The girls mum dialled for the police while everyone else was on their phones capturing the unfolding scene for prosperity, or at least to upload to the social media platform of their choice.
In a bid for freedom, the manikin rushed straight out onto the street and in through the doors of The Emporium.
Thrumps, who was unaccustomed to visitors during the day, shot to his feet knocking his coffee mug to the floor. Naturally it cleared itself up immediately but thought it best not to replenish the supply until it deemed it was safe to do so.
“Hello,” Thrumps said cautiously.
The manikin waved.
A little unsure what to do next, Thrumps shouted clothes and gazed around, reasoning that nakedness was not a best-option seeing as there was now a police officer heading across the street in their direction.
The magic kicked in and instantly transformed the store into a tailor’s shop, complete with display dummies, naturally, each decked out in various examples of men’s clothing throughout the decades.
The bell that wasn’t usually above the door rang when opened. Thrumps, now fully composed rose from behind his desk.
“Good afternoon officer,” he began. “I heard the commotion, what’s it all about?” His steady gaze, over horn-rimmed spectacles he was not in the custom of needing seemed to unnerve the young man. He obviously didn’t know where to start.
“W…well,” he stammered. “There has been a report of a naked … naked dummy running from the department store (he pointed in the general direction behind him) which entered this premises.” “Here?” Thrumps asked innocently. “No dummies of mine have been wandering about. Are you sure?”
It was obvious that he was not in the least bit sure. The caller had hysterically ranted about a naked man but video clips clearly showed it was something more, or less than human.
Just then what looked like a youth wearing a full skin-coloured body suit crashed through the doors and pressed a button on what looked like a control panel
“April Fools!” it shouted mechanically.
The constable consulted his phone.
“It’s May,” he said coldly.
The lad fumbled with the settings.
“Stag-do, maybe?” It announced.
“On your own?” The officer asked. The lad shook his head. Every manikin in the shop waved.
Thrumps seized the moment.
“My dear fellow,” he said putting a fatherly arm around the young constable’s shoulder. “Seems to me this is no more than high-jinx. A prank gone awry.” He smiled seeing it sink in that this could so easily be explained. The officer, now realising that he could save himself the headache of a shed load of paperwork, issued a caution to the young men before him, tipped his hat to Thrumps and was on his way as quickly as was possible. He fully realised that there would be some explaining to do but he could handle that, he hoped.
“Now then,” Thrumps said sternly. “What is all this about?”
None of the manikins spoke. Thrumps laughed, naturally none of them could, they didn’t have mouths. He handed who he considered to be the ringleader a note pad and pen. He scribbled away eagerly.
Thrumps read it aloud.
We have been stuck in that store for years. Staff simply grope and prod us every time they take the notion to play dressing us up. Today, when The Emporium arrived some of the magic must have settled on the shop and we came alive, well sort of and saw a chance of escape.
Thrumps nodded. They all looked at him expectantly.
“What do you suggest I do with you?” He asked.
More scribbling.
We could stay and help out?
Thrumps wasn’t sure that would be a good idea. He had enough trouble getting his head around the concept of the chosen locations, let alone having to worry about taking others with him.
The Book of Un-Reality fluttered excitedly on the desk. Thrumps stared at it and frowned.
“What now.” He grumbled.
It flicked itself open to a picture. The beautifully detailed pencil drawing came to life as an elegant lady stepped from the page and curtsied.
“My dear Lady.” Thrumps said with a low bow.
They both laughed. It had been a long time since he had read that book. In his youth it had been his most treasured possession and seemed more real than the reality that had surrounded him.
The House of the Strange, he couldn’t remember the name of the author, in fact he was not sure it had ever had one. The stories always changed with every reading, but the main premise was that it provided a refuge for all that seeked a safe haven.
“How?” He asked.
She laughed and bid the manikins to follow her. As she led them through the shop, they became smaller and smaller so that by the time they were all standing on the desk they were no taller than the pages of the book. The door to the house in the picture opened and they filed in. With a final kiss, blown from her gloved hand she too went inside and the book slammed shut.
Thrumps laughed. The enchantment of his home never ceased to amaze him.