“Ouch,” Jenna muttered under her breath.

“Oh, sorry, was I pulling a bit?” a soft Scottish accent said from behind her head.

Jenna smiled in the mirror at her hairdresser, “No, no it’s fine,” but in her head she was cursing the petite blonde woman who was tugging at her unruly brunette locks.
“It’s looking really bonnie though,” Marie, her hairdresser, said kindly.

Jenna smiled again, it was the day of her cousin’s best friend’s wedding and she thought, even though she didn’t really know the girl very well, that she had better make an effort. She had regretted that decision as soon as she had walked into the hairdressers. The wedding was across London, and the hairdresser was taking longer than anticipated to do Jenna’s hair.

She looked impatiently up at the clock on the wall, above the mirror. A quarter to two. The wedding was due to start at three o’clock, and she still needed to get back home and put on her wedding outfit.

“There!” her hairdresser trilled happily, sounding quite pleased with herself.

Jenna looked in the mirror and surveyed her newly pinned and positioned hair. Had the pain been worth it? She wasn’t sure. Jenna’s hair was long, brown, and wavy, and she nearly always wore it down. Seeing it pinned up was strange. Suddenly she became aware of the time once more, her brown eyes flashed down to her watch, two o’clock. She pulled her purse out of the black shoulder bag that was slung across her body, she quickly pulled out a note and dropped it on the front desk, next to the appointments book. Saying a hurried “Bye!” to her hairdresser, she ran out of the door and onto the street.

Jenna’s house was way across town, she looked up and down the street for a taxi, but there was not one in sight. Sighing, she reached into her bag for her mobile phone, but came out empty handed. Damn, she thought, I must have left it on the table at home! Cursing her forgetfulness, Jenna set off down the street at a hurried pace. Her house was miles away, she wasn’t even going to be home in time for the wedding to start, let alone get home, get changed and then get to the wedding.

Jenna reached a hand up to nervously pat her hair; she hadn’t spent all that money and pain to have it fall out in her desperate dash back home, she prayed Marie had used enough hairspray. Looking up at the ominous grey clouds above her, Jenna could see that the weather was due to turn at any moment. Great, was the only word that passed through her mind as she thought of the dress she had hung up and ready at home. It was a brand new dress, bought especially for this summer, it was a deep blue colour and fell to just below her knees, it was sleeveless and crystal encrusted on the bodice. Not what you want to be wearing on a cold, rainy day.

Jenna cut down a small side street. She hated walking in London; the streets were all so dirty and everywhere you looked there was graffiti. The buildings were all tall, grey and equally ugly; sometimes she really hated the city.

Jenna knew which general direction her house was in, and she knew there must be a shortcut somewhere. She walked through the alleyway and out onto a bustling main street. She surveyed the closest road signs, to check she was heading in the right direction. She set off down that street at a quick walk, looking left and right for a shortcut that would enable her to get to her house in time.

She ducked down another alley way, and at the end of that street, she turned left. There were no other people now; the next alleyway was deserted too. It was oddly quiet, with the only sound coming from the rats scuttling through the nearby bins. Jenna felt uneasy, even though she had walked through the backstreets of London many times. She quickened her pace; she was beginning to regret choosing this alleyway. She was almost running when she found the next turning. She took a sharp left, then a right, then another left. Then Jenna stopped.

She looked around the street that she found herself in; it was unfamiliar, and it was unnerving. Suddenly, Jenna felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end; she rubbed her hand across her neck, bare in the absence of her hair. When she pulled her hand away it was wet, cursing, she realised the rain must be starting. Soon enough, the heavens seemed to burst open, clutching desperately at her hair she began to sprint down the street. The water was battering her from every angle, she had do get out of this downpour. As she ran down the street, she looked desperately for a shop or a doorway that she could dive into for cover, but on either side of her were rugged brick walls, offering no protection what so ever. When Jenna reached the end of the street she turned left again and onto a slightly more open street, that, to her relief, was home to one small shop.

The shop front was small and relatively uninteresting. It was dingy and the brown paint was cracked and peeling. A large sign, written in chipped antique style letters read “Dargen’s Antiques”. Rain was hitting the roof of the shop and running into the rusty gutters; it had already filled them to the brim, and was now cascading down the wall, creating a mini waterfall out of the shop front. The shop was run down; there were plants, now being battered by the downpour, growing from the cracks in the stone and the telephone number underneath the shop’s name was so eroded it was barely legible.

Jenna sprinted to the shop, grabbed the door and flung herself inside. There was a soft tinkling from somewhere deep within the shop, as her presence was alerted to the shopkeeper. As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, Jenna stood completely still. The shop was unearthly quiet, she could see no one. Jenna glanced toward the window, the rain was still beating against it, but there was no sound. The shop had the air of a library about it, as though no one should ever speak aloud within its walls. Looking around the shop, Jenna could see piles and piles of mess. At least, it looked like mess until you looked a little closer. The shop was arranged into rough aisles, towering piles of old furniture and trinkets created the makeshift walls. Jenna took a careful step further into the shop; her foot made no sound as it hit the floor, and she looked down to see a thin layer of dust covering the worn, wooden floor.

