Thrumps awoke to find he was the proud owner of a brand-new bookshop that was rumoured to do more than just sell books, it would also lend them out if you had the right kind of credentials.
The small town had not had a library since the government cuts to local funding, and the council in their wisdom could not find it within their hearts to keep it open, it was deemed an expensive luxury as there was one in the city just a bus ride away. Then they cut the bus service.
As he opened the front door she pounced.
“Here we are outside the very first new shop to open in the village of Carshaim for as long as anyone still alive can remember.” She said as the camera panned past the immaculately dressed reporter to scan the front of The Emporium.
It was ornately quaint and quite in-keeping with the surroundings and the small parade of shops. Carshaim was a forgotten little hamlet, all thatched roofs and cobbled streets with a duck pond on the green. It boasted an inn, a school, and had even managed through a petition and fundraising to preserve the post office come general store. As small settlements go it had a thriving lively population of nearly 5,000 people at the last census, which were scattered to the far corners of the farming areas that surrounded the hub.
“So, you are going to be getting people to come into the shop on the pretext of lending them books and then they will have to buy them because you’ll not have the ones they want to loan?” she accused the owner.
“Not at all my dear,” Thrumps said sweetly. “But the books will only be loaned to those that really need them, even though they may not know they do at the time.”
He waved a hand inviting her in, but truth be known it might have been warmer to stay outside in the snow. Thrumps clapped his hands and the warmth washed over them.
“Neat trick,” she said. He ignored her.
It was a far cry from the sweet shop he’d gone to sleep in, but then he was not a bit surprised as although he didn’t quite know the implications of being the unwitting custodian of The Emporium, he had gathered very quickly that his life would never now be what anyone could call normal.
He was beginning to realise that the persona of the shop had a lot to do with what happened when he slept. The first time it happened was that he’d dreamed of being in a sweet shop, and when he’d awoken, there he was. He had presumed that once he slept again all would return to normal, that he’d be back in his meagre room within the run-down boarding house where this all began, but that was now quite obviously not ever going to be the case.
“So, Mr …” the reporter inclined her head expecting a response.
“Professor Edward Urvaine Thrumpus, but everyone calls me Thrumps.” He said with a smile.
“So, Thrumps what made you want to open this …” she whirled her arms about indicating that the cameraman should scan around the interior. “… this shop?” She concluded.
He didn’t know what to say, after all it was not his idea and had never been his plan. He shrugged trying to quickly remember what he’d been dreaming about.
Before all this madness began, he could usually recall down to the last detail, but now he just had a faint recollection of a children’s book, only a few lines playing over and over in his head. The rocking horse had transported him back to the nursery of his youth, to the comfort of his nanny and had sparked the memory of her reading him bedtime stories and to the thrill of the many escapes from the real world he’d found between the written pages. That must have been it. His discovery of the magic that was held within a library.
He was suddenly conscious of the reporter staring at him and he smiled.
“Books,” he said, “… provide the gateway to confronting the world with energy if you have the imagination to do so.” Quoted as if that was the only answer she needed.
Somewhat confused she turned to the camera and signed-off, but as she was leaving, she spotted a book from her childhood.
“I had one just like this,” she said, running her fingers over the cover. “I remember scribbling my name in the back, I must have lost it when I had to grow-up.” Thrumps steadied her hand to stop her opening it.
“Take it.” He said nodding. “On loan if you like.”
The shop never lacked for customers, they seemed to be drawn there not just from the local area but from far and wide. People would set off for a drive and unexplainably find themselves wandering through the doors, each leaving with a volume that they never knew they wanted. Some were theirs temporarily, the subject matter required to simply jog forgotten memories, whilst others paid the asking price not knowing why. Once home the contents resonated with something that had been missing from their lives, something they needed to know but had no idea that they did.
Then came Millie, a spinster of the parish. She was a comely kind of a woman, neat tweed suit and sensible, no-nonsense heeled shoes. Since the passing of her mother, who she had nursed for years she was enjoying a comfortable lifestyle with no monetary worries, but constantly felt as if there was something missing from her life. Her one passion was books and she had buzzed like a schoolgirl on a first prom date when she’d discovered the arrival of the shop.
Thrumps was instantly aware as to why she was there, even though she was oblivious to the fact. He knew his days in the bookshop were numbered if the last encounter was anything to go on, and he needed someone he could trust to keep the place going, someone that believed in the magic and Miss Millicent Brower fitted all the given requirements.
At first, she was understandably sceptical, after all it was just too incredulous to be gifted a whole shop, stock and all, just like that, but Thrumps explained that she would simply be the custodian. She would, for as long as she was able have free reign to run things as was in keeping with the needs of the customers and when the time was right it would simply close itself down as instantly as it had arrived. She didn’t really understand, but at her time of life felt she had nothing to lose.
That night Thrumps took a last look around before retiring to behind the velvet curtain, knowing he would be off on a new adventure when he awoke.