by K T Durham
Miriam smiled and gave her a hug. “Good night, Elly dear. Sweet dreams.”
That night, Elly barely stirred as she slumbered dreamlessly for once, so tired she was. The next morning, they all slept in and missed breakfast. Even Snowy.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Of Pennies and Piggy Banks
“It’s been a long time since we’ve had the sound of a child’s chatter and laughter cheer up this house,” Miriam announced as she bustled about in the kitchen while Elly helped set the table for lunch the day after. The wound on her leg was already closing up nicely. “Elves sure heal fast,” Horace grunted, rubbing his stiff knees. “I suppose you won’t ever get arthritis either!”
Over the next couple of days, Miriam made Elly several new outfits. “I’m nowhere as good as Horace’s Grandmother Polly,” she said shyly. “But these should do.” She held up two dresses: one was lavender lined with silver, and the other was black lined with gold. Thank goodness there was nothing in pink!
Elly jumped with joy and threw her arms around Miriam. “I love them!” she cried, and tried them on immediately. Muriel beamed, already thinking of new designs for more outfits.
Elly wanted to call Maddy to ask whether she had found out anything about blue amber. But when she rummaged through her coat pockets, the piece of paper on which Maddy’s phone number was scribbled was nowhere to be found. It must have fallen out when I was flying away from that crow, she thought, crestfallen.
Elly had reached a conclusion: her best chance of finding Organoth blue amber was to go to the Dominican Republic. But she didn’t have any money to pay for the trip, let alone money to pay for the Organoth blue amber if she ever located it. She had learned that a small piece of ordinary blue amber the size of a grape would easily cost over three hundred pounds.
She was at a loss, and consulted Horace and Miriam over breakfast one day.
Horace puckered his brow as he thought hard about Elly’s predicament. “Well, there are several ways to get to the Dominican Republic. It’s one of the most popular tourist destinations in the Caribbean. I’ve heard that the golf courses there are incredible. Not that I’ve ever played golf. Anyway, there aren’t many direct flights. Purchasing a flight over there is very expensive. It’s a whopping ten-hour flight from here, after all. Besides, I’m afraid we just don’t have that kind of money right now, though I wish we did.” He sighed and crossed his arms.
Elly wrung her hands in frustration. “But isn’t there an affordable way to get there, somehow?”
Horace shook his head. “It would be much simpler if you could get there by train, but the Dominican Republic is over four thousand miles across the sea, so that’s out of the question. Anyway, you don’t have a passport that would allow you to pass customs at the airport to board flights, not to mention travelling alone as a child. Another option is to transform to elf size and board a flight to the Dominican Republic in secret, as you would be tiny enough to conceal yourself in someone’s luggage. But you might get detected during customs check. If you get caught, I can’t imagine what they might do to you.” At this, he shuddered, and Elly cringed.
Horace cleared his throat and continued. “Going there by ship would take weeks. What about if you… if you flew over there?”
Greymore rumbled. Ellanor, the journey would be perilous, and deplete you of your powers before you arrived. You have not yet developed the stamina to cover such lengthy journeys. Being depleted of your powers in another foreign country, friendless and alone, could put you in grave danger.
Miriam gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Elly. It doesn’t sound like an easy situation at all.”
Elly was exasperated. It seemed like her options were so limited. Only Freya knew when she would be reunited with her family.
Even if she did eventually locate Organoth blue amber, all her hard work would be futile if she couldn’t pay for it. Besides, she might need money for other things. Greymore had lectured her on propriety and good manners, reprimanding her when she had casually suggested letting the Cobbles pay for everything while she was with them.
You should make yourself useful, Ellanor. You are not to sit idly by while the Cobbles live frugally. It is not honourable to take their help and kindness for granted. You should give something back.
One evening after supper, Elly approached Horace as he was watching a game of soccer on their old television set over a slice of Miriam’s delicious pumpkin pie. Elly frowned at the screen; some team called Manchester United was playing against another called West Ham. She thought this thing called soccer looked awfully tame and boring compared to the riveting, adrenaline-filled contest of archensoar, where archers mounted on flying griffins vie to pierce the elusive golden apple of Eris. Elly wondered if she would ever get to watch another game of it.
