But how will I get… in touch?"
But I was talking to myself; she had disappeared behind the counter.
I followed her to make a more definite arrangement, but when I tried to pass the counter, I hit an invisible wall and bounced back. The ground began to move, and the light dimmed for a moment before flaring up to reveal yet another image. It was a full-scale battle between human soldiers and a motley army of the most fantastical creatures I have ever seen. Many were half men, half horned beasts, some with wings, led by a group of fierce goblins armed with axes and spears.
As before, I was only an observer; it was like watching a silent, three-dimensional film, but totally realistic. The scene vanished as quickly as it had come, but I instinctively knew that I had witnessed a real battle that was happening at this very moment in another dimension. The humans seemed to be getting the worst of it, and it seemed that the beasts would triumph.
The Portal Emporium was far stranger than I imagined, but I was not afraid. It seemed to be unstable, not fixed in one place, but slipping in and out of other dimensions, at least in part. This was the adventure I had been searching for: a chance to prove my worth.
The invisible barrier had lifted, but I decided not to venture any further. I would find some other way of contacting Montana. She said that she would 'love to go out with me,' and I was not going to let that chance slip away.
Everywhere was quiet now, and I needed to settle down. I turned my attention to an antique oak bookcase set back from the entrance. 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 in 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 I returned to the present.