With that, she grabbed an old broom leaning against the counter and prodded at a particularly cobwebbed bookshelf. A small avalanche of dust cascaded down, followed by a very disgruntled spider. Fern shrieked and stumbled back, swiping at her hair.
Daniel laughed. ‘You can’t just go attacking them. They have squatters’ rights.’
‘You’re supposed to be helping, not laughing! It’s you who wants to keep this place open.’
‘You’re right.’ He saluted. ‘Let’s make a start.’
That was the moment Fern unknowingly kicked off what she’d later call the ‘Great Dust Purge’. Daniel tackled the counter, half-heartedly wiping down surfaces with what may have once been a cloth but had since evolved into an artefact in its own right. Fern, meanwhile, armed herself with a feather duster that had likely not seen action since the Edwardian era.
‘This place is a museum of chaos,’ she muttered, picking up an ornate clock with an ominous-looking crack down the middle. ‘Why do you even have this?’
Daniel peered over. ‘That’s the Cursed Clock of Lady Witherington.’
She blinked. ‘The what?’
‘Legend says it stopped at the exact moment she died.’
‘And you just… keep it here? Like a souvenir?’
‘People love a bit of macabre history. Besides, it still technically works.’ He reached out and tapped it. The clock immediately let out an eerie chime and one of the hands fell off. ‘Mostly.’
Fern groaned. ‘I’m surrounded by madness.’
A cloud of dust exploded into the air as she lifted a box labelled MISCELLANEOUS MYSTERIES. She coughed and waved her hand. ‘What’s even in here?’
Daniel shrugged. ‘Could be treasure. Could be cursed trinkets. Could be last year’s receipts. Life’s an adventure.’
Bracing herself, she lifted the lid and immediately recoiled. ‘Why is there a stuffed ferret wearing a monocle in here?’
Daniel grinned. ‘Oh, that’s Lord Nibblesworth. Matilda said he would be very popular with eccentric collectors.’
‘I bet he was. Probably haunted their dreams.’ She shook her head and shoved the box aside. ‘Right. Let’s try and make some actual progress before I lose the will to live.’
The hours passed in a blur of sneezes, laughter and Fern’s relentless determination to make a dent in the chaos. Daniel, despite his initial reluctance, ended up quite enjoying watching her attempt to battle the forces of entropy.
At one point, she tried to carry a box of vintage books, only for the bottom to give out, sending a cascade of leather-bound novels tumbling to the floor. Daniel clapped slow applause. ‘Majestic.’
‘Shut up and help!’
He did, but not before picking up a particularly battered copy and reading aloud. ‘The Duke’s Forbidden Desire’. Oh, Fern, you’ve been holding out on me. You’re a secret romance fan, aren’t you?’
She snatched it from him, only for another book to slip from the pile and fall open at their feet.How to Woo a Gentleman in Ten Easy Steps. She groaned.
Daniel smirked. ‘Might be useful.’
‘Find me a dustpan.’
By the time they were done, the shop looked marginally better. The dust had been reduced by at least twenty per cent, the spider population had suffered a devastating blow and they’d managed to clear enough space to at least pretend they were running a legitimate business and not an elaborate set for a gothic novel.
Fern collapsed into the not so comfy chair behind the counter. She exhaled, stretching her arms behind her head. ‘Well. That was a productive day.’
Daniel leaned against the counter, brushing a smudge of dust from his cheek. ‘I think Matilda would be impressed. You did well, city girl. You survived your first real day as an antique shop owner. I think you’re going to fit right in.’
Much to her own surprise, she’d enjoyed every second and actually believed him.
* * *
Fern had never felt filthier or more exhausted in her life. After a day of scrubbing, dusting and nearly choking on cobwebs, she felt like she’d absorbed a decade’s worth of grime. Her hair smelled suspiciously of mothballs, and she was fairly sure there was an entire dust bunny colony residing in her lungs. Needing a bath, she stared at the Victorian mannequin in the bathtub. It had taken her half an hour to work up the courage to move it, mainly because its glassy-eyed stare made her deeply uncomfortable. Once she had dragged the lifeless thing out of the bath and propped it against the wall, she decided the bath was safe for use.