Horace frowned and turned down the volume. “What? You want to learn how to earn money?”
Elly nodded vigorously. “Yes! I need to learn to make money so that I can buy Organoth blue amber when I eventually get my hands on some.”
Miriam raised her eyebrows as she started clearing the table. “Dear, you can always come to us if you need money.”
Elly nodded, though she knew the Cobbles were barely making ends meet. They had cut down on several expenses to make sure Elly got to eat fresh fruits and vegetables, which were not cheaply bought at the local supermarket. She could tolerate all foods, but she thrived on fresh foods and everything home-made, and disliked anything processed or artificial. She had tried eating potato chips and French fries, but she never asked to try them again. They had left a horrible aftertaste.
Elly felt indebted to these two kind souls. She wanted to do something for them, too. She smiled at Miriam. “I know I can trust you both to help me. But blue amber is expensive, and I need to find a way to pay for it. Greymore says I should take responsibility and earn my own keep. It’s wrong to just sit idly by and expect others to give me money when I’m capable of earning it myself.”
Horace knitted his brow. “Elly, you are still a child. Nobody in their right mind will hire you. Child labour is illegal in this part of the world, you know.”
She grinned. “Yes, I am a child. But I am not a human child from this part of the world, am I? So that law doesn’t apply to me,” she deduced triumphantly.
His eyebrows shot up, and he laughed. “Yes, you are correct! But the people around here don’t know that, do they? You can’t tell them you’re an elf. They’ll throw you in the loony bin faster than you could say ‘God save the Queen!’”
She giggled and winked. “Well, I have a better idea. Greymore has already given me his blessing. I shall work for you.” She puffed out her chest proudly. “I will help expand your business!”
Miriam swivelled around from the sink and gaped. Horace choked on his tea. “What do you mean?” he sputtered, not sure he had heard right.
Under the table, Snowy looked at Elly irritably. “Someone thinks rather highly of herself!” the cat scoffed.
Elly ignored her. “Hear me out. We could really give it a go. Over the past week I have observed how things work around here. You are trying to run a business. I have some ideas about how we could attract more customers.”
Horace had gone quite red in the face as he continued to sputter. Miriam thumped him on the back, then smiled at Elly. “Yes, please go on, dear.”
Elly rubbed her hands together excitedly. “I’ve thought a lot about this. My mama runs a shop back home selling sweet cakes. They’re like the pastries you make, but they’re made from ingredients that you can’t find here… like unicorn milk, silver lilac sap, dragon honey, and so forth.”
Miriam raised her eyebrows and shivered at the thought of dragons.
“Anyway, it is without dispute that Mama’s sweet cakes are the best in Alendria. But she really makes an effort to make her shop look nice, too. I helped her with a lot
of the decorations.”
Elly didn’t have to spell it out: Horace’s shop looked very old and unkempt, with fading and peeling wall paint, torn carpet, dusty countertops, and a grimy window display. How could anyone even properly see the shoes on display through such muck?
Miriam eyed her husband, who was now rubbing his chest. “I believe the term we’re looking for is ‘good marketing’, dear. The shop hasn’t exactly had the best image in the past several decades,” she said, a little mournfully.
Horace was speechless. Who was this munchkin to suggest that he change his ways?
Elly frowned and folded her hands in front of her dress. “When was the last time you made a sale?”
Miriam screwed up her face in concentration as she wiped down the kitchen counter. “Hmm, if my memory still serves me well, old Mr Jeeves bought those dusty brown loafers three days ago. But Mr Jeeves is almost a century old and knew Horace’s father as a young lad. He’s awfully loyal.”
Horace coughed. “Mind you, we do get new customers wandering in. They just don’t really buy anything,” he said lamely.
