Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Fern took one look at him and laughed. ‘Nice gloves.’
‘You can laugh all you want,’ he said, placing the dusters on the desk then wiggling his fingers with exaggerated flair. ‘These beauties are the only thing standing between me and the unspeakable horrors lurking in this shop.’
‘You do realise you’re wearing them inside out?’
Daniel glanced down, sighed and began peeling them off to fix them. ‘I was going for dramatic effect.’
Fern stood in the middle of the shop, surveying the absolute mayhem around her.
Dust motes swirled in the air, the light filtering through the grimy windows in streaks of golden disapproval.
Every available surface was crammed with something: precariously stacked books, mismatched porcelain dolls with unsettlingly vacant stares, a collection of tarnished silverware that may or may not have belonged to an aristocrat or a very dedicated magpie. And spiders. So many spiders.
‘Right,’ she declared, eyeing a cobweb that had taken on the architectural complexity of a small cathedral.
‘We are sorting this place out.’ She looked up at the shelving unit in front of her.
‘There’s a spider the size of a teacup in the corner.
That’s not an ecosystem, that’s a horror film waiting to happen.
However, he’s about to be evicted.’ She rolled up her sleeves.
‘Along with all his creepy little relatives.’
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.
Daniel, naturally, had been no help at all, watching her struggle with obvious amusement.
‘You could have helped.’
‘I was enjoying the show.’
She shut the bathroom door. ‘Privacy is needed.’
With the bath finally hers, Fern turned the taps on full blast, pouring in a generous amount of the vaguely floral-scented bubble bath she had found in the cabinet.
It was probably older than she was, but at this point, she’d take anything that didn’t smell like antique furniture and despair.
The moment she slid into the hot water, a groan of pure relief escaped her lips. Bliss. Absolute, unparalleled bliss.
From the other room, she heard the rustle of Daniel shifting on the bed. ‘You alive in there?’
‘Barely,’ she called back. ‘I may never move again,’ she said.
He laughed.
‘I feel like I’ve been exhumed.’ She stretched out, sinking deeper. ‘That shop was disgusting. How did you live in this place before I came along?’
‘Low standards,’ Daniel said cheerfully. ‘And an ability to ignore the horrors of my surroundings. It’s a skill.’
Fern rolled her eyes, though he couldn’t see her. ‘I think you mean laziness.’
‘Semantics.’
For a while, they lapsed into companionable silence. The bathwater lapped against the sides, and Fern let herself unwind, her muscles loosening after the day’s exertion.
Then, on a whim, she asked, ‘So, Daniel … what did you do before you ended up here?’
There was a pause that was just a second too long. When he spoke, his voice had lost its usual teasing lilt. ‘Bit of this, bit of that.’
Fern frowned. ‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning,’ he exhaled, ‘I didn’t have a real place or purpose for months before I met Matilda. I was crashing on the sofas of friends and acquaintances, anyone who’d let me stay for a bit. Did odd jobs when I could. Enough to keep going.’
She turned her head towards the door. ‘You didn’t have your own place or a steady job?’
‘Not for a while. There was a time when my possessions would fit in one bag.’
Fern absorbed this in silence. She couldn’t imagine it.
Not knowing where you’d sleep each night.
Living in that state of uncertainty, relying on the kindness or tolerance of others.
Her own life was structured, every detail planned.
She knew exactly how much she earned and how much went on bills.
She had a gym membership, food deliveries every Thursday night, and an exercise class schedule she stuck to religiously.
She didn’t live in chaos. She lived in order.
And yet here was Daniel, this cheeky, sarcastic, infuriatingly charming man who had lived without any of that stability and somehow, he still found a way to laugh.
‘That’s…’ She trailed off, not sure what to say.
‘It was what it was,’ he said simply. ‘Matilda took a chance on me, though. Gave me a roof over my head. Gave me a purpose.’
Fern’s fingers traced patterns through the bubbles. ‘And now?’
‘Now, I have to put up with you, so I’m questioning all my life choices.’
‘Charming!’
Silence settled between them again, but this time, it was different. It was charged, somehow. He had let her see something real, something beneath the jokes and the bravado. And she felt… Well, she wasn’t sure what she felt.
Then, with a sudden brightness, Daniel broke the mood. ‘Tell you what. We’ve been absolute troupers today. I say we celebrate.’
Fern raised an eyebrow, though, again, he couldn’t see it. ‘Celebrate how?’
‘I’ll go and get us a bottle of wine.’ His voice was lighter again, teasing. ‘Unless, of course, you’re too posh for a cheap supermarket special?’
She huffed. ‘I’m not posh.’
‘I bet you’re the kind of girl that has her supermarket shop delivered at the same time every week.’
There was silence.
‘Oh my God … you are!’
‘I like efficiency!’
‘And you probably have a gym membership.’
‘Lots of people have gym memberships! Now go and get the wine.’
He laughed, then pushed a little further. ‘You know, this kind of sounds like a date.’
Normally, Fern would have snapped at him to shut up again. Normally, she would have called him an idiot and dismissed the idea entirely.
But this time … this time, she hesitated.
‘See you in the garden,’ she said instead, voice light.
There was a pause, then an unmistakable grin in his words. ‘It’s a date!’