‘Of course, Mr Phillips. But what’s going to happen to you? And what’s in the safe?’ I asked him.
He turned his head slightly, and his forehead crinkled. ‘Ay? Oh, nothing, lad. I think he’s gone now.’
‘Who’s gone?’ I asked. He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead. The colour started to come back to his cheeks after a few sips of the sweet tea.
‘We best get on, lad.’ He got up and walked towards the door before turning to say, ‘If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be able to keep the shop running. You’re a good lad, John-Michael.’
I was left to gawp at the back of his head, wondering what could have possibly happened to leave him in such a state. And what on earth was he keeping in the safe? Perhaps I needed to find out for myself.
*
I kept an eye on Mr Phillips for the rest of the day in between doing my work. I noticed he jumped every time the doorbell rang—which thankfully wasn’t often. I was desperate to find out what had taken place that morning, especially if it could affect me too. I couldn’t ask him again, though; he obviously didn’t want to tell me. If Mr Phillips was in trouble, I was going to have to find out how to help on my own.
About an hour after the incident, Mr Phillips’s yells brought me running to the main shop. I was greeted by two schoolboys, still in their uniforms, prodding at the pendulum inside an old grandfather clock.
‘Don’t touch that, either’ Mr Phillips scolded them.
‘Alright, mister, keep your hair on,’ the smaller of the two said, and they both started laughing.
I approached the clock when they moved away from it, closing the door gently and wiping the glass of their greasy fingerprints.
‘What do you want? Shouldn’t you both be in school?’ Mr Phillips said.
‘We want two fishing nets, mister,’ said the bigger kid.
‘You want to be across the road at the hardware shop, not here,’ he told them.
‘Yeah, well, it’s shut, ain’t it? That’s why we’re here.’
The pair laughed again.
Mr Phillips grumbled and approached the counter. ‘What’re your names? I’m ringing the school.’ He picked up the phone.
‘Albert and Elsie,’ the bigger one said as they ran out the door.
Mr Phillips slammed the handset down. ‘Flaming kids,’ he muttered under his breath.
‘What do they want fishing nets for? They aren’t old enough to fish, are they?’ I asked.
He scoffed. ‘They’re only after tadpoles in the dykes. Didn’t you ever go with your dad?’ he asked, returning to his ledger.
I bit down on my lip. Dad had never taken me. He’d always been too ill.
‘Oh, sorry, lad. I forgot for a moment then. I’ve not been with it lately. Forget I said anything.’
‘Okay, Mr Phillips…’ I turned to go back to my workstation, but his voice made me stop.
‘John-Michael.’
I lifted my head to meet his stare in the mirror ahead of me.
‘You know, Mary and I always said if we’d had a son, we’d have wanted him to be as nice as you. I know you’ll do right by me and figure everything out,’ he said.
The doorbell rang again, and Mr Phillips rolled his eyes. ‘I thought I told you two we don’t—’ But as he turned, he staggered back, crashing into a cabinet, and knocking a pencil to the floor.
‘Woah, you alright?’ one of the customers said.
There were two of them, both men, but judging by the bemused look they gave Mr Phillips, I guessed they knew each other.
‘Sorry, Clive… Fersy,’ Mr Phillips said as he regained his composure and retrieved his pencil. ‘What can I do for you two?’
I wanted to observe what they’d come in for, as the men were huge. The first man stood at over six feet, and the other was only slightly shorter. The bigger of the two carried a large, leather sports bag in his beefy hands.
I grabbed a pocket watch I’d finished earlier and a duster to clean it and stood in the rear doorway polishing it so I could listen to their conversation and view them in the mirrors.
‘What have you got there, Clive?’ Mr Phillips asked.
Clive heaved the bag onto the counter, and it landed with a thud. ‘Take a peek.’
Mr Phillips put down his pencil, unzipped the bag, and peered inside. He looked back at the men, then back at whatever was in the bag, then he pulled his glasses down from his head to his nose to inspect it further.
‘Is it a mace?’ he asked.
