Scottish terms

Taking the piss – to be kidding or joking.

Pal(s) – friend(s)

Missus (pronounced the same as Mrs [miss-eez]) – slang for someone’s female partner or wife (i.e. my missus, or the misses). I have heard some accusations online of this being sexist (probably to people outisde the UK), but I strongly disagree with this. Can also be used by woman to female friends regardless of marital status i.e. “where have you been, missus? I’ve not seen you in ages.”

Lassie – term for a young woman.

Ma/Da – term for Mum/Dad.

Greeting – crying, weeping.

Picts – The mysterious inhabitants of Dark age/early medieval northern and eastern Scotland. Most famous for the beautiful standing stones and artwork they left behind. Many things about them and their culture is still murky as they didn’t leave us any written records. What is written down is mainly from other sources from the rest of Britain, and Ireland.

A till – What the money goes in and receipts come out of in shops. I think they’re called cash registers in the USA?

Script

Can you believe I’m sick of tea? I can’t even watch as my flatmates make it anymore without being reminded of a customer. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make a brew for myself again. It was a nice change when Fionn suggested some coffee to get through a particularly dragging afternoon. No customers, of any kind, had come in, and I was beginning to think it was one of those unfortunate days where all I did was lose at cards.

When he suggested the loser had to go and get the coffee, I may as well have just walked out then and there instead of letting the two of them wipe the floor with me. But let’s face it, it wasn’t as if Chronos was buying us coffee.

When I returned, trying to balance two cups in my hand as I unceremoniously kicked open the door, Fionn had his head bent down, staring into the glass cabinet full of sparkling jewels. I placed the coffee cups on the surface and eyed him warily. His expression was pensive, eyes narrowed as if in deep thought, and he was gently biting one side of his lip. I gave in like an impatient bairn and asked him what he was doing.

Rather than answering, he moved around me and back behind the counter, sticking his hand in and carefully pulling something out. After eying it for a few more seconds he admitted that it looked familiar, but he couldn’t remember why. This thing he’d pulled out was surprisingly dull and tarnished. It was a necklace, with a grim silver chain that didn’t look like it’d been cleaned in decades, with a heart shaped pendant hanging off it that didn’t sparkle or shine. It was deep green, and could either have been coloured glass, or some precious stone like an emerald. I couldn’t tell. A part of me wanted to say it was costume jewellery, judging by how scruffy it looked, but as with everything in the shop, it could well have been some kind of stolen jewel from hundreds of years ago, worth a small fortune today.

Fionn remained silently and ferociously inspecting this necklace, so I turned to Chronos for answers, whilst taking a sip of my coffee, hoping I wouldn’t burn myself. He admitted it’d been in the shop for a long time without anyone takin’ any interest. As to what it did, if anything at all, he either couldn’t or wouldn’t say. It’d been made especially for an American heiress during the 19^th century, and nothing bad had happened to her. I ogled this scruffy looking thing in Fionn’s hand. It was worth a small fortune if it’d been worn by the rich of the Victorian era, yet it wouldn’t have looked out of place in a bin.

I queried how long it’d been in the shop, to which Chronos answered just after the first World War. Well, that would explain why Fionn recognised it. He’d probably stared at it many a time when he was Madam Norna’s familiar, he just hadn’t noticed it until now. I told him as much, although missing out the touchy subject of his relationship with my boss. Yet, when I glanced up at him all confusion and bemusement had vanished, replaced by clarity and joyful nostalgia. Something didn’t fit right with his expression and my theory. Why would he look so happy that he recognised a random bit of jewellery he took no notice of before? It was almost as if it reminded him of someone, but that wasn’t possible. Chronos said it’d been languishing in the shop for a century with no owner. I started to get this weird feeling on the back of my neck, and a wee voice whispering in my head.

Out of the blue I asked Fionn what age he was. Don’t ask me where it came from, it was like the question just fell from my mouth from somewhere in the back of my mind where other secrets and connections are kept. His eyes snapped from the necklace to stare straight into mine, searching them to find if I was being serious. It was lightning quick, but I noticed his eyes dart to Chronos for a brief second. The same look the Madam and he sometimes shot each other when I asked a difficult question, almost as if checking for permission to answer.

He gave me one of his grins, all teeth showing, and answered old enough to remember when the necklace was around an heiress’s neck. Now, I’d made the mistake of taking a sip of my coffee right before he answered and proceeded to choke on it in my surprise. He wasn’t serious, he was taking the piss like he always did. I inspected him, waiting for the punchline I knew deep down wasn’t coming. Fionn doesn’t look that old. Before that day I’d have said mid-thirties at the latest, younger than Madam Norna at least. But he was saying…what was he saying? That he was over a century old? I really shouldn’t be surprised but can you believe there are still things in this new world of mine that can shock the fuck out of me.

It also left the sticky question of if Fionn was that old and didn’t look it, then was it the same for others? I scanned around the shop, across the antiques, some younger than the Irishman standing opposite me, for my grumpy companion. Not seeing or hearing him I ended up asking aloud. Fionn had been putting the necklace back in the counter and at my question he snapped the door closed a wee bit too firmly. I felt my eyebrow rise, and dismissively he answered Reid was out somewhere.

You don’t say. I bit out some sarcastic reply that Fionn took no notice of as he started to come out from behind the counter. I challenged him why he didn’t like Reid – rather, why he was always so harsh on him. I’m finding it hard to believe I’ve gone from not really liking my familiar to being begrudging pals? Reid may be rough around the edges, short tempered and grumpy, but he’s helped me a lot, saved me from myself a few times, and from a car. Our relationship’s improved over time, but I couldn’t understand why Fionn seemed hellbent on making theirs worse.

Predictably the answer was because he’s a mongrel, because he never smiled, an endless list of hollow reasons. It was said with a petulant tone and grin, but there was a melancholy chime reflected on his features. I refused his answer, saying I didn’t think that was the truth. He exhaled slowly; the pretence of mirth gone as his features lost their humorous shine. Fionn confessed that he didn’t hate Reid, he envied him.

With the greatest timing the bell above the door went and pulled our attention away from the most interesting piece of information I’ve heard in a while, barring Fionn’s age thing. The bad timing was further explained when Reid came in accompanied by a lassie. They were laughing and smiling together, the ease of a long-term friendship, or something more. I couldn’t tell just by looking. This has given me bad thoughts ever since. Before that day Reid was this abstract person, someone who only really existed within the realms of shop business. Yet when he came in with this lassie, looking friendly and at ease, I began to realise he had a life, just like me, outside the shop, and I didn’t know a thing about it. It sounds so stupid now that I’m talking about it. Of course he has a life; family; pals, and problems, but we’ve never spoken about them. I’ve never asked him. It’d only been a few minutes before when I was thinking we were now pals, but what sort of pals knew nothing about each other’s personal lives? For all I knew this lassie could be his missus! I’d never seen him look like the way he did entering the shop, comfortable and happy. In the shop, he only ever wears a scowl.

At the time I couldn’t dwell on these thoughts as the two came over to the counter where Fionn, Chronos and I were. Before I realised what was happening and who was who the lassie had started talking to me. She confessed that she couldn’t believe I was the Madam, I was so young, and not what she’d imagined. The lassie was a wee bit shorter than me, with shoulder length honey brown hair and grey green eyes staring at me with what I assume to be the awe that people stare at celebrities with. I think what surprised me more was that Reid laughed, actually laughed. It was more of a snort really, the snigger of someone who knows something their pal doesn’t.

Calling this lassie Izzy, he introduced me as the Madam’s apprentice, and that the Madam herself would be upstairs. With a nervous chortle Reid’s pal confirmed that Reid had mentioned me, and that she felt like she knew me already. That raised a whole new set of questions. I couldn’t contain myself and turned to Reid in surprise, stating that none of what she’d heard was probably complimentary. Izzy smiled, but didn’t deny it, further piling guilt, anger, irritation, or whatever it was on the fire of ma thoughts regarding Reid and me.

Turns out this Izzy lassie was here to see the Madam, although she never produced a card like the normal customer. Regardless, I led her upstairs, and to my surprise Reid followed us. I wasn’t sure what to say, if he was even allowed in. I made tea like I usually do, and when I returned Reid was sitting beside his pal on the customer’s sofa. The Madam didn’t say anything about him being there, so I wasn’t going to.

Like any other customer my boss started with her usual; asking what she could help with. I’m usually curious about their reasons, but in this case it was doubled. I was actually interested in who this lassie was, her connection to Reid, and why she’d evidently used him to see Madam Norna.

The room descended into a strange lowness, tinged by a fear that was by no means unusual in a customer, but had an edge of something sinister. She explained that there was a curse on her family that’d been in effect for as long as anyone could remember. When the women in her family turned 21 they slowly began to lose their minds. It’d start with hallucinations here and there, and over time these hallucinations would become intertwined with their reality so they couldn’t tell what was real or not. This, according to Izzy, would kill them before long. It’d offed her grannie, and her Ma’d been put in a care facility to stop her from hurting herself. Izzy turned 21 in a matter of weeks, and she wanted the curse to stop.

After a few moments of quiet, Madam Norna queried if Izzy knew the origin of this curse. She answered that it was a blood curse from centuries ago, put on her family by what she called a rival clan. As to the exact person who cast it, they remained a mystery. It couldn’t have been anyone from this rival clan, though, because foxes didn’t have the ability to cast curses. That at least partly explained the connection between this lassie and Reid. Both were the same species, but I suppose it left more unanswered. I’m still fascinated with this shapeshifter thing, yet another subject I’ve never asked Reid about. Can they change at will, or is it like a full-moon thing? Do they look like the foxes you see rifling through bins, or are they different? This customer wasn’t going to answer these queries though.

The Madam, in her matter of fact way, informed Izzy and Reid that she couldn’t break the curse put on the family. I expected her to say something else, a ‘but’ or ‘however’, but nope, that was it. I glanced reluctantly to the customer’s sofa and saw Izzy’s face fall, almost looking as though she was going to start greeting. She exclaimed that she’d pay Madam Norna anything she wanted if she’d find a way to help her.

Why do they always say anything? It’s like most of the customers have no idea that anything is a possibility when it comes to my boss. Unmoved by the lassie’s outburst, the Madam kept her silence. Then it was Reid’s turn, and the grumpy familiar I recognised returned. He demanded to know why Madam Norna wouldn’t help. After further deliberation she repeated that she couldn’t break the curse, but she could protect Izzy from its effects.

I knew then that it’d be time for me to get up and go to the cabinet, and sure enough the command came. I was to find a pendant on the second shelf that was round and silver. Beside the vials, bottles, and boxes, was a black leather cord, hanging from it was a round silver disc, with a symbol inscribed on it. I felt like I’d seen a symbol like it before.

When I was wee, my Da’ and I used to go camping during the summer holidays. One year we went somewhere in the north of Scotland, and one day he took me to see this ancient stone pillar. The markings on that stone pillar were similar to the ones on this pendant in the Madam’s cabinet. That pillar I’d seen all those years ago was actually a Pictish monument, made and put where it was by the mysterious inhabitants of ancient Scotland. I didn’t connect the pendant and the pillar at the time, I just thought the symbol looked familiar.

I placed it on the coffee table, and by the look Izzy was giving it you’d have thought it was a snake about to pounce on her. I understood her fear when her next question was asking what the price would be.

Half ae her life, was the simple yet haunting reply.

I’m still not comfortable with knowing I live in a world where people can trade years of their life like gold in a pawn shop. I can’t say I was that surprised, though. The Madam’s prices are never money, yet always seem to have a significance or weight that makes them worth something. Personally, I didn’t know how years of a person’s life were stored. Perhaps there was a till I didn’t know about.

Reid was the first to voice an objection, protesting that it was too much. He wasn’t surprised by the currency though. I remembered back to a conversation I’d had with him some months previous. One where he told me people were scared of the Madam because no one knew what her price was going to be. I understood that sentiment better now. No wonder people were afraid, one minute they’d be living until they were 70, and after a visit to her they were looking at half that. Obviously, people could refuse to pay, leave with their troubles unsolved. I got the impression that didn’t happen a lot.

Madam Norna, probably unaware she was looking like a fairytale villain, explained that in order to protect Izzy’s life and sanity, she’d need some of her life in return. Afterwards offering the point that she didn’t know how long she’d live; half of her life could amount to nothing. In my opinion, even if she gave up half her life, she’d still probably live longer than she would do if this curse set in. Yet, the other side of that coin was that giving up half her life could leave her with a shorter time. The Madam continued to say that Izzy would be free to live her life, settle doon with a partner, have bairns, find a lucrative career, whatever she wanted. However, any bairns, mainly daughters, she had of her blood wouldn’t be protected from the curse, nor would this protection reverse what had happened to her Ma’.

There was a static silence blanketing the room. Reid wasn’t happy, and making sure we all knew about it. His pal, on the other hand, contemplated seriously. To be honest I didn’t think a decision like this one should be made immediately. We’re talking about half your life here. A few further questions followed. If Izzy made this deal, she’d never lose her mind? The Madam confirmed, not from the curse. I didn’t like this answer, didn’t like the ambiguity, and I get a bad feeling in my gut just thinking about it. The second query was if the curse on her family could be broken? Yes, all curses were breakable somehow, just not by the Madam.

By this point I was actually rooting for this lassie, Reid’s pal, to say she’d think about it and leave. Before the shop I used to think I was the kind of person who’d say something regardless of the situation. But I find that ever since becoming the Madam’s apprentice, sitting in on these meetings I’ve become a silent observer. It’s when I’m sitting at the coffee table, pouring the tea, that I feel I don’t have a right to give my opinion, or say anything at all. This world, my world, is too grand, too sinister, and too unknown for me to interfere, even if a wee voice in my head wants me to. Besides, she wasn’t my pal, I didn’t have a right to start giving out advice or opinions. I thought Reid would, but he, too, kept his silence.

Izzy didn’t take time, didn’t have a good think, and accepted the Madam’s pendant in exchange for half of her life. As the lassie went to take the pendant my boss gave one final explanation. Once Izzy put it on, she could never take it off. If she did, under any circumstances, its protection would wear off and the curse would play out. Madam Norna said this with a familiar enunciation that made me feel worse than I already was. I wished it didn’t sound so much like foreshadowing. With a stomach slowly knotting in on itself, I observed as Izzy happily took this pendant and slipped it around her neck, from where it was to never be removed. I dared a glance at Reid, and saw he, like me, felt the same trepidation.

Fionn and I both watched as Reid and Izzy left the shop, but I couldn’t shake the dark cloud that had settled itself on my mood. What would happen to her? Would that wee pendant really keep such a curse away forever? How long was half of her life? Fionn noticed my dour look and told me I shouldn’t fret; people didn’t come to see Madam Norna if they weren’t desperate. Customers knew what they could get themselves into. I still don’t wholly believe that’s true. If I try to find a silver lining it’s that Izzy is protected from the curse, and she was amply warned about the consequences of taking the pendant off. And that’s the last I hope ever to hear of that entire situation.

As I heard Fionn speak and natter I remembered our conversation before Reid had come in with his pal. His hatred for my familiar didn’t stem from personal aversion, but from jealousy. If Fionn thought he was getting out of follow-up questions, he was sorely mistaken. I asked, plainly, why he’d be jealous of Reid. The jovial curve to his features flattened to sadness, and he wouldn’t meet my eyes. Because Reid didn’t know what he had, being a familiar. It was a chore to him, something he had to do to keep himself safe. I couldn’t understand this answer. Rather, I couldn’t understand why Reid’s reasons for becoming my familiar would annoy Fionn so much. Then it dawned on me. Fionn hadn’t wanted to stop being my boss’s familiar, but his own actions had essentially forced her hand. He wanted to be her familiar again, but couldn’t, and there was Reid, a familiar who hadn’t really wanted to be one in the first place but was.

I pointed out to Fionn that it wasn’t the same, and that Reid would probably gladly switch places with him. That thought, although said jokingly at the time, has haunted me ever since. Reid became my familiar out of necessity. Are we really pals, or do I only think we are because he’s always there, forced by the fox ring and circumstance? Not to mention, is the reason he came to see Madam Norna in the first place still a problem? Does he still need my protection? And if he doesn’t, what does that mean? Will he leave and go back to his life? Am I keeping him from that life unnecessarily? I know I should talk to him, but I don’t want to. I want to be selfish, just a wee while longer.

Script – Scots (ish. More like Scots lite. My international listeners wouldn’t have understood a word I’d said if I’d fully committed to Scots).

Can you believe I’m sick ae tea? I cannae even watch as ma flatmates make it anymore withoot bein’ reminded ae a customer. I dinnae ‘hink I’ll ever be able tae make a brew fae maself again. It was a nice change when Fionn suggested some coffee tae get through a particularly dragging afternoon. No customers, ae any kind, had come in, and I was beginnin’ tae ‘hink it was one ae those unfortunate days where all I did was lose at cards.

When he suggested the loser had tae go and get the coffee, I may as well have just walked oot then and there instead ae lettin’ the two ae them wipe the floor wi’ me. But let’s face it, it wasnae as if Chronos was buyin’ us coffee.

When I returned, tryin tae balance two cups in ma hand as I unceremoniously kicked open the door, Fionn had his heid bent doon, starin’ intae the glass cabinet full ae sparklin’ jewels. I placed the coffee cups on the surface and eyed him warily. His expression was pensive, eyes narrowed as if in deep thought, and he was gently bitin’ one side ae his lip. I gave in like an impatient bairn and asked him whit he was doin’.

Rather than answerin’, he moved roond me and back behind the counter, stickin’ his hand in and carefully pullin’ something oot. After eyin’ it fae a few more seconds he admitted that it looked familiar, but he couldnae remember why. This ‘hing he’d pulled oot was surprisingly dull and tarnished. It was a necklace, wi a grim silver chain that didnae look like it’d been cleaned in decades, wi a heart shaped pendant hangin’ aff it that didnae sparkle or shine. It was deep green, and could either have been coloured glass, or some precious stone like an emerald. I couldnae tell. A part ae me wanted tae say it was costume jewellery, judging by how scruffy it looked, but as wi’ everythin’ in the shop, it could well hae’ been some kind ae stolen jewel fae hundreds ae years ago, worth a small fortune today.

Fionn remained silently and ferociously inspectin this necklace, so I turned tae Chronos fae answers, whilst takin’ a sip ae ma coffee, hopin I wouldnae burn maself. He admitted it’d been in the shop fae a long time withoot anyone takin’ any interest. As tae whit it did, if anythin’ at all, he either couldnae or wouldnae say. It’d been made especially fae an American heiress durin’ the 19^th century, and nothin’ bad had happened tae her. I ogled this scruffy lookin’ ‘hing in Fionn’s hand. It was worth a small fortune if it’d been worn by the rich ae the Victorian era, yet it wouldnae ha’ looked oot ae place in a bin.

I queried how long it’d been in the shop, tae which Chronos answered just after the first World War. Well, that would explain why Fionn recognised it. He’d probably stared at it many a time when he was Madam Norna’s familiar, he just hadnae noticed it until noo. I told him as much, although missin’ oot the touchy subject ae his relationship wi’ ma boss. Yet, when I glanced up at him all confusion and bemusement had vanished, replaced by clarity and joyful nostalgia. Somethin’ didnae fit right wi his expression and ma theory. Why would he look so happy that he recognised a random bit ae jewellery he took nay notice of before? It was almost as if it reminded him ae someone, but that wasnae possible. Chronos said it’d been languishin’ in the shop fae a century wi no owner. I started tae get this weird feelin’ on the back ae ma neck, and a wee voice whisperin’ in ma heid.

Oot ae the blue I asked Fionn whit age he was. Dinnae ask me where it came frae, it was like the question just fell fae ma mouth frae somewhere in the back ae ma mind where other secrets and connections are kept. His eyes snapped fae the necklace tae stare straight intae mine, searchin’ them tae find if I was bein’ serious. It was lightnin’ quick, but I noticed his eyes dart tae Chronos fae a brief second. The same look the Madam and he sometimes shot each other when I asked a difficult question, almost as if checkin’ fae permission tae answer.

He gee me one ae his grins, all teeth showin, and answered old enough tae remember when the necklace was roond an heiress’s neck. Noo, I’d made the mistake ae takin’ a sip ae ma coffee right before he answered and proceeded tae choke on it in ma surprise. He wasnae serious, he was takin’ the piss like he always did. I inspected him, waitin’ fae the punchline I knew deep doon wasnae comin’. Fionn doesnae look that old. Before that day I’d have said mid-thirties at the latest, younger than Madam Norna at least. But he was sayin….what was he sayin’? That he was over a century old? I really shouldnae be surprised, but can ye believe there are still ‘hings in this new world ae mine that can shock the fuck oot ae me.

It also left the sticky question ae if Fionn was that old and didnae look it, then was it the same fae others? I scanned roond the shop, across the antiques, some younger than the Irishman standin’ opposite me, fae ma grumpy companion. No seein’ or hearin him I ended up askin’ aloud. Fionn had been puttin’ the necklace back in the counter and at ma question he snapped the door closed a wee bit too firmly. I felt ma eyebrow rise, and dismissively he answered Reid was oot somewhere.

Ye dinnae say. I bit out some sarcastic reply that Fionn took nay notice ae as he starteed tae come oot frae behind the counter. I challenged him why he didnae like Reid – rather, why he was always so harsh on him. I’m findin’ it hard tae believe I’ve gone fae no really likin’ ma familiar tae bein’ begrudging pals? Reid may be rough roond the edges, short tempered and grumpy, but he’s helped me a lot, saved me fae maself a few times, and fae a car. Our relationship’s improved over time, but I couldnae understand why Fionn seemed hellbent on makin’ theirs worse.

Predictably the answer was because he’s a mongrel, because he never smiled, an endless list ae hollow reasons. It was said wi’ a petulant tone and grin, but there was a melancholy chime reflected on his features. I refused his answer, sayin’ I didnae ‘hink that was the truth. He exhaled slowly; the pretence ae mirth gone as his features lost their humorous shine. Fionn confessed that he didnae hate Reid, he envied him.

Wi’ the greatest timin the bell above the door went and pulled our attention away fae the most interestin’ piece ae information I’ve heard in a while, barrin’ Fionn’s age ‘hing. The bad timin’ was further explained when Reid came in accompanied by a lassie. They were laughin’ and smilin’ together, the ease ae a long-term friendship, or somethin’ more. I couldnae tell just by lookin’. This has geein’ me bad thoughts ever since. Before that day Reid was this abstract person, someone who only really existed within the realms ae shop business. Yet when he came in wi this lassie, lookin’ friendly and at ease, I began tae realise he had a life, just like me, outside the shop, and I didnae know a hing aboot it. It sounds so stupid noo that I’m talkin’ aboot it. Of course he has a life; family; pals; and problems, but we’ve never spoken aboot them. I’ve never asked him. It’d only been a few minutes before when I was thinkin’ we were noo pals, but whit sort ae pals knew nothin’ aboot each other’s personal lives? Fae all I knew this lassie could be his missus! I’d never seen him look like the way he did enterin’ the shop, comfortable and happy. In the shop, he only ever wears a scowl.

At the time I couldnae dwell on these thoughts as the two came over tae the counter where Fionn, Chronos and I were. Before I realised whit was happenin and who was who the lassie had started talkin’ tae me. She confessed that she couldnae believe I was the Madam, I was so young, and no whit she’d imagined. The lassie was a wee bit shorter than me, wi shoulder length honey brown hair and grey green eyes starin’ at me wi what I assume tae be the awe that people stare at celebrities wi. I ‘hink whit surprised me more was that Reid laughed, actually laughed. It was more ae a snort really, the snigger ae someone who knows somethin’ their pal doesnae.

Callin this lassie Izzy, he introduced me as the Madam’s apprentice, and that the Madam herself would be upstairs. Wi’ a nervous chortle Reid’s pal confirmed that Reid had mentioned me, and that she felt like she knew me already. That raised a whole new set ae questions. I couldnae contain maself and turned tae Reid in surprise, statin’ that none ae whit she’d heard was probably complimentary. Izzy smiled, but didnae deny it, further pilin’ guilt, anger, irritation, or whitever it was on the fire ae ma thoughts regardin Reid and me.

Turns oot this Izzy lassie was here tae see the Madam, although she never produced a card like the normal customer. Regardless I led her upstairs, and tae ma surprise Reid followed us. I wasnae sure whit tae say, if he was even allowed in. I made tea like I usually do, and when I returned Reid was sittin’ beside his pal on the customer’s sofa. The Madam didnae say anythin’ aboot him bein’ there, so I wasnae gonnae.

Like any other customer ma boss started wi her usual; askin whit she could help wi’. I’m usually curious aboot their reasons, but in this case it was doubled. I was actually interested in who this lassie was, her connection tae Reid, and why she’d evidently used him tae see Madam Norna.

The room descended intae a strange lowness, tinged by a fear that was by no means unusual in a customer, but had an edge ae somethin’ sinister. She explained that there was a curse on her family that’d been in effect fae as long as anyone could remember. When the women in her family turned 21 they slowly began tae lose their minds. It’d start wi hallucinations here and there, and over time these hallucinations would become intertwined wi’ their reality so they couldnae tell what was real or not. This, accordin’ tae Izzy, would kill them before long. It’d offed her grannie, and her Ma’d been put in a care facility tae stop her fae hurtin’ herself. Izzy turned 21 in a matter ae weeks, and she wanted the curse tae stop.

After a few moments ae quiet, Madam Norna queried if Izzy knew the origin ae this curse. She answered that it was a blood curse fae centuries ago, put on her family by whit she called a rival clan. As tae the exact person who cast it, they remained a mystery. It couldnae have been anyone fae this rival clan, though, because foxes didnae have the ability tae cast curses. That at least partly explained the connection between this lassie and Reid. Both were the same species, but I suppose it left more unanswered. I’m still fascinated wi’ this shapeshifter ‘hing, yet another subject I’ve never asked Reid aboot. Can they change at will, or is it like a full-moon ‘hing? Do they look like the foxes ye see riflin’ through bins, or are they different? This customer wasnae gonnae answer these queries though.

The Madam, in her matter ae fact way, informed Izzy and Reid that she couldnae break the curse put on the family. I expecteed her tae say somethin’ else, a but or however, but nope, that was it. I glanced reluctantly tae the customer’s sofa and saw Izzy’s face fall, almost lookin’ as though she were gonnae start greetin’. She exclaimed that she’d pay Madam Norna anythin’ she wanted if she’d find a way tae help her.

Why dae they always say anything? It’s like most ae the customers have no idea that anythin’ is a possibility when it comes tae ma boss. Unmoved by the lassie’s outburst, the Madam kept her silence. Then it was Reid’s turn, and the grumpy familiar I recognised returned. He demanded tae know why Madam Norna wouldnae help. After further deliberation she repeated that she couldnae break the curse, but she could protect Izzy frae its effects.

I knew then that it’d be time fae me tae get up and go to the cabinet, and sure enough the command came. I was tae find a pendant on the second shelf that was round and silver. Beside the vials, bottles, and boxes, was a black leather cord, hangin’ frae it was a round silver disc, wi a symbol inscribed on it. I felt like I’d seen a symbol like it before.

When I was wee, ma Da’ and I used tae go campin’ durin the summer holidays. One year we went somewhere in the north ae Scotland, and one day he took me tae see this ancient stone pillar. The markins on that stone pillar were similar tae the ones on this pendant in the Madam’s cabinet. That pillar I’d seen all ae those years ago was actually a Pictish monument, made and put where it was by the mysterious inhabitants ae ancient Scotland. I didnae connect the pendant and the pillar at the time, I just thought the symbol looked familiar.

I placed it on the coffee table, and by the look Izzy was geein’ it you’d have thought it was a snake aboot tae pounce on her. I understood her fear when her next question was askin’ whit the price would be.

Half ae her life, was the simple yet hauntin’ reply.

I’m still no comfortable wi’ knowing I live in a world where people can trade years of their life like gold in a pawn shop. I canne say I was that surprised though. The Madam’s prices are never money, yet always seem tae have a significance or weight that makes them worth somethin’. Personally, I didnae know how years ae a person’s life were stored. Perhaps there was a till I didnae know aboot.

Reid was the first tae voice an objection, protestin that it was too much. He wasnae surprised by the currency though. I remembered back tae a conversation I’d had wi him some months previous. One where he told me people were scared ae the Madam because no one knew whit her price was gonnae be. I understood that sentiment better noo. No wonder people were afraid, one minute they’d be livin’ until they were 70, and after a visit tae her they were lookin’ at half that. Obviously people could refuse tae pay, leave wi’ their troubles unsolved. I got the impression that didnae happen a lot.

Madam Norna, probably unaware she was lookin’ like a fairytale villain, explained that in order tae protect Izzy’s life and sanity, she’d need some ae her life in return. Afterwards offerin’ the point that she didnae know how long she’d live, half ae her life could amount tae nothin’. In ma opinion, even if she gee up half her life, she’d still probably live longer than she would do if this curse set in. Yet, the other side ae that coin was that geein’ up half her life could leave her wi’ a shorter time. The Madam continued tae say that Izzy’d be free tae live her life, settle doon wi a partner, have bairns, find a lucrative career, whitever she wanteed. However, any bairns, mainly daughters, she had of her blood wouldnae be protected fae the curse, nor would this protection reverse whit had happened tae her Ma’.

There was a static silence blanketin’ the room. Reid wasnae happy, and makin’ sure we all knew aboot it. His pal, on the other hand, contemplated seriously. Tae be honest I didnae ‘hink a decision like this one should be made immediately. We’re talkin aboot half your life here.  A few further questions followed. If Izzy made this deal, she’d never lose her mind. The Madam confirmed, not frae the curse. I didnae like this answer, didnae like the ambiguity, and I get a bad feelin’ in ma gut just thinkin’ aboot it. The second query was if the curse on her family could be broken. Yes, all curses were breakable somehow, just not by the Madam.

By this point I was actually rootin’ fae this lassie, Reid’s pal, tae say she’d ‘hink aboot it and leave. Before the shop I used tae ‘hink I was the kindae person who’d say something regardless ae the situation. But I find that ever since becomin’ the Madam’s apprentice, sittin’ in on these meetins’ I’ve become a silent observer. It’s when I’m sittin at the coffee table, pourin’ the tea, that I feel I dinnae have a right tae gee ma opinion, or say anythin’ at all. This world, my world, is too grand, too sinister, and too unknown fae me tae interfere, even if a wee voice in ma heid wants me to. Besides, she wasnae ma pal, I didnae have a right tae start geein’ oot advice or opinions. I thought Reid would, but he too kept his silence.

