Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Fern swirled the wine in her glass. ‘Last week I never would have been able to picture myself drinking wine outside an antique shop that smells like mothballs with a man I barely knew.’ She smiled. ‘But it’s actually not that bad.’
Daniel grinned. ‘Correction: it smells like history.’ He raised his glass with mock sophistication.
She took a sip, eyeing him. ‘Can I ask, how are you actually living right now? If you have no income whatsoever?’
For a moment, something flickered in his eyes, and after a brief silence, he spoke. ‘I have a little bit of inheritance … not much…’
Fern could kick herself for asking the question. Why hadn’t she realised that it was more than likely he had inherited money?
‘But I mainly live for the moment. Take each day as it comes, fly by the seat of my pants. Do I need money to be happy? Absolutely not. I have lost so many people in my life that meant everything to me, and I’ve realised the biggest life lesson of all – that life is for living, not worrying.
Waking up on Puffin Island every morning to that view, and being part of this wonderful community, means more to me than anything else. I just want to be a good person.’
Daniel’s views were so different from her own.
Of course, she wanted to be a good person, but she also craved routine, a stable job, the security of knowing she didn’t have to worry about money.
Yet now, for the first time, she found herself questioning, was she happy? Truly happy? How did she actually know?
They both took a sip of wine and looked out at the sea in the distance. ‘I think you’re right,’ said Fern. ‘There’s definitely something about that view.’
‘Isn’t there just.’ He smiled at her warmly.
‘I do think social media will be the way to go to try and put this place on the map. I mean, we could actually set a whole new trend. We need a gimmick. Something different. I honestly think the public will fall in love with you if you make up songs about the different items for sale. What do you think is the most sellable thing in the shop?’
Daniel thought for a moment. ‘I’ve actually no idea. It’s all about what catches a particular buyer’s eye.’
Fern stood up.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Wait here.’
Fern walked from the kitchen into No. 17 Curiosity Lane and flicked on the light.
She looked around. The shop was now a slightly more organised mess of trinkets, relics and oddities, each with its own questionable charm.
If she were to pick something that screamed viral sensation, she needed to think outside the box.
Her eyes landed on a ceramic frog. No. Too predictable. A rusted suit of armour? Too impractical. Then, nestled between a porcelain teapot shaped like Queen Victoria’s head and a stuffed ferret wearing a bow tie, she spotted it, the perfect item.
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!
A noble bird, a desk’s delight,
Buy it now and sleep at night!’
Daniel looked horrified as he sung the last word. ‘That was absolutely dreadful and didn’t make any sense whatsoever!’
Fern clapped. ‘I love it! Now, let’s film it.’
She whipped out her phone, adjusted the angle, and started recording. ‘Welcome to No. 17 Curiosity Lane, where history gets a soundtrack!’
Daniel, grinning, launched into his duck ballad once more, hamming it up with theatrical eyebrow wiggles and a dramatic flourish at the end. He held the duck aloft like a prize-winning trophy.
They reviewed the footage, and Fern cackled. ‘It’s ridiculous, and it’s perfect.’
Daniel peered at the video. ‘So now what?’
‘Now,’ she said, uploading it to the shop’s freshly made TikTok account, ‘we unleash it on the world and put a price in the title.’
‘It’s worth pennies!’
‘And pennies add up. If we can make more than the porcelain doll, the only thing that has sold in weeks, then we take that as a win.’
Within minutes, the comments began rolling in:
‘I don’t know why, but I need this duck.’
‘What in the Kate Bush fever dream is this??’
‘If I buy the duck, do I get a personalised song?’
‘What exactly does that mean?’ asked Daniel, perplexed until Fern explained.
‘A Kate Bush fever dream means it’s theatrical, and slightly eccentric. Her music and videos are often dreamy, dramatic and visually striking. The views are going up so quickly!’
Daniel blinked. ‘Wait. Are we … trending?’
Fern refreshed the page. ‘I think it may take more views than we have right now, but we’re definitely setting the trend!’
He stared at her, then at the duck. ‘Well. Guess I’d better start tuning up for episode two.’ He strummed his guitar, then they clinked their glasses together before Fern began searching for the next item to sell.