The Moste Exalted Order of the Pachyderm (One)
Part the First
Olivia woke, as usual, three minutes before her alarm went off. It annoyed her, really, because what use was waking up three minutes before an alarm. Five minutes was good, five minutes translated to just five more minutes, but three minutes was neither open to excuse or impetus to get up. Three minutes to seven, every weekday morning, like clockwork.
She sighed and rolled onto her back, rubbing fitfully at her eyes. Two minutes until she had to get up, and no way to fudge it that morning at all as she was due to open the shop and Ryan didn’t appreciate it when the shop opened late because his most trusted employee couldn’t be bothered getting out of bed five minutes earlier.
The alarm went off as she was contemplating the inside of her eyelids for just thirty seconds, I swear and she was brought to life by the opening crash of Elmer Bernstein’s Magnificent Seven Theme. It was one way to wake up and it filled her morning routine with the ghosts of Yul Brynner and Steve MacQueen. James Coburn helped her fix breakfast, laconic and lazy and rather beautiful, and Robert Vaughan joined her own the sofa for BBC Breakfast.
Bill and Sian were delightful, switching easily from unrest in the Middle East to interviewing Zach Galifinakis about his latest lad movie with the smoothest of professional ease. The weather forecast for the majority of the country was wonderful and so, of course, Whitley Bay was slightly damp and foggy when Olivia twitched a curtain aside.
Brushing her teeth was accompanied by the eight o’clock news bulletin (a train in Cumbria has miraculously not crashed, the wars have been quiet and happiness is on the rise - editorialising her own) and with a final check of her hair, messy and so much easier to pretend that was totally what she was going for when all the celebrities were wearing their hair that way on the red carpet this season, she was out the door.
Olivia’s flat was in the “posher” end of Whitley Bay, partway to Whitley Lodge, in a converted hundred year old semi-detached. She had the bottom flat, which would have normally been the A flat if her landlord had been anything other than an eccentric, and rejoiced in rarely having to speak to her upstairs neighbour due to his unwieldy shifts at the bingo hall.
She walked down leafy streets, the early stages of autumn beginning to set in, and scuffed her feet against the uneven pavement. The sky was overcast, thick with grey, and the chill fog she’d noted when she looked out of the window clung wetly to her clothes and hair. Perhaps she should have brought her gloves but, no, she refused to give into the North-East winter until at least October.
Her path took her past the Playhouse, looking resplendent still with its refurbishment barely a year old, and into a struggle against the bustling school run finish line outside Marine Park First School. She dodged flying mums and dads and barely avoided tripping over multiple tiny humans. Not for the first time she thought about swapping around her evening and morning routes but Olivia was something of a creature of habit and the very thought unnerved her.
Crossing the road by the library, using the official crossing in an effort to set a good example for any children that might be watching, she lifted her head as she approached the mysterious Park Studio. Every other part of the building at the bottom of Beach Ave had been taken over by the Age Concern but for this tiny section. It intrigued Olivia as, even though she had lived in Whitley Bay for nine years, she had yet to figure out what sort of studio it was.
In the small display window seeming haphazardly placed on the wall there was a carved wooden elephant - simple but elegant - and two out of three See-No-Evil, Hear-No-Evil, Speak-No-Evil monkeys. She wondered if they’d been carved by the owner of the studio, if that meant that the studio was an art studio, or if, like many westerners, the owner had simply adopted a popular Asian tradition as their own.
Speak was still missing, what had happened to the third monkey (did you see the Third Monkey? He was on the hill, observing) and whether this mystery would ever be solved was something that nudged at Olivia’s consciousness every morning as she walked to work. It certainly wasn’t the most important question in the world but she had a nagging feeling that she was missing something in not understanding the puzzle before her.
She followed Park Ave all the way to it’s end and turned left onto Whitley Road wandering absently almost as far as Fitzgerald’s before remembering to adjust herself for Victoria Terrace. Bored with waiting for lights, and deciding that she was safe from corrupting any small child’s already tenuous grip on road safety, she darted across the road between surges of traffic.
Books & So On wasn’t the biggest shop in Whitley Bay but it was possibly second most overcrowded after Laird’s. (There was a rumour amongst shopkeepers that Laird’s was going to close down. Olivia couldn’t imagine such a thing, Laird’s had seemingly been there forever, where would people go when they wanted to by Assorted Things?) Olivia unlocked the shutter and gave it a kick to get it moving, watching it roll up as slowly as a turtle walked up hill. She gave it a push when it got stuck and ended up shoving it hard. She was going to need the stick from out back to get it all the way up.
She checked her watch as she unlocked the door, twenty past eight, and made sure the closed sign was still facing outwards as she locked it again once she was in. It may have been a Wednesday but that didn’t mean Mrs. Taylor wouldn’t show up unexpectedly. The woman was an utter nightmare, after all, and those always showed up when you least expected it. Ryan would arrive at ten past nine on the dot so Olivia had forty minutes to prepare for opening in peace and quiet.
Well, she considered as she turned the shop’s MP3 sound system on, peace and quiet is only ever a relative term, isn’t it? Swedish Hip-Hop Jazz burst out at a volume significantly above the infamous eleven and immediately brightened Olivia’s day simply by existing.
Singing along with approximate lyrics in a language she didn’t understand, Olivia began the daily opening routine. Booting up the ancient sales computer (because, honestly, who even knew what a Pentium was these days?), chasing the worse of the ever-invading spiders into corners where they could do no harm, making sure the step-stool was actually in the shop as opposed to the rear yard because Peter had been trying to coax the neighbourhood cats into playing with him again and, perhaps most important of all, making sure the kettle in the back room was clean and ready for Ryan’s daily supply of tea.