Izzy didnae take time, didnae have a good ‘hink, and accepted the Madam’s pendant in exchange fae half ae her life. As the lassie went tae take the pendant ma boss gee’ one final explanation. Once Izzy put it on she could never take it aff. If she did, under any circumstances, its protection would wear aff and the curse would play out. Madam Norna said this wi’ a familiar enunciation that made me feel worse than I already was. I wished it didnae sound so much like foreshadowin’. Wi a stomach slowly knottin’ in on itself, I observed as Izzy happily took this pendant and slipped it roond her neck, from where it was tae never be removed. I dared a glance at Reid, and saw he, like me, felt the same trepidation.

Fionn and I both watched as Reid and Izzy left the shop, but I couldnae shake the dark cloud that had settled itself on ma mood. Whit would happen tae her? Would that wee pendant really keep such a curse away forever? How long was half ae her life? Fionn noticed ma dour look and told me I shouldnae fret, people didnae come tae see Madam Norna if they werenae desperate. Customers knew whit they could get themselves intae. I still dinnae wholly believe that’s true. If I try tae find a silver linin it’s that Izzy is protected frae the curse, and she was amply warned aboot the consequences ae takin’ the pendant aff. And that’s the last I hope ever tae hear ae that entire situation.

As I heard Fionn speak and natter I remembered our conversation before Reid had come in wi his pal. His hatred fae ma familiar didnae stem frae personal aversion, but frae jealousy. If Fionn thought he was gettin’ oot ae follow-up questions, he was sorely mistaken. I asked, plainly, why he’d be jealous ae Reid. The jovial curve tae his features flattened tae sadness, and he wouldnae meet ma eyes. Because Reid didnae know whit he had, bein a familiar. It was a chore tae him, somethin’ he had tae do tae keep himself safe. I couldnae understand this answer. Rather I couldnae understand why Reid’s reasons fae becomin’ ma familiar would annoy Fionn so much. Then it dawned on me. Fionn hadnae wanted tae stop bein ma boss’s familiar, but his own actions had essentially forced her hand. He wanted tae be her familiar again, but couldnae, and there was Reid, a familiar who hadnae really wanteed tae be one in the first place but was.

I pointed oot tae Fionn that it wasnae the same, and that Reid would probably gladly switch places wi’ him. That thought, although said jokingly at the time, has haunted me ever since. Reid became ma familiar oot ae necessity. Are we really pals, or do I only ‘hink we are because he’s always there, forced by the fox ring and circumstance? Not tae mention, is the reason he came tae see Madam Norna in the first place still a problem? Does he still need ma protection? And if he doesn’t, what does that mean? Will he leave and go back tae his life? Am I keepin’ him frae that life unnecessarily? I know I should talk tae him, but I dinnae want tae. I want tae be selfish, just a wee while longer.

Scottish terms

Bairn – child

Banshee/Ban Sìth (Scots Gaelic)/Bean Sidhe (Irish Gaelic) – A figure native to Irish mythology, imported into Scottish folklore via the western coast of Scotland (as with many other creatures, monsters, and ghouls) that is one of many harbingers of doom and death, mostly death. It takes the form of a weeping/wailing (or keening) woman who can be heard when there is going to be an imminent death in the Clann/family. Interestingly the word actually translates into woman (Ban/Bean) of the fairy mound (Sìth/Sidhe – more broadly this is used to refer to faeries). Used these days to refer to any kind of loud screaming or crying; i.e. she was wailing like a banshee.

Lad – man or boy, although young boys are usually referred to as wee lads. Male adults just as lads.

Greetin'(g) – Crying, weeping.

Ma’ – Mum/mother.

Cheeky drink/biscuit/etc. – A british term, not necessarily Scottish, that just means consuming or doing something you’re not really supposed to be, or something that’s not necessarily good for you.

Pished – drunk

Dobber – idiot or stupid person. An insult.

Roaster – yet another word for idiot.

(Car) Bonnet – British term for the front of a car. Confusingly, also a fancy word for a hat.

Nook and crannie – everywhere, every corner, every space.

Fideal (pronounched fee-tch-al) – one of many “evil” water spirits in Scottish Folklore that drags mainly women and children into bodies of water, killing them. In Scottish myth this particular one is native to Loch na Fideil near Gairloch. I perhaps unfairly hijacked the word and created an entirely different creature that posessed children instead of dragging them into the nearest Loch, so apologies to Scottish mythology for that.

Lewis chess pieces – are exactly what they sound like. Gaming pieces found on the Isle of Lewis that are currently dated to the 12th or 13th century.

Script

It’s been quiet, and I’m not talking about customers this time. There’s actually been silence, and do you know why? Because the two roasters aren’t about. Fionn’s disappeared and I don’t know where. He’s able to come and go as he pleases. As for Reid, he’s gone to visit family for a few days, or so he told me. And it’s…well, it’s not been as nice as I’d liked. It’s like nostalgia glasses. I thought that because the silence had disappeared, replaced by bickering and barbs, that meant I missed it. Whenever the two roasters would start I’d reminisce about my first few months in the shop with just Chronos, the blissful peace that blanketed all of the weird and horrific things that surrounded me. But now I have it, I’m not sure I really like it. The silence isn’t peaceful, it’s a bit overbearing if I’m honest. I blame my lack of ignorance. Back when it was just me I didn’t know what half of the stuff was capable of, but now I do, I don’t really like being alone with it. Fionn leaving was one thing, but when Reid announced he wanted to visit his family at the same time, I was actually reluctant to see him go. Fancy that.

In their absence I’ve taken to a small corner of the shop, tucked away out of sight behind desks and card tables. I don’t need to be able to see the door because I hear the bell ring. It’s a lot cosier, and the silence isn’t so intimidating there. I’ll find a book, or an old photo album, or another one of those cigarette card collections, and pass a nice wee few hours looking through them. Chronos has taken to joining me. He’ll curl up on top of a small set of wooden drawers. His wide eyes will narrow until they start to close completely, dozing off in the silence. We hardly say anything to each other, and it’s not because we don’t have anything to say. I think we both know our days spent in the cosy corner will be numbered soon enough, and so we enjoy the silence whilst we can.

As for the Madam, I can’t really say. She stays upstairs as always. What she finds to do all day, everyday, is a mystery to me. I’d be bored out my face.

It was quiet at first, a distant noise that penetrated the invisible sound barrier that surrounded the shop. The piercing echo of a bairn’s cries. I’ve noticed over the months of working in the shop that you rarely hear anything from outside. There’s no beeping of horns, no road or car noise, no loud mobile phone conversations of people walking by. That’s why when I heard the undeniable sound of a bairn screeching I stopped reading my book, and turned my eyes to where the door is, peeking through the gaps in the mountains of crap.

Chronos hadn’t noticed yet as his eyes were firmly shut, his smooth black fur moving up and down in a slow, sleepy rhythm. I wanted to ignore it, but the fact I could hear it made me take notice. I sat still, squinting to see the door, trying to deny the sound was getting louder. When Chronos opened his eyes and began to stir I swore under my breath. The bell went, and I barely heard it over that bairn’s banshee-like screeching.

I don’t understand why they do it. All the fucking time. They cry for no reason! I usually find that it makes me grind my teeth together, but it was a shock to the system to go from perfect silence to that torturous noise. I had no choice but to put the book down and make my way over to the door, with Chronos following close behind. As I approached, I saw a petite woman with the signs of a parent run ragged. Her ginger hair was a mess, and the dark circles under her eyes were made darker by her pale skin. Holding her hand was the thing making all the noise. A wee lad, no bigger than 3 or 4, with watery blue eyes and wispy blonde hair, was greeting and wouldn’t stop. When what I assumed to be his Ma’ saw Chronos her eyes widened in terror and she began to shake her head. She informed me, by practically shouting over her lad’s cries, that she was allergic to cats. I felt like telling her Chronos wasn’t technically a cat, but decided against it because I still don’t know exactly what he is.

He slinked off, and I wished with all my might I could join him. But it turns out I don’t always get the things I wish for. I watched as the woman dug into her handbag, rifled through it and procured the Madam’s card. I swear the crying seemed to get louder, and he was scanning round the place as if eying something to get his filthy wee hands on. I felt my face contort under the irritation and ma bleeding ears. The bairn noticed my loathing and the crying got louder. If I was lucky, maybe it’d get so high pitched that only dogs could hear it.

With gritted teeth I motioned to the door leading up to Madam Norna. There’d be nothing supernatural this time about her knowing a customer was here. She would’ve been stone deaf if she hadn’t heard the brat by now. On our way to the door I noticed Chronos keeping his distance, a somewhat peculiar look on his feline features, but his gaze was glued to the screaming bairn. I would’ve said the glimpse of curiosity was because he was wondering how a bairn could cry so much for no reason. But the inquisitiveness, the way Chronos was keeping an eye on the brat as though it were an errant mouse scurrying along a skirting board, made me think it was something more.

Madam Norna showed then into the front parlour, and I’ve never been more desperate to retreat to the kitchen to make the tea. I was tempted just to deliver it and disappear to the silence downstairs. But let’s face it, I wanted to know why the woman and the screamer had come to the shop. By the time I went in the crying had lowered a few decibels to a constant hum. My boss had to raise her voice for the first time since I’ve known her just to be heard over it.

I didn’t bring anything for the brat, not even a cheeky biscuit. Whilst I was pouring the tea for the adults the woman, the haggard mother of Satan’s minion, confessed that she hadn’t been sleeping well. I’m surprised I’ve not had a casualty with that teapot, I keep banging it against the table or the teacups. Was she for real? No sleeping? I’d never have guessed.

By this point the bairn’s crying had faded into background noise. Either that or I’d gone temporarily deaf from my eardrums bursting. When Madam Norna asked why the woman hadn’t been sleeping, well, I was glad I’d finished pouring the tea. It did raise the question, and not for the first time, of why the woman was here and not at a doctors, or phoning pest control.

The woman confessed that she was having trouble getting to sleep, and when she did she’d have nightmares. In a smaller voice she admitted that these night terrors were so horrific that she had trouble getting back to sleep after them. You don’t say. I would’ve placed good money on the origin of this sleeplessness being her brat. Speaking of which, when I passed the cup over to its mother, it shouted at me. Wee fucker. I couldn’t tell what it was saying. Bairns that age are only understood by their parents and others their age. To me, it was barely gibberish. What I could understand was the menacing look in its eye. I would’ve glared back if I thought I wouldn’t be caught. Bairns get away with everything.

The Madam interrupted our staring match by instructing me to go to the cabinet and fetch the third vial from the left, on the top shelf. As usual there were new things in there, and this vial, a small glass bottle with a cork in the top, was just where she’d said it’d be. There was liquid inside this wee bottle of a deep violet. I would’ve said it was some kind of chemical if I didn’t know any better. After I’d put it on the table Madam Norna instructed the woman to put two drops of the violet liquid into a glass of water before she went to bed, leaving the glass somewhere in her bedroom. And just like that she’d apparently get some undisturbed sleep. She was to return in a week to confirm if it’d worked or not, and then payment would be discussed. I think this is the first time in a while Madam Norna hasn’t demanded payment upfront. So, what was different here?

The woman took the bottle, and her snuffling bairn, and left the shop. The day went by as it usually does. I’ve never been one for not getting to sleep, but that night I wish I hadn’t. I’d call them bad dreams if they hadn’t been so terrifying. Being chased by something I couldn’t see but knew wished me harm, people being torn to pieces, literally. I thought I woke up once, this blaring light shining in my eyes. I looked around and saw people in masks, scalpels, saws, and hooks laid out on display. I tried to move but couldn’t. It was like I couldn’t feel my body, couldn’t even twitch a finger. I knew it was a dream, but just like my body was paralysed, I was unable to wake up. Even when one of the people in masks went to get the scalpel I could only watch as it came closer. And then, thank fuck, my alarm hoisted me from my nightmare.

I’m not one for dreaming. I couldn’t tell you the last time I even had one, or what it was about. So for me to have a bloody nightmare was unsettling to say the least. I put it down to chance, everyone has nightmares sometimes. But when it happened again for the next two nights, by the third I was afraid to even go to sleep and ended up staying awake all night. The next morning it was like I was suffering fae the worst hangover of my life, and I’d not even had the fun of getting pished in the first place. I had to drag myself out to uni, my head feeling like it was filled with cement. My senses were dulled, but every wee noise set my teeth on edge. The brakes of an old car, the beep of the traffic lights, the rumbling of the train as it sped on to the next station.

I had work that day, but I don’t remember how I got there. One minute I was on campus, and the next I was standing opposite the shop waiting to cross the road. I shook my head and rubbed my eyes furiously, as if that’d wake me up. I stepped off the curb, and a small voice in the back of my head knew it was too late when I registered the frantic beep of a car horn. I remember reading that humans can survive up to 11 days without sleep, yet I wasn’t going to survive one. I remember closing my eyes, bracing myself for the impact of some dobber’s bonnet when instead I felt something grab my arm so tightly I though my bones would get crushed, and yanking me backwards. It was like I’d gone deaf for a minute, or my mind hadn’t finished playing through my greatest hits.

The next thing I know Reid’s growling at me, asking what the hell’s wrong, and if I was blind. His face was blurring dangerously, merging with the thousands of other faces I’d seen or dreamt about. The noises of the street were distant, a background echo. I heard my name, angry and impatient, then I heard it again, softer, concern edging its way in. Then the ground came up, or the sky fell down I can’t be sure. I felt someone’s arms again, grabbing my shoulders and trying to ease me down and avoid me landing sorely on my arse. Reid’s grumbles came to the forefront, and I heard him ask what I’d touched in the shop.

I adamantly told him nothing, I’m careful, usually careful. But you never know, there’s so much nightmare stuff in every nook and crannie I couldn’t really be sure. My mind, lethargic as it was, began to try and play back the last time I was in the shop. The card game I’d lost with Chronos, tidying up some magazines, moving round some jewellery, hiding in the back of the shop reading. There’d been a customer, a special one. A woman, and she’d brought something with her. Not a something, a someone. A bairn, a demon bairn who wouldn’t stop crying. The woman hadn’t been getting sleep, had been having nightmares, that’s why she’d come. And now I was the same!

I held out my arms and told Reid to help me up, and like a wee old grannie crossing the road, we walked across it together. By the time we got into the shop the Madam and Chronos were already waiting. The wee shite’s greeting was an observation that I looked awful. I could imagine, but still, being insulted by a four-legged wee fucker was a low point of the entire experience. I ignored him and asked the Madam what the hell the wee brat from a few days before was.

She informed us that the brat was unbelievably a regular human, but the creature he was possessed by wasn’t. According to her I’d annoyed it when it’d visited, and now it was haunting me the same way as the bairn’s mother. The creature, which she called a Fideal (pronounced “fee-tch-al” and will be spelled feechal for ease of reading) or water spirit, would possess bairns in order to feed off the mother’s energy whilst she was sleeping. Anyone that got in the way of their survival, or anyone who annoyed them, would never get a good night’s sleep. Lack of sleep, or in my case lack of attention to the road, would eventually kill the poor sod, and the Feechal would be free to drain the mother of its energy. This was all said in such a clinical tone it was hard to believe the Madam even cared if I’d died, which I nearly had if it wasn’t for Reid. I’ve thought about getting bumped off by a lot of things since starting in the shop, but a possessed bairn wasn’t on my list.

Madam Norna said she’d told the mother to come back in a week because that was how long it’d take to get the things she needed for the exorcism. I was right then, the bairn was a demon of sorts. Fionn had already been sent to get what she needed and in few days I’d be able to sleep. Obviously, that left a day or two of night terrors. Fantastic. I’ve thought about how unfair it was that I attracted the Feechal’s wrath. I didn’t remember doing anything bad enough to warrant it killing me. It was Madam Norna who helped its mother…well, victim. Why didn’t she look as awful as I did? And am I not supposed to have some kind of immunity to these things? Then again, the Madam did say it wouldn’t work all of the time.

My boss gave me the same thing she gave its mother, and I managed to get a restless sleep for the next two nights until the day of the exorcism. I suppose calling it an exorcism is the wrong thing. It may be demon-esque, but it wasn’t actually a demon but a water spirit from folklore, and Madam Norna isn’t an exorcist. My boss actually referred to it as an expulsion, which was more accurate, believe me.

Fionn arrived in the morning and gave something to the Madam. The rest of the day was spent waiting in anxious anticipation of when the bell would go and the latest customer would enter. Throughout the morning I kept thinking I heard the crying, just like the first time the week before. It’d get closer, and closer, and then someone would talk, or the roasters would bicker, and it’d be gone. My nerves were so frayed that when Fionn said something jokingly to me I snapped at him. Time dragged and me being on edge put everyone else in the same mood, so by the time the bell did resound round the shop you could’ve cut the atmosphere with a butter knife.

I took both the mother and her possessed bairn straight up to see the Madam. Rather than me making tea, a pot was already on the table. I noticed the Madam unusually not touching hers, and when I went to get mine I barely noticed the slight shake of her head. All was explained when the mother, after putting her empty cup back on its saucer, proceeded to fall over, completely out of it. What the hell was in the tea, horse tranquiliser?

The bairn, who’d been whinging at a lower decibel than when he’d first appeared, went eerily silent as he watched his meal ticket slump over, unconscious. I stared at the bairn, waiting for his neck to twist all the way round, waiting for fangs to show, or for a tail to appear. My hands became slick, and I stopped noticing the pins and needles in my foot.

To look at he was normal, but as I’ve learned by now, this is a world where wolves do dress in sheep’s clothing. Rather than fangs, or horns, or guttural voices, the watery eyes dried up, the bairn took a neatly folded hankie fae his trouser pocket and wiped away the stream of snot, before fucking folding it just as neatly and putting it back. No matter how serious he now looked, the fact that his feet didn’t touch the ground and his legs were just dangling off the end of the sofa made the entire thing have a hint of the comical.

When it started speaking though, Christ, I thought I was having auditory hallucinations again. The voice wasn’t guttural, or raw, or raspy, but very clear and deep, like an adult. It was like watching a film where they dub a voice over the actor’s own, and it was horrible. It asked the Madam, in all politeness, if she wouldn’t just let it go, look the other way for once. It wasn’t doing that much harm, it wouldn’t kill the mother, it was too evolved for that. Silence from Madam Norna. It continued that it’d release me from its wrath, and wouldn’t go after anyone else, it promised. I found myself believing its words. Wishful thinking, or the general tone of sincerity, but I really thought that if we just let it go about its business that it’d keep to its word. Silence again. It added, more desperately this time, that it’d only feed once a week, and try to keep the nightmares to a minimum.

Even I knew Madam Norna’s answer. No. Not that she said it aloud. Instead, she pulled something from a pocket in her skirt and placed it on the coffee table in front of me. It was a figure of sorts, carved out of the purest silver birch I’d ever seen. From some angles it looked human, a bit like the Lewis chess pieces they found carved from ivory on the Isle of Lewis. Yet when looked at from another angle, it was humanoid, as if covered by a sheet, the faint outlines of something that was certainly not human; it was too long, too fluid. The most striking feature was that it had no face. At the top, where it was rounded to resemble a head, was the only place where there weren’t grooves, or markings. It was completely blank and flat. Like an empty canvas.

Whatever the figurine was, the reaction it got from the water spirit was something else. Anything human vanished in an instant as it launched itself from the sofa directly at my boss. It got as far as the coffee table where I was before stopping and crumpling to its knees. The skin of the bairn, before pale and clear, now had the distinct shadow of scales, and an unnatural shimmer that wasn’t from sweat or tears. Where there’d been wee fingers and nails, were now skeletal hands with gleaming talons. I didn’t waste anymore time eyeballing from such a close distance and scrambled my way across the floor to cower at my boss’s feet. Nothing ever touched her, so she was a safe bet.

I stared at this monster, this creature stuck in a bairn’s body. A part of it so human and innocent, yet slithers of the unnatural peering through. Its eyes were no longer round, but sharp, and the colour of mercury, the iris’s pin pricks in the middle. At first, I thought the coffee table had stopped him, perhaps some kind of amulet I didn’t know about had been stuck on the underside, or the figurine was actually some kind of barrier. I observed the steam rising from the bairn with a strange curiosity. Looking closer I saw delicate silver chains coated in frost. Where they touched the bairn’s skin they burned with white hot intensity, creating the ribbon’s of steam. I began to feel the ice in the air, edging down my throat. They looked so cold that getting frostbite fae touching them was the least of my worries.

The Feechal struggled against these chains, that were so thin and delicate they wouldn’t look out of place as jewellery. Despite its struggling, and slow growls, they didn’t move, and didn’t gee way. They bit harder into its shiny skin.

“Out.”

Was all Madam Norna said in her soft, velvety voice. It croaked a refusal. She repeated the command, stronger this time. Another chain appeared around its upper arm. Every time she commanded it out of the bairn another chain appeared, searing into its skin, curling its body in on itself. More chains produced more steam, and all of it was being drawn into the small figurine standing on the coffee table. Out. Out. Out. The words were repeated over and over again, swirling around the room like a whisper. Eventually there was a chink of release as the chains wrapped around the bairn broke into icy white particles before shooting straight at the figurine.

The bairn slumped on the ground, groggy and dazed, whilst I realised I was holding someone’s hand. When I looked, I found it was the Madam’s. I kept my eyes on the bairn’s lethargic body, waiting for its head to peek up. The shine on his skin was gone, the outline of scales just a memory. When his eyes eventually did begin to look around, I could see them well up. At least this time the tears were real.

He began to wail, screech like a bloody banshee, and this woke his Ma’ up. Despite her own confusion she comforted her bairn, the real one, not the thing trying to kill her. After some rambling, and apologies, the Madam took some money as payment, and they both left. I guessed that the money was symbolic rather than necessary. The figurine remained on the table, and when I had a nosy at it again, I saw there was now a face, or the vague shape of one, carved into the wood. Its eyes were narrow and sharp, the groove that was supposed to be its mouth twisted in a silent scream.

I, unusually, found myself with no words. I had a feeling of release, like I’d been the one wrapped in chains. Suddenly the tiredness frightened away by the adrenaline returned with a vengeance. Every limb felt weak, shaky, like I hadn’t eaten anything in as many days as I hadn’t slept. Distantly I heard the Madam’s voice, explaining that the wooden figurine was an effigy, an object used to trap spirits. The silver birch was specific to water spirits, like the Feechal possessing the bairn. I felt myself nodding as I gathered the teapot and cups, putting them on a tray, wondering if I’d be able to stand up.

I managed, just, but my limbs felt like the bone had been pulled out. My arms felt light and airy, but my head felt leaden. I could feel my legs shaking as I took one step, and another, and almost managed a third before I stumbled. Reid, appearing from the door, although I hadn’t heard the stairs, caught my arms again. I claimed my leg had gone to sleep. I knew that wasn’t the reason.

Madam Norna told Reid to take me to one of the spare rooms where I could sleep. Aye, there’re spare rooms I didn’t know about. It was like as soon as she said they were there they just appeared. It was down a wee corridor, past other doors I’d never seen before, all painted either white or forest green. From what I can remember at least. One had an open door, and inside was a room similar to what you’d find in a B&B. A single bed rested against one wall, a painting of a random sea view hanging above it. There was a desk with nothing on it, and the windows were covered over with pristine white lace curtains, preventing me from seeing out. Or perhaps there was nothing to see.

I collapsed onto the bed like I’d just come back fae the longest night out. Reid, who’d helped me down the corridor, turned to leave me be. I asked where he was going, and I can hear the tone in my voice, even now. The fear of a bairn afraid of the dark. He answered.

“Nowhere.”

Script – Scots (ish. More like Scots lite. My international listeners wouldn’t have understood a word I’d said if I’d fully committed to Scots).

It’s been quiet, and I’m no talkin’ aboot customers this time. There’s actually been silence, and do you know why? Because the two roasters arenae aboot. Fionn’s disappeared and I dinnae know where. He’s able tae come and go as he pleases. As fae Reid, he’s gone tae visit family fae a few days, or so he told me. And it’s….well, it’s no been as nice as I’d liked. It’s like nostalgia glasses. I thought that because the silence had disappeared, replaced by bickering and barbs, that meant I missed it. Whenever the two roasters would start I’d reminisce aboot my first few months in the shop wi’ just Chronos, the blissful peace that blanketed all ae the weird and horrific ‘hings that surrounded me. But noo I have it, I’m no sure I really like it. the silence isnae peaceful, it’s a bit overbearin if I’m honest. I blame ma lack ae ignorance. Back when it was just me I didnae know whit half ae the stuff was capable of, but noo I do, I dinnae really like bein’ alone wi it. Fionn leavin’ was one ‘hing, but when Reid announced he wanted tae visit his family at the same time, I was actually reluctant tae see him go. Fancy that.

In their absence I’ve taken tae a small corner ae the shop, tucked away oot ae sight behind desks and card tables. I dinnae need tae be able tae see the door ‘cause I hear the bell ring. It’s a lot cosier, and the silence isnae so intimidatin’ there. I’ll find a book, or an old photo album, or another one ae those cigarette card collections, and pass a nice wee few hours lookin’ through them. Chronos has taken tae joinin’ me. He’ll curl up on top ae a small set ae wooden drawers. His wide eyes’ll narrow until they start tae close completely, dozin’ aff in the silence. We hardly say anythin’ tae each other, and it’s no because we dinnae have anythin’ tae say. I ‘hink we both know our days spent in the cosy corner will be numbered soon enough, and so we’ll enjoy the silence whilst we can.

As fae the Madam, I cannae really say. She stays upstairs as always. Whit she finds tae do all day everyday is a mystery tae me. I’d be bored oot ma face.

It was quiet at first, a distant noise that penetrateed the invisible sound barrier that surroundeed the shop. The piercin’ echo ae a bairn’s cries. I’ve noticed over the months ae workin’ in the shop that ye rarely hear anythin’ frae ootside. There’s no beepin’ ae horns, no road or car noise, no loud mobile phone conversations ae people walkin’ by. That’s why when I heard the undeniable sound ae a bairn screechin’ I stopped readin’ ma book, and turned ma eyes tae where the door is, peekin’ through the gaps in the mountains ae crap.

Chronos hadnae noticed yet as his eyes were firmly shut, his smooth black fur movin’ up and doon in a slow, sleepy rhythm. I wanteed tae ignore it, but the fact I could hear it made me take notice. I sat still, squintin’ tae see the door, tryin’ tae deny the sound was gettin’ louder. When Chronos opened his eyes and began tae stir I swore under ma breath. The bell went, and I barely heard it over that bairn’s Ban Sìth like screachin’.

I dinnae understand why they dae it, all the fuckin’ time. They cry fae no reason. I usually find that it makes me grind ma teeth together, but it was a shock tae the system tae go fae perfect silence tae that torturous noise. I had no choice but tae put the book doon and make ma way over tae the door, wi’ Chronos followin’ close behind. As I approached I saw a petite woman wi’ the signs ae a parent run ragged. Her ginger hair was a mess, and the dark circles under her eyes were made darker by her pale skin. Holdin’ her hand was the thing makin’ all the noise. A wee lad, no bigger than 3 or 4, wi’ watery blue eyes and wispy blonde hair, was greetin’ and wouldnae stop. When whit I assumed tae be his Ma’ saw Chronos her eyes widened in terror and she began tae shake her heid. She informed me, by practically shoutin’ over her lad’s cries, that she was allergic tae cats. I felt like tellin’ her Chronos wasnae technically a cat, but decided against it because I still dinnae know exactly what he is.

He slinked aff, and I wished wi’ all ma might I could join him. But it turns oot I dinnae always get the ‘hings I wish fae. I watched as the woman dug intae her handbag, rifled through it and procured the Madam’s card. I swear the cryin’ seemed tae get louder, and he was scannin’ roond the place as if eyin’ somethin’ tae get his filthy wee hands on. I felt ma face contort under the irritation and ma bleedin’ ears. The bairn noticed ma loathin’ and the cryin’ got louder. If I was lucky, maybe it’d get so high pitched that only dogs could hear it.

Wi’ gritted teeth I motioned tae the door leadin’ up tae Madam Norna. There’d be nothin’ supernatural this time aboot her knowin a customer was here. She wouldae been stone deaf if she hadnae heard the brat by noo. On our way tae the door I noticed Chronos keepin’ his distance, a somewhat peculiar look on his feline features, but his gaze was glued tae the screamin bairn. I wouldae said the glimpse ae curiosity was because he was wonderin how a bairn could cry so much for no reason. But the inquisitiveness, the way Chronos was keepin an eye on the brat as though it were an errant mouse scurrying along a skirting board, made me ‘hink it was somethin’ more.

Madam Norna showed then intae the front parlour, and I’ve never been more desperate tae retreat tae the kitchen tae make the tea. I was tempted just tae deliver it and disappear tae the silence doon stairs. But let’s face it, I wanted tae know why the woman and the screamer had come tae the shop. By the time I went in the crying had lowered a few decibels tae a constant hum. Ma boss had tae raise her voice fae the first time since I’ve known her just tae be heard over it.

I didnae bring anythin’ fae the brat, no even a cheeky biscuit. Whilst I was pourin’ the tea fae the adults the woman, the haggard mother of satan’s minion, confessed that she hadnae been sleepin’ well. I’m surprised I’ve no had a casualty wi’ that teapot, I keep bangin’ it against the table, or the teacups. Was she fae real? No sleepin? I’d never ha’ guessed.

By this point the bairn’s crying had fadeed intae background noise. Either that or I’d gone temporarily deaf fae ma eardrums burstin’. When Madam Norna asked why the woman hadnae been sleepin’ well, I was glad I’d finished pourin’ the tea. It did raise the question, and no fae the first time, ae why the woman was here and no at a doctors, or phonin’ pest control.

The woman confessed that she was havin’ trouble gettin’ tae sleep, and when she did she’d have nightmares. In a smaller voice she admitted that these night terrors were so horrific that she had trouble getting’ back tae sleep after them. You dinnae say. I wouldae placed good money on the origin fae this sleeplessness bein her brat. Speakin’ ae which, when I passed the cup ae tea over tae its mother, it shouted at me. Wee fucker. I couldnae tell whit it was sayin. Bairns ae that age are only understood by their parents and others their age. Tae me, it was barely gibberish. What I could understand was the menacin’ look in its eye. I wouldae glared back if I thought I wouldnae be caught. Bairns get away wi’ everythin’.

