A wooden duck.
It wasn’t just any wooden duck. This one had a beady-eyed stare and an expression that hovered between mild disappointment and existential dread. One of its wings had been repaired with what looked like ancient glue, and a faded price tag dangled from its neck.
Perfect.
Snatching it up, she walked back outside to find Daniel looking relaxed with his legs stretched out. He looked up and immediately raised an eyebrow.
‘A duck?’
‘A wooden duck,’ she corrected. ‘And not just any wooden duck. This could be the face of our marketing revolution. This could be your chance to shine, to put No. 17 Curiosity Lane on the map.’
‘Now I think it’s you who’s deluded. Who’s going to want to buy a duck?’
‘There’s a whole shop of this junk, so if we can’t sell it, we get rid of it.’
‘We?’ he questioned.
‘Yes, we. I like a challenge!’
Daniel smiled then gave the duck a sceptical once-over. ‘You’re putting an awful lot of faith in an inanimate bird.’
‘Let’s move into the shop. Grab the wine and your guitar.’
Back inside, Fern perched on the desk. ‘We need a tagline before we do this. Something catchy. Something that makes people come back for more.’
Daniel tapped his chin, deep in thought. ‘How about “Curiously Curated, Chaotically Celebrated”?’
Fern wrinkled her nose. ‘Bit long. Needs to be snappier.’
‘What about “One Man, One Guitar, One Bizarre Item at a Time”?’
She considered. ‘Better, but…’
‘You do know the internet’s attention span is about three seconds, right?’
‘Exactly! We need a hook! Something like…’ She sat up straighter, a lightbulb moment flashing across her face. ‘No. 17 Curiosity Lane, where history gets a soundtrack!’
Daniel strummed a dramatic chord. ‘You really think people will care about me making up songs about junk?’
‘I think people love weird and wonderful things… and you’re certainly weird and wonderful.’
He smirked. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’
‘Now, serenade the duck.’
‘I’ve done some things in my time, but this…’ Daniel gave the wooden bird a dubious look before plucking out a playful melody. He bobbed his head, found a rhythm and then, with an exaggerated flourish, began to sing to the tune of an old-timey sea shanty.
‘Oh, this ain’t just a wooden duck,
It’s got that antique, vintage luck!
It’s seen some things, it’s heard some tales,
From dusty shops to grand estates!
Quack, quack, don’t turn your back,
This duck’s got charm, that’s a fact!
