[Poule]

"Thanks! Can I help you with anything?"

"I hope so. Your colleague", he said, gesturing gently to the slumped form of the owner who was now minutely examining the bindings of an antiquated specimen, much like himself, "he said that you were the expert on local mythology?"

"Ahhha, did he now!"

Ol' Cornelius was a devil for that. If he was not in the mood for chat he would deflect any inquiries with shoulder twitches, semi-grimaces, or an extended, full orthopedic-back-stretch-with-exhalation lasting so long that most tourists would fear for his continuation in one piece. If, when he returned to upright position, the customers were still there, and still curious, he would send them blithely on to an unseen corner of his dusty maze. They usually returned with some kind of book in hand. Cornelius loved all books, all knowledge, and couldn't see why people didn't take the chance of exploration. The chance to discover something new.

But this man had only just arrived. How did he manage to fit the Cornelius Tai Chi Routine into these last few minutes AND a circumnavigation of the mad filing system here? This I had to find out.

[Amy]

“Uh, yeah” I stumbled out. “I’ve lived here my whole life. I know a bit about local myths.” My eyes took him in as I spoke. Long coat, high heels, very blue, but tired eyes. Nice smile. Hint of mascara? Ok, whatever.

“Might you have any information on Changelings?” he whispered to me. I was taken aback. The myth goes, when fairies steal babies from their cribs and take them back to their world, they leave a changeling in the crib, as a substitute, who grows up to be an arch prankster, breaking things and being generally evil and naughty. Did I have the guts to ask him why he wanted this information? No, I decided I didn’t. I came round from behind the desk and said “follow me sir” and I led him back into the dusty and barely used “Local History” section. I was particularly looking for a book called “Great Britain, Myths and Legends”. As I bent down to look for the book, he bent over me, and I got a hint of cigarettes, and peppermint. I found what I was looking for and stood up, rather quickly, bumping my head into his chin and causing both of us to go “ow!”

“Here’s what you need sir” I said, as I handed him the book. I looked at him as he took the book from me and he said “Thanks, and I’m Eddie, not ‘sir’. In London I can be 'sir'. When I'm home, I can be just Eddie." He smiled at me. He had a crooked, impish grin.

[Beth]

Rubbing his chin, he took the book back to his chair and began flipping through it slowly.

“The section on Irish folklore is near the back,” I volunteered before I could stop myself.

“You know the book that well?” he looked up, interest sparking into his eyes. Why, oh why, had I started this conversation? It was only going to lead to more conversations, which could only lead to chaos…. Realizing he was still waiting for me to answer his question, I nodded.

“Would you be willing to tell me what you know about Changelings? If you aren’t to busy, that is?” he beseeched. I started to think up a myriad of excuses to get me out of the Faery tutorial, but then he continued, “You see, I’m dyslexic and it’ll take me ages to get through all this information.”

And just like that, I was lost. You see, David was… but of course that was before…

I sat down and began retelling the legend and all its details. Eddie scrawled some notes on the pad he had brought with him, occasionally stopping to ask a question or insert a pithy remark onto something I’d said. Despite my intentions to remain aloof as always, I was laughing as our conversation came to a close. I took the book back to reshelf it and was filing it away when Eddie asked to use the facilities. I gave him directions and he went off through the maze.

As I went to walk out of the room and resume my duties of the day, I glanced down. His notepad was lying open on the table. Knowing what I was doing was wrong even as I did it, I began to read his writings. Or attempt to anyway – absolutely atrocious handwriting!

From what I could transcribe:

Possible causes: ?????

Tests – laying on of bagpipes – ask Mrs. B

Cures - Foxglove tea – poisonous

Shovel into fireheap – bad for skin

My curiosity was piqued. What the hell was he up to?

turn the page

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