The Madam interupteed our starin’ match by instructin’ me tae go tae the cabinet and fetch the third vial fae the left, on the top shelf. As usual there were new ‘hings in there, and this vial, a small glass bottle wi’ a cork in the top, was just where she’d said it’d be. There was liquid inside this wee bottle, ae a deep violet. I wouldae said it was some kind ae chemical if I didnae know any better. After I’d put it on the table Madam Norna instructed the woman tae put two drops ae the violet liquid intae a glass ae water before she went tae bed, leavin’ the glass somewhere in her bedroom. And just like that she’d apparently get some undisturbed sleep. She was tae return in a week tae confirm if it’d worked or no, and then payment would be discussed. I think this is the first time in a while Madam Norna hasnae demandeed payment upfront. So, whit was different here?

The woman took the bottle, and her snufflin’ bairn, and left the shop. The day went by as it usually does. I’ve never been one for no gettin’ tae sleep, but that night I wish I hadnae. I’d call them bad dreams if they hadnae been so terrifyin’. Bein chased by somethin’ I couldnae see but knew wished me harm, people bein torn tae pieces, literally, I thought I woke up once, this blarin’ light shinin’ in ma eyes. I looked aroond and saw people in masks, scalpels, saws, and hooks laid oot on display. I tried tae move but couldnae. It was like I couldnae feel ma body, couldnae even twitch a finger. I knew it was a dream, but just like ma body was paralysed, I was unable tae wake up. Even when one ae the people in masks went tae get the scalpel I could only watch as it came closer. And then, thank fuck, ma alarm hoisted me fae ma nightmare.

I’m no one fae dreamin’. I couldnae tell ye the last time I even had one, or whit it was aboot. So fae me tae have a bloody nightmare was unsettling tae say the least. I put it doon tae chance, everyone has nightmares sometimes. But when it happened again fae the next two nights, by the third I was afraid tae even go tae sleep, and ended up stayin’ awake all night. The next mornin’ it was like I was sufferin fae the worst hangover ae ma life, and I’d no even had the fun ae getting’ pished in the first place. I had tae drag maself oot tae uni, ma heid feelin like it was filled wi’ cement. Ma senses were dulled, but every wee noise set ma teeth on edge. The brakes ae an old car, the beep ae the traffic lights, the rumblin’ ae the train as it sped on tae the next station.

I had work that day, but I dinnae remember how I got there. One minute I was on campus, and the next I was standin’ opposite the shop waitin’ tae cross the road. I shook ma heid and rubbed ma eyes furiously, as if that’d wake me up. I stepped fae the curb, and a small voice in the back ae ma heid knew it was too late when I registered the frantic beep ae a car horn. I remember readin’ that humans can survive up tae 11 days without sleep, yet I wasnae gonnae survive one. I remember closin’ ma eyes, bracin’ maself fae the impact ae some dobber’s bonnet when instead I felt something grab ma arm so tightly I though ma bones’d get crushed, and yankin’ me backwards. It was like I’d gone deaf fae a minute, or ma mind hadnae finished playin’ through ma greatest hits.

The next ‘hing I know Reid’s growlin’ at me, askin whit the hell’s wrong, and if I was blind. His face was blurrin’ dangerously, mergin’ wi the thousands ae other faces I’d seen or dreamt aboot. The noises ae the street were distant, a background echo. I heard ma name, angry and impatient, then I heard it again, softer, concern edgin’ its way in. then the ground came up, or the sky fell doon I cannae be sure. I felt someone’s arms again, grabbin ma shoulders and tryin’ tae ease me doon and avoid me landin’ sorely on ma arse. Reid’s grumbles came tae the forefront, and I heard him ask whit I’d touched in the shop.

I adamantly told him nothin’, I’m careful, usually careful. But ye never know, there’s so much nightmare stuff in every nook and crannie I couldnae really be sure. Ma mind, lethargic as it was, began tae try and play back the last time I was in the shop. The card game I’d lost wi’ Chronos, tidyin’ up some magazines, movin’ roond some jewellery, hidin’ in the back ae the shop readin’. There’d been a customer, a special one. A woman, and she’d brought somethin’ wi’ her. No a somethin’, a someone. A bairn, a demon bairn who wouldnae stop cryin’. The woman hadnae been gettin’ sleep, had been havin’ nightmares, that’s why she’d come. And noo I was the same.

I held oot ma arms and told Reid tae help me up, and like a wee old grannie crossin’ the road, we walked across it together. By the time we got intae the shop the Madam and Chronos were already waitin’. The wee shite’s greetin’ was an observation that I looked awful. I could imagine, but still, bein’ insulted by a four-legged wee fucker was a low point ae the entire experience. I ignored him and asked the Madam whit the hell the wee brat fae a few days before was.

She informed us that the brat was unbelievably a regular human, but the creature he was possessed by wasnae. Accordin tae her I’d annoyed it when it’d visited, and noo it was hauntin’ me the same way as the bairn’s mother. The creature, which she called a Fideal (“feechal”) or water spirit, would possess bairns in order tae feed aff the mother’s energy whilst she was sleepin. Anyone that got in the way ae their survival, or anyone who annoyed them, would never get a good night’s sleep. Lack ae sleep, or in ma case lack ae attention, would eventually kill the poor sod, and the Fideal would be free tae drain the mother ae its energy. This was all said in such a clinical tone it was hard tae believe the Madam even cared if I’d died, which I nearly had if it wasne fae Reid. I’ve thought aboot getting’ bumped aff by a lot ae ‘hings since startin’ in the shop, but a possessed bairn wasnae on ma list.

Madam Norna said she’d told the mother tae come back in a week because that was how long it’d take tae get the ‘hings she needed fae the exorcism. I was right then, the bairn was a demon ae sorts. Fionn had already been sent tae get what she needed and in few days I’d be able tae sleep. Obviously, that left a day or two ae night terrors. Fantastic. I’ve thought aboot how unfair it was that I attracted the Fideal’s wrath. I didnae remember doin’ anythin’ bad enough tae warrant it killin’ me. It was Madam Norna who helped it’s mother…well, victim. Why didn’t she look as awful as I did. And am I no supposed tae have some kind ae immunity tae these ‘hings? Then again, the Madam did say it wouldnae work all ae the time.

Ma boss gee’ me the same ‘hing she gee its mother, and I managed tae get a restless sleep fae the next two nights until the day ae the exorcism. I suppose callin’ it an exorcism is the wrong ‘hing. It may be demon esque, but it wasnae actually a demon but a water spirit fae folklore, and Madam Norna isnae an exorcist. Ma boss actually referred tae it as an expulsion, which was more accurate, believe me.

Fionn arrived in the mornin’ and gee somethin’ tae the Madam. The rest ae the day was spent waitin’ in anxious anticipation ae when the bell would go and the latest customer would enter. Throughout the mornin’ I kept ‘hinkin I heard the cryin’, just like the first time the week before. It’d get closer, and closer, and then someone would talk, or the roasters would bicker, and it’d be gone. Ma nerves were so frayed that when Fionn said somethin’ jokingly tae me I snapped at him harshly. Time dragged and me bein’ on edge put everyone else in the same mood, so by the time the bell did resound roond the shop you couldae cut the atmosphere wi’ a butter knife.

I took both the mother and her possessed bairn straight up tae see the Madam. Rather than me makin’ tea, a pot was already on the table. I noticed the Madam unusually no touchin hers, and when I went tae get mine I barely noticed the slight shake ae her heid. All was explained when the mother, after putting her empty cup back on its saucer, proceeded tae fall over, completely oot ae it. Whit the hell was in the tea, horse tranquiliser?

The bairn, who’d been whingin’ at a lower decibel than when he’d first appeared, went eerily silent as he watched his meal ticket slump over, unconscious. I stared at the bairn, waitin’ fae his neck tae twist all the way roond, waitin fae fangs tae show, or fae a tail tae appear. Ma hands became slick, and I stopped noticin’ the pins and needles in ma foot.

Tae look at he was normal, but as I’ve learned by noo, this is a world where wolves dae dress in sheep’s clothin’. Rather than fangs, or horns, or guttural voices, the watery eyes dried up, the bairn took a neatly folded hankie fae his trouser pocket and wiped away the stream ae snot, before fuckin’ foldin it just as neatly and puttin’ it back. No matter how serious he now looked, the fact that his feet didnae touch the ground and his legs were just danglin’ aff the end ae the sofa made the entire ‘hing have a hint ae the comical.

When it starteed speakin though, Christ, I thought I was havin’ auditory hallucinations again. The voice wasnae guttural, or raw, or raspy, but very clear and deep, like an adult. It was like watchin’ a film where they dub a voice over the actor’s own, and it was horrible. It asked the Madam, in all politeness, if she wouldnae just let it go, look the other way fae once. It wasnae doin’ that much harm, it woundae kill the mother, it was too evolved fae that. Silence fae Madam Norna. It continued that it’d release me fae its wrath, and wouldnae go after anyone else, it promised. I found maself believin’ its words. Fae wishful thinkin’, or the general tone ae sincerity, but I really thought that if we just let it go aboot its business that it’d keep tae its word. Silence again. it added, more desperately this time, that it’d only feed once a week, and try tae keep the nightmares tae a minimum.

Even I knew Madam Norna’s answer. No. not that she said it aloud. Instead she pulled somethin’ fae a pocket in her skirt and placed it on the coffee table in front ae me. It was a figure ae sorts, carved oot ae the purest silver birch I’d ever seen. Fae some angles it looked human, a bit like the Lewis chess pieces they found carved fae ivory on the Isle ae Lewis. Yet when looked at fae another angle, it was humanoid, as if covered by a sheet, the faint outlines ae somethin’ that was certainly no human, it was too long, too fluid. The most strikin’ feature was that it had no face. At the top, where it was rounded tae resemble a heid, was the only place where there werenae grooves, or markings. It was completely blank and flat. Like an empty canvas.

Whitever the figurine was, the reaction it got fae the water spirit was somethin’ else. Anything human vanished in an instant as it launched itself fae the sofa directly at ma boss. It got as far as the coffee table where I was before stopping and crumplin’ tae its knees. The skin ae the bairn’, before pale and clear, now had the distinct shadow ae scales, and an unnatural shimmer that wasnae fae sweat or tears. Where there’d been wee fingers and nails, were noo skeletal hands wi’ gleamin talons. I didnae waste anymore time eyeballin fae such a close distance, and scrambled ma way across the floor tae cower at ma boss’s feet. Nothin’ ever touched her, so she was a safe bet.

I stared at this monster, this creature stuck in a bairn’s body. A part ae it so human and innocent, yet slithers ae the unnatural peerin’ through. Its eyes were no longer round, but sharp, and the colour ae mercury, the iris’s pin pricks in the middle. At first I thought the coffee table had stopped him, perhaps some kind ae amulet I didnae know aboot had been stuck on the underside, or the figurine was actually some kind ae barrier. I observed the steam risin’ fae the bairn wi a strange curiosity. Lookin’ closer I saw delicate silver chains coateed in frost. Where they touched the bairn’s skin they burned wi white hot intensity, creatin’ the ribbon’s ae steam. I began tae feel the ice in the air, edgin’ doon ma throat. They looked so cold getting frostbite fae touchin’ them was the least ae ma worries.

The Fideal struggled against these chains, that were so thin and delicate they wouldnae look oot ae place as jewellery. Despite its struggling, and slow growls, they didnae move, and didnae gee way. They bit harder intae it’s shiny skin.

“Out”

Was all Madam Norna said in her soft, velvety voice. It croaked a refusal. She repeated the command, stronger this time. Another chain appeared aroond it’s upper arm. Every time she commanded it oot ae the bairn another chain appeared, searin’ intae its skin, curlin its body in on itself. More chains produced more steam, and all ae it was bein drawn intae the small figurine standin’ on the coffee table. Out. Out. Out. The words were repeated over and over again, swirlin’ roond the room like a whisper. Eventually there was a chink of release as the chains wrapped roond the bairn broke intae icy white particles before shootin’ straight at the figurine.

The bairn slumped on the ground, groggy and dazed, whilst I realised I was holdin’ someone’s hand. When I looked I found it was the Madam’s. I kept ma eyes on the bairn’s lethargic body, waitin’ fae its head tae peek up. The shine on his skin was gone, the outline ae scales just a memory. When his eyes eventually did begin tae look roond, I could see them well up. At least this time the tears were real.

He began tae wail, screech like a bloody Ban Sìth, and this woke his Ma’ up. Despite her own confusion she comforted her bairn, the real one, no the ‘hing tryin’ tae kill her. After some ramblin’, and apologies, the Madam took some money as payment, and they both left. I guessed that the money was symbolic rather than necessary. The figurine remained on the table, and when I had a nosy at it again I saw there was noo a face, or the vague shape ae one, carved intae the wood. Its eyes were narrow and sharp, the groove that was supposed tae be its mouth twisted in a silent scream.

I, unusually, found maself wi no words. I had a feelin’ ae release, like I’d been the one wrapped in chains. Suddenly the tiredness frightened away by the adrenaline returned wi a vengeance. Every limb felt weak, shaky, like I hadnae eaten anythin’ in as many days as I hadnae slept. Distantly I heard the Madam’s voice, explainin that the wooden figurine was an effigy, an object used tae trap spirits. The silver birch was specific tae water spirits, like the Fideal possessin’ the bairn. I felt maself noddin’ as I gathered the teapot and cups, putting them on a tray, wondering if I’d be able tae stand up.

I managed, just, but ma limbs felt like the bone had been pulled oot. Ma arms felt light and airy, but ma head felt leaden. I could feel ma legs shakin’ as I took one step, and another, and almost managed a third before I stumbled. Reid, appearin’ fae the door, although I hadnae heard the stairs, caught ma arms again. I claimed ma leg had gone tae sleep. I knew that wasnae the reason.

Madam Norna told Reid tae take me tae one ae the spare rooms where I could sleep. Aye, there’re spare rooms I didnae know aboot. It was like as soon as she said they were there they just appeared. It was doon a wee corridor, past other doors I’d never seen before, all painted either white or forest green. Fae whit I can remember at least. One had an open door, and inside was a room similar tae whit you’d find in a B&B. A single bed rested against one wall, a paintin’ ae a random sea view hangin’ above it. There was a desk wi nothin’ on it, and the windaes were covered over wi pristine white lace curtains, preventin’ me fae seein’ oot. Or perhaps there was nothin’ tae see.

I collapsed ontae the bed like I’d just come back fae the longest night oot. Reid, who’d helped me doon the corridor, turned tae leave me be. I asked where he was goin, and I could hear the tone in ma voice, even noo. The fear ae a bairn afraid ae the dark. He answered.

“Nowhere.“

The Scots version of this script is at the end.

Glossary of terms

Roasters – idiots, wastrels

Tomfoolery – pranking, usually of a stupid nature (isn’t it always?)

Lassie – girl, usually young, but can be used for any woman

Cheesy Fridays – A themed night at the student union of my undergraduate universiy. Usually had a decade theme.

Doppelganger – This isn’t a Scottish term. I picked it up from American dramas. Means a double or a clone, usually evil.

Script

It’d been unusually quiet in the shop for days, stretching to a week or two. I was beginning to think the invisibility on the shop front was malfunctioning so even the people who needed to be inside were missing it. But Christ the shop is boring without customers. There’s only so much you can clean and re-organise. That hasn’t stopped Reid from trying, although anything he seems to do only riles Fionn up, and the insults are relentless between the two. Mongrel this, mongrel that, and Reid can never find a better comeback than “stop callin’ me that”. It’s painful to watch. Chronos and I leave them to it, whilst we play cards on the glass counter. I know how weird that sounds but somehow it works, don’t ask me why. He and I have come to a truce, both realising it’s better to stick together than get embroiled in the constant bickering of the other two. Every time a fight breaks out between the two roasters we roll our eyes at each other over the top of the strange vintage looking deck that I found in a wicker basket at what was arguably the perfect time. He’s even been teaching me how to play double solitaire, but I still haven’t been able to beat him once. My ego’s been taking a massive hit, but it keeps the boredom away.

A fight had just broken out between the two roasters, Fionn had snapped at Reid that he’d cleaned the same spot a thousand times, along with his signature insult of mongrel, and Reid had argued that it was better than doing nothing. Chronos was on his fiftieth win of the day, or it felt like it, when the bell resounded around the shop. It felt like it’d been ages since I’d heard it, even though every time I go in the shop it echoes around. There’s a different sound to it when a customer opens the door.

The young lad who came in must’ve felt conscious as all four of us stopped what we were doing to stare at him, marvelling that it was still possible to get a customer. He hesitated at the door, feeling our scrutiny weight down upon him, until he cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders, and began to stride towards where Chronos and I were at the counter. Snapping out of my amazement I scrambled with the cards on the table, shoving them over to Chronos. I mean playing double solitaire with a talking cat may be my new normal, but it probably wasn’t his.

This lad was well-dressed, clean cut, and probably in his early thirties. You know, the office type. He arrived at the counter and without a word of greeting he snapped a familiar white card down on the glass and stood there. I didn’t really need to look at the business card to know it had the Madam’s name on it, but I glanced at it anyway, and then back up to the lad with a new level of curiosity. What could he want with the Madam? He didn’t have the look that I’d come to associate with a special customer, there was no deer in headlights, there was no looking round the shop in awe, he just stood there, staring at me expectantly. I’d half expected to hear the words that usually went with the card, but he kept his mouth closed.

I told him to follow me up the stairs, which is what I assumed he wanted. Did he think I was a mind reader? Along with the creaking of the stairs beneath our feet, I could hear the leather of the man’s brand new looking shoes groan as we ascended.

In no time I was sitting on the floor, in my usual spot, whilst he’d taken his position on the customer’s sofa, the madam in her position facing him, hearing things I could only imagine. She began in the predictable way of asking him what she could help him with. I’d just started to pour the tea when he answered that someone was casting a spell on him to make him look bad at work. I lost my grip on the teapot and it went spout first into the side of the teacup with such an enormous clang I thought it’d wake the dead. I was surprised to find the teacup still in one piece when I managed to get a hold of the pot. I muttered an apology before continuing to pour, two-handed.

My boss asked him what made him so sure, to which he explained that he was familiar with the use of magic, and that nothing about recent events in his life had been normal. I’ve given up on not staring at customers by this point. He was the first I’d seen to ever outright admit the existence of something supernatural, like magic. From what I’d seen they were usually reluctant to admit anything like that. I suppose I shouldn’t have been so shocked. It’s obvious by now that there are quite a few people in the know about these things, I’m just not one of them.

Madam Norna encouraged him to give her some more details. I half expected him to take out a list. He explained that he’d had a presentation to give at work the previous week, he’d furiously prepared for it, but come the morning of said presentation he woke up not being able to speak. Someone else on his team had to do it in his stead. He claimed he’d been fine the night before, and after the presentation his voice had returned. On days where he’d be ahead of his work schedule his computer had suddenly crash with no explanation, wiping everything he’d done, despite regular saves.

After a moment’s pause to take a sip of tea, my boss inquired if he knew the identity of whoever was trying to interfere with him. Apparently, a lot of people at his work stood to gain by his failure, and it could be any one of them. That was a bit of an exaggeration, I thought at the time, surely not every office employee has the means and knowledge to go round sabotaging their colleagues? Especially when he was claiming this to be magic, and not tomfoolery.

He told us he worked at Robertson & Son, on the fourth floor, as if we’d know what that meant. Madam Norna finished her tea and handed the empty cup back to me, never taking her gaze from the lad, thinking or scrutinising, I can never tell which. But I know by now what happens after these moments of silence, and I prepared myself to be sent to fetch something in the cabinet of wonders.

She informed him that she could give him an amulet that’d block any enchantment used against him, and that the price was the magic book he kept in his pocket. She really has a talent for always keeping me on my toes. You think she’s going to say one thing, and she adds one of those revelations of hers onto the end. The lad immediately covered the breast pocket of his suit jacket, where I assumed this book was hiding. I thought it must’ve been a small book if he could fit it in there, none of these elaborately decorated, leather bound encyclopaedias you see in films. He began to shake his head violently in refusal, claiming if she took it, he’d be helpless. The Madam pointed out that the amulet would keep him safe from all spells, and that with it he’d have no need of casting spells of his own to protect him. This time her tone was icier, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly in warning. I could tell by this look that something worse would happen to him if he kept the damn thing.

Reluctantly, like a bairn forced to share their favourite toy, he reached into his pocket and pulled out this wee leather-bound book. It looked more like a miniature bible, or a book from the Victorian period, of which there were a few hanging round in the shop. It had a creased and cracked brown cover, discoloured in some places with heavy use, and tied round the middle with a cord. It had signs of wear and age, but was resilient enough to still look useable. A few more moments of silence ensued as he looked lovingly at this book of his, like the madam had asked him to part with his soulmate. The façade, for a moment, melted away, as he became human, the professional veneer cracking just a wee bit. His inner turmoil was obvious even to me, and it made me even more curious to see what was inside that book.

He was so torn I honestly thought he’d refuse and leave without his solution, but in the end, he crumpled, as they all do. My boss instructed me to go to the cabinet, to a drawer on the left-hand side, and there should be an amulet inside. I was hoping this amulet would be obvious to find because I’d never seen one before, for all I knew it could’ve been a crystal duck.

My confusion was further piled on to when I realised I’d never seen drawers inside the cabinet, only shelves, packed with mysterious vials and boxes. But, sure enough, as I opened the doors there was a set of tiny drawers right where she’d said there’d be. I don’t understand that cabinet, I swear every time I go in it’s a different experience. These drawers were no bigger than matchboxes, or jewellery compartments, and slid open with unusual ease. Inside was what I’d call a brooch, triangular, with gold on the outside and a large, raw amethyst in the middle. Around the edges of the triangle was writing I didn’t recognise, and had no hope of understanding.

Without further words or discussion, the brooch was exchanged for the lad’s book and he went on his way, and I thought that was the end of it. I should probably know better by now.

Just the next day, as the fighting was about to reach a new crescendo, a petite lassie blew into the shop, pointed toe heels and tailored suit telling me that she and the lad from the day before were related, not by blood, but by problem. Madam Norna, after a brief conversation, procured an almost identical amulet to the one she’d given the lad, except this one had rose quartz in the middle, and she was released back into the wild, less one battered, old brown spell book.

I sat with the Madam a while after the lassie had gone, staring at the two identical books, too afraid to touch them, but wanting desperately to know what was inside. I queried, aloud, if Robertson & Son handed out spell books to all employees. Was it possible that the lassie had been the one casting the spells on the lad, and vice versa? Now that they’d both had their toys confiscated, would the problems stop? I told my boss that Robertson & Son was a technology company, relatively successful, with offices in the area, where the two customers had told us they worked. I also knew from some of my pals it was highly competitive to get into. That was probably why once in, you had to fight to get ahead, and what better way than by casting spells to make your colleagues trip up? That still didn’t quite explain where they’d got them from in the first place.

My boss eventually spoke, telling me she needed me to run an errand for her the next day. I was to take Reid, and we were to talk to the first customer again at the company and ask him if he knew anymore about the book.

I’d never been allowed outside during shop time before, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited. I also didn’t mind having Reid with me, I could always use him as a shield and get away if anything should happen. The building that Robertson & Son has their offices in is a pretty typical red brick, five-storey eyesore that lines many a street in the town. Reid and I both stood outside, craning our necks to look up at the pristine windows and discoloured blinds, as if we both expected to see something out of the ordinary plastered in full view. When is it ever that easy?

Reid queried how we should get in since we couldn’t just walk inside. Unlike him, I’d been thinking of that issue for the entire journey, and knew exactly how. We’d walk in and ask. When I said this to him, he scoffed, but when I began to stride towards the doors it soon became a muffled grumble of disapproval. Mimicking the two customers who’d come to the shop, I squared my shoulders, and marched straight over to reception and stared at the lad sitting behind it. I introduced myself as though I were meeting someone important, and explained that we were both there for an internship position. I’ll admit, there was a part of me that thought this wouldn’t work, but to my stifled surprise we were both handed visitors badges and directed to the third floor.

Swiping the badges from the lad’s hand I put mine round my neck with pride. Reid and I went over to the elevator and piled in with the other employees. Instead of getting off on the third floor, we both remained until the fourth. Just before we could get off with the employees, Reid grabbed my arm and pulled me back, whispering that we couldn’t just wander round like lost lambs. He had a point, but what else were we supposed to do? I ignored hm and darted out of the elevator, forcing him to follow with his typical scowl.

The elevator opened directly onto an open plan office. Almost as soon as the doors closed behind us it was like we’d entered a vacuum. It reminded me a lot of when you’re underwater, you can hear others swimming or jumping in, even conversations, but all of its slow, muffled beyond recognition. The noises of the computer fans hung thickly, a lethargic whirring of the photocopier, but that was it. No one was talking, no one was at someone else’s desk having a quick chat. It was lifeless.

Reid needn’t have worried about someone noticing us, because no one took their eyes from their screens. I was beginning to think these weren’t people at all, and that this modest electronics company was the first in the world to have the most human looking robots anyone’s ever seen. Their eyes were glued to their computers, hands resting on mouses, or fingers flying over keyboards. I began to scan the faces and backs ae heads in search of the first customer, even the second.

It was the lad who I saw first, and after nudging Reid we both wound our way over to his desk by the wall, separated from his colleague by a grey felt board that charts and tables were pinned onto. I knocked on it and when his eyes caught sight of us he asked, accusingly, why we were there. Thinking time may be short before we were caught, I questioned if he knew anyone else in the office who may have a similar spell book to the one he had. He gave me an indignant look, eyes glancing to his computer screen where yet more tables and graphs were, before dismissively answering he wouldn’t know as he didn’t talk to anyone. When I attempted to press him, he rudely told us to leave him be.

Before I could try a final time, I felt a shock in my fingertips, like static electricity. Assuming I’d brushed against Reid’s coat I snapped my eyes to him, because it was his stupid coat, but he wasn’t looking back. His eyes were scanning carefully around the office at the other people, the muscle in his jaw protruding against his skin. It was like watching an animal look for predators, and it made my palms sweat.

When he confessed that something didn’t feel right it was hard not to agree. Ever since leaving the elevator there’d been an oppressive force hanging in the air like a bad smell. I looked where he did, at the screens, at the heads, at the coffee cups and pen holders. Then I saw it, in the other corner of the office, in front of the door that led to the stairs.

A perfect sphere of electricity, as though it were a plasma ball without the glass. Jagged spikes of purple and blue darted out from the centre, a burning mass of reds, violets, and greens. The heavy atmosphere became more oppressive, static permeating every inch of space, like the hours before a summer storm. Every dart of electricity out of the centre was a different colour, a different shade, fanning out randomly. It began to move backwards, towards the door, until it was gone, some of the atmosphere with it.

Before I realised what was happening I found myself halfway across the office in its direction, and heard Reid’s curses from behind me. Bursting though the door to the stairs I noticed it on the next flight up, and so began our chase. Up and up we climbed, but no matter how many stairs we took in each stride it was like we were running in a dream, unable to catch up with it. The climb was never ending, one flight of stairs was the same as the one before, and the one before. And that’s when it hit me and I stopped abruptly halfway up.

My lungs were burning, my throat dry, and my legs screaming in pain, but just hold on a minute here. Didn’t this building’ only have 5 floors? We’d started on the fourth, and had run at least ten times the amount of stairs that should’ve been there to reach the top. I slid over to the banister and looked up, an immeasurable number of stairs stretching up into infinity. This building had no top. I told Reid, who was hanging onto the wall for dear life as he panted frantically.

I was all ready to collapse onto the stairs and never get back up, but when I looked to the top there was a door. I don’t remember ever seeing a door on the countless other floors we’d ran past. Gulping in air like it was going out of fashion I dragged myself towards it, hearing Reid’s frustrated growl as he followed.

The door was pitch black, not a glean or shine to it. The handle was silver, unassuming, but I still hesitated before reaching for it. A part of me expected it to be locked, and I’m sure I groaned aloud when it opened. I let it swing forward, feeling like I was safer behind the threshold than over it. It was gloomy inside, my eyes taking a moment to adjust and see. It was an office space, just like the one a thousand floors down, but this one was empty; no furniture, plants, computers, or printers, just squares of dull grey carpet, and wee windows on the far side looking out into nothingness, like they faced onto a wall. It was daylight outside, but you would’ve thought it was dusk in that room.

I scanned around for the plasma ball I’d seen before, the one I’d ran a marathon after. Gingerly I stepped into the room, followed closely by Reid. I could’ve sworn neither of us were breathing. I eventually noticed the ribbons of lightning, except this time they were coming from a lassie who stood in the middle of the empty room where there’d been nothing before.

I inhaled through my teeth, and stood still, feeling the static atmosphere returning. Trying to fight through the oppressive atmosphere I distracted myself by looking at this lassie who was leaking lightning. Now obviously the slashes of purple electricity rolling off her were unusual, but so was the way she was dressed. I know the 60s’ are constantly trying to make a comeback, but the attention to detail was impressive. The weird hairstyle, to the doll-like makeup, and vintage print of her drably coloured dress. Some people commit to the vintage lifestyle, or so I thought.

I asked her who she was through tightened jaw, feeling every hair on my body rise. It was like standing under an active pylon. At first, she let my question echo round the room, swallowed by the electric atmosphere. I thought she wasn’t going to answer me, the crackle in her eyes made me more certain she’d hurt us. But then she began to tell us her story.

She used to work in the building before, a woman in a man’s world. She clawed and climbed her way up until she was the one getting all the promotions and important work. But women didn’t get very high, especially not above their male colleagues. She was envied, looked down upon, judged. To them she was a jumped-up secretary, her real place was answering phone calls and smiling. They tried to undermine her at every corner, and one day it worked. One mistake was all it took for her to go tumbling down the mountain, rolling past the smiling faces of these men. They let her go from the company after all the work she’d done, all the hours she’d sacrificed. But she wouldn’t leave the company, not after all that effort.

Now by this point I began to think. A man’s world? Men thinking women shouldn’t be successful, were only good as secretaries? That doesn’t fly these days. That sounds more like back in the days when women used to dress like her. And I’d just been downstairs, there were at least as many women as men. She wasn’t…. she wasn’t a ghost was she? So embittered by her dismissal from a job that was her life that she’d lingered at the company? Ghosts aren’t real, right? I mean memories, or whatever the madam called them are one thing, but ghosts that shite electricity another. Then there came the problem of what she was doing in the building if she’d been there for 50 years. All the men she was bad mouthing were long gone, if not dead by this point.

Then she went on to tell us about this woman who’d visited her. A mysterious woman she’d never seen before, dressed in well-fitted clothes whose colours didn’t compliment or match, and whose dark hair was pin straight, and bluntly cut. She’d offered to help and had handed over a small leather book filled with curses and spells. She’d wanted nothing in return, and after giving her gift she’d left and had never returned. Upon receipt of this gift the embittered ex-employee had set about getting her revenge on the men who she thought had torn her down.