Olivia had her chores completed in just under thirty minutes, allowing her some time to poke about in the work e-mail for anything of any importance before Ryan arrived and starting looking guilty any time she mentioned cleaning out the inbox.
The door was unlocked at nine o’clock, give or take a few seconds, and Olivia ushered all zero of their customers in. She wondered if there was a place in the multiverse where people queued up outside a bookstore for a reason other than Harry Potter - she decided she’d quite like to visit such a place before realising that Jasper Fforde had already written about one.
She turned the kettle on at five past, knowing that Ryan would be brewing up with moments of coming in the back door and also knowing that she wouldn’t see him until at least fifteen minutes after the first cup of tea had settled. She tugged her paperback copy of Maskerade out of her bag and turned her attention to Messr. Pratchett’s most entertaining witches.
The next half hour passed peacefully, Olivia barely noticing the sound of Ryan’s arrival and subsequent near orgasm over his first cup of tea, with no customers at all. Being the only bookstore in Whitley Bay should’ve really meant a lot more customers than Books & So On got and yet there they were, with barely any customers on weekdays.
“Obviously you’ve got no work to do,” Ryan said when he emerged from his office, also known as Upstairs, just before ten o’clock.
“Quite sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Olivia said, looking around wide-eyed, “I am the busiest bee that there ever was.”
“As you should be with all of these customers,” Ryan waved a hand at the empty shop.
“In all seriousness, boss, there’s nothing really to do,” Olivia said with a shrug. “Peter put the delivery away yesterday and Jo said she’d take care of the signage issue.”
“And so I’m paying you to sit and read your way, in publishing order, through the Discworld.”
“You know what the say: nice work if you can get it.”
“I’ll have you know that I’ve been -”
“Not clearing out the inbox?”
“I - come on,” Ryan flushed slightly. “That’s not - that has nothing to do with anything.”
“I don’t know what you’re so afraid of, boss,” Olivia said with a half a smile. “You only infected the entire network with a pop-up virus that one time. I’m sure it wouldn’t happen again. If you keep that spam can nice and close.”
“You’re not very funny, I don’t know why I keep you around,” Ryan said, his blush deepening.
“It’s because of my grace and charm, obviously,” Olivia said, punctuating her point by almost slipping of the chair as she swung from side to side.
“What time is Peter in today?” Ryan asked, sweeping an unconscious hand through his dark hair. Olivia hid a smile behind her hand.
“Sometime around lunchtime,” Olivia said. “I said he could have the morning off to recover from Paula’s birthday thing.”
“That was very kind of you,” Ryan said, narrowing his eyes slightly. “What a wonderful manager you would make if you had any authority.”
“Pfft,” Olivia waved a hand. “You know you’d fall apart without me.”
“And oh! how I wish that wasn’t true,” Ryan clutched at his chest. He blinked when the shop door tinkled. “Customer!”
He darted away before Olivia could say something and left her smiling down at her book and restraining a laugh. Ryan’s love of books was only counterbalanced by his severe dislike of the general populace and she couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had to serve someone.
Olivia raised her book and pretended that she was staring at the customer. They didn’t often get new customers on weekdays, and certainly not on Wednesdays, and her curiosity outweighed her general malaise. She was tall, probably a good half a foot taller than Olivia, but slight in a way Olivia had never been able to pull off (she went bony quickly when she lost wait and had happily settled comfortably above her supposed BMI in direct contravention of Doctor’s orders). Olivia tried not to get too excited at the flashes of dark skinned hands skating over the books, Whitley Bay was very slowly gaining a more chromatic presence and cries of ‘one more!’ were generally frowned upon, even from people amongst the community like Olivia herself with her own darker colouring.
The customer’s hair was truly striking, though, as it was streaked with the sort of electric blue Olivia had long wanted in her own her but had been unable to find. The blue streak ran from the woman’s temple and had twisted into her ponytail in quite evocative ways. Olivia instantly envied the colour and the woman for having found it.
The customer must have felt Olivia watching her because she turned and gave her half a smile. Olivia felt her cheeks redden at being caught staring and she ducked her head shyly. The woman was a lot prettier than most of their regular customers. Olivia tucked that thought away for later, because it wasn’t a usual thought for her to have, and tried to concentrate on her book.
The door burst open before she got even ten words into the next sentence. She sighed, there was only one person who could burst into the shop like that. He was tall and tousled and blue eyed and incredibly distracting on a variety levels. He was also, realistically, one of Olivia’s best friend and she still wasn’t sure what to do with that considering she only ever saw him in the shop.
“My dearest Olivia,” Ted said, bounding up to the counter. “What news in Books & So On.”
“Oh, the usual Ted - Ryan’s still embarrassed by that one time I caught him looking at porn on the work computer -”
“I heard that!” shouted from the back room, caused both Olivia and Ted to lapse into momentary laughter.
“And we’ve only had one customer so far. And I keep getting interrupted in one of the best parts of this book,” Olivia continued as Ted draped himself against the counter, all legs and distractingly long body.
“A customer? On a Wednesday?” Ted asked, feigning genuine shock. “What fortunes you must be envisioning.”
“Oh, you can barely dream of what I’m envisioning,” Olivia said, winking. Ted smiled back, the sort of smile that suggested that anything Olivia could envision he could envision better. It was an odd habit of his.
“Excuse me,” Olivia started at the new voice. “But the customer would like some help?”
