Arthur Sedgewick had owned the old ironmongery shop for decades, ever since his father had bequeathed it to him 46 years earlier. He enjoyed providing people with everything from nuts and bolts to extendable step ladders.
The building, contained in a long terrace of shops, had for a long time been a favourite with decorators, tradesmen and anyone partaking in home DIY. Arthur had never married and lived alone in accommodation above the business. The shop which he named, ‘Arthur’s Emporium’ consisted of a reasonably large sales floor, a rear stockroom and a small office area, while there was a cellar underneath the shop which was accessible by a steep wooden staircase Arthur didn’t use the cellar much as he didn’t need to carry a huge stock with the shop and the rear room providing more than enough storage space for his humble business. However, the cellar was in reasonably good condition and quite dry with no evidence of mould or mustiness.
Arthur was of the generation which repaired and innovated. As a result of this he despaired of the modern throw out and replace mindframe. He lost count of the numbers of people who didn’t know how to change a plug or even to replace a fuse. But that was not a problem to Arthur who was happy to help. He even displayed a board with DIY tips which proved very successful as people were grateful for the advice.
Business was slower than it had been but there was still a steady flow of people visiting Arthur’s emporium. It was in the Autumn, however, that Arthur began to notice a few new customers who were engaged in renovating and refurbishing nearby properties.
Outside of the shop, there were displays of ladders, garden forks, spades and rakes which also served as a colourful sales promoter. At the end of each day, Arthur brought all this equipment into the shop before locking the door and turning off the lights. The only light illuminated was the one in the rear office as the owner counted his takings for the day before retiring to his upstairs accommodation.
The Summer of 2022 had been very warm but the season was fading and growing into Autumn. Arthur had always loved this season as leaves on the trees turned golden, red and brown. The mornings were chilly and bright and he felt refreshed. Darker nights coming in had never bothered him before but began to hear things. Little noises which in themselves were of no consequence but then he started to notice that things had appeared to have been moved. Not by far, only by a few inches but just enough for old Arthur to be aware of them.
He had long since decided that security cameras were too expensive and well, were just not his thing. After all, he sold the best door-locks available and he was very observant and business orientated but had never discovered any stock had gone missing. Arthur had never believed in ghosts and had never once considered that the items had been moved by supernatural forces.
One evening, after an unexpectedly busy day, one that also included a delivery of new items of stock, Arthur brought in the outside displays,locked the door of his shop, counted his takings and locked all the money inside his safe. He turned off the light in the office area and left the shop by the access door to his flat which he locked behind him before trudging up the stairs to his accommodation. After preparing and eating his evening meal, Arthur settled down for the evening in his armchair and began reading one of his many books he had accumulated over the years.
He was blissfully unaware that downstairs in the shop, things were not quite as peaceful. No infrared motion sensors to detect the movement of objects inside of ‘Arthur’s Emporium’ and nothing to signal that anything extraordinary was going on.
Engrossed in Alexander Solzhenitsyn’s ‘One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich’, Arthur remained upstairs as strange goings-on began to unfold below him.
The owner of the shop had never been of a nervous disposition and he always dismissed strange noises as something more tangible than the supernatural. “The building is settling” he used to tell his customers, nonchalantly dismissing the fact that after standing for 163 years the building had settled as much as it’s ever going to.
As Arthur was reading in the front room of his flat at the other end of the hallway, he didn’t notice that something had caused the office area of the premises to be illuminated. The light had somehow managed, through the cracks in the accommodation door, to light up the first few stairs. Neither had he realised that a rather strong and pungent odour was filling the shop with it too, beginning to find the cracks in the door.
Arthur was not one to hold or sell dangerous chemicals in his shop and was perfectly fine with the idea that if a customer wished to purchase such compounds they were free to shop elsewhere. The only exceptions were mild cleaning agents and tightly sealed weedkillers.
By 11pm, Arthur was tired and ready to retire but even on the way to his bedroom he did not smell or notice anything out of the ordinary. He soon settled into his bed and fell asleep within minutes. Downstairs however, nothing was asleep and the movement and activity increased. The humming sound was almost inaudible at first but gradually it increased and then the vibrations caused the metal shelving to rattle.
It had just gone midnight when the door of the cellar was opened and the strong but old wooden staircase to the basement began to creak and groan as one by one its old timbers were put under intense strain. A cold and dark subterranean crypt-like vault with walls of rugged stone. A few pieces of old shelving lay beside a great brown wooden dresser which had probably been originally placed there long ago, perhaps even when the property above had been built. Certainly, Arthur had used that old dresser to store odds and ends without ever spending a thought on what might lie behind it.
Now, however, in the middle of that dark autumnal night it was becoming evident that the dresser was in fact hiding an old passage which had been built to link the property with the neighbouring premises. All the activity, noise and smells evident in the shop above were not just prevalent in Arthur’s Emporium but were now making themselves known in the adjacent cellar of the neighbouring property.
Arthur slept peacefully through the night, while occasionally turning over in his bed and keeping hold of his warm quilt which he had had for many years. He did not stir at all, even with the occasional sound of snapping metal and the constant humming and groaning. The fact that Arthur could fall victim to a creature which entered the shop in the dark of the night had never entered his head. Far less, he had never envisaged the thick green and slimy sludge which was creeping downstairs.
The first rays of morning light crept through a gap in the old curtains in Arthur’s bedroom but still, he did not stir. Eventually, however, he woke up and set about preparing himself for another day. His old bones weren’t getting any younger and he dreaded looking at himself in the mirror but he had always shaved and wasn’t going to stop. He even finished off by applying a little of his favourite aftershave. It was important to him that he looked smart and presentable for his customers. All preparations made, he enjoyed his breakfast of cereal, toast and marmalade, finishing off with a cup of tea without sugar.
To say that Arthur had a spring in his step is perhaps a tad over enthusiastic but he certainly was jolly. Arthur opened the door at the top of his stairs and made his way down towards the door which he had locked on the previous evening. He was just about to unlock it when he suddenly remembered that he’d left his diary upstairs in his lounge. Arthur retraced his steps and had placed it inside his jacket pocket before, once again, going down the stairs to his shop.
Reaching the very bottom, he inserted his key to unlock the door but found that it was already unlocked. Arthur was positive that he had locked it and this puzzled him. He was apprehensive as he entered the backroom area and found that it was already well illuminated. He didn’t expect to find anybody there but nevertheless, was wary when looking.
As he entered the sales area of the shop he heard voices which were undoubtedly close by yet he could not see those who were engaged in conversation. Suddenly, a gentleman around 40 years of age, wearing a suit and of taller stature than Arthur came into view. With him was a younger woman, wearing a maroon tabard with the printing of ‘Arthur’s Emporium’ emblazoned upon it.
Arthur was just about to ask what on earth was going on, when he heard the pair of them in conversation. The man looked at his colleague and spoke softly, “Great Pity about old Albert. Did a cracking trade here for over 45 years. Sadly his old heart gave out in the end. Found him at the bottom of the stairs, one morning. He was always very smart indeed. Great shame but we are here to ensure his name and his high standards live on.”
The woman then asked the new owner, “Did this place take a lot of renovation?” The man looked around at the new shelving. “Not really. Arthur kept the place very well indeed. However, one night we stripped out all the old metal shelving and glued a whole new hard flooring in place. Hell of a noise of metal cracking and humming of machinery. And the smell of that green glue mixing with the cleaning agents was horrendous. But I think if old Albert was here now, he’d like it. We could even expand next door. I believe at one time it was the same building owned by the Sedgwicks.’
Copyright © IanmAllan2024
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