‘No, it’s a flail,’ Clive answered. ‘A mace is a ball on a stick. A flail is a handle with a chain and a ball.’ He pointed with his head. ‘Knights used to swing ’em round and belt people with ’em.’
I stopped pretending to polish the watch and stared at the bag they had put on the counter. I almost bounced on the spot. I wanted to edge closer to examine it for myself, but thought better of it and stayed put.
I watched them in the mirror when a shift of movement on the wall beyond Mr Phillips moved my gaze aside. For a second, I swore I saw a dark figure there, concealed by the shadows in the corner. I glanced behind me quickly—nothing there—and back to the mirror.
‘How old is it?’ Mr Phillips asked, bringing my attention back to the new antique.
‘We don’t know.’ They both shrugged. ‘That’s why we’ve come to see you. Thought you might know, or know someone who does.’
‘Where’d you get it from?’
This time, the other bloke answered. ‘Our Andrew swapped it for a Madness LP. A couple of lads found it down near the Foot Trods. The council were putting a new ditch in, and they found it there one afternoon after they’d left for the day.’
‘Ya, what?’ Mr Phillips scoffed. ‘Your Andrew got this in exchange for some weird music? If you can even call what the kids listen to these days music…’
The pair chuckled.
‘Is it genuine?’ asked Clive.
‘Possibly. Can I hang on to it for a couple of days to check it over?’
‘Sure, why not?’
‘You got a phone yet?’ Mr Phillips asked.
Clive shook his head. ‘I ain’t getting one of them when there is a perfectly good phone box at the end of the road.’
‘Fair enough. Right, can you come back for it on Saturday?’
‘Aye,’ he said, then they turned and left.
When the door shut behind them, I emerged from the back of the shop.
‘Is it genuine?’ I asked.
‘Aye, it might just be, lad.’
‘Can I have a look?’ I asked his reflection.
Mr Phillips nodded, and I almost ran over to peer inside. I’d only ever seen them in history books, and who knows where Clive and Fersy had really got this one from—as if the council hadn’t seen it and loaded it onto the back of their pick-up. I couldn’t believe what I was looking at; it appeared to be real and old with all the dirt on it.
‘Can I touch it?’ I asked him.
‘Yeah, go ahead,’ he said.
I moved closer and placed my hand over it for a moment. When I finally touched it, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up and a shiver ran right through me.
‘What was that lad?’ asked Mr Phillips.
‘I don’t know, something made me shiver.’
‘Maybe the former owner has dropped by to say hello.’ He chuckled.
I really hoped they hadn’t. I didn’t know if I believed in ghosts and all that nonsense. But I had seen something lurking in the corner; perhaps Mr Phillips was right, and its former owner had appeared to watch over it.
Then I wondered what it was about The Suit that had evoked the same reaction in me.
Chapter Ten
I stayed later than I normally would, feigning I still had work to do so I could make sure Mr Phillips was all right, which he seemed to be by the end of the day. He’d become engrossed by the flail, which I’d helped him to move (it was heavier than it looked). I wonde
red how knights were able to carry them with all their armour on and ride a horse at the same time.
On my way out, I reminded Mr Phillips to lock the door after me; he nodded he would.
Outside, I glanced over the road, spotting The Suit leaning on a lamppost, watching the shop. He saw me and smiled, but it wasn’t a nice smile this time. It was creepy, and it made me shiver more than last time. He broke my gaze to look at his fingernails.
Tyres screeched, followed by a bang.
My eyes darted to where the commotion came from. A woman stood at the other side of the road, looking down the street with her hands clasped over her mouth. I followed her line of sight and spotted a car that had mounted the kerb. Farther down the road, a scooter lay with its front wheel still spinning. Its rider lay around four metres away from the bike. I glanced back to where The Suit had been standing, but he’d vanished. Again.
No one went over to the rider in the road. A couple of people stood and stared, while someone shouted that they were going to ring an ambulance. Everyone appeared to be in shock, but after a few seconds, they started to move. A woman ran over to check the occupant of the car; it appeared to me as though the car had pulled out on the scooter at the junction.