The rise to the question mark at the end of the sentence didn’t seem to fit with the melodious tones of the voice. Olivia turned to find the customer on the opposite end of the counter to Ted, absently tracing patterns against the counter with one hand. Olivia coughed.
“Sorry,” she said. Embarrassment was a sensation she was used to when Ted was around. “How can I help you.”
“I’m looking for books about unusual local history,” the customer said, smiling. Olivia was pretty certain the smile was at her discomfort.
“That’s a fairly specific request,” Olivia said. “Do you mind if I ask why?”
“Not at all,” the customer shook her head and Olivia’s eyes were once more drawn to the envied streak of blue. “My answer comes best via an introduction: my name is Flora Stardust. Professor of the Odd and Uncanny.”
“I wasn’t aware Northumbria or Newcastle had and Odd an Uncanny department,” Ted said covering Olivia’s open astonishment at the name. “Although that would explain a lot about some of the more extraordinary students I’ve seen whilst out and about on a Monday evening.”
“They don’t,” Professor Stardust said. “But hopefully one of them will soon. I’m sort of pitching myself to them next week. First I have to prove to them that the North-East has enough Uncanny business to merit my appointment.”
“Hence why you’re asking the lovely Miss Lake about unusual history,” Ted said. “Well, I for one think you’ve come to the right place. Books & So On has its fair share of the uncan - ow!”
Olivia pulled her hand back from the punch she’d landed on Ted’s arm and smiled at Professor Stardust. Professor Stardust.
“Please pay no attention to the fool by the counter,” Olivia said, hopping down from her chair. “His opinion does not count on any level at all. At. All.”
“Fool is a bit harsh,” Ted muttered, rubbing his arm. Olivia raised an eyebrow at him and he lifted his hands appeasingly.
“This way,” Olivia said, indicating with her head that the Professor should follow her. “We’ve actually got a pretty good section on local history - my boss is almost a collector. So many vanity published books you wouldn’t even believe it.”
“Your boyfriend thinks he’s very funny, doesn’t he?” Professor Stardust asked as she followed Olivia into one of the dustier nooks in the shop. Olivia barked a laugh and covered her mouth at the sound.
“Sorry,” she said when Stardust gave her an odd look. “Despite the way he talks - he’s not my boyfriend. The very thought is, well, if you knew him you’d know how funny it was.”
“Oh,” Stardust said quietly. Olivia barely resisted turning a quizzical look over her shoulder, there had been something in the brief syllable that she didn’t understand.
“Here we go,” Olivia said, waving a hand that indicated a low, wobbly bookcase. (There wasn’t a single matching set of bookshelves in the shop, Ryan had bought each unit from a charity shop whenever he needed more space.) “Everything we have on local history. If there’s anything about anything unusual it’ll be there.”
“Thank you,” Stardust said, smiling warmly and Olivia barely resisted the urge to duck her head again.
“It is what I’m here for, after all,” Olivia returned the smile and headed back to the counter. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you,” she added as she turned out of the row.
“I will,” Stardust said and Olivia could tell she was still smiling without looking back.
“Well, isn’t she lovely?” Ted said when Olivia was perched on her chair again.
“I couldn’t really tell,” Olivia said, shooting him a look. “Given I’ve barely exchanged five minutes of conversation with her.”
“I wasn’t talking about conversation,” Ted said, darting away before Olivia could punch him again. “Sorry! Sorry. But even you have to admit that she has a certain something about her.”
There had been something, in the brief moment where Olivia met her eyes, that spoke to a part of Olivia that was normally very quiet. It was not something Olivia was used to at all. She shook her head, knowing it was pointless - Ted had an odd ability to see right through her.
“Not that it matters of course,” Ted said, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m fairly certain that she wouldn’t be interested in me.”
“I want so very much to say that that’s nothing new,” Olivia said, frowning. “But I saw your latest Facebook pictures and I do so hate lying, even for the sake of banter.”
“Charlie was a very lovely girl,” Ted said with a ghost of a smile. “Knew an awful lot about botany. Fascinating, really. Did you know -”
Olivia was thankfully saved from having to listen to yet another fact learnt from one of Ted’s acquaintances (she hadn’t been able to place why it irritated her so much, considering she dealt with similar from Yuen without batting an eyelid) by the return of the Professor. Stardust set a small stack of books on the counter and smiled. Her eyes flicked very briefly over Ted but didn’t linger and Olivia had to admit that that probably meant something - there weren’t many people who didn’t linger over Ted. Not that she noticed.
“I didn’t even know we had these,” Olivia said, sliding the books closer so she could scan the barcodes in. “Odd Happenings On A Midnight, by JP Reckon. What does that even mean?”
“Midnight is a traditional hour for the Uncanny,” Stardust said, watching Olivia’s hands as she scanned with practiced ease. “Of course, anyone who’s made any sort of study of the subject knows that that’s almost entirely folkloric. Twilight is the true time of the Odd and Uncanny.”
“Now that you mention it…” Ted’s eyes glazed slightly, taking on that faraway look that they sometimes did. When no further words were forthcoming Olivia shrugged and went back to work.
“That doesn’t mean that midnight isn’t important, of course,” Stardust continued as if uninterrupted. “It is an edge - between old and new - and that’s powerful. Which you’ll know already, of course.”
Stardust tapped her hand against Olivia’s book, resting by the till, and offered a smile.
“I often wonder whether Mr Pratchett has ever had formal training in my subject area - there is a lot he understands that normal people don’t.”
“Well, that’s authors really, isn’t it? They always understand the world in different ways to everyone else. I think you have to be slightly out of touch with the world in order to be a truly excellent author.”