Jenna stepped into the nearest aisle. A huge antique dresser marked the corner; it was piled high with small objects, Jenna paused to have a closer look. The dresser comprised of three shelves and two glass fronted cabinets, the cabinets were full of old, grimy glasses made of what looked like crystal, a strange symbol, a family crest it looked like, was carved into the nearest glass. They were of varying sizes and shapes, but all looked as though they could have been eighty years old, or older. The shelves were covered in all manner of strange objects; a tarnished silver hairbrush sat propped against a worn teddy bear, three burnt out candles were sitting in candlesticks on top of five wooden picture frames, a green stained jewellery box was lying, lid open, spilling it contents of wooden and diamond jewellery alike. Jenna passed by a smooth wooden rocking horse, one of its ears chipped off. She stroked a hand lightly across its tangled mane, it seemed to look back at her, with its cold glassy blue eyes.

Jenna backed away from the dappled grey horse and knocked against something behind her; she felt it begin to fall and spun round. She grabbed the object just in time, it was an old violin, two of the strings were snapped and the bow was nowhere in sight. She placed it gently back onto the rocking chair from which she had knocked it, the chair creaked quietly at the extra weight. Jenna turned the corner into the next aisle, this one was as packed as the next, she felt her arm brush against something, and whipped round, only to find that a faded pink feather bower was trailing off a lamp that was standing crookedly against a chest of drawers, and that had been what had touched her. She shuddered, she didn’t like this shop and she wanted to leave, but she felt transfixed; she couldn’t help looking at the walls of junk and felt as though soon she would find something important, something she was meant to find. Jenna shook her head, she was being silly, she had never been in this shop before; she didn’t even know where she was anymore. She continued down the next row of junk, allowing her eyes to stray to each side. A large cabinet full of books stood to her right, she brushed her hand lightly across the glass front, feeling the dust wipe away with her fingers. Her eyes lingered on the titles of some of the thicker books. The titles were not in English, but in a strange language that Jenna assumed was Latin. The books were all sizes, but most were tatty looking and some even had yellowing pages spilling from their leather bindings.

There were headless dummies wearing flowing white gowns, soldiers ancient red uniforms lying, some folded, some crumpled, upon old armchairs. A large stuffed fox was sat atop a glass liquor cabinet, staring down with his still eyes. Finally, Jenna came to a carved wooden box, without quite knowing why she blew the dust off the top of it, there was a sentence carved into the wood just above the keyhole:

Is quisnam patefacio scrinium , mos expiscor specialis

Jenna didn’t know what the words meant, they were in Latin again, but they were enough to spark an interest. She reached out and stroked the keyhole, she wondered whether it was locked, she tried the lid with her trembling hand and opened slowly.

“So,” a voice said suddenly from behind her. Jenna jumped and dropped the lid of the chest; it slammed with a loud bang. She whipped around; standing behind her, in front of a tea set embellished with pink roses, was an old man. His hair was grey and his back was bent slightly. He walked with a cane clutched in his right hand that was made of a dark wood and topped with an eagle. Jenna was struck dumb.

“So,” the man said again, “you’ve finally turned up.” Jenna was still staring at the old man. “I knew you would come eventually of course, we just had no idea when...”
“W-we?” Jenna stuttered.

“My family has been running this shop for hundreds of years, and there is a story behind every object, Jenna The object you are looking for, why, it is there in that very chest. When you find it, just take it.”

Jenna turned to look again at the intricately carved wooden chest, “How did you...” Jenna began, turning back to the man. But the old man, was gone.

She walked to the end of the aisle, and looked left and right; the old man was nowhere to be seen.
Jenna shook her head, this was getting ridiculous. But something, she didn’t know what, was pulling her back toward that chest.

The object you are looking for, why, it is there in that very chest...

What could the man have been referring to? Jenna hadn’t been looking for anything, she had simply been curious. She found herself now, back beside the carved box once more. Curiosity took over her, what harm could it do to look? She curled her fingers under the edge of the lid, and slowly tried to lift it once more. To her surprise, the lid lifted, making not a sound. The hinges, although rusty and dry, swung as if they had been made and oiled yesterday, the lid did nothing to break the blanket of silence that lay over the shop.

The box was filled to less than half with grimy silver and gold trinkets. Jenna lowered her hand gently into the box and stroked the large ruby that adorned the topmost necklace which was cool to the touch. She gently pushed the top few items aside when suddenly a flash of metal caught her eye. There was one necklace in the box that wasn’t grimy or tarnished in any way. Jenna reached down and picked up the shining silver locket. She nearly dropped it again, feeling an odd heat in the chain that she had not felt in any of the other trinkets.

She held the necklace in her right hand and looked at the carved silver surface of the pendant. The embellishment was simple and yet beautiful, a heart surrounded by roses, there were also two initials carved into the silver, a ‘K’ and a ‘A’

When you find it, just take it...

The old man’s words floated back to her and she gathered the locket up in her fist and closed the lid of the box. She looked quickly again for the old man, but, seeing him nowhere, felt a great need to be out of this shop. She was beginning to get seriously freaked out. Stuffing the strangely warm locket into the pocket of her jeans, she hurried past the rocking horse, past the junk covered dresser and out of the door.

The bell tinkled quietly behind her. Standing over by the wooden box, peering into its depths, the old man smiled.