‘It’s not good,’ I said out loud. I wracked my brain for what I’d seen on TV and how they dealt with accidents, but all that popped into my head, to begin with, were the Carry On films. I knew I had plasters in my pocket, though I didn’t think they would help anyone here.
I searched my brain for something else, then remembered the TV series Angels. I knew then I had to talk to the rider, keep him awake, and make him comfortable.
I ran off towards him and stopped a little way off to see if I could see his face. He had an open-faced helmet on, mirrored sunglasses, and a scarf covering his mouth and nose. His leg twitched, and he groaned. I got down to him as fast as I could.
‘My name is John-Michael,’ I said looking at my own reflection in his mirrored sunglasses. He didn’t answer.
I cast my eyes up and down his body; there didn’t appear to be any injuries on the outside. Just a couple of grazes on his fingers. He groaned again, and his fingers trembled.
‘Hello, what’s your name?’ I asked.
He didn’t answer.
‘Hello!’ I repeated.
‘Hi,’ he groaned and tried to move.
‘You need to stay still. Don’t move and remain calm,’ I told him.
‘Okay,’ he whispered.
‘I think you’re going to be alright. An ambulance is coming. I’m going to put a plaster on your finger. It’s only a small graze,’ I said, retrieving a plaster from my wallet.
He sighed heavily. ‘I’m Daniel.’
‘Hi, Daniel.’
‘Come out of the way quick. I’m a first-aider!’ someone shouted at me.
I moved to let the man look at Daniel. Then sirens could be heard coming round the corner, and up pulled a police car, its tyres screeching. I protected my ears until the sirens stopped.
PC Williams got out with another officer and began shouting instructions to bystanders and his colleague. He spotted me.
‘Go home, John.’
‘But I…’
‘But nothing. Get yoursen off home. Now.’
I crossed my arms and turned my back on the carnage. ‘I can’t believe you’re sending me home when I helped,’ I muttered under my breath.
*
‘You’ve been awfully quiet,’ said Grandad as we sat around the table for tea. ‘Is something the matter?’ he asked.
I hadn’t spoken a word since PC Williams told me to get off home. Questions swirled around my head that I didn’t understand, memories of my dad mixed with visions of the accident. I didn’t know what my dad had to do with Daniel. I hoped it didn’t mean he would die too. I couldn’t conceive of the idea. And would it be my fault if he did?
‘I witnessed something awful today,’ I told him.
Mum slapped her hand on the table. ‘Oh, here we go.’
Grandad ignored her, keeping his eyes on my reflection. ‘What did you see, son?’
‘Someone got knocked off their scooter, down near the shops.’
‘Oh, gracious!’ Grandad gasped, though his eyes flicked disapprovingly to Mum before returning to me. ‘Were they alright?’
‘I hope so. He looked alright on the outside. His name’s Daniel.’
‘You spoke to him?’ asked Mum.
‘Yeah. No one checked on him to start with. They were more interested in the driver of the car. I thought it best someone went over. It was okay, he had sunglasses on,’ I told her. I was sure I saw a touch of a smile on her face. I hadn’t seen her smile for so long, it was hard to tell if that’s what it was.
‘That was very brave of you, lad,’ said Grandad.
‘Do you think you could find out if he’s alright? I’d like to know,’ I said.
‘Yeah, I’ll call PC Williams after tea.’
‘Thanks.’
I shuffled the fish fingers and chips around my plate, making sure they didn’t go anywhere near the peas.
‘Aren’t you hungry?’ asked Mum. There was a kindness in her voice I wasn’t used to.
‘Not really,’ I told her.
‘Why don’t you go lie down, and I’ll fetch you some sweet tea and a slice of apple pie. I think there’s a bit left,’ she said. ‘I think that’ll cheer you up a bit.’
I shared a surprised glance with Grandad. She hadn’t been this way with me in a long time, if ever.
‘That would be great,’ I said before she had a chance to change her mind. Who knew when such a gesture would be offered again.
I went straight to my room, not even stopping to check if the mirrors were clean as I passed by and lay down on my bed to stare up at the ceiling. The pounding in my head remained. I hadn’t been able to shake it away all day.