“I think you might be right,” Stardust smiled again, such a warm thing, and Olivia had a sudden insight that such smiles could become addictive if left unchecked.
“That’s 23.99,” Olivia said to avoid following that train of thought to a natural conclusion.
“And that’s a very fair price,” Stardust said, handing over her debit card. Olivia swiped and turned the PIN machine around.
“Will you be staying in Whitley Bay then?” Ted asked, suddenly snapping back to the present. Olivia and Stardust started slightly, having forgotten he was there.
“I’m currently at Sandsides Guest House,” Stardust said, nodding. “If either of the universities take me on I’m hoping to find a flat in the area. There’s something about Whitley Bay that I like.”
“Spoken like a true Baysider,” Ted said, smiling softly.
“Oh, shut up Ted, there’s no such thing,” Olivia said, averting her eyes whilst Strdust entered her PIN.
“There is, I assure you,” Ted said, drawing himself up to his full height. “There are plenty of people that call Whitley a dump, shithole, a faded seaside town with no hope and no spirit -”
“Hey, I love this faded seaside town,” Olivia said, fulfilling a part she should have know better than to play after knowing Ted for five years.
“Precisely the words of Baysider,” Ted said smugly. “Someone who loves this place despite all the evidence that points to the contrary. Because for them there is something about Whitley Bay and so they can’t stay away. I should know - I’ve felt that way since I moved here.”
“And when exactly was that again?” Olivia asked, knowing it was unkind, knowing better. Ted shot her a look that was briefly full of venom before his eyes shuttered off.
“Something that is for me to know and you to find out if you ever decided you care enough to go digging through local records,” Ted sniffed. Olivia did feel sorry. There were few things Ted wouldn’t talk about and his past was the main one.
She rang the sale through in silence, feeling a badness down at the bottom of her soul and wishing she could take the sentence back. Stardust wisely stayed quiet, obviously recognising something that wasn’t open to outside discussion, and Olivia liked her all the more for it.
“There you go,” she said, tucking the receipt into the bag without asking. “If you need more -”
“I know where to find you,” Stardust said, giving away yet another one of those smiles. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you,” Ted said. “For brightening up a normally dull Wednesday with your presence.”
“Wow,” Stardust said, eyes comically wide. “You said that without moving your lips.”
Ted laughed and Olivia mock scowled at him, flashing a brief smile in the direction of Stardust.
“What can I say,” Olivia said, shrugging one shoulder. “I’m a very talented individual.”
“I can see that,” Stardust said, grinning. “I’ll see you again, I’m sure.”
“She’s here every week day,” Ted called out as Stardust made her way out of the labyrinthine shop. “And her name’s Olivia, by the way. For future reference.”
He didn’t dodge so well that time.
“Jealousy does not become you,” Olivia said, frowning at him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ted said, his voice rising to the register that told Olivia that he knew exactly what she was talking about.
“Acting up simply because someone else was paying attention to me,” Olivia shook her head. “I don’t remember adopting a thirty year old child.”
Ted sniffed and tried to look dismissive but the slight touch of red rising up the back of his neck belied his attitude.
“Don’t you have a run to get to?” Olivia asked, adding insult to injury. “Surely you wouldn’t want your devoted fans to miss you.”
“Sometimes you are a deeply unkind person, dear heart,” Ted said, a ghost of actual hurt in his eyes. “You’re lucky I’m so fond of you. Say goodbye to Ryan for me.”
“See you tonight, Ted!” Ryan’s voice emerged from the back room, once again proving his uncanny ability to eavesdrop perfectly.
“You better have your good arm on,” Ted called back. “I can’t face losing to the Red Lion team again.”
“It’s only a friendly,” Olivia pointed out, making an effort towards not being a shit friend.
“Yeah, but they get so bloody insufferable,” Ryan said, emerging from the back room. “Is the customer gone?”
“You wouldn’t be out here if she wasn’t,” Olivia said, swinging her chair to bring him into view. “She bought twenty four quid worth of books, boss, maybe you should try talking to her next time.”
“Yes, looks like she might be about pretty often,” Ted said with an oddly flat voice.
“I believe you’re supposed to be running somewhere,” Olivia said, returning to the irritated tone of before. Ted favoured her with a long cool look.
“I’ll just be going, will I? Wouldn’t want to bore you with my presence,” he said, nodding to Ryan before jogging out of the shop. The bell managed to tinkle resentfully, or perhaps that was Olivia reading things into the behaviour of inanimate objects again.
“I don’t like it when you and Ted fight,” Ryan said, staring after him. “It puts unusual stress on the team and I have to pick a side. I don’t like taking sides.”
“Well. You are a Lib Dem voter after all,” Olivia said before she could stop herself. Ryan sniffed.
“Uncalled for,” he said, wagging a finger. “Am I going to have to order you out?”
“And leave the shop in your hands?” Olivia shook her head. “We’d be closed by lunch time. No fear, boss, I promise I shall behave better.”
“And make up with Ted when he comes back,” Ryan held his finger up in admonishment.
“If he comes back,” Olivia said.
“When,” Ryan stressed. “He’s incapable of staying away from you. Sometimes I wonder if he even has a job.”
“I’ve known him for five years, boss, even I don’t know if he has a job,” Olivia admitted.
The door tinkled again, admitting the first of their Wednesday regulars, and Ryan disappeared. A ninja would have a hard time keeping up with Olivia’s boss.
“Good morning, Mr Bosworth, what can I help you with today?”
(Of course, it's rough. Because, you know, writing on the fly with little to no editing. Still. Enjoy.)
