"Love at First Sight"
"Enough for the present," he said. "Address all correspondence for the personal attention of Mr. Cluan Cheap. I am always the first to see the mail, and I will reply by return mail. Now, sir, may I have the honour of shaking your hand and sealing our agreement? As gentlemen, we require no further assurance; our word is our bond. Quickly now, if you would, sir."
I had no intention of entering into any dealings with Mr. Cheap, but he clasped my hand in a limp grip, and his flesh had the queasy softness of a wet fish. His fingers eventually let go, and I rubbed my palm against the cloth of my jeans, trying to remove every trace of his touch.
"Good morning", said a severe-looking, but handsome lady in a black Victorian dress. She crossed the heavily carpeted floor, pushing an antique vacuum cleaner.
She glanced at the clerk behind the counter, and he cringed under her gaze.
"What are you doing front of house, Cheap?" She barked, "Your place is in the back office."
"I know my place well, ma'am. I just came out to ascertain some figures from the Daily Sales Ledger."
His words and tone were polite, but his body shook with indignation. It was clear that Mr. Cheap did not appreciate interference with his duties.
"Well, go and ascertain them somewhere else," said the lady brusquely.
Mr. Cheap scuttled off without another word.
"My apologies for this undignified reception, young man. Somebody of far more importance will be here to deal with you shortly."
Her voice was loud and intimidating, but she gave me a warm smile.
"Are you one of the owners?" I asked.
Judging by her air of authority, she was either a boss with an eccentric dress sense or a cleaning lady with an attitude.
She laughed aloud.
"Why no – I'm Aunt Gladys. Most people just call me Aunty. Chief cook and bottle-washer for the boys since they were both in nappies. It's young Mr. Albert that you will be wanting to see."
Aunt Gladys went behind the counter and pulled down a speaking tube that was hanging from the ceiling. Puckering up her lips, she sent a piercing whistle down the open end, and then, taking a deep breath, she bellowed down the tube.
"ALBERT, SHOP!"
Her voice was so loud that I could have sworn the chandeliers rattled. Wherever Albert was, he could not have failed to hear. She put the tube down and gave me such a demure and ladylike smile that I could hardly believe it was the same woman. I took an immediate liking to this larger-than-life character and returned her greeting.
"He'll be with you shortly, my dear. Please take a seat. Browse through the books if you like; they are all for sale. Make me an offer if one takes your fancy; most of 'em are first editions." She gave me an exaggerated wink and began her dusting.
A girl about my age popped her head out from a door behind the counter and stared openly at me. Her skin was the colour of beaten copper, and her eyes shone a luminous green from the prettiest face that I had ever seen. Tall and slim, with sleek black hair that fell to her shoulders, she stepped out into the open wearing a silk blouse and a tailored skirt. Our eyes met, and she blushed but still held my gaze.
She was stunning, but way out of my league.
She walked over to where I was sitting and gave me a broad grin.
"Hi, I'm Montana."
Her voice was pleasant and assured, with a faint accent that I could not place.
"Peregrine," I replied.
I guessed that she must work here, and the clothes were probably a high-class uniform. I told myself to forget the smile; she was just being professionally friendly to a new client, and I wondered if I should offer to shake hands.
"Nice to meet you, Peregrine," she said. "I heard you earlier talking to Cluan Cheap."
"Oh," I said, "is he a friend of yours?"
The fact that she knew that rattlesnake on first-name terms cut deep, but the depth of emotion it aroused in me was inexplicable, and I tried to ridicule my overreaction.
Never seen a pretty girl before. Calm down.
But my heart was pounding. The French call it a coup de foudre, but it was love at first sight in any language.
"Cluan Cheap, him?" said Montana contemptuously.
"No, he's not my friend."
"I'm glad," I said.
The words came out without thinking, and the heat rose in my cheeks. I tried hard to convince myself that I was just another customer as far as she was concerned.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. None of my business."
"That's all right," she said. "I'm glad you're glad."
She put her hand over her mouth in embarrassment, and we laughed, both of us red in the face.
"We don't get many people around my age in here," she said.
"You look about seventeen. Are you?"
I nodded.
"Right, the first time. And you?"
"The same," she said. "Well, nearly. I'm sixteen, but it's my birthday next week."
"Happy Birthday," I said. "In case I'm not around to say it on the day, I'd like to be, though," I added.
I was suddenly desperate that I might not see her again and tried to keep the conversation on safer ground.
"You have a slight accent, and if it's not rude to ask, where do you come from? Montana?"
"No, it's not rude. I am a Native American; my mother is Cheyenne, and my father is French Canadian."
"Quite a combination!"
"Yes, I am immensely proud of having such a unique heritage, but sadly, both my parents were killed in a plane crash when I was eight years old."
She spoke calmly, but I could see the hurt in her eyes. I wanted to hug her, but it was way too early for that, if ever, and I had to settle for more formal commiseration.
"I am so sorry, Montana. It must have been awful for you at such an early age."
"At any age," said Montana.
"They were wonderful people and wonderful parents that I will never forget, but I am lucky that Uncle Ernest was there to care for me and later adopt me. But here I am telling you my life story, and we have only just met; this is so unlike me, and I had better stop before I go too deep."
"Of course," I said hurriedly, "I didn't mean to pry."
"You didn't. It all came out without thinking."
We both became silent, and then we heard Aunty shouting from the back of the shop, where she was still dusting.
"Montana! Have you nothing better to do than stand around chatting? You have work to do, my girl."
She spoke sternly, but there was amusement in her voice.
"Sorry, Aunty," said Montana. Just taking a quick look so I'll know him if he comes in again."
She smiled at me, and my stomach lurched.
"Would you like to go out with me sometime?" I said it impulsively.
I don't know where that came from. I'm usually shy with girls. Then it hit me. What was I doing? A gorgeous girl like her—no way could she be unattached.
"That is if you haven't already got a boyfriend, of course."
Montana raised her eyebrows in comic surprise.
"So, you're to be my boyfriend, are you?"
"No! Sorry, I didn't mean that—not that I don't want to be, of course. What I'm trying to say is, "
I gave up. "Look, I'm making a bit of a mess of this."
"No, you're not," she said softly. "I think it's sweet, and I don't have a boyfriend."
"Montana!" shouted Aunty, and this time she was serious.
"Sorry, Aunty! I'm coming. I love to go out with you, Peregrine," she called over her shoulder as she ran back towards the counter.
"Great! But how will I get… in touch?"
But I was talking to myself; she had disappeared behind the counter.