I looked at Bruce Lee on the poster and wondered what he would have done in my shoes. I couldn’t shake the day’s events from my mind. Something was wrong in Claude’s Antiques, and I was determined to find out what it was. I needed my job. It gave me purpose. It wasn’t just a means to buy and replace the mirrors Mum smashed.
A knock on the door brought me back to now.
‘Yes?’ I called out.
‘Can I come in?’ It was Mum’s muffled voice.
‘Sure,’ I said, though I carried on staring at Bruce Lee.
‘Here you go,’ she said, putting a plate and mug on my bedside table. ‘I’ve made it sweet for the shock,’ she added. ‘It can’t have been nice to see that accident. It was mighty kind of you to go over to that man. I never thought you’d do something like that.’
‘Thank you, Mum. I’m trying to be different. More helpful,’ I said.
‘Hmm, ’tis nice in here,’ she said, not acknowledging my words. ‘You’ve always been one for tidying up after yourself. Even when you were small, you put your toys away, and you do keep the house clean,’ she said.
I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t be certain if she was trying to thank me or give me a compliment.
‘Umm… I do try,’ I said.
‘I know I can be hard on you sometimes… It’s only because I just don’t understand your ways, and I’m mad at myself. I feel like I’m responsible—like I did something wrong.’ She sniffed. ‘Well, I don’t feel I did. I know I did…’ She trailed off.
Wow, this is different, I thought.
‘I don’t think you’ve done anything wrong,’ I told her. I swung my legs around and sat up. She was looking into one of my mirrors, and I blinked back at her. Her eyes had filled with tears. I knew she had said those things about my eyes all those years ago, but could she really be responsible for how I’d turned out?
I didn’t think it mattered anymore, anyway. It seemed we were both turning a corner.
‘I’m proud of you for trying to help that man today,’ she said, then hurried out and closed the door before I had the chance to reply.
/>
I gawked at the door. This was why I had to fight everything I’d come to know and love, stop with the following, and stop using the mirrors. If I went back to my old ways, then she probably would too.
I lay back down. ‘What would you do, Bruce?’ I asked the poster.
I knew his answer: Bruce would get to the bottom of the trouble Mr Phillips was having, while I watched on helpless. What could I do? Me, the weird kid who didn’t look at people in the eye, who had to use mirrors to have a proper conversation. All because of a few choice words my mum had said to me years ago. Was that really the reason? Or was this just me?
I’d been through so much in two days; getting beaten up, helping Mr Phillips with his shock, then going through my own after witnessing the accident.
Then I sat bolt upright.
‘The Suit,’ I said out loud.
In the chaos, I’d forgotten about him—yet again. I grabbed my journal and wrote about the latest sightings of him. The only thing I was certain of was that he didn’t belong in this town, or anywhere in Yorkshire, for that matter. No one really dressed like that here, plus the suit looked awfully expensive and tailormade. People that I knew of normally only wore suits for weddings and funerals—except Pete. He wore a suit, but the bank he worked at was in Leeds, and his attire wasn’t as nice as The Suit’s. I wished I’d had the opportunity to follow him. Perhaps then I could figure out who he was and what he wanted with Claude’s antique shop.
I drank the tea and ate the pie mum had left me. I didn’t taste it and only ate out of necessity. I didn’t feel like doing anything else after writing in my journal, not even cleaning my mirrors. I wanted to sleep to try to take the thud in my head away. However, every time I shut my eyes and drifted off, I saw the scooter with its wheel still spinning and Daniel hurt beside it.
I would walk over to look at him. His scarf and mirrored sunglasses had disappeared, and his eyes were open, staring up at me, making me want to turn and run. But my feet wouldn’t budge. It was like they had sunk into the tarmac.
I shut my eyes and shouted for it all to go away, and when I opened them, that scene had vanished, replaced by The Suit. He was standing behind me in a mirror in Claude’s Antiques as I looked in the big safe. He flashed a bright white smile, then winked.
Mirror Man Page 8