She held this spell book in her hands, identical to the ones Madam Norna had confiscated from the customers. How was that possible? The woman still had the one she’d been given, so how could two or more people have it as well?

The atmosphere had grown almost unbearable, and Reid fell to his knees beside me, purple ribbons of electricity practically rolling off him. I reached out for him, hoping that my meagre immunity would help him. Thankfully it did and he was just able to get back to his feet.

I checked with the woman that she’d somehow been giving out these books to the employees downstairs. She seemed affronted I wouldn’t think it was her. Of course she’d given them out. They thought just because they’d been given jobs that they were safe, but that wasn’t true. She claimed she was doing them a favour. By giving them the power to harm each other’s work she was teaching them to not to be so complacent, and not to trust each other. She was preventing what happened to her happening to them.

Twisted logic I know. This woman may have looked like anyone in the street, a woman down the club on Cheesy Fridays*, but there was something very inhuman about her. Obviously, people in the club don’t usually have electricity oozing fromthem, yet it was something more than that. It was like she was a shadow of someone, the worse parts of a decent, hard-working woman left behind. She was something closer to a shell, with no real substance. All she knew was hatred and bitterness, and it no longer mattered who it was directed at.

I told her she couldn’t stay in the building, tormenting the employees below. Just because she’d been in an office full of arseholes didn’t give her the right to turn other colleagues against each other. She didn’t like this, the pressure in the room wound up until I could see the slashes of purple electricity snapping at my fingertips.

She refused to leave, screamed it. Feeling the weight of a storm edging ever closer and beginning to feel like I was constantly getting shocked by static electricity from a shitty Christmas jumper, I shouted back at her to fuck off. There was a thunderous crack, not unlike what you’d hear during a thunderstorm, and for a moment I thought the concrete floor beneath us had given way. But afterwards the tension, the electricity hovering in the air dissipated. We breathed a sigh of relief, until we noticed that there was a crack in the floor. A small sliver at first from underneath the woman. With a deafening ripping sound it began to grow, and edge its way closer to us. One blink it was 5 metres, the next 3, the next an arm’s length. By the time we both turned to run for the door to escape I think we both knew it was too late.

The ground vanished beneath us, and we fell like we were in a dream. Gravity had gone, the air had vanished, and all there was to see was darkness. Until I realised that darkness was the inside of ma eyelids. I peeled open my eyes, worried about what I was going to see. Light shone in from the large sparkling windows to illuminate the landing of the stairs. We were on the top floor, looking towards the door to the offices and desks beyond. There were no more flights of stairs, no never-ending floors above. Had I… imagined all of that? Had I blacked out somehow from running up one flight of stairs?

I was just about to ask Reid when I noticed something on the ground, rolling towards the stairs. It was a small purple marble, not unlike something you’d get in a Christmas cracker. Before it could disappear forever down the stairs, I lunged for it and inspected it. It was a purple violet colour, not unlike that of a plasma ball, and the strange power that’d been rolling off that woman. Reid came over to inspect it and we gave each other a questioning glance. At least I knew I hadn’t imagined the whole thing.

The only thing to do with it was take it back to the shop, and to the source of all answers. Upon reaching the shop the Madam was waiting upstairs with fresh tea brewing on the table, and I swore I could see the sliver of a smile as we walked in. We relayed what had happened and handed over the marble before waiting for answers. She explained that the woman was a shade, which wasn’t really an explanation at all. Even Reid didn’t jump in as he usually does. A shade is a kind of dark doppelgänger, something that’s born from a person’s intense bitterness or hatred. Eventually it consumes the person who it initially came from, and it never dies. Trapping it is the only way to stop it. Apparently, me telling it where to go was good enough. My triumph is limited though as if all it takes is a marble to keep it in check was it really that dangerous to begin with? The madam announced she’d put it in storage, which raises even more questions. Does the shop have a basement I’ve never been to, and if so what the hell’s in there?

But there is a more pressing question that’s been steadily bothering me since this encounter. That woman, that shade, was what, about 50 years old? This woman she described, the philanthropist that gave her the spell book in the first place. The description bothered me at the time but it’s only now that I’ve began to think that it’s gnawing at me even more. Clothes that didn’t match; dark, sharply cut hair. I’ve met this woman, or someone like her, very recently. She sounds a lot like Madam Anora. Causing chaos and misery for nothing in return? That sounds like Madam Anora. It sounds exactly like the woman I met in the shop a few weeks ago. Exactly.

So how has she not changed in 50 years? Do all Madam Anora’s look the same? I don’t look even slightly like Madam Norna, but is it different for her opposite? Or is there something more sinister and unpleasant going on here? No doubt I’ll find out eventually, but for now, best not to think on it.

Scots version

It’d been unusually quiet in the shop fae days, stretching tae a week or two. I was beginnin’ tae ‘hink the invisibility on the shop front was malfunctionin so even the people who needed tae be inside were missin’ it. but Christ the shop is borin’ withoot customers. There’s only so much ye can clean and re-organise. That hasnae stopped Reid fae tryin’, although anythin’ he seems tae do only riles Fionn up, and the insults are relentless between the two. Mongrel this, mongrel that, and Reid can never find a better comeback than “stop callin’ me that”. It’s painful tae watch. Chronos and I leave them tae it, whilst we play cards on the glass counter. I know how weird that sounds but somehow it works, dinnae ask me why. He and I have come tae a truce, both realisin’ it’s better tae stick together than get embroiled in the constant bickerin’ ae the other two. Every time a fight breaks oot between the two roasters we roll our eyes at each other over the top ae the strange vintage lookin’ deck that I found in a wicker basket at what was arguably the perfect time. He’s even been teachin’ me how tae play double solitaire, but I still havenae been able tae beat him once. Ma ego’s been takin’ a massive hit, but it keeps the boredom away.

A fight had just broken oot between the two roasters, Fionn had snapped at Reid that he’d cleaned the same spot a thousand times, along wi’ his signature insult ae mongrel, and Reid had argued that it was better than doin’ nothin. Chronos was on his fiftieth win ae the day, or it felt like it, when the bell resounded roond the shop. It felt like it’d been agees since I’d heard it, even though every time I go in the shop it echoes roond. There’s definitely a different sound tae it when a customer opens the door.

The young lad who came in mustae felt conscious as all four ae us stopped whit we were doin tae stare at him, marvellin’ that it was still possible tae get a customer. He hesitateed at the door, feelin’ our scrutiny weight doon upon him, until he cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders and began tae stride towards where Chronos and I were at the counter. Snappin’ oot ae ma amazement I scrambled wi the cards on the table, shovin’ them over tae Chronos. I mean playin double solitaire wi’ a talkin’ cat may be ma new normal, but it probably wasnae his.

This lad was well dressed, clean cut, and probably in his early thirties. Ye know, the office type. He arrived at the counter and without a word ae greetin he snapped a familiar white card doon on the glass and stood there. I didnae really even need tae look at the business card tae know it had the Madam’s name on it, but I glanced at it anyway, and then back up tae the lad wi’ a new level ae curiosity. Whit could he want wi’ the Madam? He didnae ha’ the look that I’d come tae associate wi’ a special customer, there was no deer in headlights, there was no lookin’ roond the shop in awe, he just stood there, starin’ at me expectantly. I’d half expected tae hear the words that usually went wi’ the card, but he kept his mouth closed.

I told him tae follow me up the stairs, which is whit I assumed he wanteed. Did he ‘hink I was a mind reader? Along wi’ the creakin’ ae the stairs beneath our feet, I could hear the leather ae the man’s brand new lookin’ shoes groan as we ascended.

In no time I was sittin’ on the floor, in ma usual spot, whilst he’d taken his position on the customer’s sofa, the madam in her position facing him, hearin’ ‘hings I could only imagine. She began in the predictable way ae askin’ him whit she could help him wi’. I’d just starteed tae pour the tea when he answered that someone was castin’ a spell on him tae make him look bad at work. I lost ma grip on the teapot and it went spout first intae the side ae the teacup wi’ such an enormous clang I thought it’d awake the deid. I was surprised tae find the teacup still in one piece when I managed tae get a hold ae the pot. I muttered an apology before continuing tae pour, two-handed.

Ma boss asked him whit made him so sure, to which he explained that he was familiar wi’ the use ae magic, and that nothin’ aboot recent events in his life had been normal. I’ve geein’ up on no starin’ at customers by this point. He was the first I’d seen tae ever outright admit the existence ae somethin’ supernatural, like magic. Fae whit I’d seen they were usually reluctant tae admit anythin’ like that. I suppose I shouldnae ha been so shocked. It’s obvious by noo that there are quite a few people in the know aboot these ‘hings, I’m just no one ae them.

Madam Norna encouraged him tae gee her some more details. I half expected him tae take oot a list. He explained that he’d had a presentation tae gee’ at work the previous week, he’d furiously prepared fae it, but come the mornin’ of said presentation he woke up no bein able tae speak. Someone else on his team had tae do it in his stead. He claimed he’d been fine the night before, and after the presentation his voice’d come back. On days where he’d be ahead ae his work schedule his computer’d suddenly crash wi’ no explanation, wipin’ everythin’ he’d done, despite regular saves.

After a moment’s pause tae take a sip ae tea, ma boss inquired if he knew the identity ae whoever was tryin’ tae interfere wi’ him. Apparently a lot ae people at his work stood tae gain by his failure, and it could be any one ae them. That was a bit ae an exaggeration, I thought at the time, surely no every office employee has the means and knowledge tae go roond sabotaging their colleagues? Especially when he was claimin’ this tae be magic, and no tomfoolery.

He told us he worked at Robertson and Son, on the fourth floor, as if we’d know whit that meant. Madam Norna finished her tea and handed the empty cup back tae me, never takin’ her gaze fae the lad, thinkin or scrutinisin, I can never tell which. But I know by noo whit’ happens after these moments ae silence, and I prepared maself tae be sent tae fetch somethin’ in the cabinet ae wonders.

She informed him that she could gee’ him an amulet that’d block any enchantment used against him, and that the price was the magic book he kept in his pocket. She really has a talent fae always keepin’ me on ma toes. Ye think she’s gonnae say one ‘hing, and she adds one ae those revelations ae hers ontae the end. The lad immediately covered the breast pocket ae his suit jacket, where I assumed this book was hidin’. I thought it mustae been a small book if he could fit it in there, none ae these elaborately decorated, leather bound encyclopaedias ye see in films. He began tae shake his heid violently in refusal, claimin’ if she took it he’d be helpless. The Madam pointed oot that the amulet would keep him safe fae all spells, and that wi’ it he’d have no need ae castin’ spells ae his own tae protect him. This time her tone was icier, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly in warnin’. I could tell by this look that somethin’ worse would happen tae him if he kept the damn ‘hing.

Reluctantly, like a bairn forced tae share their favourite toy, he reached intae his pocket and pulled oot this wee leather-bound book. It looked more like a miniature bible, or a book fae the Victorian period, of which there were a few hangin’ roond in the shop. It had a creased and cracked brown cover, discoloured in some places wi’ heavy use, and tied roond the middle wi a cord. It had signs ae wear and age, but was resilient enough tae still look useable. A few more moments ae silence ensued as he looked lovingly at this book ae his, like the madam had asked him tae part wi’ his soulmate. The façade, fae a moment, melted away, as he became human, the professional veneer crackin’ just a wee bit. His inner turmoil was obvious even tae me, and it made me even more curious tae see whit was inside that book.

He was so torn I honestly thought he’d refuse and leave without his solution, but in the end he crumpled, as they all do. Ma boss instructed me tae go tae the cabinet, tae a drawer on the left-hand side, and there should be an amulet inside. I was hopin’ this amulet would be obvious tae find because I’d never seen one before, fae all I knew it couldae been a crystal duck.

Ma confusion was further piled on tae when I realised I’d never seen drawers inside the cabinet, only shelves, packed wi’ mysterious vials and boxes. But, sure enough, as I opened the doors there was a set ae tiny drawers right where she’d said there’d be. I dinnae understand that cabinet, I swear every time I go in it’s a different experience. These drawers were no bigger than matchboxes, or jewellery compartments, and slid open wi’ unusual ease. Inside was whit I’d call a brooch, triangular in shape, wi gold on the outside and a large, raw amethyst in the middle. Roond the edges ae the triangle was writin’ I didnae recognise, and had nay hope ae understandin.

Without further words or discussion the brooch was exchanged fae the lad’s book and he went on his way, and I thought that was the end ae it. I should probably know better by noo.

Just the next day, as the fightin, was aboot tae reach a new crescendo, a petite lassie blew intae the shop, pointed toe heels and tailored suit tellin’ me that she and the lad fae the day before were related, no by blood, but by problem. Madam Norna, after a brief conversation, procured an almost identical amulet tae the one she’d geein’ the lad, except this one had rose quartz in the middle, and she was released back intae the wild, less one battered, old brown spellbook.

I sat wi’ the Madam a while after the lassie had gone, starin’ at the two identical books, too afraid tae touch them, but wantin’ desperately tae know whit was inside. I queried, aloud, if Robertson and son handeed oot spellbooks tae all employees. Was it possible that the lassie had been the one castin’ the spells on the lad, and vice versa? Noo that they’d both had their toys confiscated, would the problems stop? I told ma boss that Robertson and son was a technology company, relatively successful, wi offices in the area, where the two customers had told us they worked. I also knew, fae some ae ma pals, it was highly competitive tae get intae. That was probably why once in, ye had to fight tae get ahead, and whit better way than by castin’ spells tae make your colleagues trip up? That still didnae quite explain where they’d got them fae in the first place.

Ma boss eventually spoke, tellin’ me she needed me tae run an errand fae her the next day. I was tae take Reid, and we were tae talk tae the first customer again at the company, and ask him if he knew anymore aboot the book.

I’d never been allowed ootside durin’ shop time before, and I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasnae excited. I also didnae mind havin’ Reid wi’ me, I could always use him as a shield and get away if anythin’ should happen. The building that Robertson and son has their offices in is a pretty typical red brick, five-storey eyesore that lines many a street in the town. Reid and I both stood ootside, cranin’ our necks tae look up at the pristine windaes, and discoloured blinds, as if we both expecteed tae see something oot ae the ordinary plastered in full view. When is it ever that easy?

Reid queried how we should get in since we couldnae just walk inside. Unlike him, I’d been thinkin’ ae that issue for the entire journey, and knew exactly how. We’d walk in and ask. When I said this tae him he scoffed, but when I began tae stride towards the doors it soon became a muffled grumble ae disapproval. Mimicking the two customers who’d come tae the shop, I squared ma shoulders, and marched straight over tae reception and stared at the lad sitting behind it. I introduced maself as though I were meetin’ someone important, and explained that we were both there for an internship position. I’ll admit, there was a part ae me that thought this wouldnae work, but tae ma stifled surprise we were both handed visitors badges and directed tae the third floor.

Swiping the badges fae the lad’s hand I put mine roond ma neck wi pride. Reid and I went over tae the elevator, and piled in wi’ the other employees. Instead ae gettin’ aff on the third floor, we both remained until the fourth. Just before we could get aff wi’ the employees, Reid grabbed ma arm and pulled me back, whisperin that we couldnae just wander roond like lost lambs. He had a point, but whit else were we supposed tae do? I ignored hm and darted oot ae the elevator, forcin’ him tae follow wi’ his typical scowl.

The elevator opened directly ontae an open plan office. Almost as soon as the doors closed behind us it was like we’d entered a vacuum. It reminded me a lot ae when you’re underwater, ye can hear others swimmin’ or jumpin’ in, even conversations, but all ae its slow, muffled beyond recognition. The noises ae the computer fans hung thickly, a lethargic whirring ae the photocopier, but that was it. No one was talkin’, no one was at someone else’s desk havin’ a quick chat. It was lifeless.

Reid needn’t have worried aboot someone noticing us, because no one took their eyes fae their screens. I was beginnin’ tae ‘hink these werenae people at all, and that this modest electronics company was the first in the world tae have the most human lookin’ robots anyone’s ever seen. Their eyes were glued tae their computers, hands restin’ on mouses, or fingers flyin’ over keyboards. I began tae scan the facees and backs ae heids in search ae the first customer, even the second.

It was the lad who I saw first, and after nudgin’ Reid we both wound our way over tae his desk by the wall, separated fae his colleague by a grey felt board that charts and tables were pinned ontae. I knocked on it and when his eyes caught sight ae us he asked, accusingly, why we were there. Thinkin’ time may be short before we were caught, I questioned if he knew anyone else in the office who may have a similar spellbook tae the one he had. He gee’ me an indignant look, eyes glancin’ tae his computer screen where yet more tables and graphs were, before dismissively answerin he wouldnae know as he didnae talk tae anyone. When I attempted tae press him, he rudely told us tae leave him be.

Before I could try a final time I felt a shock in ma fingertips, like static electricity. Assumin’ I’d brushed against Reid’s coat I snapped ma eyes tae him, because it was his stupid’ coat, but he wasnae lookin back. His eyes were scannin’ carefully roond the office at the other people, the muscle in his jaw protruding against his skin. It was like watchin’ an animal look fae predators, and it made ma palms sweat.

When he confessed that somethin’ didnae feel right it was hard no tae agree. Ever since leavin’ the elevator there’d been an oppressive force hangin’ in the air like a bad smell. I looked where he did, at the screens, at the heids, at the coffee cups, and pen holders. Then I saw it, in the other corner ae the office, in front ae the door that led tae the stairs.

A perfect sphere ae electricity, as though it were a plasma ball without the glass. Jagged spikes ae purple and blue darted oot fae the centre, a burnin mass ae reds, violets and greens. The heavy atmosphere became more oppressive, static permeatin’ every inch ae space, like the hours before a summer storm. Every dart ae electricity oot ae the centre was a different colour, a different shade, fannin’ oot randomly. It began tae move backwards, towards the door, until it was gone, some ae the atmosphere wi’ it.

Before I realised whit was happenin’ a found maself halfway across the office in its direction, and heard Reid’s curses fae behind me. Burstin’ though the door tae the stairs I noticed it on the next flight up, and so began our chase ae it. Up and up we climbed, but no matter how many stairs we took in each stride it was like we were runnin’ in a dream, unable tae catch up wi’ it. The climb was never endin’, one flight ae stairs was the same as the one before, and the one before. And that’s when it hit me and I stopped abruptly halfway up.

Ma lungs were burnin, ma throat dry, and ma legs screamin in pain, but just haud on a minute here. Didnae this buildin’ only have 5 floors? We’d starteed on the fourth, and had run at least ten times the amount ae stairs that shoulae been there tae reach the top. I slid over tae the bannister and looked up, an immeasurable number ae stairs stretchin up intae infinity. This buildin’ had no top. I told Reid, who was hangin’ ontae the wall fae dear life as he panted frantically.

I was all ready tae collapse ontae the stairs and never get back up, but when I looked tae the top there was a door. I dinnae remember ever seein’ a door on the countless other floors we’d ran past. Gulpin’ in air like it was goin oot ae fashion I dragged maself towards it, hearin’ Reid’s frustrated growl as he followed.

The door was pitch black, no a glean or shine tae it. The handle was silver, unassuming, but I still hesitated before reachin fae it. A part ae me expected it tae be locked, and I’m sure I groaned aloud when it opened. I let it swing forward, feelin’ like I was safer behind the threshold than over it. It was gloomy inside, ma eyes takin’ a moment tae adjust and see. It was an office space, just like the one a thousand floors doon, but this one was empty; no furniture, plants, computers, or printers, just squares ae dull grey carpet, and wee windaes on the far side looking oot intae nothingness, like they faced ontae a wall. It was daylight ootside, but you woulae thought it was dusk in that room.

I scanned roond fae the plasma ball I’d seen before, the one I’d ran a marathon after. Gingerly I stepped intae the room, followed closely by Reid. I couldae swore neither ae us were breathin’. I eventually noticed the ribbons ae lightnin’, except this time they were comin’ fae a lassie who stood in the middle ae the empty room where there’d been nothin’ before.

I inhaled through ma teeth, and stood still, feeling the static atmosphere returnin. Tryin tae fight through the oppressive atmosphere I distracted maself by lookin at this lassie who was leakin’ lightning. Noo obviously the slashes ae purple electricity rollin’ aff her were unusual, but so was the way she was dressed. I know the 60s’ are constantly tryin tae make a comeback, but the attention to detail was impressive. The weird hairstyle, tae the doll-like makeup, and vintage print ae her drably coloured dress. Some people commit tae the vintage lifestyle, or so I thought.

I asked her who she was through tightened jaw, feelin’ every hair on ma body rise. It was like standin’ under an active pylon. At first she let ma question echo roond the room, swallowed by the electric atmosphere. I thought she wasnae gonnae answer me, the crackle in her eyes made me more certain she’d hurt us. But then she began tae tell us her story.

She used tae work in the buildin’ before, a woman in a man’s world. She clawed and climbed her way up until she was the one gettin’ all the promotions and important work. But women didnae get very high, especially no above their male colleagues. She was envied, looked down upon, judged. Tae them she was an jumped up secretary, her real place was answerin phone calls and smilin’. They tried tae undermine her at every corner, and one day it worked. One mistake was all it took fae her tae go tumblin’ doon the mountain, rollin past the smilin’ faces ae these men. They let her go fae the company after all the work she’d done, all the hours she’d sacrificed. But she wouldnae leave the company, no after all that effort.

Noo by this point I began tae think. A man’s world? Men thinkin’ women shouldnae be successful, were only good as secretaries? That doesnae fly these days. That sounds more like back in the days when women used tae dress like her. And I’d just been doonstairs, there were at least as many women as men. She wasnae….she wasnae a ghost was she? So embittered by her dismissal fae a job that was her life that she’d lingered at the company? Ghosts arenae real, right? I mean memories, or whatever the madam called them are one ‘hing, but ghosts that shite electricity another. Then there came the problem of whit she was doin’ in the building if she’d been there for 50 years. All the men she was bad mouthin’ were long gone, if not deid by this point.

Then she went on tae tell us aboot this woman who’d visited her. A mysterious woman she’d never seen before, dressed in well-fitteed clothes whose colours didnae compliment or match, and whose dark hair was pin straight, and bluntly cut. She’d offered tae help and had handed over a small leather book filled wi’ curses and spells. She’d wanted nothing in return, and after giving her gift she’d left and had never returned. Upon receipt ae this gift the embittered ex-employee had set aboot gettin’ her revenge on the men who she thought had torn her doon.

She held this spellbook in her hands, identical tae the ones Madam Norna had confiscated fae the customers. How was that possible? The woman still had the one she’d been given, so how could two or more people have it as well?

The atmosphere had grown almost unbearable and Reid fell tae his knees beside me, purple ribbons ae electricity practically rollin’ aff him. I reached oot fae him, hopin that my meagre immunity would help him. Thankfully it did and he was just able tae get back tae his feet.

I checked wi’ the woman that she’d somehow been givin’ oot these books tae the employees doonstairs. She seemed affronted I wouldnae ‘hink it was her. Of course she’d given them oot. They thought just because they’d been geein’ jobs that they were safe, but that wasnae true. She claimed she was doin’ them a favour. By geein’ them the power tae harm each other’s work she was teachin’ them tae no tae be so complacent, and no tae trust each other. She was preventin’ what happened tae her happenin tae them.

Twisted logic I know. This woman may ha’ looked like anyone in the street, a woman doon the club on cheesy Fridays, but there was somethin’ very inhuman aboot her. Obviously people in the club don’t usually have electricity oozin’ fae them, yet it was somethin’ more than that. It was like she was a shadow ae someone, the worse parts ae a decent, hard-workin woman left behind. She was something closer tae a shell, wi’ no real substance. All she knew was hatred, and bitterness, and it no longer mattered who it was directed at.

I told her she couldnae stay in the buildin’, tormentin’ the employees below. Just because she’d been in an office full ae arseholes didnae gee her the right tae turn other colleagues against each other. She didnae like this, the pressure in the room wound up until I could see the slashes ae purple electricity snappin at ma fingertips.

She refused tae leave, screamed it. Feelin’ the weight ae a storm edgin’ ever closer, and beginnin’ tae feel like I was constantly getting’ shocked by static electricity fae a shitty Christmas jumper, I shouted back at her tae fuck off. There was a thunderous crack, no unlike what you’d hear durin a thunderstorm, and fae a moment I thought the concrete floor beneath us had geein’ way. But afterwards the tension, the electricity hoverin’ in the air dissipated. We breathed a sigh ae relief, until we noticed that there was a crack in the floor. a small sliver at first fae underneath the woman. Wi a deafenin’ rippin’ it began tae grow, and edge its way closer tae us. One blink it was 5 metres, the next 3, the next an arm’s length. By the time we both turned tae run fae the door tae escape I think we both knew it was too late.

The ground vanished beneath us and we fell like we were in a dream. Gravity had gone, the air had vanished, and all there was tae see was darkness. Until I realised that darkness was the inside ae ma eyelids. I peeled open ma eyes, worried aboot what I was gonnae see. Light shone in fae the large sparklin windaes tae illuminate the landin ae the stairs. We were on the top floor, lookin’ towards the door tae the offices and desks beyond. There were no more flights ae stairs, no never endin floors above. Had I… imagined all ae that? Had I blacked oot somehow fae runnin’ up one flight ae stairs?

I was just aboot tae ask Reid when I noticed somethin’ on the ground, rollin’ towards the stairs. It was a small purple marble, not unlike somethin’ you’d get in a Christmas cracker. Before it could disappear forever doon the stairs I lunged fae it and inspected it. it was a purple violet colour, not unlike that ae a plasma ball, and the strange power that’d been rollin’ aff that woman. Reid came over tae inspect it and we gee each other a questionin’ look. At least I knew I hadnae imaginaed the whole ‘hing.

The only ‘hing tae do wi’ it was take it back tae the shop, and to the source ae all answers. Upon reachin’ the shop the Madam was waitin’ upstairs wi fresh tea brewin’ on the table, and I swore I could see the sliver ae a smile as we walked in. We relayed whit had happened and handed over the marble before waitin’ fae answers. She explained that the woman was a shade, which wasnae really an explanation at all. Even Reid didnae jump in as he usually does. A shade is a kind ae dark doppleganger, somethin’ that’s born from a person’s intense bitterness or hatred. Eventually it consumes the person who it initially came from, and it never dies. Trapping it is the only way tae stop it. Apparently me tellin’ it where tae go was good enough. My triumph is limited though as if all it takes is a marble tae keep it in check was it really that dangerous tae begin wi’? The madam announced she’d put it in storage, which raises even more questions. Does the shop have a basement I’ve never been tae, and if so whit the hell’s in there?

But there is a more pressin’ question that’s been steadily botherin’ me since this encounter. That woman, that shade, was what, aboot 50 years old? This woman she described, the philanthropist that gave her the spellbook in the first place. The description bothered me at the time but it’s only noo that I’ve began tae think that it’s gnawin’ at me even more. Clothes that didnae match, dark, sharply cut hair. I’ve met this woman, or someone like her, very recently. She sounds a lot like Madam Anora. Causing chaos and misery fae nothin’ in return? That sounds like Madam Anora. It sounds exactly like the woman I met in the shop a few weeks ago. Exactly.

So how has she no changed in 50 years? Dae all Madam Anora’s look the same? I dinnae look even slightly like Madam Norna, but is it different fae her opposite? Or is there something’ more sinister and unpleasant goin’ on here? No doubt I’ll find oot eventually, but fae noo, best no tae ‘hink on it.

The Scottish language version of this script is after the English one, if you’re brave enough.

Glossary of Scottish Terms

** to greet – to cry (not to be confused with saying hello to someone)

Bollocking – a verbal beating up, being scolded for doing/saying something

Lassie – girl, usually young, but can be used for any woman

Bawbag – lit. ballbag, bollock, scrotum; means the person’s a bit of an arsehole. Can also be said endearingly to friends (a Scottish cultural anomaly where we swear at and insult our loved ones as a sign of affection)

English version

Dear me, where do I start this one? My phone died on me as I was trying to go home, an unsuccessful attempt if ever there was one. I’m not sipping on my Dad’s brew like I wanted; I never managed to escape. Let’s face it, it wasn’t like I was actually going to walk all the way to my Dad’s, it’s at least 50 miles. And without my phone to call him, my plans had pretty much gone to shite.

But now onto the more curious thing. Where had Reid come from? Well, turns out as soon as Reid had gone to the shop that day, he’d began to feel something was wrong. He thought it was just his imagination and so carried on, until my usual time when I didn’t turn up. He’d asked Fionn where I was, but obviously I’d told no one where I was going. Reid couldn’t shake this feeling, like a tightness in his chest, that things weren’t right. He left the shop without another word and as soon as he got outside said he saw something red on the ground, like a piece of string. Except there was no spool or ball of wool, this didn’t have an end, it kept going up the pavement, as though someone had spray painted it onto the ground, until it disappeared round a corner. He wanted to follow, knew he had to, and so his feet had carried him to that rainy road where I was trying to walk home.

I’m not going to sugar coat it, I was having a major flaky, about the shop, about my lack of future, and loss of free will. I wasn’t thinking straight. Reid didn’t know any of this at the time, he’d not been there when Fionn had told me what he knew. I repeated everything to Reid when it was clear he wasn’t going to leave me to walk 50 miles in the pissing rain. He didn’t fuck off like I’d told him. I began to greet** like a wee bairn, he stood and looked awkward for too long.

He did something he’s never done before. He agreed with me. Not about the running away, but about it not being fair. He couldn’t imagine knowing for a fact how his life was going to turn out. Then he paused, frowned, and continued with the only thing I needed to hear. I wasn’t going to be alone. I’d have him, Fionn, and more especially the miracle cat, Chronos, as well as the ability to do what most people can only dream of. Power and abilities confined to the pages of books. I had been given the opportunity to do something meaningful with my life, to make a difference, to have knowledge very few were privileged to have. He made this Madam thing sound a lot more glamorous than what I’d seen.

The annoying thing was it worked. I calmed down, and eventually after some more reassurances I agreed to give up on running. I realised that the universe, and whatever powers there are, didn’t want me leaving. Not for the last time, I’m obviously not getting a choice.

I can’t say I wasn’t tempted by Reid’s version of things. Who wouldn’t want to be practically omnipotent? I suppose there always must be a sacrifice. In exchange for all the glamour of being a Madam, my life isn’t ma own. If I look for a silver lining I suppose this means I’ll never go through a phase of “finding myself” in my mid-twenties, which’ll save my bank account.

I didn’t want my episode to be common knowledge, so I gathered up the courage to go into the shop the next day, as though nothing had happened. Except that the Madam was back, and she was waiting for me.

