Mirror Man by Jacques Kat (ereader for textbooks txt) 📗

intending to pull down the shutters and hurry back in, but I paused as I exited and looked at the shop windows across the road. I already missed being able to walk past them without a care in the world. I’d have to curb my habits even more so now I was in charge of a whole shop.

I turned and reached up for the shutters. Behind me, loud footsteps echoed down the thin alleyway between the hardware shop and the greengrocers.

I paused with the shutter a third of the way down and used the reflections on the antique shop window to see who was about to exit. In the shadows, I saw a suit. He’d returned to get me.

‘Grandad,’ I whispered. The shaking of my hands caused the shutters to gently rattle. ‘Grandad. Psst!’

‘What’s up, lad?’ he said, poking his head out the door.

I looked back to the mirror image of the alley as a man emerged. It wasn’t The Suit, just a man all dishevelled with his shirt untucked and his tie flipped over his shoulder.

‘Nothing, Grandad. I’ll be in, in a moment.’

I took one final glance around the street before pulling the shutters the rest of the way down.

Grandad instructed me on how to fit the new lock on the front door. He told me I could keep his toolbox in the shop; he’d even put a few extra locks in just in case. I added the new keys to the set, then we switched off the lights and headed home.

Chapter Nineteen

That night, after returning from Claude’s Antiques, dreams disturbed the little amount of sleep I managed to snatch.

I was returning to the shop from the bakery, but as I walked, it felt as though my feet were weighed down with cement. The bell above the door continued to ring and ring, even though the door had closed firmly behind me.

Time seemed to leap forward, and before I knew it, I was stood watching The Suit plunge a sharp object into Mr Phillips’s side. I almost fell forward, but my weighted feet steadied my swaying body.

‘Mr Phillips!’ I yelled.

The Suit turned and sneered at me.

‘Do right by me, John-Michael,’ Mr Phillips spluttered.

‘I will, Mr Phillips.’

Time skipped ahead again, and I was pinned against the wall. Our baked treats splattered all over the floor.

The Suit leaned into me and whispered, ‘I’m going to kill the old man.’

My head pounded as though it would explode.

My breaths came thick and fast.

I launched myself from the chair I was now seated on and attacked The Suit.

My fists pounded into his face until I collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Chapter Twenty

A couple of days passed, and we mostly stayed at home to stay out of people’s ways and avoid the gossip. Grandad even took Mum grocery shopping in Doncaster where no one knew us; she didn’t want the funny looks in the shops.

Grandad didn’t have any work on, as the people he’d booked in for jobs either didn’t show up or called to cancel. I’d managed to call the people whose watches I had and arranged for them to come in the following Monday morning. I was proud of myself for speaking to them without my words coming out all jumbled.

I constantly checked all the doors and windows at home after everyone had gone to bed to make sure we were safe. Also, I slept less and less as I worried about The Suit coming to find me, and the dreams didn’t help matters.

As the dreams continued, I realised they were not dreams at all, but memories.

When I first dreamt about punching The Suit, I thought I was manifesting what I wished I had done, but when I pieced together all the fragments of the missing moments from when I blacked out, it was evident I hadn’t really blacked out. I was still functioning in the world. It had been like the incidents when I was younger, though I couldn’t remember those ones.

The dreams revealed I had beaten up The Suit. I’d gone nuts, crazy, mad, whatever you want to call it. It had been the reason why I’d come around with my knuckles bruised and bloody. I’d gone wild, launching myself at him, punching him over and over again. He hadn’t seen it coming. It was why the place looked like it had been ransacked. His face had been a purple bloody mess. I figured he’d left sometime before I came to, though how no one had seen him leave was a mystery. He would have looked a state, and one of his eyes had been half shut, just like when I saw him the next day outside Claude’s Antiques.

Monday morning arrived, and I staggered downstairs after another restless night. I had to open up the shop so the people I’d called up could collect their watches.

‘Morning, son,’ Mum said from the kitchen table.

‘Hey, Mum,’ I said, ending on a yawn.

‘Aren’t you sleeping?’ she asked.

I looked in the mirror. Her face was etched with concern.

‘No. Bad dreams.’

She hummed. ‘If you ever want some of my pills, let me know. And I’m sorry I gave you them before without your knowledge; that was wrong of me.’

‘It’s okay, thanks, Mum,’ I said, forcing a smile on my face.

‘Tea and toast?’ she asked.

‘Yes, please.’

I sat down, and Mum busied herself preparing my breakfast.

‘So, it’s the first day opening up on your own…’ she started, her voice light.

I nodded, my jaw tight. I couldn’t decide whether the prospect made me excited, sad, or scared. There was so much to think about; the responsibility, the customers, the watches, Mr Phillips’s memory, The Suit coming back for me…

When I didn’t reply, Mum continued, ‘Say, I was thinking, why don’t I come work in the shop with you?’

I stared at the back of her head in the mirror. ‘You really want to help me?’ I asked.

‘Sure, I do,’ she said, turning around. ‘I can be up front with the customers, and you can carry