Miriam rolled her eyes. “That’s because they were immediately put off by how shabby this place looks,” she muttered. Horace glared at her.
“You need to attract a wider customer base,” Elly said thoughtfully, twirling strands of her hair.
Miriam nodded. “Elly is right, Horace. You know we could do better. We still have time to make money to enjoy retirement, you know.”
She turned to Elly. “It’s gotten much harder with age,” she admitted with a sigh, rubbing her back as she sat down heavily next to her husband. “He’s half given up on this business. These days, we make just enough to feed ourselves. Thank God we own this house and the shop. If we had to pay rent, we would have been out on the streets long ago.” She shook her head. “I guess you just can’t teach old dogs new tricks.”
Horace grew quite purple. “Excuse me, I’m sitting right here!” he snapped. “Speak for yourself!”
Elly glanced at Horace. Grandpapa’s voice echoed in her mind: Sometimes, all it takes to change your life is to change your routine. Oh, how she missed him! She sighed and looked at Miriam. “Didn’t you say that you’ve always wanted to go to some place called Santorini if you had the money?” she asked. Horace groaned.
Miriam blushed. “Yes, I would love to go to Santorini. But frankly, I’d love to go anywhere as long as we get to have fun together,” she confessed in a small voice.
Horace scowled. “We’re too old for fun,” he grumbled.
Miriam winced. “How about the time we took the train up to Bristol to see my Aunt Evelyn, eh?” he asked, stabbing his fork into the pumpkin pie. “Didn’t you like that little bread and breakfast? Charming, you kept calling it.”
Miriam stared at him, and her face contorted. “We made that trip for Aunt Evelyn’s funeral!” she said shrilly.
Surprised, Horace looked up from his pie.
“For your information, no, I don’t think we’re too old to have some fun! God forbid that we actually get to enjoy life for a change! We’re not young anymore, but we’re not dead! I want to board a plane at the airport and go on a real vacation. Yes! That would be first on my bucket list, if I were to have one!”
Horace stared at her. Miriam was usually very mild-tempered and never raised her voice. For once, he felt small in front of his wife. “But we don’t have the money for it,” he said feebly.
Miriam put her hands on her hips. “Oh, you don’t think I’ve heard that one?” she retorted. “Even when we did have the money, before you wasted this shop away, you never made the effort to take us on a holiday! You could’ve taken me anywhere, even as close as Wales or Scotland, if it meant we could have fun together! I’m destined to grow old and die in this godforsaken shop…”
She stopped short, stifled a sob, then hurried out of the kitchen.
There was a ringing silence as Horace gazed down at his unfinished slice of pumpkin pie. His wife had never really been so plain about her feelings. He had never really known how she felt.
Elly shifted on her feet awkwardly. She wasn’t a stranger to arguments; back home, Papa and Mama would argue, too, but not quite so noisily.
Then she brightened as she sat down in front of Horace. “If I can help you get more business, then you might be able to save up enough money to take Miriam on her dream vacation!” she said excitedly, her eyes shining.
Horace blinked. Was it really possible? He thought of his wife’s sad face. What did he have to lose anyway? Maybe this could be his way of making it up to his grandfather… and to Miriam.
“All right then, you win,” he said gruffly. “I’ll give you an allowance every day for whatever you have up your sleeve, you little munchkin.”
Elly beamed and clapped her hands in delight. “Thank you, Horace! You won’t be sorry!” Then, as an afterthought, “You used to do some painting, right? Do you have any supplies left?”
He nodded. “Yes, they’re all in storage up in the attic. The paints and brushes should still be good to use, though. Why?”
But before he could get an answer, she had already dashed into her room, madly transferring her thoughts into her Royan. When Horace peeked in, he saw her sitting on the bed with her eyes flaming like green fire as she stared down at the book on her lap, its pages glowing.
Before Horace went off to bed, she made him lug out his old painting supplies from the attic. There was a big boxful of them, stuffed with large tubes of paint and brushes. “What are you going to do with these old things, anyway?” he grumbled. Elly just smiled mysteriously.