After her polite greeting she invited me upstairs. When I asked if there was a customer, she told me there wasn’t before sauntering off. I knew it was too late to run. She knew, her of all people must know what I’d tried to do, and now she was going to give me a bollocking.

Solemnly I followed her up the stairs and into the front room where the tea was already waiting. By instinct, or perhaps I wanted something to cower behind, I sat beside the coffee table whilst my boss took up her usual place. That sofa must have her arse cheeks imprinted in them she sits in the same place so often. But the magic was back, from the way the light filtered through the windows to the smell of tea, herbs, and comfort. The front room wasn’t just any old room, it was a refuge, a place where whatever strange troubles people had couldn’t find them. Unfortunately, my trouble wasn’t strange, it was sitting calmly, waiting for the tea to brew.

I needed two hands to pour. Not because it was heavy but because my hands had begun to shake. What would she do to me, how would she punish me? I wasn’t stupid, just because she helps customers doesn’t mean she can’t hurt them. I didn’t have the protection of a customer, I was the errant apprentice, Christ knew what she had in store for me.

My breathing became shallow. I didn’t touch my full teacup, and the smell wafting from it in ribbons of steam only made me feel sick.

“I hope you enjoyed your walk in the rain” was all she said as she took her first delicate sip.

An apology fell from ma mouth as easily as my lie did to that woman at the bus terminal. I’m not sure if I was sorry for running, or sorry for failing. Maybe she was the only one who really knew, what with that mind reading of hers. Her level gaze inspected me, for the truth, for insincerity, I’ll never know. She calmly sipped her tea once again before informing me that I didn’t need to apologise, and that there were few people in the world who didn’t run away from their responsibilities at some point.

This was said with a bitter wistfulness that made me think it was more of a personal reflection than a general one. I took the chance and checked if she’d ever done the same. She gave me a wry smile before taking another slow sip of her tea.

“It is more difficult than people realise to know for certain what their future holds. It brings dreams and aspirations to an end, and removes the mystery of life, along with the excitement of the unknown”, she confessed.

I felt like asking her if she ever got used to it, or when she grew to accept it. I still haven’t. I have hope that maybe I can be the one who got away. Although what she told me next makes me more doubtful of that.

I questioned why I hadn’t been able to leave, why everything I’d tried to do turned to shite. Madam Norna had left the shop fae days, going Christ knew where, and she didn’t seem to have a problem. I obviously didn’t bring that up, but still, talk about double standards.

We are allowed to leave the city, and the shop. The reason I’d had a cosmic travel ban foisted on me was because I didn’t have the intention of coming back. I was reminded, once more, that I was in the shop because I needed to be there. If I wanted to change that the forces that be would find a way to put me on the right path again. Good thing these forces don’t have a face where I can plant my fist.

Although brief, our conversation was more than just factually informative. Through the sly smiles and sips of tea I thought I caught a glimpse of a more human, more mortal side of the Madam. The curtain of her mysteriousness was drawn back a wee bit until I could see the person she was before she was Madam Norna. The nameless woman who, like me, had been in the same situation, staring down the barrel of the future, knowing exactly what it was going to be. She was right. People visit these soothsayers, psychics, and mediums and ask questions about their future. Everyone’s desperate to know, thinking it’ll give them the upper hand. I can tell you, without a word of a lie, it’s shite. Knowing that your life is going to end up one way, knowing you don’t really have a choice, is one of the worst things in the world. Yet there is a silver lining: it’s cool as fuck.

The Madam stopped her cup midway to her mouth. A knowing smile graced her features as she hoped, aloud, if the customer liked strong tea. I checked myself. I hadn’t heard the bell going, but a few seconds later, there it was, distant and resonant, chiming its way up the stairs.

I went to stand up, but the Madam shook her head and said Fionn would bring them up. Sure enough he appeared at the door, a young-ish lassie in tow. She was tall, of giant proportions with the heels she wore. Her honey blonde hair was tied neatly at the nape of her neck, and her round hazelnut brown eyes roamed around every surface and shelf in the front room. It was as I began to look closer that I saw what I thought were tinges of red skin creeping their way up her neck and peeking out from beneath the cuffs of her blazer. Fionn didn’t stay and retreated back down to the shop after throwing me a cheeky smile.

My boss let the woman settle down on the sofa for a few minutes before asking the scripted question of what the problem was. The lassie had already taken off her blazer and laid it over her knees, but now she began to unbutton the cuffs of her blouse and roll them up to her elbows. This revealed a vicious crimson rash that engulfed her entire forearm like mould in a damp corner. As I’d glimpsed when she’d come in, the rash wasn’t just confined to her arm, it had started eating away at her shoulder and collar bone, reaching its way to her neck.

Every visible inch of skin from fingertips to shoulder was red raw, as though someone had thrown boiling water over her a few hours ago. I felt pain just by looking at the damn thing. I eventually remembered myself and forced my eyes to stop staring.

She told us both that it wouldn’t go away, and that everything the doctors had given her hadn’t worked. Evidently.

The Madam asked what I thought was a stupid question. Was the rash painful? To my surprise the lassie shook her head and said it was occasionally itchy, but that it looked worse than it was. She couldn’t be serious, I mean you should’ve seen this rash, it looked like she could’ve been an extra in a zombie film!

After a few moments of contemplation my boss announced that she had just the remedy but required a price. My attention was snapped away from the burn like rash, and I trained my gaze on her, wondering what this price was going to be; her first-born? Her future career prospects? Her chances of becoming a millionaire?

It was the lassie’s reaction that jolted me from ma joy. Usually they jump at the chance to be cured or to have their problems solved, no price is too great. But this lassie was different. She gazed at Madam Norna with wary eyes, and the slow nod of her head had an impression of hesitancy.

My boss told her that she had a cream, although she called it a salve, that would heal the rash, but the scars would remain. They would never disappear and the lassie would have to live with them for the rest of her life. I thought that was pretty tame. The rash looked so bad I doubt any treatment would’ve cured her skin completely. Her retort wasn’t what I was expecting though.

Did the Madam really expect her to live with the scars for the rest of her life? She snapped with outrage at the madam, as if even the suggestion was an insult.

Calm as ever my boss explained to her that the rash would slowly engulf her entire body given the chance, and that it’d grown since the lassie had first noticed, hadn’t it? The lassie gave her arms a desperate glance, acknowledgment glistening in her eyes. The madam, as usual, was right.

 Eventually the lassie agreed to Madam Norna’s cure, but her tone made it clear she wasn’t happy about it. You’d have thought someone was twisting her arm up her back. Pre-emptively I’d stood up. I was hoping that by now my legs would get used to sitting cross legged, but every time it’s either one of my feet, or even an arse check that decides it’s going to go to sleep. My boss instructed me to go into the cabinet of horrors and wonders to find a box, on the lid would be an engraving of a frog.

I swear I always see something new in that cabinet every time I go inside, but nothing ever looks out of place. How my boss remembers where everything is, or even the contents, is another mystery to add to the pile. The box wasn’t big and was more cylindrical in shape. It was heavier than I’d been expecting. I placed it on the table, between the lassie and the Madam.

 The instructions were to put the salve on at night, before the lassie went to bed, for five nights. After that the rash would be gone, but the scars remain. Every word was articulated carefully, as if trying to press a point. The lassie leaned over and grabbed the box, flicking the lid open carelessly, grimacing at the contents, before closing it and stuffing it in her handbag. She stood up, ready to leave. She thanked my boss, and her final comment was that laser surgery was really amazing for minimising scars.

My boss acknowledged this with a knowing nod I knew too well. There was no amount of laser surgery going to remove those scars. After I heard the door to the shop close, I turned my attention to the Madam and arched my eyebrow. Her vanity, was the answer, someone has decided to punish her for it.

There’s an awful lot of punishing being done to people recently. That lassie who had an affair with a married man, and now this lassie for being vain. It sounds a bit harsh to me, I mean who’s not a wee bit vain, especially these days? I thought that was an end to it, the problem had been diagnosed, a solution given, and a price taken. But apparently the universe wasn’t satisfied just yet.

A day or two after this lassie had come in and gone away relatively happy, we had another visitor. I say visitor because this person was by no means a customer. It was just the three of us in the shop, Reid, Chronos and I, wasting the time away as usual, when the bell jangled and a lad came in. Now, I’m no judge of attractiveness, but this lad wasn’t bad to look at. It was like a photoshopped model fell out of a magazine and walked into the shop. He strode over to the counter where we were all gathered, determination causing his perfect brows to draw together.

“I’m here to see the madam”, he announced with a confidence that took me by surprise.

It’s usually said, if uttered at all, with doubt and trepidation, but this lad wasn’t any of those things. I observed the lad, although man may be the better word. He wouldn’t have looked out of place in a museum where they kept the ancient and chiselled Greek and Roman statues. It was like he’d just stepped off the plinth, discarded the cleverly placed toga, replaced it with modern clothes, and waltzed into the shop.

Before I could say anything Reid interrupted by asking why he wanted to see the Madam. I felt my eyebrow rise in confusion. Since when did Reid bother talking to the customers? I gave him a quick look, saw the tense shoulders, and furrowed brow. I was sure this Greek statue wasn’t a customer. He also didn’t have any manners because he snapped waspishly at Reid that it wasn’t any of his business. Prick.

I was about to attempt my own inquiry when I caught a glimpse of the private door opening and the madam appearing from behind it.

“I would appreciate if you did not agitate my subordinates,” she directed at the statue with a coldness I’d never heard before.

It may have been said in her usual velvety tones, but that didn’t prevent it from having a sharp edge. He rounded on the madam quickly, accusing her of interfering in a lesson when she had no right to. During his outburst he sporadically jumped in and out of focus. I knew no real human could look like that.

The madam shrugged gracefully and said that the lassie had come to her for help, and that he had no right to try and interfere in that. I was only briefly confused before I realised she must’ve meant the lassie from the previous day, the one with the vicious rash up and down her arms. Ma boss’s reply made him angrier, and stated that the lassie’s punishment hadn’t been over.

Punishment? I began to feel like this story couldn’t end well. Who would voluntarily scar someone like that? What had she done to deserve that, and who did this lad think he was that he had a right to do so? I blurted the same thing in the moment, as usual.

He deigned to give me an answer and said he that he was the lad she’d broken up with because he hadn’t met her high standards. He had a bad case of nice guy syndrome if ever I saw one. I’ll never understand why some people can’t accept that relationships, of any kind, don’t always last. I don’t know the full story, but I couldn’t imagine it was bad enough to warrant what he’d obviously done to her.

My question didn’t distract him for long, and he went so far as to order the Madam to take back her help. What a bawbag, but by the icy look on my boss’s face I got the impression she’d rather bite off her own tongue than do as he wanted. A sinister smile, not unlike the one I’d seen on a certain other powerful woman I’ll not mention, tugged at her lips. She told the statue that amphibians were in no position to demand anything of a Madam, and that it was time for him to leave.

It may have been said like usual, calm and collected, but my arse was sweating. There wasn’t going to be a refusal. Her comment got me thinking though. Wasn’t amphibian a fancy word for a toad, or a frog? I inspected this visitor, this chiselled specimen, and wondered if that fairytale about the lassie kissing all of those frogs could, in fact, be true. If Reid was a fox, Fionn yet unidentified, I suppose there’s no reason a model couldn’t be a toad. He certainly acted like one. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the box the lassie had been given to treat the rash had a frog ingrained on the lid. Christ, is everyone I meet a shapeshifter these days?

Rude he may have been but he wasn’t stupid. Knowing he wasn’t going to win in a fight against Madam Norna he retreated and left the shop, unsatisfied and bitter. I thought that might be the end of the matter until today. Reid and I were in the shop, as always, sorting out one of the bookshelves when I noticed, peeking out from the cuff of his shirt, something disturbingly familiar.

I grabbed his arm and inspected the skin on his wrist, concluding it was the same rash the lassie had. The weirder thing was just as I began to touch it, the skin rippled, almost melted, until it was back to normal, not a red rash in sight. For a moment I thought I’d imagined it, but when Reid whipped back his arm and asked me how I’d got rid of it, I became even more confused.

Turns out he’d woken up with this rash, and had thought nothing of it, assumed it’d go away in time. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t triumphant over my familiar, knowing something that he didn’t. I tried to keep the pride out of ma tone when I informed him the lad from yesterday had done to him what he’d done to his ex. That left the question of why it’d disappeared when I thought the only way it could was a secret salve from the Madam.

On cue, she appeared at the door, knowing all about our conversation, and Reid’s parting gift from the toad. She told us both that I’d repelled the curse, and that apparently, I’ve always been able to do it, ever since I walked into the shop that is. One touch and any curse, enchantment, or charm broke. I’ve thought about this since, and it all makes sense now. When Michelle was about to be taken by the weirdo in the club, I’d touched her and she’d snapped out of it, when the lassie had come in a few months back unable to fend off the attentions of men, I’d touched Fionn and he, too, had been released. As great as this is, it left me with an uncomfortable realisation. If I cured Reid of the toad’s gift with just a touch, why couldn’t I have done that to the lassie? Why did she have to carry round a scar for the rest of her life when I could’ve prevented it?

My boss must’ve noticed ma thoughts and added that my ability wouldn’t work on everything. Sinisterly she told me to remember that. That sounds like a bad omen if ever I heard one. I wouldn’t have been able to heal the lassie because I wasn’t meant to. She was being punished for her vanity. Is this how the world works, your ex having the ability to scar you for life? It’s difficult to know what to make of the situation no knowing everything. I still don’t feel the punishment matches the crime, if there even was one. Vanity may be a flaw, but I can think of worse things for a person to be. There’s probably more to this story that I’ll never know, but I certainly hate frogs more now.

Scottish version

Dearie me, where dae I start this one? Ma phone died on me as I was trying tae go home, an unsuccessful attempt if ever there was one. I’m no sippin’ on ma Da’s brew like I wanted; I never managed tae escape. Let’s face it, it wasnae like I was actually gonnae walk all the way tae ma Da’s, it’s at least 50 miles. And withoot ma phone tae call him, ma plans had pretty much gone tae shite.

But noo ontae the more curious ‘hing. Where had Reid come frae? Well, turns oot as soon as Reid had gone tae the shop that day he’d began tae feel somethin’ was wrong. He thought it was just his imagination and so carried on, until ma usual time when I didnae turn up. He’d asked Fionn where I was, but obviously I’d told no one where I was goin’. Reid couldnae shake this feelin, like a tightness in his chest, that things werenae right. He left the shop without another word and as soon as he got ootside said he saw somethin’ red on the ground, like a piece of string. Except there was no spool or ball ae wool, this didnae have an end, it kept goin up the pavement, as though someone had spray painted it ontae the ground, until it disappeared roond a corner. He wanted tae follow, knew he had tae, and so his feet had carried him tae that rainy road where I was tryin’ tae walk home.

I’m no gonnae sugar coat it, I was havin a major flaky, aboot the shop, aboot ma lack ae future, and loss ae free will. I wasnae thinkin’ straight. Reid didnae know any ae this at the time, he’d no been there when Fionn had told me what he knew. I repeated everythin’ tae Reid when it was clear he wasnae gonnae leave me tae walk 50 miles in the pissin’ rain. He didnae fuck off like I’d told him. I began tae greet like a wee bairn, he stood and looked awkward fae too long.

He did somethin’ he’s never done before. He agreed wi’ me. No aboot the runnin’ away, but aboot it no bein’ fair. He couldnae imagine knowin’ fae a fact how his life was gonnae turn oot. Then he paused, frowned, and continued wi’ the only ‘hing I needed tae hear. I wasnae gonnae be alone. I’d have him, Fionn, and more especially the miracle cat, Chronos, as well as the ability tae do whit most people can only dream of. Power and abilities confined tae the pages of books. I had been geein’ the opportunity tae do somethin’ meaningful wi’ ma life, tae make a difference, tae have knowledge very few were privileged tae have. He made this Madam ‘hing sound a lot more glamorous than whit I’d seen.

The annoying ‘hing was it worked. I calmed doon, and eventually after some more reassurances I agreed tae give up on runnin’. I realised that the universe, and whatever powers there are, didnae want me leavin. Not fae the last time, I’m obviously no getting’ a choice.

I cannae say I wasnse tempted by Reid’s version ae ‘hings. Who wouldnae want tae be practically omnipotent? I suppose there always has tae be a sacrifice. In exchange fae all the glamour ae bein’ a Madam, ma life isnae ma own. If I look fae a silver linin’ I suppose this means I’ll never go through a phase ae “findin’ maself” in ma mid-twenties, which’ll save ma bank account.

I didnae want ma episode tae be common knowledge, so I gathered up the courage tae go intae the shop the next day, as though nothin’ had happened. Except that the Madam was back, and she was waitin’ fae me.

After her polite greetin’ she invited me upstairs. When I asked if there was a customer, she told me there wasnae before saunterin’ aff. I knew it was too late tae run. She knew, her ae all people must know whit I’d tried tae do, and now she was gonnae gee’ me a bollockin’.

Solemnly I followed her up the stairs and intae the front room where the tea was already waitin. By instinct, or perhaps I wanted somethin’ tae cower behind I sat beside the coffee table, whilst ma boss took up her usual place. That sofa must have her arse cheeks imprinted in them she sits in the same place so often. But the magic was back, fae the way the light filtered through the windaes tae the smell ae tea, herbs, and comfort. The front room wasnae just any old room, it was a refuge, a place where whitever strange troubles people had couldnae find them. Unfortunately, ma trouble wasnae strange, it was sittin calmly, waitin fae the tea tae brew.

I needed two hands tae pour, no because it was heavy but because ma hands had begun tae shake. Whit would she do tae me, how would she punish me? I wasnae stupid, just because she helps customers doesnae mean she cannae hurt them. I didnae have the protection ae a customer, I was the errant apprentice, Christ knew whit she had in store fae me.

Ma breathin’ became shallow. I didnae touch ma full teacup, and the smell waftin’ fae it in ribbons ae steam only made me feel sick.

“I hope you enjoyed your walk in the rain” was all she said as she took her first delicate sip.

An apology fell fae ma mouth as easily as ma lie did tae that woman at the bus terminal. I’m no sure if I was sorry fae runnin, or sorry fae failin’. Maybe she was the only one who really knew, whit wi’ that mind readin’ ae hers. Her level gaze inspected me, fae the truth, fae insincerity, I’ll never know. She calmly sipped her tea once again before informin’ me that I didnae need tae apologise, and that there were few people in the world who didnae run away fae their responsibilities at some point.

This was said wi’ a bitter wistfulness that made me ‘hink it was more ae a personal reflection than a general one. I took the chance and checked if she’d ever done the same. She gee’ me a wry smile before takin’ another slow sip ae her tea.

“It is more difficult than people realise to know for certain what their future holds. It brings dreams and aspirations to an end, and removes the mystery of life, along with the excitement of the unknown”, she confessed.

I felt like askin’ her if she ever got used tae it, or when she grew tae accept it. I still havenae. I have hope that maybe, I can be the one who got away. Although what she told me next makes me more doubtful ae that.

I questioned why I hadnae been able tae leave, why everythin’ I’d tried tae do turned tae shite. Madam Norna had left the shop fae days, goin’ Christ knew where, and she didnae seem tae have a problem. I obviously didnae bring that up, but still, talk aboot double standards.

We are allowed tae leave the city, and the shop. The reason I’d had a cosmic travel ban foisted on me was because I didnae have the intention ae comin’ back. I was reminded, once more, that I was in the shop because I needed tae be there. If I wanted tae change that the forces that be would find a way tae put me on the right path again. Good thing these forces dinnae have a face where I can plant ma fist.

Although brief, our conversation was more than just factually informative. Through the sly smiles, and sips ae tea I thought I caught a glimpse ae a more human, more mortal side ae the Madam. The curtain ae her mysteriousness was drawn back a wee bit until I could see the person she was before she was Madam Norna. The nameless woman who, like me, had been in the same situation, starin’ doon the barrel ae the future, knowin’ exactly whit it was gonnae be. She was right. People visit these soothsayers, psychics and mediums and ask questions aboot their future. Everyone’s desperate tae know, thinkin’ it’ll gee them the upper hand. I can tell ye, withoot a word ae a lie, it’s shite. Knowin that your life is gonnae end up one way, knowin ye dinnae really have a choice, is one ae the worst ‘hings in the world. Yet there is a silver linin’. It’s cool as fuck.

The Madam stopped her cup midway tae her mouth. A knowin’ smile graced her features as she hoped, aloud, if the customer liked strong tea. I checked maself. I hadnae heard the bell goin, but a few seconds later, there it was, distant and resonant, chimin’ it’s way up the stairs.

I went tae stand up but the Madam shook her heid and said Fionn would bring them up. Sure enough he appeared at the door, a young-ish lassie in tow. She was tall, of giant proportions wi’ the heels she wore. Her honey blonde hair was tied neatly at the nape ae her neck, and her round hazelnut brown eyes roamed aroond every surface and shelf in the front room. It was as I began tae look closer that I saw what I thought were tingees ae red skin creepin’ their way up her neck and peekin’ oot fae beneath the cuffs ae her blazer. Fionn didnae stay and retreated back doon tae the shop after throwin’ me a cheeky smile.

Ma boss let the woman settle doon on the sofa fae a few minutes before askin’ the scripted question ae whit the problem was. The lassie had already taken aff her blazer and laid it over her knees, but noo she began tae unbutton the cuffs ae her blouse and roll them up tae her elbows. This revealed a vicious crimson rash that engulfed her entire forearm like mould in a damp corner. As I’d glimpsed when she’d come in, the rash wasnae just confined tae her arm, it had starteed eatin’ away at her shoulder and collar bone, reachin’ its way tae her neck.

Every visible inch ae skin fae fingertips tae shoulder was red raw, as though someone had thrown boilin’ water over her a few hours ago. I felt pain just by lookin’ at the damn thing. I eventually remembered maself and forced ma eyes tae stop starin’.

She told us both that it wouldnae go away, and that everythin’ the doctors had geein’ her hadnae worked. Evidently.

The Madam asked whit I thought was a stupid question. Was the rash painful? Tae ma surprise the lassie shook her heid and said it was occasionally itchy, but that it looked worse than it was. She couldnae be serious, I mean ye shouldae seen this rash, it looked like she couldae been an extra in a zombie film!

After a few moments ae contemplation ma boss announced that she had just the remedy, but required a price. Ma attention was snapped away from the burn like rash, and I trained ma gaze on her, wonderin’ whit this price was gonnae be; her first-born? Her future career prospects? Her chances ae becomin’ a millionaire?

It was the lassie’s reaction that jolted me frae ma joy. Usually they jump at the chance tae be cured or tae have their problems solved, no price is too great. But this lassie was different. She gazed at Madam Norna wi’ wary eyes, and the slow nod ae her heid had an impression ae hesitancy.

Ma boss told her that she had a cream, although she called it a salve, that would heal the rash, but the scars would remain. They would never disappear and the lassie’d have tae live wi’ them fae the rest ae her life. I thought that was pretty tame. The rash looked so bad I doubt any treatment wouldae cured her skin completely. Her retort wasnae whit I was expectin though.

Did the Madam really expect her tae live wi’ the scars fae the rest ae her life? She snapped with outrage at the madam, as if even the suggestion was an insult.

Calm as ever ma boss explained tae her that the rash would slowly engulf her entire body given the chance, and that it’d grown since the lassie’d first noticed, hadn’t it? the lassie gee her arms a desperate glance, acknowledgment glistenin in her eyes. The madam, as usual, was right.

 Eventually the lassie agreed tae Madam Norna’s cure, but her tone made it clear she wasnae happy aboot it. Ye’d have thought someone was twistin’ her arm up her back. Pre-emptively I’d stood up. I was hopin’ that by noo ma legs would get used tae sittin’ cross legged, but every time it’s either one ae ma feet, or even an arse check that decides it’s gonnae go tae sleep. Ma boss instructed me tae go intae the cabinet ae horrors and wonders tae find a box, on the lid would be an engravin’ ae a frog.

I swear I always see somethin’ new in that cabinet every time I go inside, but nothin’ ever looks oot ae place. How ma boss remembers where everythin is, or even the contents, is another mystery tae add tae the pile. The box wasnae big, and was more cylindrical in shape. It was heavier than I’d been expectin. I placed it on the table, between the lassie and the Madam.

 The instructions were tae put the salve on at night, before the lassie went tae bed, fae five nights. After that the rash’d be gone, but the scars still remain. Every word was articulated carefully, as if tryin’ tae press a point. The lassie leaned over and grabbed the box, flickin’ the lid open carelessly, grimacin’ at the contents, before closin’ it and stuffin’ it in her handbag. She stood up, ready tae leave. She thanked ma boss, and her final comment was that laser surgery was really amazing fae minimising scars.

Ma boss acknowledged this wi’ a knowin’ nod I knew too well. There was no amount ae laser surgery gonnae remove those scars. After I heard the door tae the shop close I turned ma attention tae the Madam and arched ma eyebrow. Her vanity, was the answer, someone has decided tae punish her fae it.

There’s an awful lot ae punishin’ bein done tae people recently. That lassie who had an affair wi a married man, and noo this lassie fae bein’ vain. It sounds a bit harsh tae me, I mean who’s no a wee bit vain, especially these days? I thought that was an end tae it, the problem had been diagnosed, a solution given, and a price taken. But apparently the universe wasnae satisfied just yet.

A day or two after this lassie had come in and gone away relatively happy, we had another visitor. I say visitor because this person was by no means a customer. It was just the three ae us in the shop, Reid, Chronos and I, wastin’ the time away as usual, when the bell jangled and a lad came in. Noo, I’m no judge ae attractiveness, but this lad wasnae bad tae look at. It was like a photoshopped model fell oot ae a magazine and walked intae the shop. He strode over tae the counter where we were all gathered, determination causing his perfect brows tae draw together.

I’m here to see the madam, he announced with a confidence that took me by surprise. It’s usually said, if uttered at all, wi’ doubt and trepidation, but this lad wasnae any ae those ‘hings. I observed the lad, although man may be the better word. He wouldnae ha’ looked oot ae place in a museum where they kept the ancient and chiselled Greek and Roman statues. It was like he’d just stepped aff the plinth, discarded the cleverly placed toga, replaced it wi’ modern clothes, and waltzed intae the shop.

Before I could say anythin’ Reid interrupted by askin’ why he wanted tae see the Madam. I felt ma eyebrow rise in confusion. Since when did Reid bother talkin’ tae the customers? I gee him a quick look, saw the tense shoulders, and furrowed brow. I was sure this Greek statue wasnae a customer. He also didnae have any manners because he snapped waspishly at Reid that it wasnae any ae his business. Prick.

I was aboot tae attempt ma own inquiry when I caught a glimpse ae the private door opening and the madam appearin fae behind it.

I would appreciate if you did not agitate my subordinates.

She directed at the statue wi’ a coldness I’d never heard before. It may ha’ been said in her usual velvety tones, but that didnae prevent it fae havin’ a sharp edge. He rounded on the madam quickly, accusin’ her ae interferin in a lesson when she had no right tae. During his outburst he sporadically jumped in and oot ae focus. I knew no real human could look like that.

The madam shrugged gracefully and said that the lassie had come tae her fae help, and that he had no right tae try and interfere in that. I was only briefly confused before I realised she mustae meant the lassie fae the previous day, the one wi’ the vicious rash up and doon her arms. Ma boss’s reply made him angrier, and stateed that the lassies’ punishment hadnae been over.

Punishment? I began tae feel like this story couldnae end well. Who would voluntarily scar someone like that? What had she done tae deserve that, and who did this lad think he was that he had a right tae do so? I blurted the same ‘hing in the moment, as usual.

He deigned tae gee me an answer and told he that he was the lad she’d broken up wi’ because he hadnae met her high standards. He had a bad case ae the nice guy syndrome if ever I saw one. I’ll never understand why some people can never accept that relationships, ae any kind, dinnae always last. I dinnae know the full story, but I couldnae imagine it was bad enough tae warrant what he’d obviously done tae her.

Ma question didnae distract him fae long, and he went so far as to order the Madam tae take back her help. What a bawbag, but by the icy look on ma boss’s face I got the impression she’d rather bite aff her own tongue than do as he wanteed. A sinister smile, not unlike the one I’d seen on a certain other powerful woman I’ll no mention, tugged at her lips. She told the statue that amphibians were in no position tae demand anything ae a Madam, and that it was time fae him tae leave.

It may ha been said like usual, calm and collecteed, but ma arse was sweatin’. There wasnae gonnae be a refusal. Her comment got me thinkin’ though. Wasn’t amphibian a fancy word fae a toad, or a frog? I inspected this visitor, this chiselled specimen, and wondered if that fairytale aboot the lassie kissin all ae those frogs could, in fact, be true. If Reid was a fox, Fionn yet unidentified, I suppose there’s no reason a model couldnae be a toad. He certainly acteed like one. It couldnae be a coincidence that the box the lassie had been geein’ tae treat the rash had a frog ingrained on the lid. Christ, is everyone I meet a shapeshifter these days?

Rude he may ha been but he wasnae stupid. Knowin he wasnae gonnae win in a fight against Madam Norna he retreated and left the shop, unsatisfied and bitter. I thought that might be the end ae the matter until today. Reid and I were in the shop, as always, sortin’ oot one ae the bookshelves when I noticed, peekin oot fae the cuff ae his shirt, something disturbingly familiar.

I grabbed his arm and inspected the skin on his wrist, concludin’ it was the same rash the lassie had. the weirder ‘hing was just as I began tae touch it, the skin rippled, almost melted, until it was back tae normal, no a red rash in sight. Fae a moment I thought I’d imagined it, but when Reid whipped back his arm and asked me how I’d got rid ae it, I became even more confused.

Turns oot he’d woken up wi this rash, and had thought nothin’ of it, assumed it’d go away in time. I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasnae triumphant over ma familiar, knowin’ somethin’ that he didnae. I tried tae keep the pride oot ae ma tone when I informed him the lad fae yesterday had done tae him what he’d done tae his ex. That left the question ae why it’d disappeared when I thought the only way it could was a secret salve fae the Madam.

On cue, she appeared at the door, knowin’ all aboot our conversation, and Reid’s partin’ gift fae the toad. She told us both that I’d repelled the curse, and that apparently I’ve always been able tae do it, ever since I walked intae the shop that is. One touch and any curse, enchantment, or charm broke. I’ve thought aboot this since and it all makes sense noo. When Michelle was aboot tae be taken by the weirdo in the club I’d touched her and she’d snapped oot ae it, when the lassie had come in a few months back unable tae fend aff the attentions ae men, I’d touched Fionn and he, too, had been released. As great as this is, it left me wi’ an uncomfortable realisation. If I cured Reid ae the toad’s gift wi’ just a touch, why couldnae I ha done that tae the lassie? Why did she have tae carry roond a scar fae the rest ae her life when I couldae preventeed it?