Olivia woke, as usual, three minutes before her alarm went off. It annoyed her, really, because what use was waking up three minutes before an alarm. Five minutes was good, five minutes translated to just five more minutes, but three minutes was neither open to excuse or impetus to get up. Three minutes to seven, every weekday morning, like clockwork.
She sighed and rolled onto her back, rubbing fitfully at her eyes. Two minutes until she had to get up, and no way to fudge it that morning at all as she was due to open the shop and Ryan didn’t appreciate it when the shop opened late because his most trusted employee couldn’t be bothered getting out of bed five minutes earlier.
The alarm went off as she was contemplating the inside of her eyelids for just thirty seconds, I swear and she was brought to life by the opening crash of Elmer Bernstein’s Magnificent Seven Theme. It was one way to wake up and it filled her morning routine with the ghosts of Yul Brynner and Steve MacQueen. James Coburn helped her fix breakfast, laconic and lazy and rather beautiful, and Robert Vaughan joined her own the sofa for BBC Breakfast.
Bill and Sian were delightful, switching easily from unrest in the Middle East to interviewing Zach Galifinakis about his latest lad movie with the smoothest of professional ease. The weather forecast for the majority of the country was wonderful and so, of course, Whitley Bay was slightly damp and foggy when Olivia twitched a curtain aside.
Brushing her teeth was accompanied by the eight o’clock news bulletin (a train in Cumbria has miraculously not crashed, the wars have been quiet and happiness is on the rise - editorialising her own) and with a final check of her hair, messy and so much easier to pretend that was totally what she was going for when all the celebrities were wearing their hair that way on the red carpet this season, she was out the door.
Olivia’s flat was in the “posher” end of Whitley Bay, partway to Whitley Lodge, in a converted hundred year old semi-detached. She had the bottom flat, which would have normally been the A flat if her landlord had been anything other than an eccentric, and rejoiced in rarely having to speak to her upstairs neighbour due to his unwieldy shifts at the bingo hall.
She walked down leafy streets, the early stages of autumn beginning to set in, and scuffed her feet against the uneven pavement. The sky was overcast, thick with grey, and the chill fog she’d noted when she looked out of the window clung wetly to her clothes and hair. Perhaps she should have brought her gloves but, no, she refused to give into the North-East winter until at least October.
Her path took her past the Playhouse, looking resplendent still with its refurbishment barely a year old, and into a struggle against the bustling school run finish line outside Marine Park First School. She dodged flying mums and dads and barely avoided tripping over multiple tiny humans. Not for the first time she thought about swapping around her evening and morning routes but Olivia was something of a creature of habit and the very thought unnerved her.
Crossing the road by the library, using the official crossing in an effort to set a good example for any children that might be watching, she lifted her head as she approached the mysterious Park Studio. Every other part of the building at the bottom of Beach Ave had been taken over by the Age Concern but for this tiny section. It intrigued Olivia as, even though she had lived in Whitley Bay for nine years, she had yet to figure out what sort of studio it was.
In the small display window seeming haphazardly placed on the wall there was a carved wooden elephant - simple but elegant - and two out of three See-No-Evil, Hear-No-Evil, Speak-No-Evil monkeys. She wondered if they’d been carved by the owner of the studio, if that meant that the studio was an art studio, or if, like many westerners, the owner had simply adopted a popular Asian tradition as their own.
Speak was still missing, what had happened to the third monkey (did you see the Third Monkey? He was on the hill, observing) and whether this mystery would ever be solved was something that nudged at Olivia’s consciousness every morning as she walked to work. It certainly wasn’t the most important question in the world but she had a nagging feeling that she was missing something in not understanding the puzzle before her.
She followed Park Ave all the way to it’s end and turned left onto Whitley Road wandering absently almost as far as Fitzgerald’s before remembering to adjust herself for Victoria Terrace. Bored with waiting for lights, and deciding that she was safe from corrupting any small child’s already tenuous grip on road safety, she darted across the road between surges of traffic.
Books & So On wasn’t the biggest shop in Whitley Bay but it was possibly second most overcrowded after Laird’s. (There was a rumour amongst shopkeepers that Laird’s was going to close down. Olivia couldn’t imagine such a thing, Laird’s had seemingly been there forever, where would people go when they wanted to by Assorted Things?) Olivia unlocked the shutter and gave it a kick to get it moving, watching it roll up as slowly as a turtle walked up hill. She gave it a push when it got stuck and ended up shoving it hard. She was going to need the stick from out back to get it all the way up.
She checked her watch as she unlocked the door, twenty past eight, and made sure the closed sign was still facing outwards as she locked it again once she was in. It may have been a Wednesday but that didn’t mean Mrs. Taylor wouldn’t show up unexpectedly. The woman was an utter nightmare, after all, and those always showed up when you least expected it. Ryan would arrive at ten past nine on the dot so Olivia had forty minutes to prepare for opening in peace and quiet.
Well, she considered as she turned the shop’s MP3 sound system on, peace and quiet is only ever a relative term, isn’t it? Swedish Hip-Hop Jazz burst out at a volume significantly above the infamous eleven and immediately brightened Olivia’s day simply by existing.
Singing along with approximate lyrics in a language she didn’t understand, Olivia began the daily opening routine. Booting up the ancient sales computer (because, honestly, who even knew what a Pentium was these days?), chasing the worse of the ever-invading spiders into corners where they could do no harm, making sure the step-stool was actually in the shop as opposed to the rear yard because Peter had been trying to coax the neighbourhood cats into playing with him again and, perhaps most important of all, making sure the kettle in the back room was clean and ready for Ryan’s daily supply of tea.