As Elly was getting ready for bed, Miriam poked her head through the doorway. She was carrying a cardboard box. “I’m sorry for what happened earlier, Elly,” she said softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I don’t know what came over me. I’d bottled up all those feelings for so long. But with you there, I suddenly felt this surge of courage. The truth just tumbled out.” She shook her head in wonder and smiled.
“But you know, it’s sort of worked out for the best. Horace apologized to me for the first time in many years. A leopard does change his spots, after all. I guess my outburst was a little earth-shattering for him.”
Elly smiled. “I haven’t known you both very long, but I know you love each other.”
Miriam blushed. “When you talk like this, you don’t seem like a child at all!” Then she took Elly’s hand and squeezed it. “Anyway, Horace told me he’s agreed to your big plans. I went up to the attic and found something for you.”
She patted the cardboard box on her lap, opened it, and retrieved a pink ceramic pig. “My, there’s a treasure trove of Charlie’s childhood stuff in the attic. I almost forgot all about this piggy bank. It used to belong to Charlie. It’s yours now,” she announced to a beaming Elly. “Deposit your earnings through this slot, and soon you will have a small fortune!”
“Thank you!” Elly cried, hugging the piggy bank. So far, everything was going according to plan.
Elly crept out of bed shortly after midnight. She could hear snores coming from the master bedroom as she darted soundlessly across the hallway.
The house was silent and dark, and the bone-chilling damp seeped through her slippers as she flitted down the stairs. She went to the bathroom and splashed ice-cold water on her face. Then she rolled up her sleeves, put on one of Miriam’s old aprons, and set to work. Miriam and Horace wouldn’t be up for another eight hours; they slept in late on Sundays.
Snowy had been curled up in Miriam’s bed before she woke and wandered into the workshop. The cat watched with narrowed eyes as Elly worked tirelessly and quietly, her movements so quick that they were a blur. She barely noticed when the darkness gave way to sunlight and the birds started calling. Snowy had long ago fallen asleep, sprawled across the rug in front of the crackling fireplace.
When Horace made his way to his workshop that morning, Miriam in tow with his coffee and porridge, they froze in their tracks. “Oh, dear Lord!” he exclaimed. Miriam gasped and almost dropped the breakfast tray.
Cobble & Son was one of several vintage shoe shops left in town that had long lost its former glory. But the dilapidated shop had undergone a complete transformation, literally overnight.
The peeling and greying beige walls had been mended carefully with tape that somehow blended seamlessly with the wall. The torn floral carpet had been mended with thread and needle. Over the entire left wall was painted a marvellous mural of a town with rows and rows of white houses on a sloping cliff facing the sparkling blue sea with the beach sand a golden yellow, the sky a glorious blue dotted with fluffy white clouds. The distinct strokes reminded Miriam of her favourite painter, Claude Monet. It looked flawless, like it had been done by a real artist.
Miriam gawped in awe. “That’s Santorini!” she marvelled, staring at the mural.
The sunlight streaming through the windows was much brighter than usual, and Horace realized why—the display windows sparkled spotlessly. The oak counter gleamed, brought back to its original sheen. Tall pink and red roses that Horace recognized as those from his garden filled several vases. When they looked up at the ceiling, they almost passed out; it was a magnificent blue with moving clouds, just like the sky outside!
Hanging above the counter was a prettily painted wooden sign with pink and gold lettering: Miriam’s Sweet Secrets. Several clean dessert plates were piled atop a small wooden table next to the counter, gleaming silver forks rammed into two shiny glass jars. Miriam gaped at the sight.
Just when Horace thought there couldn’t be any more surprises, he stopped in his tracks in front of his worktable. There before him on the gleaming oak was a pair of woman’s stilettos with three-inch heels, of red leather edged with black suede, so expertly crafted that he had to use his magnifying glass to inspect the tiny, flawless stitches. “I can’t believe it,” he muttered, thinking about the elves his grandfather used to yammer on about.