Ma boss mustae noticed ma thoughts and added that ma ability wouldnae work on everythin. Sinisterly she told me tae remember that. That sounds like a bad omen if ever I heard one. I wouldnae ha been able tae heal the lassie because I wasnae meant tae. She was bein’ punished fae her vanity. Is this how the world works, your ex havin’ the ability tae scar ye fae life? It’s difficult tae know whit tae make ae the situation no knowin’ everythin’. I still dinnae feel the punishment matches the crime, if there even was one. Vanity may be a flaw, but I can think ae worse ‘hings fae a person tae be. There’s probably more tae this story that I’ll never know, but I certainly hate frogs more noo.

The Scots version of this script is after the English one, if you’re brave enough.

Glossary of Scottish terms

Pish – piss, pee

Bog – slang for toilet

Loonie – lunatic, crazy. Also referred to as Loon.

Tunnocks – brand of mainly chocolate covered biscuits made in Scotland.

Muggins – usually referring to oneself as if you were gullible

ijit – idiot

Jakey(s) – a homeless alcoholic(s). Pronounced jay-kay.

nattering – talking

kidding – joking

Primark – mainly UK chain of cheap fast fashion clothing shops (I think there’s also some in the USA now)

Sectioned – involuntarily put into a psychiatric facility

lassie – girl, usually young, but can be used for any woman

hankies – tissues (Kleenex for our American friends)

Highers (Higher Chemistry) – qualifications in Scotland completed during the final years of Secondary school (High School) to get into university

*This is true (citation: 21 years living in Glasgow using the trains). In the winter, a lot of train services are cancelled if there’s a sprinkling of snow or a gust of wind too strong.

Script

Ugh, what a rip-off. Why do train stations charge you 50p to take a pish? Not that I really need one, I just wanted somewhere to record. I’ve not had the time, and I’ve not really wanted to. I’m recording on my phone, which is typically nearly deid, so I’ll have to make this quick.

I’m going home. Not for a holiday, or a weekend visit. I’m going there and I’m staying there, where it’s safe, and for the most part sane. I can’t be here anymore. My train’s soon, and when I get on I’ll be safe.

Hopefully no one comes in this bog or I’m going to look like a right loonie. Maybe they’re not as stupid as me paying 50p just to have a shitty place to record. Everything came to a head yesterday. It’s only been a few days since Madam Anora and her two pals visited the shop, and a day on top of that since Madam Norna left on “business”. She’s still not back, and none of us have heard for her.

I hadn’t been to the shop since the invasion, but it’s not been far from my mind. I needed answers, and it was driving me nuts not having them. I had one lecture yesterday, and I didn’t listen to a word the lecturer was saying. All I could think about was getting to the shop. As soon as the lecturer was finished speaking, and the notepads and laptops began to get packed away, I ran out of the door like a bat out of hell.

I made it to the shop in record time, wheezing as though I had a chest infection by the time I got there. I flung myself through the door, the chime of the bell resounding round the empty space of the shop. No one was there to greet me, save for Chronos lounging on his glass throne.

Out of habit I wondered, aloud, where everyone was. And then I heard an answer.

“They are upstairs gorging themselves on Tunnocks.”

It wasn’t said aloud, per se, but I heard it nonetheless. It reminded me a bit of when someone whispers in your ear, standing really close. I was that convinced that I whirled around to the door, expecting to find a bloody ghost hovering there. But there was nothing. I began to scan round the shop, eying every dark corner and strange shape. Silence reigned.

“Chronos?” I questioned the air, shakily, not really sure why.

Yes, yes, at least you have my name right, well done. I’ve never met anyone so slow, but it’s not as though you can hear me. As with everything else, you’re taking your sweet time with that.

I’d finally lost it; I’d finally gone crazy. It used to be just me, talking to the cat, but now I was actually hearing the answers as if they were being whispered to me. Whst might be stranger was that I answered.

“Well, forgive me for being slow!”

The black, delicate ears perked up at my retort. Rather than lounging on the glass counter, the wee shite shifted his position until he was sitting up, tail flicking back and forth.

“Good, you’ve started to hear me. Madam Norna will be pleased.”

A…a talking’ cat. A talking’ cat. Really? Just when you think you’re saturated with weird. I said as much to Chronos, the miracle cat. The eyes narrowed, the tail flicks became sharper.

“I’m not a talking cat, how insulting. You can hear me talk because you are now as much a part of this shop as I am, so we have a psychic link of sorts.”

A psychic link…. with a cat? I should just have given up there and then, walked out and got the first train home. But, predictably, I didn’t. Chronos wasn’t done yet, and corrected me that he wasn’t actually a cat, but the shop’s guardian.

I stared, hard. At the velvety black fur, the wee paws, the almost translucent ears, the squishy nose, and the soft chin. He was a cat, a normal, domesticated cat. The only thing he was missing was a collar with a bell.

“But, you’re so small”, I pointed out, barely keeping the laugh for my tone.

He didn’t like this, and snapped back that he wasn’t always that size. I thought you could only get small dog syndrome. Then again, why was I sceptical? I was standing in a shop where everything looked normal, like everyday items from times gone by, and every single one of them could wreak havoc on whoever bought them. Lesson finally learned. There’s always more to things than what they appear to be.

Had I always known Chronos was more than a cat? Looking back, there was probably a part of me, a very distant and quiet one that I ignored regularly, that guessed. The looks he threw me, the almost human like spitefulness, and the fact that he’s the only creature in the shop I’ve talked to the most since starting. I suppose I’m glad he talks; it means I’m no completely nuts.

Our conversation, my first conversation with a cat that wasn’t one sided, was interrupted by the private door opening. For a brief second, before it opened to reveal who was behind it, I hoped more than anything it was Madam Norna. I gulped in a breath, about to launch straight into my questions once she emerged. I’ve never been so deflated to see Fionn. But he would just have to do.

He smiled when he saw me, his usual cheeky welcome, and commented that I was early. I told him I wanted answers, and I wasn’t leaving without them. He sized me up, trying to tell if I could be persuaded to give up. He obviously decided against it and simply sighed heavily, resigned to his fate. He invited me upstairs, and I grinned.

We all piled into the front room, and it looked lonely without the Madam sitting in her usual position on the sofa. It didn’t feel like the sanctuary it usually was. I realised then that it was her who made the shop feel safe, feel mystical, and without her, all of that was just an echo.

Whether out of mindlessness or habit I took up my normal position on the floor beside the coffee table, except there was no tea steaming in front ae me. I didn’t want to sit on the Madam’s sofa or on the customer’s side. I was in the middle, literally. Not as ignorant as the latter, but nowhere near as knowledgeable as the former. The strange thing was that no one mentioned anything about the Madam’s absence. Nevertheless no one sat in her seat.

Fionn and Chronos sat on the customer’s sofa, taking a few moments of silence to gather their thoughts. I didn’t give them long before I asked about Madam Anora, more specifically what she was in respect to Madam Norna.

The two threw each other a glance filled with trepidation, and it annoyed me. Were they going to tell me the truth, or just placate me? I felt like a bairn who’s just found out Santa’s not real.

Fionn took a deep breath and launched into his explanation. From what I understood Anora is the opposite side of the same coin to Norna. Both exist to preserve a balance, whatever this balance referred to. Where my boss steps in to help people, Anora is the one that seems to cause this hurt in the first place.

The next question out my mouth was probably the most poignant. What was a Madam, and why were there two women calling themselves that? Unfortunately for me only the Madam’s themselves really knew the answer, but the word incorporated a lot. Gatekeeper, arbitrator, sooth-sayer, amongst other things. Chronos piped into this explanation by telling me that Madam was a hereditary title passed doon for one female to another, independent of blood connection.

It was after this that I began to feel sick because somewhere in the back of ma mind, I’d already connected the dots. Madam Anora had referred to me as an apprentice. Madam Norna told me that only people who need to be in the shop find their way there. Was I in the shop because I was the next Madam? Me? Muggins over here?

When Chronos confirmed I’d be the next Madam Norna I honestly thought I was going to see my breakfast again. I felt like the most stupid person on earth. Had this all been obvious? Did everyone else know, and I was the only one who didn’t? I wanted this to be a joke, for them to be pulling my leg, but just as with everything else in the shop, there’s never a punchline.

In the front room I still hadn’t processed this yet, and there were more questions I wanted answers to. How many Madams were there? According to Fionn there were only ever 2 at one time. Chronos had said I’d be the next Madam Norna; did that mean that wasn’t my boss’s real name?

The answer was truly tragic. Madam Norna is the full title, and every woman takes it as their own when they inherit said title. Are we still in the 21^st century? Since when are womens’ names erased for the record? We are our names, all of our flaws, talents, and thoughts were a part of it, an individuals’ own contribution to something that would be shared by millions of different people over time. How could you be forced to give that up? How could a woman become just another number?

I asked Fionn what Madam Norna’s real name was. He said that no one ever knows, once they become Madam Norna that’s it. For the first time in our friendship I could clearly see he was lying. ya boss had told him that particular secret, and after Madam Anora’s confession the other day, I was convinced what had been between Fionn and Madam Norna had been more than I’d assumed.

(FX: dying phone battery)

Alright, I’m getting there. Anyway, I remembered whit Madam Anora had said, that relationships with familiars wasn’t encouraged. That must mean that Fionn had been my boss’s familiar at some point in time. I checked with him, and you’d have thought I’d slapped him from the despairing look on his face. In the quietest whisper imaginable, he confessed he wasn’t anymore.

I let the silence linger longer than I wished. Did I want to prod at this wound? I’d been too hesitant with ma boss, and it wasn’t really any of ma business, but still, I wanted to know, to understand.

“What happened?” I queried, trying to keep my tone level.

He hesitated before answering, and for a second I thought he was going to refuse. It was almost like something was writhing underneath his skin, making him uncomfortable. I braced myself for the worst, not really knowing what that would encompass. He confirmed, as Madam Anora had alluded to, that he and my boss had been in a relationship, beyond that of contracted familiar. The language he used, the starry look in his eye, I could tell this was something I could never understand, a bond so deep it was engraved into their bones.

And then it’d all fallen apart. Fionn had been unfaithful, those were his words, and I’ve never seen someone look so disappointed, or reluctant to remember their past mistakes. I didn’t get it. If he’d loved her so much why cheat? That wasn’t how it worked, was it?

He was scared. The look he gave me said it all. Even he didn’t believe that was a good excuse, even he could see that was weak as fuck. I wished I’d left it there, accepted the answer and moved on, but I never do, do I? I challenged him, asking him what had made him scared?

He was animated now. Not angry, but agitated, his eyes wide, brimming with regret, and his hands tying themselves in knots as if he could twist his way out of his guilt.

“You don’t understand!” he told me, “There’s no such thing as happily ever after for her….or you.”

I don’t know what it was about this sentence that struck me like a bolt of lightning. All of ma curiosity died. I didn’t want to know what that sentence meant. I don’t remember what I did or said after that. I didn’t stay in the shop long, though.

I stumbled back to the flat, somehow, and booked the next train home, and here we are, in the station bogs, talking to my dying phone. This is the first time I’ve thought about it since yesterday. I don’t know what to make of it, and yet somehow, I do. Everything’s always sinister about the shop, all the things have hidden barbs just waiting to catch some unsuspecting ijit. Was I arrogant to think I was different?

I don’t want to be Madam Norna, that’s no something I put on my careers form in school! So I’m out, I’m going’ home, the universe can find someone else.

Ah shite, my train. I need to go.

(Audio cuts out)

(FX: muffled noise as Maya takes her phone out of her bag and puts it on the bathroom counter)

At least I didn’t have to pay to get into this one. Why is it just train stations, why no bus stations as well? Is it only jakeys that take the bus, so can’t afford to pay for the bog as well as the fare?

I fucking hate this country sometimes, why is the train service so shite? The slightest bit of bad weather and the entire network just collapses*. I went to check my train, only to find it was cancelled. But I’m not giving up. I trekked all the way from the train station, through the pissing rain, to the bus terminal. I’ll just get the coach home.

(FX: dying battery)

Five minutes, just five minutes. A weird thing happened just now. I’d got here, bought my ticket, and found an uncomfortable seat to sit in. The terminal isn’t as busy as the train station, probably because buses are shite and take ages. It was boring, my coach isn’t for another 45 minutes yet, so I was trying to read a book, occasionally glancing to the board hoping beyond all hope that my bus would jump miraculously to the top of the list of departures.

The seat beside me was empty, but not for long. This woman planted her arse down, nattering away on her phone so loudly you’d have thought she was going deaf. I glared at her, but she didn’t take any notice. I hoped she’d stop, but who was I kidding, when do people like that ever? I was just about to say something to her, in the realms of telling her to fuck off, when I noticed this bracelet hanging from her wrist. I don’t know why it caught my eye. It was on the hand that was holding the bloody phone up to her ear, which was right beside me.

It looked to be gold, a wee bit dulled with age and wear, and had these pink crystal-like stones studded all the way round it. if I didn’t know any better, and I hope I do by now, I would’ve said that all of these gems were pulsating, like they had a heartbeat of their own. I thought it was maybe a reflection, one of the lights in the terminus was flickering, or the police or fire brigade had just gone past with only their lights flashing.

But no, that wasn’t it. The pulsing wasn’t quick enough to be either of those things. This was like a rhythmic heartbeat. Thud, thud, thud, and every time the gems would become darker, almost blood red, before fading to their original colour. I couldn’t take my eyes off this bracelet, and the more I stared, the more I noticed. It was blurry, and I know what that means by now. This wasn’t a bracelet from Primark, this thing belonged in the shop.

Curious, I began to listen to her conversation. I couldn’t tell who was on the other end, but she was telling them that she’d been lethargic lately, she had no energy to do anything, even going upstairs was hard. She put it all down to being unfit.

I’ll give her a pass on the stairs, even I get out of breath going up a few flights, but this fatigue she was feeling couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? Not with a bracelet like that on her wrist.

Was the bracelet’s heartbeat actually her own? Was it somehow draining the energy out of her? Why was I getting the horrible feeling that the bracelet wouldn’t stop until the stones were blood red, and its current owner dead? It’s always sinister. Why can’t these bits of jewellery ever do nice things, like give you energy, or bring good fortune? For fuck’s sake.

I wanted to let her keep it, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t because she was being a selfish cow by talking loudly on the phone. But even I believe the punishment should fit the crime, and death was a bit extreme. I had no doubt the damned thing would kill her eventually if I left it. Which left the problem of how to get it off of her?

I couldn’t just ask for it, and it wasn’t like I could tell her the truth. Oh, excuse me, I think that bonnie bracelet is gonnae kill you, can I just take it? Aye right, I’d be sectioned.

And then I had a rare stroke of genius.

Once she’d hung up her phone I put my most polite smile on my face and complimented her on such a pretty bracelet, before asking her where she’d got it from. I half expected her to say the antique shop, but she answered her Mum had found it at an antique’s fair. It was close enough, although I’ll never be going to an antique’s fair until the day I die.

She was all proud of this bracelet, beaming as she told me where it’d come from. I almost felt bad about what I was about to do. Almost. I shifted my tone into hesitancy, before telling her the only reason I’d asked is because it looked exactly like a bracelet that’d caused a lot of trouble in the 90s. Her face fell, the happiness faded.

Just as I’d wanted, this bait was too juicy to leave, and she asked me to elaborate. I told her about this bracelet that was all the rage back then, every lassie wanted one, but it turned out they’d coated the gold in some form of corrosive material and that lassies’ skin had started to flake off because of it.

Her face fell, going ghost white, and I successfully kept the smile from my face. She inspected her wrist and the delicate skin there, informing me that she’d had it on for weeks and nothing had happened. This wasn’t a problem for me. I told her that the symptoms had taken months to appear, when this made-up substance had reacted to oils in the skin, but by then the damage had been done. To put the cherry on top, I mused that it might not be the same bracelet, but would she really want to take the chance?

Christ, she almost ripped it off her wrist. I’d at least expected some amount of disbelief, or some more questions, but this poor lassie took me at face value. I grabbed a few hankies for my bag and held them out to the woman, explaining that I was actually a chemist so I knew how to dispose of it properly. She didn’t have to know I got a C in Higher chemistry.

She dropped it into the hankie as though it were infected with the plague, all previous pride and happiness gone. I wrapped it up and stuffed it in the side pocket of my bag, not really sure what to do with it now. It’s not like I’m going back to the shop, but I don’t want to just toss it, what if someone else finds it?

It’ll just have to stay in there for now. My bus is soon, only 30 more minutes until I finally get out of here. Hopefully, the next time I record I’ll be drinking ma Dad’s freshly brewed tea.

(FX: beep of the recording ending)

(FX: another beep rainy footsteps, rain in the background)

For fuck’s sake, why is nothing going right today? All I want to do is get home. Am I not even allowed to do that anymore? If the buses are fucking cancelled, I’ll just call ma Dad, he’ll come and pick me up. But there’s no signal anywhere, so I’ll just walk until I find some, or walk until I’m home, should only take a few days.

(FX: low battery)

(Almost sobbing) No, don’t do this to me now. I need you to call ma Dad, he needs to come and get me, I need to go home.

(FX: in the background someone calls Maya’s name, footsteps stop as she turns around)

Reid? How the fuck….you know what, I don’t care. You can fuck off back to the shop, I’m not going with you, I’m going home.

(PAUSE: Unintelligible voice in the background)

‘Cause I’ve not been in ages.

(PAUSE: Unintelligible voice in the background)

No, I’m going home now.

(PAUSE: Unintelligible voice in the background)

Nothing happened, and even it if did it’s none of your business. Go back to the shop, Reid, I don’t need you.

I told ye to fuck o-

(FX: phone beeps for the last time as it switches off)

Scots version

Ugh, whit a rip-off. Why do train stations charge you 50p tae take a pish? No that I really need one, I just wanteed somewhere tae record. I’ve no had the time, and I’ve no really wanteed tae. I’m recordin’ on ma phone, which is typically nearly deid, so I’ll have tae make this quick.

I’m goin’ home. No for a holiday, or a weekend visit. I’m goin there and I’m stayin’ there, where it’s safe, and fae the most part sane. I cannae be here anymore. Ma train’s soon, and when I get on, I’ll be safe.

Hopefully no one comes in this bog or I’m gonnae look like a right loonie. Maybe they’re no as stupid as me payin’ 50p just tae have a shitty place tae record. Everythin’ came tae a heid yesterday. It’s only been a few days since Madam Anora and her two pals visiteed the shop, and a day on top ae that since Madam Norna left on “business”. She’s still no back, and none ae us have heard fae her.

I hadnae been tae the shop since the invasion, but it’d no been far frae ma mind. I needeed answers, and it was drivin’ me nuts no havin’ them. I had one lecture yesterday, and I didnae listen tae a word the lecturer was sayin. All I could think aboot was getting’ tae the shop. As soon as the lecturer finished speakin, and the notepads and laptops began tae get packed away, I ran oot ae the door like a bat oot ae hell.

I made it tae the shop in record time, wheezin’ as though I had a chest infection by the time I got there. I flung maself through the door, the chime ae the bell resoundin’ roond the empty space ae the shop. No one was there tae greet me, save fae Chronos loungin’ on his glass throne.

Oot ae habit I wondered, aloud, where everyone was. And then I heard an answer.

“They are upstairs gorging themselves on Tunnocks.”

It wasnae said aloud, per se, but I heard it nonetheless. It reminded me a bit ae when someone whispers in your ear, standin’ really close. I was that convinced that I whirled aroond tae the door, expectin’ tae find a bloody ghost hoverin’ there. But there was nothin’. I began tae scan roond the shop, eyin’ every dark corner and strange shape. Silence reigned.

“Chronos?” I questioned the air, shakily, no really sure why.

Yes, yes, at least you have my name right, well done. I’ve never met anyone so slow, but it’s not as though you can hear me. As with everything else, you’re taking your sweet time with that.

I’d finally lost it; I’d finally gone crazy. It used tae be just me, talkin’ tae the cat, but noo I was actually hearin’ the answers as if they were bein’ whispered tae me. Whit might be stranger was that I answered.

“Well, forgive me fae bein’ slow!”

The black, delicate ears perked up at my retort. Rather than loungin’ on the glass counter, the wee shite shifted his position until he was sittin’ up, tail flickin’ back and forth.

Good, you’ve started to hear me. Madam will be pleased.

A…a talkin’ cat. A talkin’ cat. Really? Just when ye think you’re saturateed wi’ weird. I said as much tae Chronos, the miracle cat. The eyes narrowed, the tail flicks became sharper.

I’m not a talking cat, how insulting, you can hear me talk because you are now as much a part of this shop as I am, so we have a psychic link of sorts.

A psychic link….wi’ a cat? I should just ha geein’ up there and then, walked oot and got the first train home. But, predictably, I didnae. Chronos wasnae done yet, and correcteed me that he wasnae actually a cat, but the shop’s guardian.

I stared, hard. At the velvety black fur, the wee paws, the almost translucent ears, the squishy nose, and the soft chin. He was a cat, a normal, domesticateed cat. The only ‘hing he was missin’ was a collar wi’ a bell.

“But, you’re so small”, I pointed oot, barely keepin’ the laugh fae ma tone.

He didnae like this and snapped back that he wasnae always that size. I thought you could only get small dog syndrome. Then again, why was I sceptical? I was standin’ in a shop where everythin’ looked normal, like every day items frae times gone by, and every single one ae them could wreak havoc on whoever bought them. Lesson finally learned. There’s always more tae ‘hings than what they appear tae be.

Had I always known Chronos was more than a cat? Lookin’ back, there was probably a part ae me, a very distant and quiet one that I ignored regularly, that guessed. The looks he threw me, the almost human like spitefulness, and the fact that he’s the only creature in the shop I’ve talked tae the most since startin’. I suppose I’m glad he talks; it means I’m no completely nuts.

Our conversation, my first conversation wi’ a cat that wasnae one sideed, was interrupteed by the private door opening. Fae a brief second, before it opened tae reveal who was behind it, I hoped more than anything it was Madam Norna. I gulped in a breath, aboot to launch straight intae ma questions once she emerged. I’ve never been so deflateed tae see Fionn. But he would just have tae do.

He smiled when he saw me, his usual cheeky welcome, and commenteed that I was early. I told him I wanteed answers, and I wasnae leavin’ withoot them. He sized me up, tryin’ tae tell if I could be persuadeed tae give up. He obviously decideed against it and simply sighed heavily, resigned tae his fate. He invited me upstairs, and I grinned.

We all piled intae the front room, and it looked lonely withoot the Madam sittin’ in her usual position on the sofa. It didnae feel like the sanctuary it usually was. I realised then that it was her who made the shop feel safe, feel mystical, and withoot her, all ae that was just an echo.

Whether oot ae mindlessness or habit I took up ma normal position on the floor beside the coffee table, except there was no tea steamin’ in front ae me. I didnae want tae sit on the Madam’s sofa or on the customer’s side. I was in the middle, literally. No as ignorant as the latter, but nowhere near as knowledgeable as the former. The strange ‘hing was that no one mentioned anythin’ aboot the Madam’s absence, nevertheless no one sat in her seat.

Fionn and Chronos sat on the customer’s sofa, taking a few moments ae silence tae gather their thoughts. I didnae gee them long before I asked about Madam Anora, more specifically whit she was in respect tae Madam Norna.

The two threw each other a glance filled wi’ trepidation, and it annoyed me. Were they gonnae tell me the truth, or just placate me? I felt like a bairn who’s just found oot Santa’s no real.

Fionn took a deep breath and launched intae his explanation. Fae whit I understood Anora is the opposite side ae the same coin tae Norna. Both exist tae preserve a balance, whitever this balance referred tae. Where ma boss steps in tae help people, Anora is the one that seems tae cause this hurt in the first place.

The next question oot ma mouth was probably the most poignant. Whit was a Madam, and why were there two women callin’ themselves that? Unfortunately, fae me only the Madam’s themselves really knew the answer, but the word incorporateed a lot. Gatekeeper, arbitrator, sooth-sayer, amongst other ‘hings. Chronos piped intae this explanation by tellin’ me that Madam was a hereditary title passed doon fae one female tae another, independent ae blood connection.

It was after this that I began tae feel sick because somewhere in the back ae ma mind, I’d already connecteed the dots. Madam Anora had referred tae me as an apprentice. Madam Norna told me that only people who need tae be in the shop find their way there. Was I in the shop because I was the next Madam? Me? Muggins over here?

When Chronos confirmed I’d be the next Madam Norna I honestly thought I was gonnae see ma breakfast again. I felt like the most stupid person on earth. Had this all been obvious? Did everyone else know, and I was the only one who didn’t? I wanted this tae be a joke, fae them tae be pullin’ ma leg, but just as wi’ everything else in the shop, there’s never a punchline.

In the front room I still hadnae processed this yet, and there were more questions I wanted answers tae. How many Madam’s were there? Accordin’ tae Fionn there were only ever 2 at the one time. Chronos had said I’d be the next Madam Norna, did that mean that wasnae ma boss’s real name?

The answer was truly tragic. Madam Norna is the full title, and every woman takes it as their own when they inherit said title. Are we still in the 21^st century? Since when are women’s names erased fae the record? We are our names, all ae our flaws, talents and thoughts were a part ae it, an individuals’ own contribution tae something that would be shared by millions of different people over time. How could ye be forced tae gee that up? How could women become just another number?

I asked Fionn whit Madam Norna’s real name was. He said that no one ever knows, once they become Madam Norna that’s it. fae the first time in our friendship I could clearly see he was lyin’. Ma boss had told him that particular secret, and after Madam Anora’s confession the other day, I was convinced whit had been between Fionn and Madam Norna had been more than I’d assumed.

(FX: dying battery)

Alright, I’m gettin’ there. Anyway, I remembered whit Madam Anora had said, that relationships wi’ familiars wasnae encouraged. That must mean that Fionn had been ma boss’s familiar, at some point in time. I checked wi him, and ye’d have thought I’d ha slapped him fae the despairin’ look on his face. In the quietest whisper imaginable, he confessed he wasnae anymore.

I let the silence linger longer than I wished. Did I want tae prod at this wound? I’d been too hesitant wi’ ma boss, and it wasnae really any ae ma business, but still, I wanteed tae know, tae understand.

What happened? I queried, tryin’ tae keep ma tone level.

He hesitateed’ before answerin, and fae a second I thought he was gonnae refuse. It was almost like somethin’ was writhing’ underneath his skin, makin’ him uncomfortable. I braced maself fae the worst, no really knowin’ whit that would encompass. He confirmed, as Madam Anora had alluded tae, that he and ma boss had been in a relationship, beyond that ae contracted familiar. The language he used, the starry look in his eye, I could tell this was somethin’ I could never understand, a bond so deep it was engraved intae their bones.

And then it’d all fallen apart. Fionn had been unfaithful, those were his words, and I’ve never seen someone look so disappointeed, or reluctant tae remember their past mistakes. I didnae get it, if he’d loved her so much why cheat? That wasnae how it worked, was it?

He was scared. The look he gee me said it all. Even he didnae believe that was a good excuse, even he could see that was weak as fuck. I wished I’d left it there, accepteed the answer and moved on, but I never do, do I? I challenged him, askin’ him whit had made him scared?

He was animated noo. No angry, but agitated, his eyes wide, brimming wi’ regret, and his hands tyin’ themselves in knots as if he could twist his way oot ae his guilt.

“You don’t understand!” he told me, “There’s no such ‘hing as happily ever after fae her….or you.”

I dinnae know whit it was aboot this sentence that struck me like a bolt ae lightning. All ae ma curiosity died. I didnae want tae know whit that sentence meant. I dinnae remember whit I did or said after that. I didnae stay in the shop long, though.

I stumbled back to the flat, somehow, and booked the next train home, and here we are, in the station bogs, talkin’ tae ma dyin’ phone. This is the first time I’ve thought aboot it since yesterday. I dinnae know whit tae make ae it, and yet somehow I do. Everything’s always sinister aboot the shop, all ae the ‘hings have hidden barbs just waitin’ tae catch some unsuspecting ijit. Was I arrogant tae ‘hink I was different?

I dinnae want tae be Madam Norna, that’s no somethin’ I put on ma careers form in school! So I’m oot, I’m goin’ home, the universe can find someone else.

Ae shite, ma train. I need tae go.

(Recording stops)

(FX: muffled noise as Maya takes her phone out of her bag and puts it on the bathroom counter)

At least I didnae have tae pay tae get intae this one. Why is it just train stations, why no bus stations as well? Is it only jakeys that take the bus, so cannae afford tae pay fae the bog as well as the fare?

I fuckin’ hate this country sometimes, why is the train service so shite? The slightest bit ae bad weather and the entire network just collapsees. I went tae check ma train, only tae find it was cancelled. But I’m no givin’ up. I trekked all the way frae the train station, through the pissin rain, tae the bus terminal. I’ll just get the coach home.

(FX: dying battery)

Five minutes, just five minutes. A weird ‘hing happened just now. I’d got here, bought ma ticket, and found an uncomfortable seat tae sit in. The terminal isnae as busy as the train station, probably because buses are shite and take agees. It was borin, ma coach isnae fae another 45 minutes yet, so I was tryin’ tae read a book, occasionally glancing tae the board hopin’ beyond all hope that ma bus would jump miraculously tae the top ae the list ae departures.

The seat beside me was empty, but no fae long. This woman planted her arse doon, natterin’ away on her phone so loudly you’d have thought she was goin deaf. I glared at her, but she didnae take any notice. I hoped she’d stop, but who was I kiddin, when do people like that ever? I was just aboot tae say somethin’ tae her, in the realms of tellin’ her tae fuck off, when I noticed this bracelet hangin’ fae her wrist. I dinnae know why it caught ma eye. It was on the hand that was holdin’ the bloody phone up tae her ear, which was right beside me.

It looked tae be gold, a wee bit dulled wi age and wear, and had these pink crystal like stones studded all the way roond it. if I didnae know any better, and I hope I do by noo, I wouldae said that all ae these gems were pulsatin’, like they had a heartbeat ae their own. I thought it was maybe a reflection, one ae the lights in the terminus was flickerin’, or the police or fire brigade had just gone past wi’ only their lights flashin’.