Olivia had her chores completed in just under thirty minutes, allowing her some time to poke about in the work e-mail for anything of any importance before Ryan arrived and starting looking guilty any time she mentioned cleaning out the inbox.
The door was unlocked at nine o’clock, give or take a few seconds, and Olivia ushered all zero of their customers in. She wondered if there was a place in the multiverse where people queued up outside a bookstore for a reason other than Harry Potter - she decided she’d quite like to visit such a place before realising that Jasper Fforde had already written about one.
She turned the kettle on at five past, knowing that Ryan would be brewing up with moments of coming in the back door and also knowing that she wouldn’t see him until at least fifteen minutes after the first cup of tea had settled. She tugged her paperback copy of Maskerade out of her bag and turned her attention to Messr. Pratchett’s most entertaining witches.
The next half hour passed peacefully, Olivia barely noticing the sound of Ryan’s arrival and subsequent near orgasm over his first cup of tea, with no customers at all. Being the only bookstore in Whitley Bay should’ve really meant a lot more customers than Books & So On got and yet there they were, with barely any customers on weekdays.
“Obviously you’ve got no work to do,” Ryan said when he emerged from his office, also known as Upstairs, just before ten o’clock.
“Quite sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Olivia said, looking around wide-eyed, “I am the busiest bee that there ever was.”
“As you should be with all of these customers,” Ryan waved a hand at the empty shop.
“In all seriousness, boss, there’s nothing really to do,” Olivia said with a shrug. “Peter put the delivery away yesterday and Jo said she’d take care of the signage issue.”
“And so I’m paying you to sit and read your way, in publishing order, through the Discworld.”
“You know what the say: nice work if you can get it.”
“I’ll have you know that I’ve been -”
“Not clearing out the inbox?”
“I - come on,” Ryan flushed slightly. “That’s not - that has nothing to do with anything.”
“I don’t know what you’re so afraid of, boss,” Olivia said with a half a smile. “You only infected the entire network with a pop-up virus that one time. I’m sure it wouldn’t happen again. If you keep that spam can nice and close.”
“You’re not very funny, I don’t know why I keep you around,” Ryan said, his blush deepening.
“It’s because of my grace and charm, obviously,” Olivia said, punctuating her point by almost slipping of the chair as she swung from side to side.
“What time is Peter in today?” Ryan asked, sweeping an unconscious hand through his dark hair. Olivia hid a smile behind her hand.
“Sometime around lunchtime,” Olivia said. “I said he could have the morning off to recover from Paula’s birthday thing.”
“That was very kind of you,” Ryan said, narrowing his eyes slightly. “What a wonderful manager you would make if you had any authority.”
“Pfft,” Olivia waved a hand. “You know you’d fall apart without me.”
“And oh! how I wish that wasn’t true,” Ryan clutched at his chest. He blinked when the shop door tinkled. “Customer!”
He darted away before Olivia could say something and left her smiling down at her book and restraining a laugh. Ryan’s love of books was only counterbalanced by his severe dislike of the general populace and she couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had to serve someone.
Olivia raised her book and pretended that she was staring at the customer. They didn’t often get new customers on weekdays, and certainly not on Wednesdays, and her curiosity outweighed her general malaise. She was tall, probably a good half a foot taller than Olivia, but slight in a way Olivia had never been able to pull off (she went bony quickly when she lost wait and had happily settled comfortably above her supposed BMI in direct contravention of Doctor’s orders). Olivia tried not to get too excited at the flashes of dark skinned hands skating over the books, Whitley Bay was very slowly gaining a more chromatic presence and cries of ‘one more!’ were generally frowned upon, even from people amongst the community like Olivia herself with her own darker colouring.
The customer’s hair was truly striking, though, as it was streaked with the sort of electric blue Olivia had long wanted in her own her but had been unable to find. The blue streak ran from the woman’s temple and had twisted into her ponytail in quite evocative ways. Olivia instantly envied the colour and the woman for having found it.
The customer must have felt Olivia watching her because she turned and gave her half a smile. Olivia felt her cheeks redden at being caught staring and she ducked her head shyly. The woman was a lot prettier than most of their regular customers. Olivia tucked that thought away for later, because it wasn’t a usual thought for her to have, and tried to concentrate on her book.
The door burst open before she got even ten words into the next sentence. She sighed, there was only one person who could burst into the shop like that. He was tall and tousled and blue eyed and incredibly distracting on a variety levels. He was also, realistically, one of Olivia’s best friend and she still wasn’t sure what to do with that considering she only ever saw him in the shop.
“My dearest Olivia,” Ted said, bounding up to the counter. “What news in Books & So On.”
“Oh, the usual Ted - Ryan’s still embarrassed by that one time I caught him looking at porn on the work computer -”
“I heard that!” shouted from the back room, caused both Olivia and Ted to lapse into momentary laughter.
“And we’ve only had one customer so far. And I keep getting interrupted in one of the best parts of this book,” Olivia continued as Ted draped himself against the counter, all legs and distractingly long body.
“A customer? On a Wednesday?” Ted asked, feigning genuine shock. “What fortunes you must be envisioning.”
“Oh, you can barely dream of what I’m envisioning,” Olivia said, winking. Ted smiled back, the sort of smile that suggested that anything Olivia could envision he could envision better. It was an odd habit of his.
“Excuse me,” Olivia started at the new voice. “But the customer would like some help?”
