"Mr. Longfellow tries to sell Peregrine a portal."
"Here comes young Mr. Albert now, sir," said Aunt Gladys.
An old man of about eighty shuffled towards me, with his arms piled high with paperback books. He was wearing a bow tie and a red rose in the lapel of his dress and looked very smart, but the load was too heavy for him to carry, and it seemed he would fall over any second.
I ran over to help.
"Can I give you a hand?"
"Dear boy, if you would," he croaked gratefully and dropped the entire pile of books into my open arms.
"Ernest wants these, and I've lost my confounded specs somewhere. Here's the list; just tick off the copies he ordered; there's a good lad. I'll nip over and ask Aunty to make us a pot of tea."
When I looked up, Albert was gone. I carried the books over to a table and looked at the list.
The first was Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. I put it to one side, doing the same with The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, The Silver Chair, The Hobbit, Journey to the Centre of the Earth, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, and, of all things, Plato's Republic.
I put the rest on the table, took the selected books over to the counter, and left them neatly stacked with the list on top. Somebody had written in green ink:
Needed on the journey. Please make sure that you only select soft paperbacks.Urgent.
I returned to my chair by the table to await the return of the not-so-young Albert and looked forward to a nice cup of tea.
Twenty-five minutes later, he returned.
"Sorry to keep you," he said. "I had to wait for the kettle to boil. Now, what can I do for you?"
I decided not to ask what had happened to my cup of tea.
"I'd like to see some portals, please," I replied.
"Really?" He sounded surprised. "Business or pleasure?"
"Pleasure. I want to see other worlds before I start college next year."
"Certainly," said Mr. Albert.
He at once became very businesslike.
"Your name, please?"
"Peregrine Tripp."
Aunty had the vacuum cleaner on full blast, and he cupped his ear.
"What?"
"P-e-re-green-Tripp," I said slowly, sounding out every syllable phonetically.
"Pea-green tripe? What are you talking about?"
I started to answer, but he interrupted.
"Never mind. My name is Mr. Menschen.
"This is Mr. Longfellow. He is our senior salesman."
He indicated a tall, sad-faced man with downcast eyes and stooped shoulders.
I noticed that he had spilt half of his breakfast boiled egg on his waistcoat, and there were various other stains of unknown origin.
If you would follow me, please, Master Peagreen." Mr. Longfellow said gloomily. "I will show you some of our current range."
The shop carpets were thick underfoot, and I fingered the thin wad of notes in my pocket nervously.
"Here we are," he said as we came to an alcove, discreetly hidden from prying eyes by a long row of luxurious red curtains. Mr. Longfellow pressed a button on the wall, and the curtains slid open to reveal a line of beautifully varnished, solid oak doors. Each had a number on a gold plate and highly polished brass handles set at arm level. Mr. Longfellow launched into his well-worn sales patter.
"Five-star all-inclusive destinations. Six hundred state dollars per person, tips included, and free transportation from your home on the day of departure and return. Door-to-door service. That's an advertising slogan I made up myself," he said shamelessly.
I grinned politely.
"We only use traditional door portals, of course. It goes back to the days of Tolkien's The Doors of Durin and Alice in Wonderland. A convention continued in more recent times by Coraline, Neverwhere, Sabriel, and, of course, The Door to the Chamber of Secrets, one of the books in the Harry Potter series. God bless him; that boy did wonders for sales. No magic rings or old wardrobes for us at Menschens, or the latest fad of cutting open the spacetime fabric between universes with a sharp knife. Damaging the environment with an offensive weapon, I call it sheer vandalism. Doors are the only type of portal we deal with, and we are proud of it.
Take your pick from our extensive range of award-winning exotic destinations. All at the same low price, and I tell you what, young Peagreen. I like the cut of your jib, and I'll throw in a room upgrade and a sea view, free of charge. How does that sound, my boy?"
"It sounds wonderful, but I'm afraid I couldn't afford to pay anything like that amount."
"Really?" said Mr. Longfellow.
"How disappointing."
The curtains closed with a sharp swish.
"And just how much could you pay?"