Chapter 1- continued
Communicating through his pale, thin lips and clenched, tobacco-stained teeth, he abruptly commanded orders
to the younger ones.
Peter was pleased that it was the beginning of
winter break from school because his extraordinarily long legs felt the cold
terribly. Sometimes the other children used to make fun by calling him Spider
Face, but on many occasions he had looked in the mirror and failed to find any
arachnidan qualities. Tomorrow was Peter’s birthday and he was so excited, as
he would now be a “double-bubble”. Grandfather had told him this was much
better than a “one-bubble”, which he had been for such a long time – over nine
whole years, to be exact. One was supposedly a lot bigger than half a grownup
on one’s tenth birthday, which could only mean better things, at least when
they arrived in the form of presents.
“Peter, get your coat. We are going to visit
Mrs Kipple,” called his mother as she finished off the washing-up. Peter pulled
his coat down off the peg and put it on.
“If we get a move on, we can stay for about an
hour and maybe have tea and biscuits,” his mother said as she fastened up his
buttons. Collecting her keys from the hook, she closed the door behind them and continued down the garden path. Luckily, it wasn’t too
far to walk to see Mrs Kipple, only to the end of the street and over a stone bridge.
Mrs Kipple was the lady who owned the village
antiques shop. A large, double-fronted premises with three floors and a big red
door, it was numbered 62 Raven Road. Peter had
no idea why it was called Raven Road, because there were certainly no ravens on
it! Mother opened the large red door as Peter
trailed behind.
“Good afternoon, and how are you on this cold
winter’s day?” enquired Mother.
“Jack Frost is nipping at my nose, but it’s
what to expect when you get to my age,” answered Mrs Kipple.
Peter’s eyes began to wander around the shop.
It was amazing what could be found in the collection of rooms, all of it weird
and wonderful. A large lacquered Japanese cabinet
filled with cupboards and drawers stood proud in the centre of the shop. It was
inlaid with coral, bronze, silver, and mother
of pearl. Many times his mother had attempted to purchase the cabinet with no avail. The cabinet had
been handed down to Mrs Kipple by a relative of age, although she had promised
it to Peter’s mother when she passed on to a
better place. Mrs Kipple was a warm-hearted old lady who had always claimed to
be 82 years young. Dressed in a long floral dress with the most pressed and starched
white linen apron, she seemed to glide from room to room. Mrs Kipple had hair
of silver-grey that she wore tied and set in a bun, which reminded Peter of her cat when it slept against the
fireplace hearth.
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