The Music Box: Chapter Nine

With equal parts dread and exhilaration, tugging the hem of her skirt to keep her sweaty palms busy, Emily launched into her prepared speech.

“Mr Crouch, My name is Emily Button and I have lived here in Parson’s Corner my entire life. In all that time, I have never seen anything so beautiful as something I saw this week. I was astonished to find that this particular item that so caught my eye, this magical, mysterious but wonderful piece, had come from a shop that has existed but a few blocks away from my home. Ever since I saw this item, I have been unable to think of anything else. Now I can assure you I am not a greedy child, I am neither spoilt nor humoured in my every whim. In fact, my parents are very particular about ensuring that while I receive what I need in terms of food, somewhere safe to sleep and an education, anything beyond that must be justified and will only be purchased or procured if deemed necessary for my betterment as a person.

“Now this item I came across, this special miracle of workmanship and good taste, was brought to my attention and I am not ashamed to admit took my breath away. I knew, from that very moment, that my longing for such a piece to call my own was something I believed more keenly than anything I have ever believed before. I have come here today to find out what I must do to have such a music box to call my own.”

Emily took a deep breath, realising she had clenched her eyes together tightly and her hands were bunched up in little fists. Breathing out, she opened her eyes just in time to see that now familiar smile dance across Mr Crouch’s too-red lips, although his eyebrows arched in what may have been a less friendly manner. She waited to hear what he might say, the silence almost too much to bear. Had she made a big mistake? She had a sudden pang of fear – what if Tabitha had made the whole thing up? It wouldn’t be her first flight of fancy, she had made certain things up before, led Emily to believe all sorts of half-truths.

That was it! Oh, how could she have been so stupid? Mr Crouch had no idea what she was talking about, she was now sure of it – Emily Button had made a complete fool of herself and was looking like a daft little twit.

Mr Crouch cleared his throat and clapped his hands together, shattering the silence that had descended, blanketing the chilly room (or ‘lab’ as was the word that came to Emily’s mind) in a thick, dark embrace. But just as she was expecting him to say something (“you foolish girl!” or “what claptrap you sully my store with you silly little thing”), he turned away. She looked at his hair, the way the curls bounced over his collar, realising that at some stage he had taken his hat off, perhaps when he went off to make the tea. She watched his shoulders, thinking they were very expressive, almost as though they were carrying on the conversation on his behalf. She heard a shuffling sound behind her and felt a small breeze ruffle her hair. Peeking over her shoulder, she saw that the book on the bench, the one she would swear had been shut when last she saw it, was now open again. Not only was it open, but upon it, etched neatly in beautifully sketched ink, was a music box just like the one she had seen at Tabitha’s.

So she was in the right place. Emily’s heart fluttered and began to race, she felt she was the closest she had been yet to the moment for which she had been waiting for what seemed like an eternity.