But no, that wasnae it. The pulsin’ wasnae quick enough to be eaither ae those things. This was like a rhythmic heartbeat. Thud, thud, thud, and every time the gems would become darker, almost blood red, before fadin’ tae their original colour. I couldnae take ma eyes aff this bracelet, and the more I stared, the more I noticed. It was blurry, and I know whit that means by noo. This wasnae a bracelet frae Primark, this ‘hing belonged in the shop.

Curious, I began tae listen tae her conversation. I coldnae tell who was on the other end, but she was tellin’ them that she’d been lethargic lately, she had no energy tae do anythin’, even goin’ upstairs was hard. She put it all doon tae bein unfit.

I’ll gee her a pass on the stairs, even I get oot ae breath goin’ up a few flights, but this fatigue she was feelin couldnae be a coincidence, could it? No wi’ a bracelet like that on her wrist.

Was the bracelet’s heartbeat actually her own? Was it somehow drainin’ the energy oot ae her? Why was I getting’ the horrible feelin’ that the bracelet wouldnae stop until the stones were blood red, and it’s current owner deid? It’s always sinister. Why can’t these bits ae jewellery ever do nice ‘hings, like gee you energy, or bring good fortune? Fae fuck’s sake.

I wanted tae let her keep it, and I’d be lyin’ if I said it wasnae because she was being a selfish cow by talkin’ loudly on the phone. But even I believe the punishment should fit the crime, and death was a bit extreme. I had no doubt the damned ‘hing would kill her eventually if I left it. which left the problem ae how tae get it aff ae her?

I couldnae just ask fae it, and it wasnae like I could tell her the truth. Oh, I think that bonnie bracelet is gonnae kill you, can I just take it? Aye right, I’d be sectioned. And then I had a rare stroke ae genius.

Once she’d hung up her phone, I put ma most polite smile on ma face and complimenteed her on such a pretty bracelet, before askin’ her where she’d got it frae. I half expecteed her tae say the antique shop, but she answered her Ma’ had found it at an antique’s faire. It was close enough, although I’ll never be goin’ tae an antique’s faire until the day I die.

She was all proud ae this bracelet, beamin’ as she told me where it’d come frae. I almost felt bad aboot whit I was aboot tae do. Almost. I altered ma tone intae hesitancy, before tellin’ her the only reason I’d asked is because it looked exactly like a bracelet that’d caused a lot ae trouble in the 90s. Her face fell, the happiness fadeed.

Just as I’d wanteed, this bait was too juicy tae leave, and she asked me tae elaborate. I told her aboot this bracelet that was all the rage back then, every lassie wanteed one, but it turned oot they’d coateed the gold in some form ae corrosive material and that lassies’ skin had starteed tae flake aff because ae it.

Her face fell, goin ghost white, and I successfully kept the smile fae ma face. She inspected her wrist and the delicate skin, informin’ me that she’d had it on fae weeks and nothin’ had happened. This wasnae a problem fae me. I told her that the symptoms had taken months tae appear, when this made up substance had reacted tae oils in the skin, but by then the damage had been done. Tae put the cherry on top, I mused that it might no be the same bracelet, but would she really want tae take the chance?

Christ, she almost ripped it aff her wrist. I’d at least expecteed some amount ae disbelief, or some more questions, but this poor lassie took me at face value. I grabbed a few hankies fae ma bag and held them oot tae the woman, explainin that I was actually a chemist so I knew how tae dispose ae it properly. She didnae have tae know I got a C in Higher chemistry.

She dropped it intae the hankie as though it were infecteed wi the plague, all previous pride and happiness gone. I wrapped it up and stuffed it in the side pocket ae ma bag, no really sure whit tae do wi’ it noo. It’s no like I’m goin’ back tae the shop, but I dinnae want tae just toss it, whit if someone else finds it?

It’ll just have tae stay in there fae noo. Ma bus is soon, only 30 more minutes until I finally get oot ae here. Hopefully, the next time I record I’ll be drinkin’ ma Da’s freshly brewed tea.

(FX: beep of the recording ending)

(FX: another beep rainy footsteps, rain in the background)

Fae fuck’s sake, why is nothin’ goin’ right today? All I want tae do is get home. Am I no even allowed tae do that anymore? If the buses are fuckin’ cancelled, I’ll just call ma Da’, he’ll come and pick me up. But there’s no signal anywhere, so I’ll just walk until I find some, or walk until I’m home, should only take a few days.

(FX: low battery)

(Almost sobbing) No, don’t dae this tae me noo. I need ye tae call ma Da’, he needs tae come and get me, I need tae go home.

(FX: in the background someone calls Maya’s name, footsteps stop as she turned around)

Reid? How the fuck….ye know what, I dinnae care. Ye can fuck aff back tae the shop, I’m no goin’ wi ye, I’m goin’ home. (PAUSE) ‘Cause I’ve no been in agees. (PAUSE) No, I’m goin’ home noo. (PAUSE) Nothin’ happened, and even it if did it’s none ae your business. Go back tae the shop, Reid, I dinnae need ye.

I told ye tae fuck a-ff…

(FX: phone beeps for the last time as it switches off)

Note: The Scots language version of this script (or the phonetic version) is after the English language one, if you dare.

Scots phrases and their meanings:

dour – sour, depressed, grumpy, severe.

roaster – idiot, stupid person.

numpty – stupid person, fool.

SFX: Liquid pouring into a glass from a bottle (pouring wine).

I’ll just fill this up, because I’m going to need it if I want to tell this story. And it’s not apple juice, in case ye were wondering.

It started yesterday and has just got worse and worse. I went to the shop, just like normal on a Wednesday, to find as soon as I opened the door the Madam was downstairs, swathed in a wool coat, and carrying a leather suitcase. You know the ones ye see in films set during WWII, exactly like that, except brand new. There wasn’t a mark on the leather, not like the other ones in the shop. This could’ve been made last year. Before the echo ae the bell had vanished my unease began to grow.

She wasn’t alone, the two roasters stood behind the counter, and both were dour faced. All of them, Chronos included, turned to face me as I came in. A tight smile spread across my boss’s lips, but there wasn’t her usual ease to it. She quickly told me that she had to go somewhere on business, and so she was leaving the fucking shop in my hands – well, all of our hands, but still. This mystery business, the first thing to make her leave the shop by my guess, was never elaborated on. Fucking typical.

I began to laugh, but it wasn’t my usual laugh, even I could hear the sprinkling of panic.

“You’re takin’ the piss”, I blurted before I could stop myself.

The Madam didn’t look offended that I’d sworn. To me that’s not really swearing, but some people are touchy about these things.

With her usual nonchalance, she attempted to reassure me that it’d be fine. Reid and Fionn would stay in the shop when I wasn’t there, but according to her I was the only one who could take over her duties. Christ, she was actually taking the piss.

SFX: pouring liquid (wine).

A wee bit more of that. Who says three quid wine can’t be good? Anyway, like a scared wee bairn I asked the madam how long she’d be gone for, a pathetic quiver in my voice. I don’t know why I bothered asking, the only thing predictable about the madam is her vague answers. She wasn’t sure, but it shouldn’t be long.

My boss threw one last mysterious look to Fionn and then began to move towards where I was standing at the shop door. Was I tempted to hold onto her legs and not let her leave? Fuck aye, but I didn’t, because I’m an adult, apparently. Before she left she rested her delicate hand on my shoulder and reassured me, as best as she could, that Fionn and Reid would be there.

That was about as reassuring as a politician’s campaign promises. Ever since the two lads had arrived they’d caused nothing but trouble, and ruined my quiet time in the shop. She was telling me that I’d be stuck in the shop with just them, and on top of that have to deal with her special customers. How the fuck was I supposed to do that?

I looked after my boss forlornly as she left the shop, the jangle of the bell above the door distant and sad. It sent a reverberating sense of foreboding swirling around the clutter like an invisible hurricane. I felt someone’s arms around ma shoulder and gave Fionn a sideways glance. He was grinning, so carefree, and told me not to worry myself. Reid may not have said anything, but I could tell he was as anxious as I was.

The next few hours were typical of a normal day in the shop. Fionn and Reid bickered, Chronos and I played a game of try to spray the cat. There may not have been any customers, but it still felt as though the Madam was up in her rooms, just waiting for one to come in. If I went to the door and creaked my way up the stairs she’d be there waiting for me. I got to still believe that for a few hours, pretend like nothing had changed.

But the next day had something different in store. I went in, the shop was still standing, and the only person to greet me was Reid. I couldn’t help myself and I asked him where he’d buried Fionn. That earned me a rare cynical snort of laughter before his face went back to being dour. He said Fionn had stayed upstairs.

This got me thinking. There was definitely something in that look the Madam shot him before she left. It reminded me of that look parents give each other after they promise their screaming brat they can have cake for dinner, just so the tantrum can stop. There was more to that look than I could see on the surface, and unless Fionn came clean I’d never know what it was.

I asked Reid what kind of relationship he thought was between the Madam and Fionn. He threw me a look, the ones you give people when they’ve asked a stupid question. He shrugged and said he didn’t know and that he’d never asked.

He’s a straight talker, I’ll give him that, but a complete roaster. Reid is obviously someone, like Fionn, who knows more about things than I do, it was possible he knew something about the Madam and Fionn. I don’t know what I was expecting. Even if he knew I don’t think he’d tell me.

I changed the subject to save one of us from losing our tempers. My next query was if he’d known the Madam before now. This one I actually got an answer to, although in hindsight I don’t think I really wanted it. He confirmed he’d heard of her, and that everyone has, but that he’d never met her in person before the day he’d come into the shop. Apparently, his parents used to say you know there’s a problem when you have to go and visit the antique shop.

I tried to laugh off the growing feeling of queasiness in my stomach by asking why be afraid of visiting her when she wasn’t a dentist? The way his face contorted into genuine surprise wasn’t making me feel any better. It was the jagged sense of triumph he had that irritated me.

“You really know nothing, do ye? No one ever knows whit her price is gonnae be, I mean she’s a..”

But he was cut off by Fionn’s bark, telling him that was enough, before calling him a mongrel. I’ve heard some colourful insults in my time, but that’s a first. This instantly got a reaction out of Reid who told the Irishman to stop calling him that. Fionn warned that it wasn’t his place to be teaching me about things. As if I wasn’t standing right there. I presumed by his irritation that the Madam was the only one supposed to be giving me answers, but at this point I’ll take them from anywhere.

To my disappointment Reid did as he was bid, never said another word and disappeared further into the shop, sulking like a wee bairn. Fionn came over to me, a disarming smile plastered on his face. That man can go from anger to charm so fast I’m starting to believe he’s got more problems than debt.

What he said to me made me sure of it. He told me not to let the fox bother me. This caught my attention fae more than just that it’s a strange sentence. I’ve been staring at the fox’s head on my ring for weeks now. Knowing he had a captive audience he leaned on the counter, smirking like he was the only one in the world in on a joke. The cogs in my head started turning and I began to realise that coincidences were thin on the ground these days.

“Noooo”, I drew the word out in a breath, shaking my head simultaneously.

That couldn’t be, that was impossible. From the sceptical frown drawing my eyebrows together, to the doubtful tone, Fionn gave a satisfied chuckle.

“After all of the things you’ve seen, ye don’t believe a man can be a fox?”

That seemed like an entirely different question, to be honest, but I kept that to myself. I answered that I’d seen all of those things, I’d never seen Reid’s tail, perky ears, or remember him walking about on all fours. At least, no in front of me.

Turns out Reid’s a shapeshifter. A shape shifter, I mean….. Fucking hell. My life’s turned into one of those shitty American teen dramas about werewolves and vampires, and all of that bollocks, except we’re not all shagging each other.

Fionn explained that shape shifter was the most accurate word, but it wasn’t quite the same. I’m glad he didn’t give me more details I’m having trouble swallowing that as it is. What I’m not having trouble swallowing is this wine. (SFX: pours liquid into glass (wine)).

It prompted me to ask if Reid is meant to be….a fox, then what was Fionn? Higher up the food chain, was all the answer I got, paired with a toothy grin. His joy was soon wiped from his face when the front door to the shop blew open, literally, with wintery, howling gales trying to bowl us over and take everything in the shop with it.

It felt like someone had placed a nuclear-powered wind machine in front of the shop and switched it on. I honestly thought the windows were going to blow in. Anything that wasn’t weighed down went flying, and there was a painful cacophony of noises from the wooden door banging against a cupboard, to the manic flutter of loose papers sailing through the air, and the inevitable crashes of china figurines and plates being hurled onto the floor.

I hit the ground. I was already standing behind the counter, so at least any large objects would be less likely to hit me on the head. The rest of the gang would just have to fend for themselves.

Time felt like it slowed, the atmosphere around me became a vacuum. It went from deafening to complete silence so quick I thought I’d burst my eardrums. After a few seconds of continued calm I decided to peak over the counter, and really wished I hadn’t. It was like a special effect you see in action films. Things were still moving but it was in slow motion, pieces of paper, small coins, a lace glove or two were all mid-air, but the air was acting more like treacle. I was moving fine, I slowly began to stand up but felt no pressure, no difficulty, I could still breathe fine, even though it felt like the atmosphere had vanished and the laws of gravity abandoned.

Fionn was right where I’d left him standing, and Reid appeared from one of the paths, and both were looking towards the front door. I really didn’t want to look, and thought for a moment of just making a break for the private door, but curiosity won out. Through the bits of paper and debris hanging mid-air was a tall, dark-haired woman walking through the door of the shop. Her stormy grey eyes examined each one of us in turn, as though we were prime cuts of meat at the butcher.

If her sudden appearance and ominous look didn’t give me enough cause for concern, Fionn and Reid had gone so stiff you’d have thought someone had shoved something up their arses. I decided if they looked scared, this woman wasn’t a joke, or a customer.

It’s difficult to explain this woman. A wee part of her, a very wee one, reminded me of Norna, but rather than my boss’s calm, velvety demeanour and voice, the new addition to the shop was pure, random chaos. Her clothes were well-fitted but in a clash of colours. Her dark chocolate hair was smooth, but bluntly cut.

Her gaze lingered on Fionn, and her tightly set mouth curled up into a wicked smile.

“Fionn, I didn’t think to find you here. My understanding was that your relationship with Norna had come to an end,” she goaded cruelly.

Everything about this woman was harsh, her presence in the shop jarring. It probably didn’t help that time had stopped around us, objects making their painfully slow way to inevitable doom. It wasn’t just the two roaster’s reactions to this woman that made me realise she was dangerous. I could feel it. Unpredictability. It oozed from her like electricity, or gas from a broken pipe. It felt like there was nothing she wouldn’t do. A complete fucking psycho. It was the look in her eye, the ominous glint of carelessness. I’ve never seen such dead eyes, so lacking in anything remotely human. This must be what mice feel like when there’s a cat around.

Unbelievably it got worse when she introduced these two lads. According to her they also had business in the shop. They were nothing compared to her, sardines beside a fucking shark. They were well-dressed in sharp black suits, neatly combed back hair, and complimentary ties to one another. Honestly, they’re what I imagine MI6 secret agents to look like.

I didn’t know who they were, or what business they had in the shop, but they certainly weren’t customers, and by the way Reid’s face went white I made a wild guess he’d something to do with them.

The strange woman made it clear that her business was first. She stepped further into the shop, staring Fionn doon like a God to a mortal, and announced she was here to see Madam Norna, although she called her just by the name Norna. I’ve never heard anyone refer to my boss that way, not even Fionn. In my opinion, this implied a personal connection between this fresh new psycho and the absent Madam.

I don’t know what possessed me to speak, I really don’t, but it’s not like doing reckless things is a new thing for me. I informed the stranger that she wasn’t here, and that she’d return in a few days.

I’m honestly surprised I never turned to stone after the look she gave me. The heat fled my body, and a had to dig my nails so hard into ma palms to stop my legs from shaking I can still see the marks there now.

“You must be the apprentice!” she exclaimed with sarcastic surprise, flashing some teeth, “How sweet, but I didn’t come to play with children.”

(SFX: chuckles nervously) I replied, I actually fucking replied to this with no, only to insult people. This went down like a led balloon, and her feral grin dampened. She muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear, it was just like Norna to agree to take someone like me.

Why do people keep referring to me like that? What does that phrase even mean? Needless to say, I was irked, and ended up asking her who she was. This got a cackle so piercing I’m sure I’ll have nightmares about it in the future. Considering we were suspended in silence, this sinister laugh of hers shot straight through everyone like a bullet.

“You don’t know who I am? Marvellous, and she left the shop to you in her absence? Oh dear, she must be going senile after all these years. My name is Madam Anora, and we’ll be seeing a lot of each other over the coming decades.”

First things first. What a cow. Secondly, what is up with all these women calling themselves Madam? I honestly thought my boss used it to boost her mystique, you know seem more knowledgeable, that kind of shite, but now this strange woman was claiming it too. What the fuck is going on here? It’s always more questions with that shop, never answers. I don’t even want to start on what she meant by decades.

I wore my confusion on my face like makeup, and she liked this, being the one with all the power.

“You must be very new to this, but you already have yourself a familiar, I see. A small piece of advice. Don’t repeat the mistakes of your teacher, intimacy with familiars is never a good thing. Fionn can tell you all about that.”

She certainly didn’t like Fionn, that was for sure. I dared a look at him, and understandably he was raging. This Madam Anora just didn’t care. She was going to say and do what she liked, causing the most amount of pain. Every word out of her mouth was barbed, and since Reid and I were strangers, the only person she could personally insult was Fionn. He let her get away with the first one, but he wasn’t about to let a second go by, and he barked that she wasn’t welcome. Even I flinched at his tone.

The tension was quickly rising and I felt in my bones that this situation was going to very quickly get out ae hand, and what was worse was that there was nothing I could do. When Madam Anora’s gaze concentrated again on me I knew nothing good was coming. She gave me a smile, possibly meant to be endearing, but just turned out creepy as fuck. She told me I should’ve been her apprentice, and that she’d never keep me in the dark as Norna was doing.

I don’t know why I thought pissing her off was a smart move, but I said I was glad I wasn’t her apprentice as I’d hate to go through life with no one ever being glad to see me. She understandably wasn’t happy about this, and whatever friendliness, if you could call it that, disappeared quickly. Fionn, as stupid I was, bluntly told her to leave as no one wanted her in the shop. He may also have called her a bitch, which I wasn’t disagreeing with, but what she did next probably made him regret it.

One minute Fionn was standing on the other side of the counter from me, within arm’s reach, and the next he flew through the air back into the shop. The same treatment had been given to Reid, who’d disappeared again. The crash as they landed on more antiques wasn’t swallowed by the vacuum the shop had become.

It wasn’t a short fall either, they’d been flung quite the way back, and landed on Christ knew what. It wasn’t pillows that’s for sure. I couldn’t move. How had she done that? She hadn’t moved a finger, or even twitched a muscle. I wanted to go and see if they were alright, but I couldn’t. Every cell, muscle, bone, and drop ae blood I was made of was screaming at me to run. All I could do was stand there, like the world’s biggest numpty.

The two lads who’d come in with her began to protest, although they were so softly spoken that I couldn’t make out what they were saying. She held up her manicured hand, like a Hollywood starlet talking to their chauffeur. She assured them that Reid wasn’t hurt, and that she’d done them a favour by making him easier to apprehend now. I’d been right, the two lads were connected to Reid’s gang problems, the same problem he’d become my familiar fae to escape.

I don’t like Reid much, but we’d made a promise, and I keep my word. They began to move towards where he’d been flung, and I knew I had to stop them. But how? What was I supposed to do? I may be bold with words sometimes, but I couldn’t go up against two full grown men. I mean, they weren’t scrawny, and for all I knew they could have guns or knives hidden beneath the tailored black suits.

I felt the ring on my pinky, the one I can’t take off, the one Reid had unceremoniously given me, and thought about the fox’s head, and what Fionn had said about it earlier. I shouted at the two to stop, and warned them if they went near Reid I’d make a winter coat out of their furs. Can you believe this made them hesitate, both gazing at me trying to see if I was bluffing or not. I noticed the same spark of fear in their eyes as the psycho in the club had all those weeks ago. They were about to think twice, their fear of being made into clothing winning over whatever beef they had with Reid.

Then Madam Anora ruined everything, by goading them on, and telling me I wasn’t powerful enough to do anything to them. Again, what a bitch. The two lads believed her, and to be honest I see why. What had I done since their arrival? Compared to the havoc she’d caused.

I’ve never felt that helpless, that useless. Fionn and Reid were in danger, we all were, and all I could do was stand there and watch as this complete cow came in and did what she liked to all of us. They were going to take Reid, and I didn’t even want to think about what they’d do to him, if he’d even survive it. Why hadn’t he just become Madam Norna’s familiar? Why had she practically forced me to do it? I couldn’t even protect myself, how was I supposed to protect him? And the one person who had helped me in the past, was now lying on his back amongst the rubble of the antiques. Fionn was no match for her either.

The only person who was, wasn’t there. Why had she left? Where had she gone? Why wasn’t she coming back? This was her shop, Fionn was her friend, Reid was her client, and I was apparently her apprentice. It was like those times in the films when one of the characters is just waiting to be saved by the hero. And right up until the last minute you think they’re going to appear and save the day. Except we were now past the last minute, and there was no Madam Norna.

But hold on here. Who am I? More importantly, who do I want to be? The helpless damsel waiting for a hero to save her? That’s all I’ve been since starting in the shop. With Fionn’s hound debt collectors, with the stalker in the alleyway, I was always being saved, and I was sick of it. But that got me thinking, no one had saved me from the hounds, the Madam had told me I’d done it myself. I’d wished they were gone, and then they were.

So, I thought, may as well try it. And just like Dorothy, without the sparkly shoes, I wished my hardest that the shop would go back to normal, to how it was before Madam Anora and the gang members had blown in. With Fionn and Reid bickering, with Chronos lounging on the counter giving me strange looks, and the bell above the door poised to make a sound when a customer came in.

Like someone had turned the page of a pop-up book, the chaos collapsed around me. The items and trinkets suspended in the air returned to their original place, the loose papers found their pile, and the door settled into its frame. Gravity returned along with the atmosphere. Madam Anora and her two pals had gone, and just as I’d wished, the shop was back to normal.

I glanced around, wide-eyed, not really believing it. You’d have thought nothing happened. The only thing to prove it had was Fionn and Reid still collapsed in piles on the floor somewhere in the shop. I ducked under the counter, giving the front door a cautious glance in case that bitch returned, and went to find the two roasters.

Where they’d landed was the only place in the shop my wish hadn’t cleaned up. I helped them both up and checked they weren’t seriously injured. Dazed, but unharmed. At least there was no blood. I tried to make a joke. It seemed like the only thing I was able to do. I laughed, but it was hollow.

And here I am, drowning myself in cheap wine, trying to make sense of what happened. I’m beginning to believe there’s no such thing as sense in my life anymore. I don’t know what’s going on, who or what Madam Anora is, or when she’ll be back, and don’t even get me started on the two gang members who left without their pound of flesh. What about Madam Norna? Where was she when we all needed her? When is she coming back? I somehow fended off enemies today, but what about tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after? How could she leave all of that to me, the one person who doesn’t know what’s going on?

But it’s fine.  I’m fine. I’m…absolutely, fine.

Episode 9 – The opposite (Scots Version)

SFX: pouring wine.

I’ll just fill this up, ‘cause I’m gonnae need it if I want tae tell this story. And it’s no apple juice, in case ye were wonderin’.

It starteed yesterda, and has just got worse and worse. I went tae the shop, just like normal on a Wednesday, tae find as soon as I opened the door the Madam was doonstairs, swathed in a wool coat, and carryin’ a leather suitcase. Ye know the ones ye see in films set durin’ WWII, exactly like that, except brand new. There wasnae a mark on the leather, no’ like the other ones in the shop. This couldae been made last year. Before the echo ae the bell had vanished ma unease began tae grow.

She wasnae alone, the two roasters stood behind the counter, and both were dour faced. All ae them, Chronos includeed, turned to face me as I came in. A tight smile spread across ma boss’s lips, but it didnae have her usual ease tae it. She quickly told me that she had tae go somewhere on business, and so she was leavin’ the fuckin’ shop in ma hands – well, all ae our hands, but still. This mystery business, the first thing tae make her leave the shop by my guess, was never elaborateed on. Fuckin’ typical. (SFX: drink)

I began tae laugh, but it wasnae ma usual laugh, even I could hear the sprinkling ae panic. You’re takin’ the piss, I blurteed before I could stop maself. The Madam didnae look offendeed that I’d sworn. Tae me that’s no’ really swearin’, but some people are touchy aboot these ‘hings.

Wi’ her usual nonchalance, she attempteed tae reassure me that it’d be fine. Reid and Fionn would stay in the shop when I wasnae there, but accordin’ tae her I was the only one who could take over her duties. Christ, she was actually takin’ the piss.

FX: pouring.

A wee bit more ae that. Who says three quid wine cannae be good? Anyway, like a scared wee bairn I asked the madam how long she’d be gone fae, a pathetic quiver in ma voice. I dinnae know why I bothered askin’, the only thing predictable aboot the madam noo is her vague answers. She wasne sure, but it shouldnae be long.

Ma boss threw one last mysterious look tae Fionn and then began tae move towards where I was standin’ at the shop door. Was I tempteed tae hold ontae her legs and no let her leave? Fuck aye, but I didnae, because I’m an adult, apparently. Before she left she resteed her delicate hand on ma shoulder and reassured me, as best as she could, that Fionn and Reid would be there.

That was aboot as reassurin’ as a politician’s campaign promisees. Ever since the two lads had arrived they’d caused nothin’ but trouble, and ruined ma quiet time in the shop. She was tellin’ me that I’d be stuck in the shop wi’ just them, and on top ae that have tae deal wi’ her special customers. How the fuck (FX: drinks) was I supposed tae do that?

I looked after ma boss forlornly as she left the shop, the jangle ae the bell above the door distant and sad. It sent a reverberating sense of foreboding swirling ‘round the clutter like an invisible hurricane. I felt someone’s arms aroond ma shoulder and gee Fionn a sideways glance. He was grinnin’, so carefree, and told me not tae worry maself. Reid may no ha’ said anythin’, but I could tell he was as anxious as I was.

The next few hours were typical ae a normal day in the shop. Fionn and Reid bickered, Chronos and I played a game of try tae spray the cat. There may no have been any customers, but it still felt as though the Madam was up in her rooms, just waitin’ fae one tae come in. if I went tae the door and creaked ma way up the stairs she’d be there waitin’ fae me. I got tae still believe that for a few hours, pretend like nothin’ had changed.

But today had somethin’ different in store. I went in, the shop was still standin’, and the only person tae greet me was Reid. I couldnae help maself and I asked him where he’d buried Fionn. That earned me a rare cynical snort ae laughter before his face went back tae bein’ dour. He said Fionn had stayed upstairs.

This got me thinkin’. There was definitely somethin’ in that look the Madam shot him before she left. It reminded me ae that look parents gee each other after they promise their screamin’ brat they can have cake fae dinner, just so the tantrum can stop. There was more tae that look than I could see on the surface, and unless Fionn came clean I’d never know whit it was.

I asked Reid whit kind ae relationship he thought was between the Madam and Fionn. He threw me a look, the ones ye gee people when they’ve asked a stupid question. He shrugged and said he didnae know and that he’d never asked.

He’s a straight talker, I’ll gee him that, but a complete roaster. Reid is obviously someone, like Fionn, who knows more aboot things than I do, it was possible he knew somethin’ aboot the Madam and Fionn. I dinnae know whit I was expectin’. Even if he knew I dinnae think he’d tell me.

I changed the subject tae save one ae us fae losin’ our tempers. Ma next query was if he’d known the Madam before noo. This one I actually got an answer to, although in hindsight I dinnae think I really wanteed it. he confirmed he’d heard of her, and that everyone has, but that he’d never met her in person before the day he’d come intae the shop. Apparently, his parents used tae say ye know there’s a problem when ye have tae go and visit the antique shop.

I tried tae laugh aff the growin’ feelin’ ae queasiness in ma stomach by askin why be afraid ae visitin’ her when she wasnae a dentist. The way his face contorteed intae genuine surprise wasne makin’ me feel any better. It was the jagged sense ae triumph he had that irritated me.

You really know nothing, do ye? No one ever knows whit her price is gonnae be, I mean she’s a..

But he was cut aff by Fionn’s bark, telling him that was enough, before callin’ him a mongrel. I’ve heard some colourful insults in ma time, but that’s a first. This instantly got a reaction oot ae Reid who told the Irishman tae stop callin’ him that. Fionn warned that it wasn’t his place tae be teachin’ me aboot things. As if I wasne standin’ right there. I presume by his irritation that the Madam was the only one supposed to be geein’ me answers, but at this point I’ll take them fae anywhere.

Tae ma disappointment Reid did as he was bid, and never said another word and disappeared further intae the shop, sulkin’ like a wee bairn. Fionn came over tae me, his disarming smile plastered on his face. That man can go fae anger tae charm so fast I’m startin’ tae believe he’s got more problems than debt.

Whit he said tae me made me sure ae it. He told me no tae let the fox bother me. this caught ma attention fae more than just that it’s a strange sentence. I’ve been starin’ at the fox’s heid on ma ring fae weeks noo. Knowing he had a captive audience he leaned on the counter, smirkin’ like he was the only one in the world in on a joke. The cogs in ma heid starteed turnin’ and I began tae realise that coincidencees were thin on the ground these days.

Noooo, I drew the word out in a breath, shakin’ ma heid simultaneously. That couldnae be, that was impossible. Fae the skepical frown drawin’ ma eyebrows together, tae the doubtful tone, Fionn gave a satisfied chuckle. After all ae the things you’ve seen, ye don’t believe a man can be a fox?

That seemed like an entirely different question, to be honest, but I kept that tae maself. I answered that I’d seen all ae those ‘hings, I’d never seen Reid’s tail, perky ears, or remember him walkin’ aboot on all fours. At least, no in front ae me.

Turns oot Reid’s a shapeshifter. A shape shifter, I mean…. (FX: drinks). Fuckin hell. Ma life’s turned intae one ae those shitty American teen dramas aboot werewolves and vampires, and all ae that bollocks, except we’re no all shaggin each other.

Fionn explained that shape shifter was the most accurate word, but it wasnae quite the same. I’m glad he didnae gee me more details I’m havin’ trouble swallowin that as it is. What I’m no havin trouble swallowin is this wine. (FX: pours wine).

It prompted me tae ask if Reid is meant tae be….a fox, then whit was Fionn? Higher up the food chain, was all the answer I got, paired wi’ a toothy grin. His joy was soon wiped fae his face when the front door tae the shop blew open, literally, wi’ wintery, howlin’ gales tryin tae bowl us over and take everythin’ in the shop wi’ it.