The rise to the question mark at the end of the sentence didn’t seem to fit with the melodious tones of the voice. Olivia turned to find the customer on the opposite end of the counter to Ted, absently tracing patterns against the counter with one hand. Olivia coughed.
“Sorry,” she said. Embarrassment was a sensation she was used to when Ted was around. “How can I help you.”
“I’m looking for books about unusual local history,” the customer said, smiling. Olivia was pretty certain the smile was at her discomfort.
“That’s a fairly specific request,” Olivia said. “Do you mind if I ask why?”
“Not at all,” the customer shook her head and Olivia’s eyes were once more drawn to the envied streak of blue. “My answer comes best via an introduction: my name is Flora Stardust. Professor of the Odd and Uncanny.”
“I wasn’t aware Northumbria or Newcastle had and Odd an Uncanny department,” Ted said covering Olivia’s open astonishment at the name. “Although that would explain a lot about some of the more extraordinary students I’ve seen whilst out and about on a Monday evening.”
“They don’t,” Professor Stardust said. “But hopefully one of them will soon. I’m sort of pitching myself to them next week. First I have to prove to them that the North-East has enough Uncanny business to merit my appointment.”
“Hence why you’re asking the lovely Miss Lake about unusual history,” Ted said. “Well, I for one think you’ve come to the right place. Books & So On has its fair share of the uncan - ow!”
Olivia pulled her hand back from the punch she’d landed on Ted’s arm and smiled at Professor Stardust. Professor Stardust.
“Please pay no attention to the fool by the counter,” Olivia said, hopping down from her chair. “His opinion does not count on any level at all. At. All.”
“Fool is a bit harsh,” Ted muttered, rubbing his arm. Olivia raised an eyebrow at him and he lifted his hands appeasingly.
“This way,” Olivia said, indicating with her head that the Professor should follow her. “We’ve actually got a pretty good section on local history - my boss is almost a collector. So many vanity published books you wouldn’t even believe it.”
“Your boyfriend thinks he’s very funny, doesn’t he?” Professor Stardust asked as she followed Olivia into one of the dustier nooks in the shop. Olivia barked a laugh and covered her mouth at the sound.
“Sorry,” she said when Stardust gave her an odd look. “Despite the way he talks - he’s not my boyfriend. The very thought is, well, if you knew him you’d know how funny it was.”
“Oh,” Stardust said quietly. Olivia barely resisted turning a quizzical look over her shoulder, there had been something in the brief syllable that she didn’t understand.
“Here we go,” Olivia said, waving a hand that indicated a low, wobbly bookcase. (There wasn’t a single matching set of bookshelves in the shop, Ryan had bought each unit from a charity shop whenever he needed more space.) “Everything we have on local history. If there’s anything about anything unusual it’ll be there.”
“Thank you,” Stardust said, smiling warmly and Olivia barely resisted the urge to duck her head again.
“It is what I’m here for, after all,” Olivia returned the smile and headed back to the counter. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you,” she added as she turned out of the row.
“I will,” Stardust said and Olivia could tell she was still smiling without looking back.
“Well, isn’t she lovely?” Ted said when Olivia was perched on her chair again.
“I couldn’t really tell,” Olivia said, shooting him a look. “Given I’ve barely exchanged five minutes of conversation with her.”
“I wasn’t talking about conversation,” Ted said, darting away before Olivia could punch him again. “Sorry! Sorry. But even you have to admit that she has a certain something about her.”
There had been something, in the brief moment where Olivia met her eyes, that spoke to a part of Olivia that was normally very quiet. It was not something Olivia was used to at all. She shook her head, knowing it was pointless - Ted had an odd ability to see right through her.
“Not that it matters of course,” Ted said, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m fairly certain that she wouldn’t be interested in me.”
“I want so very much to say that that’s nothing new,” Olivia said, frowning. “But I saw your latest Facebook pictures and I do so hate lying, even for the sake of banter.”
“Charlie was a very lovely girl,” Ted said with a ghost of a smile. “Knew an awful lot about botany. Fascinating, really. Did you know -”
Olivia was thankfully saved from having to listen to yet another fact learnt from one of Ted’s acquaintances (she hadn’t been able to place why it irritated her so much, considering she dealt with similar from Yuen without batting an eyelid) by the return of the Professor. Stardust set a small stack of books on the counter and smiled. Her eyes flicked very briefly over Ted but didn’t linger and Olivia had to admit that that probably meant something - there weren’t many people who didn’t linger over Ted. Not that she noticed.
“I didn’t even know we had these,” Olivia said, sliding the books closer so she could scan the barcodes in. “Odd Happenings On A Midnight, by JP Reckon. What does that even mean?”
“Midnight is a traditional hour for the Uncanny,” Stardust said, watching Olivia’s hands as she scanned with practiced ease. “Of course, anyone who’s made any sort of study of the subject knows that that’s almost entirely folkloric. Twilight is the true time of the Odd and Uncanny.”
“Now that you mention it…” Ted’s eyes glazed slightly, taking on that faraway look that they sometimes did. When no further words were forthcoming Olivia shrugged and went back to work.
“That doesn’t mean that midnight isn’t important, of course,” Stardust continued as if uninterrupted. “It is an edge - between old and new - and that’s powerful. Which you’ll know already, of course.”
Stardust tapped her hand against Olivia’s book, resting by the till, and offered a smile.
“I often wonder whether Mr Pratchett has ever had formal training in my subject area - there is a lot he understands that normal people don’t.”
“Well, that’s authors really, isn’t it? They always understand the world in different ways to everyone else. I think you have to be slightly out of touch with the world in order to be a truly excellent author.”
