Daniel raised his own cup in a toast. ‘You, my dear reluctant shop owner, are drinking from a vessel of pure triumph.’
Fern cracked a smile. She didn’t want to, but Daniel made her smile. He was funny, and despite the fact that she was tired, hungry and still vaguely traumatised by Audrey the demonic doll and Gerald the airborne gorilla, she couldn’t stop taking a sideward glance at him. She’d never met anyone with such good looksanda sense of humour. In London, they only ever seemed to come with one or the other.
‘What have I inherited?’ she murmured again, shaking her head.
Daniel grinned. ‘A shop full of stories and things, a flat with a very reasonable sitting tenant, and best of all… a lifetime supply of unexpected chaos.’
Fern rolled her eyes, but there was still a smile tugging at her lips.
‘Wait till you see upstairs.’
This was going to be interesting.
ChapterFive
‘Right then,’ Daniel announced, clapping his hands. ‘Time for the grand tour of Matilda’s Museum of Madness.’
Fern had just finished her tea– miraculously unpoisoned by whatever ancient dust particles lived in that teapot– when Daniel encouraged her to follow him towards the back of the shop. ‘Kitchen…’
Fern poked her head around the door. It was small, with a table and a couple of chairs against the back door.
‘The living room,’ he said as they stepped into the room next to the kitchen. Fern immediately noticed the curtains. One red. One green. One a mystery colour.
Fern pressed her fingers to her temples. ‘I feel like I’m on drugs. Who chose this colour scheme?’
Daniel smirked. ‘Welcome to Matilda’s world. Come on, you’lllovewhat’s upstairs. It’s the best part.’ He gestured for her to follow him up the rickety-looking stairs.
The moment she set foot on the first step, the stairs let out a noise– not just a creak but a full-bodied, theatrical, whale-in-distresswail.
Fern jumped back, hand flying to her chest. ‘Did the stairs just scream at me?’
Daniel patted the banister fondly. ‘Ah, yes. That, my friend, is the acoustics of a house with character. Just keep moving, and try not to step on the fourth one unless you fancy an impromptu slide.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean?’
Daniel merely gave her ayou’ll seesmile.
Fern took another few steps, and as her foot connected with the fourth stair, the whole thing sank.
With a yelp, she lurched forward, arms flailing, trying to grab hold of anything to stop herself from falling face-first into the abyss of creaky doom. The closest thing to grab was Daniel and she crashed straight into him.He caught her instantly, hands gripping her waist, and the sudden impact thrust them both back a step, leaving her in his arms.
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.
She was pressed against his chest, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. His hands, warm and steady, lingered at her waist and when she looked up, her breath caught.
They were close.
Like,ridiculously close.
Lips only centimetres apart, his breath warm against hers.
His gaze flickered down to her lips for the briefest second. Then he grinned. ‘If you wanted me to sweep you into my arms, you could’ve just asked.’
Fern gave him a playful shove. ‘Oh, shut up.’
He laughed, releasing her, and she straightened, her face feeling flushed.
‘I’d suggest you try to remember to avoid the fourth stair unless you’re angling to fall for me again.’ She shooed him on. When they reached the top of the stairs, she blinked twice. The landing looked like it belonged in ten different time periods at once. The wallpaper was a clashing mix of faded florals and geometric Art Deco swirls. The ceiling boasted a brass chandelier missing half its crystals, and the floor was covered by at least three different rugs, noneof which matched.
