Page 88 of Love at First Fright

Yet, I was going to have one angry ghost on my hands if I came back empty-handed.

One disappointed ghost, my brain unhelpfully corrected. And you don’t want that, do you?

“Shut up,” I muttered to myself.

A woman pushing a pram gave me a wide berth.

Right. Pawn shop first. Grimthorne Antiques and Collectables, wedged between a florist and a place selling orthopaedic shoes.

The bell chimed as I pushed inside.

My nose was instantly assaulted by old wood and mothballs and something vaguely metallic. Shelves crammed with clutter lined every wall—china figurines, tarnished silver tea sets, vinyl records in milk crates, a taxidermied fox with one glass eye missing. I shuddered at the idea of how many spiders had made homes within all the crap.

Behind the counter sat a woman in her seventies, grey hair pulled back in a severe bun. She wore reading glasses on a chain and was thumbing through a catalogue.

Shuffling up to her, I was acutely aware of how ridiculous I looked. How ridiculous this all was. I placed the three items Bat had given me on the counter. The silver letter opener. The crystal inkwell. The jade figurine.

“Um. Hi.”

The woman glanced up. Her gaze travelled from my face down to my jumpsuit, lingering on the logo.

“Haven’t seen you before,” she said.

“I’m… just passing through.”

“Right.” She set her catalogue aside, eyeing me with open suspicion. “And what exactly am I looking at here?” She nodded towards the items.

“Some stuff from my grandmother’s house.” I imagined Lady Grimthorne’s disapproving frown glaring at me. Or who knew, maybe she was about to pop up right beside me and tell me off. “My late grandmother. I’m not entirely sure what it all is.”

The woman sighed, a long-suffering sound, and picked up the letter opener first. She turned it over, examining the hallmarks. Then the inkwell. Then the figurine, holding it up to the light.

Silence stretched.

“Look,” she said eventually, setting the figurine down with a soft clink. “I can’t be dealing with the trouble if anyone comes looking for these and sees them on my shelves.” Her eyes flicked back to my uniform. “But I suppose I could sell them online.” She paused and I gave her my best Bat-worthy puppy-dog eyes. Or at least, I tried to look desperate. “Fine. But I’m only giving you eighty max for the lot.”

Was that a good deal? All I knew was that Lady Grimthorne was a woman of taste. “One hundred,” I blurted out.

The woman laughed. Properly laughed, a sharp bark of sound. “No. Eighty.”

My face burned. “Okay then.”

She opened the till, counted out four twenties, and slid them across the counter.

“By the way, do you have any chess pieces?” I asked.

She blinked at me. “Chess pieces?”

“A white knight and two black pawns.”

The woman frowned, clearly deciding I was the strangest customer she’d had all week. “Why don’t you try the charity shop on the corner? There’s all sorts of junk in there.”

Junk. Rich, coming from someone whose shop contained a one-eyed fox.

“Right. Thanks.”

Off I trotted to the Little Paws charity shop, three doors down.

The door stuck when I pushed it, then swung open with a creak that set off another cheerful bell. Inside, I found a rush of synthetic lavender, racks of clothing that stretched from wall to wall, interspersed with shelves groaning under the weight of mismatched crockery, and stacks of books that leaned like the Tower of Pisa. All in all, pretty similar to the last shop.