“I think you might be right,” Stardust smiled again, such a warm thing, and Olivia had a sudden insight that such smiles could become addictive if left unchecked.
“That’s 23.99,” Olivia said to avoid following that train of thought to a natural conclusion.
“And that’s a very fair price,” Stardust said, handing over her debit card. Olivia swiped and turned the PIN machine around.
“Will you be staying in Whitley Bay then?” Ted asked, suddenly snapping back to the present. Olivia and Stardust started slightly, having forgotten he was there.
“I’m currently at Sandsides Guest House,” Stardust said, nodding. “If either of the universities take me on I’m hoping to find a flat in the area. There’s something about Whitley Bay that I like.”
“Spoken like a true Baysider,” Ted said, smiling softly.
“Oh, shut up Ted, there’s no such thing,” Olivia said, averting her eyes whilst Strdust entered her PIN.
“There is, I assure you,” Ted said, drawing himself up to his full height. “There are plenty of people that call Whitley a dump, shithole, a faded seaside town with no hope and no spirit -”
“Hey, I love this faded seaside town,” Olivia said, fulfilling a part she should have know better than to play after knowing Ted for five years.
“Precisely the words of Baysider,” Ted said smugly. “Someone who loves this place despite all the evidence that points to the contrary. Because for them there is something about Whitley Bay and so they can’t stay away. I should know - I’ve felt that way since I moved here.”
“And when exactly was that again?” Olivia asked, knowing it was unkind, knowing better. Ted shot her a look that was briefly full of venom before his eyes shuttered off.
“Something that is for me to know and you to find out if you ever decided you care enough to go digging through local records,” Ted sniffed. Olivia did feel sorry. There were few things Ted wouldn’t talk about and his past was the main one.
She rang the sale through in silence, feeling a badness down at the bottom of her soul and wishing she could take the sentence back. Stardust wisely stayed quiet, obviously recognising something that wasn’t open to outside discussion, and Olivia liked her all the more for it.
“There you go,” she said, tucking the receipt into the bag without asking. “If you need more -”
“I know where to find you,” Stardust said, giving away yet another one of those smiles. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you,” Ted said. “For brightening up a normally dull Wednesday with your presence.”
“Wow,” Stardust said, eyes comically wide. “You said that without moving your lips.”
Ted laughed and Olivia mock scowled at him, flashing a brief smile in the direction of Stardust.
“What can I say,” Olivia said, shrugging one shoulder. “I’m a very talented individual.”
“I can see that,” Stardust said, grinning. “I’ll see you again, I’m sure.”
“She’s here every week day,” Ted called out as Stardust made her way out of the labyrinthine shop. “And her name’s Olivia, by the way. For future reference.”
He didn’t dodge so well that time.
“Jealousy does not become you,” Olivia said, frowning at him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ted said, his voice rising to the register that told Olivia that he knew exactly what she was talking about.
“Acting up simply because someone else was paying attention to me,” Olivia shook her head. “I don’t remember adopting a thirty year old child.”
Ted sniffed and tried to look dismissive but the slight touch of red rising up the back of his neck belied his attitude.
“Don’t you have a run to get to?” Olivia asked, adding insult to injury. “Surely you wouldn’t want your devoted fans to miss you.”
“Sometimes you are a deeply unkind person, dear heart,” Ted said, a ghost of actual hurt in his eyes. “You’re lucky I’m so fond of you. Say goodbye to Ryan for me.”
“See you tonight, Ted!” Ryan’s voice emerged from the back room, once again proving his uncanny ability to eavesdrop perfectly.
“You better have your good arm on,” Ted called back. “I can’t face losing to the Red Lion team again.”
“It’s only a friendly,” Olivia pointed out, making an effort towards not being a shit friend.
“Yeah, but they get so bloody insufferable,” Ryan said, emerging from the back room. “Is the customer gone?”
“You wouldn’t be out here if she wasn’t,” Olivia said, swinging her chair to bring him into view. “She bought twenty four quid worth of books, boss, maybe you should try talking to her next time.”
“Yes, looks like she might be about pretty often,” Ted said with an oddly flat voice.
“I believe you’re supposed to be running somewhere,” Olivia said, returning to the irritated tone of before. Ted favoured her with a long cool look.
“I’ll just be going, will I? Wouldn’t want to bore you with my presence,” he said, nodding to Ryan before jogging out of the shop. The bell managed to tinkle resentfully, or perhaps that was Olivia reading things into the behaviour of inanimate objects again.
“I don’t like it when you and Ted fight,” Ryan said, staring after him. “It puts unusual stress on the team and I have to pick a side. I don’t like taking sides.”
“Well. You are a Lib Dem voter after all,” Olivia said before she could stop herself. Ryan sniffed.
“Uncalled for,” he said, wagging a finger. “Am I going to have to order you out?”
“And leave the shop in your hands?” Olivia shook her head. “We’d be closed by lunch time. No fear, boss, I promise I shall behave better.”
“And make up with Ted when he comes back,” Ryan held his finger up in admonishment.
“If he comes back,” Olivia said.
“When,” Ryan stressed. “He’s incapable of staying away from you. Sometimes I wonder if he even has a job.”
“I’ve known him for five years, boss, even I don’t know if he has a job,” Olivia admitted.
The door tinkled again, admitting the first of their Wednesday regulars, and Ryan disappeared. A ninja would have a hard time keeping up with Olivia’s boss.
“Good morning, Mr Bosworth, what can I help you with today?”
(Of course, it's rough. Because, you know, writing on the fly with little to no editing. Still. Enjoy.)