It felt like someone had placed a nuclear-powered wind machine in front ae the shop and switched it on. I honestly thought the windaes were gonnae blow in. anythin’ that wasnae weighed doon went flyin, and there was a painful cacophony ae noises fae the wooden door bangin’ against a cupboard, tae the manic flutter ae loose papers sailin’ through the air, and the inevitable crashes ae china figurines and plates bein’ hurled ontae the floor.

I hit the ground. I was already standin’ behind the counter, so at least any large objects would be less likely tae hit me on the heid. The rest ae the gang would just have tae fend fae themselves.

Time felt like it slowed, the atmosphere aroond me became a vacuum. It went fae deafening tae complete silence so quick I thought I’d burst ma eardrums. After a few seconds ae continued calm I decided tae peak over the counter, and really wished I hadnae. It was like a special effect ye see in action films. Things were still movin but it was in slow motion, pieces ae paper, small coins, a lace glove or two were all mid-air, but the air was actin’ more like thick treacle. I was movin’ fine, I slowly began tae stand up but felt no pressure, no difficulty, I could still breathe fine, even though it felt like the atmosphere had vanished and the laws ae gravity abandoned.

Fionn was right where I’d left him standin’, and Reid appeared fae one ae the paths, and both were lookin’ towards the front door. I really didnae want tae look, and thought fae a moment ae just makin’ a break fae the private door, but curiosity won oot. Through the bits ae paper and debris hangin’ mid-air was a tall, dark-haired woman walkin’ through the door ae the shop. Her stormy grey eyes examined each one ae us in turn, as though we were prime cuts ae meat at the butcher.

If her sudden appearance and ominous look didnae gee me enough cause for concern, Fionn and Reid had gone so stiff you’d have thought someone had shoved somethin’ up their arses. I decideed if they looked scared, this woman wasnae a joke, or a customer.

It’s difficult tae explain this woman. A wee part ae her, a very wee one, reminded me ae Norna, but rather than ma boss’s calm, velvety demeanour and voice, the new addition tae the shop was pure, random chaos. Her clothes were well-fitteed but in a clash ae colours. Her dark chocolate hair was smooth, but bluntly cut.

Her gaze lingered on Fionn, and her tightly set mouth curled up intae a wicked smile.

“Ah, Fionn, I didn’t think to find you here. My understanding was that your relationship with Norna had come to an end,” she goadeed cruelly.

Everythin’ aboot this woman was harsh, her presence in the shop jarring. It probably didnae help that time had stopped aroond us, objects makin’ their painfully slow way to their inevitable doom. It wasnae just the two roaster’s reactions tae this woman that made me realise she was dangerous. I could feel it. Unpredictability. It oozed fae her like electricity, or gas fae a broken pipe. It felt like there was nothin’ she wouldnae do. A complete fuckin’ psycho. It was the look in her eye, the glint ae carelessness. I’ve never seen such deid eyes, so lackin’ in anythin’ remotely human. This must be whit mice feel like when there’s a cat aroond.

Unbelievably it got worse when she introduced these two lads. Accordin’ tae her they also had business in the shop. They were nothin’ compared tae her, sardines beside a fuckin’ shark. They were well-dressed in sharp black suits, neatly combed back hair, and complimentary ties tae one another. Honestly they’re whit I imagine MI6 secret agents tae look like.

I didnae know who they were, or whit business they had in the shop, but they certainly werenae customers, and by the way Reid’s face went white I made a wild guess he’d somethin’ tae do wi’ them.

The strange woman made it clear that her business was first. She stepped further intae the shop, starin’ Fionn doon like a God tae a mortal, and announced she was here tae see Madam Norna, although she called her just by the name Norna. I’ve never heard anyone refer tae ma boss that way, no even Fionn. In ma opinion, this implied a personal connection between this fresh new psycho and the absent Madam.

I dinnae know whit possessed me tae speak, I really dinnae, but it’s no like doin’ reckless ‘hings is a new thing fae me. I informed the stranger that she wasnae here, and that she’d return in a few days.

I’m honestly surprised I never turned tae stone after the look she gee me. The heat fled ma body, and a had tae dig ma nails so hard intae ma palms tae stop ma legs fae shakin I can still see the marks there.

“You must be the apprentice!” she exclaimed with sarcastic surprise, flashin’ some teeth, “how sweet, but I didn’t come to play with children.”

(FX: chuckles nervously) I replied, I actually fuckin’ replied tae this wi; no, only tae insult people. This went doon like a led ballon, and her feral grin dampened. She muttered, loud enough fae everyone tae hear, it was just like Norna tae agree tae take someone like me.

Why do people keep referrin’ tae me like that? Whit does that phrase even mean? Needless tae say I was irked, and ended up askin’ her who she was. This got a cackle so piercing I’m sure I’ll have nightmares aboot it in the future. Considering we were suspendeed in silence, this sinister laugh ae hers shot straight through everyone like a bullet.

“You don’t know who I am? Marvellous, and she left the shop to you in her absence? Oh dear, she must be going senile after all these years. My name is Madam Anora, and we’ll be seeing a lot of each other over the coming decades.”

First ‘hings first. What a cow. Secondly, whit is up wi’ all these women callin’ themselves Madam? I honestly thought ma boss used it tae boost her mystique, ye know seem more knowledgeable, that kindae shite, but noo this strange woman was claimin’ it too. Whit the fuck is goin on here? It’s always more questions wi’ that shop, never answers. I dinnae even want tae start on whit she meant by decades.

I wore ma confusion on ma face like makeup, and she liked this, bein’ the one wi’ all the power.

“You must be very new to this, but you already have yourself a familiar, I see. A small piece of advice. Don’t repeat the mistakes of your teacher, intimacy with familiars is never a good thing. Fionn can tell you all about that.”

She certainly didnae like Fionn, that was fae sure. I dared a look at him, and understandably he was ragin’. This Madam Anora just didnae care. She was gonnae say and do whit she liked, causing the most amount ae pain. Every word oot ae her mouth was barbed, and since Reid and I were strangers, the only person she could personally insult was Fionn. He let her get away wi’ the first one, but he wasnae aboot tae let a second go by, and he barked that she wasnae welcome. Even I flinched at his tone.

The tension was quickly risin’ and I felt in ma bones that this situation was gonnae very quickly get oot ae hand, and whit was worse was that there was nothin’ I could do. When Madam Anora’s gaze concentrated again on me I knew nothin’ good was comin’. She gee me a smile, possibly meant tae be endearin’, but just turned oot creepy as fuck. She told me I shouldae been her apprentice, and that she’d never keep me in the dark as Norna was doin’.

I dinnae know why I thought pissin’ her aff was a smart move, but I said I was glad I wasnse her apprentice as I’d hate tae go through life wi’ no one ever being glad tae see me. she understandably wasnae happy aboot this, and whitever friendliness, if ye could call it that, disappeared quickly. Fionn, as stupid I was, bluntly told her tae leave as no one wanted her in the shop. He may also ha called her a bitch, which I wasnae disagreein’ wi, but whit she did next probably made him regret it.

One minute Fionn was standin’ on the other side ae the counter fae me, within’ arm’s reach, and the next he flew through the air back intae the shop. The same treatment had been geein’ tae Reid, who’d disappeared again. The crash as they landeed on more antiques wasnae swallowed by the vacuum the shop had become.

It wasnae a short fall either, they’d been flung quite the way back, and landed on Christ knew whit. It wasnae pillows that’s fae sure. I couldnae move. How had she done that? She hadnae moved a finger, or even twitched a muscle. I wanted tae go and see if they were alright, but I couldnae. Every cell, muscle, bone, and drop ae blood I was made of was screamin ae me tae run. All I could do was stand there, like the world’s biggest numpty.

The two lads who’d come in wi’ her began tae protest, although they were so softly spoken that I couldnae make oot whit they were saying. She held up her manicured hand, like a Hollywood starlet talkin’ tae their chauffeur. She assured them that Reid wasnae hurt, and that she’d done them a favour by makin’ him easier tae apprehend noo. I’d been right, the two lads were connected tae Reid’s gang problems, the same problem he’d become ma familiar fae tae escape.

I dinnae like Reid much, but we’d made a promise, and I keep ma word. They began tae move towards where he’d been flung, and I knew I had tae stop them. But how? Whit was I supposed tae do? I may be bold wi words sometimes, but I couldnae go up against two full grown men. I mean, they werenae scrawny, and fae all I knew they could have guns or knives hidden beneath the tailored black suits.

I felt the ring on ma pinky, the one I cannae take aff, the one Reid had unceremoniously geein’ me, and thought aboot the fox’s heid, and whit Fionn had said aboot it earlier. I shouted at the two tae stop, and warned them if they went near Reid I’d make a winter coat oot ae their furs. Can ye believe this made them hesitate, both gazin’ at me tryin tae see if I was bluffin or no. I noticed the same spark ae fear in their eyes as the psycho in the club had all ae those weeks ago. They were aboot tae think twice, their fear ae bein’ made intae clothin’ winnin’ over whitever beef they had wi Reid.

Then Madam Anora ruined everythin’, by goadin’ them on, and tellin’ me I wasnae powerful enough tae do anything tae them. Again, whit a bitch. The two lads believed her, and tae be honest I see why. Whit had I done since their arrival? Compared tae the havoc she’d caused.

I’ve never felt that helpless, that useless. Fionn and Reid were in danger, we all were, and all I could do was stand there and watch as this complete cow came in and did whit she liked tae all ae us. They were gonnae take Reid, and I didnae even want tae think aboot whit they’d do tae him, and if he’d even survive it. why hadn’t he just become Madam Norna’s familiar? Why had she practically forced me tae do it? I couldnae even protect maself, how was I supposed tae protect him. And the one erpson who had helped me in the past, was now lying on his back amongst the rubble ae the antiques. Fionn was no match fae her either.

The only person who was, wasnae there. Why had she left? Where had she gone? Why wasn’t she comin’ back? This was her shop, Fionn was her friend, Reid was her client, and I was apparently her apprentice. It was like those times in the films when one ae the characters is just waitin’ tae be saved by the hero. And right up until the last minute ye think they’re gonnae appear and save the day. Except we were now past the last minute, and there was no Madam Norna.

But haud on here. Who am I? More importantly, who dae I want tae be? The helpless damsel waitin fae a hero tae save her? That’s all I’ve been since startin’ in the shop. Wi Fionn’s hound debt collectors, wi the stalker in the alleyway, I was always bein’ saved, and I was sick ae it. but that got me thinkin’, no one had saved me fae the hounds, the Madam had told me I’d done it maself. I’d wished they were gone, and then they were.

So I thought, may as well try it. And just like Dorothy, without the sparkly shoes, I wished ma hardest that the shop would go back tae normal, tae how it was before Madam Anora and the gang members had blown in. Wi Fionn and Reid bickerin’, wi Chronos loungin’ on the counter geein’ me strange looks, and the bell above the door poised tae make a sound when a customer came in.

Like someone had turned the page ae a pop-up book, the chaos collapsed aroond me. the items and trinkets suspended in the air returned tae their original place, the loose papers found their pile, and the door settled intae its frame. Gravity returned along wi’ the atmosphere. Madam Anora and her two pals had gone, and just as I’d wished, the shop was back tae normal.

I glanced aroond, wide-eyed, no really believing it. you’d have thought nothin’ happened. The only thing tae prove it had was Fionn and Reid still collapsed in piles on the floor somewhere in the shop. I ducked under the counter, geein’ the front door a cautious glance in case that bitch’d return, and went tae find the two roasters.

Where they’d landeed was the only place in the shop my wish hadnae cleaned up. I helped them both up and checked they werenae seriously injured. Dazed, but unharmed. At least there was no blood. I tried tae make a joke. It seemed like the only thing I was able tae do. I laughed, but it was hollow.

And here I am, drownin’ maself in cheap wine, tryin tae make sense of whit happened. I’m beginning tae believe there’s no such thing as sense in ma life anymore. I dinnae know whit’s goin’ on, who or what Madam Anora is, or when she’ll be back, and dinnae even get me starteed on the two gang members who left withoot their pound ae flesh. Whit aboot Madam Norna? Where was she when we all needed her? When is she comin’ back? I somehow fended off enemies today, but what about tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after? How could she leave all ae that tae me, the one person who doesnae know whit’s goin on?

But it’s fine.  I’m fine. I’m. absolutely, fine.

The bell above the shop door is a regular feature of my days there. It’s as much a part of the package as Chronos or the Madam. It’s like a signal, a delicate flare to indicate that I’ve crossed the threshold into weird. The shop’s a quiet place, and often it’s the only noise I’ll hear for hours. Every time it jingles there’s always something interesting coming after. I thought the lack of noise would eventually send me to a loony bin, but I’ve become used to it. It’s tranquil, a respite from the busy, selfish world outside.

But not today. Today it was disturbed by two roasters, and they weren’t even customers. Fionn and Reid had beaten me to the shop and were bickering with such animation I was sure something would be knocked off the counter or one of the shelves. Voices were raised, arms and fingers were animated. So heated was their *witty-wattying they didn’t even hear the bell or notice I’d come in.

The only thing that had was Chronos, who was uncharacteristically glad to see me. No wonder with those *bawbags bickering like a pair of fish wives. We both stood near the door, listening to their fighting, wondering when they were going to realise they had an audience. From what I could glean, amidst the barbs and insults, they were arguing over where to put something, I couldn’t tell what this something was.

I became impatient and decided to interrupt, inadvertently joining Fionn’s side of the argument when I took my own wee pop at Reid for lolling about the shop all day every day like a *ned outside of *Greggs. Ever since he became my familiar he’s always there, in the shop, when I get in, when I leave. I’m sure he lives there now, or maybe he’s too afraid to leave seeing as people are meant to be after him. But we’ll get onto that later.

Fionn showed me what they were fighting over. It was a vase, ae all things. The way they were going on you’d have thought it was the *footie, or the bloody holy grail. It was a pretty vase though, reminded me a wee bit of a stained-glass window you yet in *kirks and cathedrals. No two pieces were the same size, or even the same colour, but its beauty didn’t keep my mind from wondering what sort of horror it had in store for the poor sod who bought it. There always seems to be an edge to the things in the shop, and it’s impossible to know just by looking at them. There was also the bad feeling I had in my gut whenever I looked at it, and I know by now that can’t be good.

The two lads had been having a disagreement on where to put it, the window display or in the shop. I settled it by saying that whoever it was meant for would find it anywhere. I know, how good am I? I’m beginning to sound like the Madam. Reid wasn’t happy I’d disagreed with him, but just because he’s my familiar doesn’t mean we have to agree with each other all the time, does it?

I’m beginning to get the impression that Fionn and Reid don’t get along, which is great for me being stick in the middle like a *numpty. To be quite honest I’m not quite sure why Fionn’s hanging around a lot more recently, and I don’t want to ask. I like Fionn, he’s nice, and I like having him around or it’d just be me and the grumpy shite. Reid’s always asking me why I haven’t cleaned the shop up, as if I haven’t bloody spent the entire time trying to do just that. Fucking prick. He and Fionn fight, him and I fight, I don’t think he realises he’s the common denominator here.

It’s been at least a week since the ring, and Reid, have been in my life, and none of these gangster pals of his have shown up. I asked Reid the same thing, and when they were expected so I could doll myself up. All he could retaliate with was that they were not his pals. He’s not the sharpest tool. Fionn latched onto this conversation like a pig in shite, and began to tease Reid at being unable to protect himself.

Then something weird happened. Reid said something back, I can’t remember what it was, but it wasn’t rude, he didn’t even swear, it was a pretty tame retort, yet Fionn went from amused to anger like that *snap fingers*. His reply was even stranger. He told Reid to watch who he was talking to and that he was a bit too far down the food chain to be talking like that. I know, I feel like as soon as I get answers more questions appear. It’s like that dragon in Greek mythology if ye cut off one head two more’d appear. It’s exhausting.

Thankfully the bell saved us, and it heralded the arrival of a customer. It wasn’t the only thing. Almost as soon as the last echo of the bell had faded away I began to smell perfume. I say smell bit it was more like assaulted by it. Up my nostrils, down my throat, I can still smell it as I speak. You know when you were in school, at a dance or an *empty, the lads would smell so strong you’d think they bathed in aftershave. It was like this lassie who’d come in had done the same thing, as if no one told her perfume should be applied sparingly. It was a heavy scent, hung in the air, musky and overpowering. I could even bloody taste it.

That wasn’t the only thing. The lassie, when I tried to look at her, was blurry around the edges, the granny glasses effect that the roaster at the club had. What I could see clearly was that she was pretty, and I mean artists’ muse level of beauty. You know, the Helen of Troy type, a face that launches a thousand ships, or starts a thousand fights down the pub. Before I could even open my mouth to welcome her, or to say hi, Reid and Fionn had gravitated their way over to this lassie, like positive magnets after a negative one, stumbling over their feet to speak to her first. The paths are barely wide enough for one person, and both were blocking the poor lassie’s way to the counter, where she wanted to be.

She told them, in the meekest voice I’ve ever heard, to leave her alone, but she never made eye contact with any of us. The two lads are obviously strangers to consent and paid her no mind, which pissed me off. I scolded them to leave her alone, and as soon as I’d said it Reid’s whole body went rigid, straightening, as if someone had given him an electric shock. It was hilarious, and it made him leave the customer alone. My words didn’t have the same effect on Fionn, who continued to practically hover on her shoulder.

I wasn’t having this, so I took a few paces towards him and grabbed his wrist tightly, managing’ to hold back the “what the fuck is wrong with you?” that threatened to fall out my mouth. He eventually looked at me, this strange dazed look in his face. Honestly, if I didn’t know any better I’d have said he’d been smoking *wacky baccy. It kind of reminded me of Chelle in the club with that weirdo. As soon as I’d touched her, she’d gone like that as well, dazed and confused.

I shoved Fionn out the lassie’s way, which was surprisingly easy to do he was that out of it. I apologised to her, not even going near an explanation of why those two *bawbags had acted that way.

She began to shake her head, and explained that it wasn’t just them, and that all men, and even some women, were all over her wherever she went. Someone had given her the Madam’s card, which she procured and handed to me. There was a story here, and I couldn’t have been happier.

I invited her to follow me to the door upstairs, and before I closed it behind us I ordered the two roasters to stay in the shop. You’ve probably guessed by now who was waiting at the top of the stairs for us. After making the tea it was time to sit on the floor and listen to story time.

The lassie repeated what she’d said to me in the shop, about men not leaving her alone. Turns out it’s been so bad in some cases she’s had to phone the police. I know I sound amused but there was nothing funny in her expression or tone. She looked genuinely afraid, as if leaving her house was a struggle.

I turned to the Madam with bated breath. I’ve never met someone so unpredictable. I know it’s not been long since I started working in the shop and sitting in on these meetings, but I honestly can never tell what’s going to come out her mouth. What was she hearing that I couldn’t? What was this lassie thinking? Was her story even the truth?

Eventually, in her soothing tone, she asked if the lassie had a boyfriend. The lassie answered that she had, but it had ended a few months ago. I glanced back to the Madam, as if looking at her would make me able to see inside her head. She checked if the lassie’s problems had started after she stopped seeing the boyfriend. The lassie, understandably, didn’t know how to answer this question, but I’m getting to know the signs by now. And sure enough, in the wake of the lassie’s hesitation, Madam Norna asked who’d ended the relationship, the lad, or his *missus?

I’m not a beginner at this, I’ve sat it on many meetings when revelations like this come out, but even I was impressed with this one. The lassie was taken aback, body going rigid. I don’t think I’ve ever realised how it must feel to have your secrets just exposed like that, without you having to say a word. I certainly wouldn’t like to be on the receiving end of it.

After the lassie gathered herself, she immediately stated she hadn’t known about her boyfriend’s missus. I’m not sure what to believe, and the Madam never told me afterwards. So, the truth of that matter is lost to me, and I couldn’t tell just by looking. Relationships, love, marriage, it’s all so complicated, and something I don’t understand. Are some people great at lying? Definitely. So good they’d be able to have a *missus and a girlfriend? I don’t doubt it. But I didn’t know this lassie, she was a stranger to me, and to be honest I’m not the morality police, if she knowingly wanted to have a relationship with a married man then that was her choice. I just hope she liked being called a homewrecker.

Regardless of the truth, the Madam told the lassie that there was a price for her help. Now that was a new one. In the months I’ve been there I don’t think the Madam’s ever charged these special customers for her services. They come in, spill their guts, and leave with some kind of candle, and never have to open their purses or wallets. Why the exception for this lassie?

She was a bit too eager with her answer, and made the mistake of saying she’d pay anything. Without hesitation Madam Norna told her that no one would ever fall in love with her again. The words sent out a finality that made the air in the room heavy and lethargic. I joined in the lassie as we both gaped at the Madam.

She took the words right out of my mouth when she queried how that was even possible. Typically, there was no further explanation. My boss told her that was the price, and asked if she wanted some time to think about it.

Silence fell. The lassie wasn’t the only one who needed time to think. How was this even possible? What sort of candle could stop people from falling in love with you? I began to realise even after all I’ve seen I’m still narrow-minded. This is the antique shop, where a ring can sort your life out, a scarecrow can curse your family, and people who need jobs see signs that aren’t there. There’s no such thing as impossible here.

The lassie answered quicker than I was comfortable with. She agreed. I don’t think she really knew what she was agreeing to, and to be fair to her neither did I. The only difference was I believed it was possible, and by her calm demeanour she obviously thought it wasn’t. I inspected her, hoping to hear even a snippet of her thoughts. What was going through her mind?

It was the Madam’s voice that snapped me out of it as she told me to go and fetch a small wooden box from the cabinet, on the lid would be a single onyx stone. It’s not a long walk, but one of my feet had gone numb and so I nearly fell face first after a few steps. It didn’t take me long to find this box, amongst the glass vials of strange liquid and the loose papers with barely legible writing.

I handed it to the Madam, who procured a silver necklace from inside, a weird swirly pattern engraved on the teardrop charm that hung from it. It looked expensive and old but well-cared for. There wasn’t a mark on the silver chain, no discolouration. It was very fine and delicate, as if holding it too tightly would make it disintegrate. The Madam placed it lightly on the table.

The lassie was told to wear the necklace for seven days. She wasn’t allowed to take it off because if she did it wouldn’t work. After the seven days had ended no man, or woman, would ever bother her that way again. I’ve never seen anyone move as fast as that lassie did for the pendant. With happy tone she thanked the Madam, but I began to feel that unease again, like that lassie had signed away her soul.

She left the shop, but I stayed with the Madam, disliking the bitter aftertaste in my mouth. I asked my boss what had been wrong with the lassie, and if that was the reason Fionn and Reid had acted so strangely around her? The Madam’s smile had a sinister edge as she explained the boyfriend’s missus was the jealous type.

“You think the missus did something to her, to make people instantly attracted to her?” I questioned, before admitting I still didn’t understand.

Because the lassie had stolen her husband, the missus had made it so that every man she met wouldn’t be able to leave her alone. She’d be harassed wherever she went, tormented. The missus had cursed her husband’s mistress, and curses filled with bitterness and hurt were strong, and usually lasted a lifetime. The necklace was a charm that would protect her for the rest of her life. This answer took the air out of the room, plunging it into this horrible silence. There was something a bit too permanent about this payment, and what was even more tragic was that I don’t think the lassie believed it. I mean, who would?

I eventually asked my boss if the lassie had known her boyfriend was married. She gave me this look, like she couldn’t tell what I was thinking for the first time since we’d met.

“Would it matter? His wife seems to think she did,” was the answer.

I know people joke about the missus never being wrong, but it’s just a joke. We’re all human, and we all make mistakes. But I kind of understood. If she hadn’t known, like she claimed, then what happened to her was tragic. On the other hand, if she had known and did it anyway, was this karma, or poetic justice? I think what annoyed me more was the fact that it takes two people to cheat. Where was the husband in all of this? Then again, if she had the power to curse her husband’s mistress, what else could she do? And if she’d gone after the lassie, I could only imagine what she would’ve done to her husband.

There was something bitter about it all. I wasn’t satisfied like I usually am with these cases. It felt like nobody won. It also raised the sticky question of what kind of person can physically curse someone? I’d seen it in the shop, the behaviour of Fionn and Reid around the lassie, as if someone had cast a spell on them. There’s so much I don’t know, and this is the first time I’ve felt uneasy in ignorance.

Footnotes:

*witty-wattying – Scottish slang for chatting, gossiping, etc. No official spelling.

*bawbag – Scottish slang for idiot (yes, another one).

*ned – Scottish slang, usually means non-educated delinquent. Similar to the English word Chav. Someone who’s possibly unemployed, collecting benefit, and generally just causing trouble. Can always be spotted wearing a tracksuit.

*Greggs – UK baked goods chain.

*footie – British slang, short for football (real football, not the American kind).

*Kirk – mostly Scottish word for a church, predominately Church of Scotland (yes, we have our own branch of Christianity).

*numpty – yes, you guessed it, another word for idiot.

*empty – (possibly old) Scottish slang for a house party. Called an empty because parents were usually not at home.

*wacky baccy – Cannabis.

*missus – British slang term usually for wife/female partner.

This is going be a story and a half. I thought all of the things until now were unbelievable, but we’re nowhere near the pinnacle of strange yet. It’s been a few days since Madam Norna told me the truth about mostly everything. I took a few days away just to, you know, take it all in, and I think I’m fine with it now. Destiny, fate, a shop full of horrors just waiting to turn unsuspecting customer’s lives upside down – I’m all caught up. Still feels like there’s more than a few things missing in this puzzle, but doesn’t look like I’ll be getting more answers for a while yet, so I’ll have to make do.

Anyway, I went back to the shop this morning, and on entering was greeted by Chronos, lounging on the counter like an emperor on his elevated throne. He glanced at me lethargically as I came in, as if to say “what took you so long to get here?”. I informed him I was early, then checked myself. Why the fuck am I still talking to that wee shite? He never says anything back.

The Madam was nowhere to be seen, which is no unusual thing, but this time I didn’t search her out. After our last conversation I didn’t think she had anything more to tell me, and it seemed a bit weird just looking for her to have a chat. I also didn’t know if she was alone, I mean her and Fionn might be up there, and I didn’t want to see that. Equally likely was a customer and if I wasn’t there for the beginning then there was no point in interrupting.

I resigned myself to looking busy, attempting to familiarise myself with the items in the shop, as far as that’s possible. I must’ve sorted one display or another at least a hundred times since I started but it never even makes a dent in the rest of the mess. I do have a habit of climbing under the tables and drawers to see what’s hidden there. One time I found this wicker basket full of old cigarette cards. I admit I had to Google what they were. From the Victorian era to WWII cigarette companies used to put these tiny wee cards into packets of *fags in order to stiffen them. These were collectible and featured famous actors and actresses, sports players, even new fashions. I’ve found a few of these albums filled to bursting with these cards. Dusty, worn old books, some falling apart at the seams, with famous 30s starlets faces’ slotted into the pages.

I keep finding these albums recently, ever since the first one it’s been a flood of them. I can’t tell you what fascinates me so much about them, the owner probably died of lung cancer they must’ve smoked so many fags. I think it’s the condition. Some of the albums may be battered, but the cards themselves look like they could’ve been manufactured yesterday. Such care gone into something so…I don’t know…normal.

I was rummaging through yet another basket filled with these albums when I heard a door somewhere slam open. It didn’t just cut through the silence of the shop, it completely obliterated it. There was no sound of the bell, so it must be the private door up to the madam’s rooms.

I’d got such a fright I’d smacked ma head on the table, again. I’ll give myself a concussion one of these days. I didn’t want to come out. Under the table was safe, whoever it was couldn’t have seen me, and fuck knows who the Madam had pissed off now with her mind reading. It could be a serial killer for all I knew.

“I know you’re here”, a deep, gruff burr resounded around the shop, no making me any more eager to leave ma hiding place.

It wasn’t looking good. I couldn’t get to the door from where I was without him seeing me. I was more afraid than I’d like to admit. What if he’d done something to the Madam? I’d even left Chronos on the counter, if I was lucky maybe he’d get it first.

When the Madam’s velvety tones swirled around the shop, reassuring me that whoever it was meant no harm, I emerged from my hiding place. As soon as I came into sight, this broad-shouldered lad with dark hair and eyes that screamed murder came charging for me like a bull after red. I honestly thought he was going to bulldoze me out the way, but he stopped barely an arm’s length away, glowering as though I’d nicked his wallet. I never knew how much I liked my personal space until that moment.

He was eyeing me as much as I was him. He then demanded gruffly that I help him. There was no further explanation, no more detail, just that. As always, I seemed to be the only one in the room missing something. The madam informed the stranger, because fuck if I was getting an introduction, that he couldn’t force me to help him and that I had to choose to do so.

I had two words to say to him and neither were polite, or best said in front of my boss. The lad whirled to the madam and huffed angrily that she’d said I would. My boss corrected him and said I could, only if I wanted to. He turned his irritated gaze back on me but before he could say anything I interupted.

“Who are you?”

It wasn’t said politely but at least I hadn’t sworn. The lad didn’t answer, Madam Norna did, introducing this brazen stranger as Reid. She told me that he’d made a mistake and that he needed some help.

“Can you not speak for yourself?” I snapped.

He’d pissed me off. I may not be swearing but that didn’t mean I had to be civil. Turns out I was right because he refused to answer my question or give me any more details on what he wanted my help with or what the trouble was. Again, the Madam stepped in, telling me this lad, Reid, wished to become my familiar.

I laughed, more of a snort really. Isn’t a familiar a weird word for pet? Like in those fantasy novels you get about witches and warlocks. Come to think about it, I’m not sure I’ve fully accepted my life is turning into one of those novels. I blurted this to the Madam and Reid, which only caused his frown to deepen and the loathing in his eyes grow claws before he snarled that he wasn’t a pet.

That was hardly the way to speak to someone he wanted a favour from, I reminded him smugly. I then point blank refused to help someone I didn’t know out of no one knows how much trouble. He could be embroiled in some crazy shite, and I have coursework to hand in.

This Reid character doesn’t seem to like answering questions, only snapping at people. Yet again Madam Norna filled in the blanks. This trouble involved a gang, although she didn’t elaborate, and only by becoming my familiar could he save himself.

The last few months haven’t made me soft in the head just yet. There was no way I was helping a *rando from a gang. And let’s not forget, he’d come to the shop to see the Madam, not me. He wanted her help, so what was I even doing in this conversation? I said as much to my boss, with a nicer tone than that.

 She gave me a bullshit answer if ever I heard one. It would be “more beneficial” for me to help him. I could see the relish sparking in her eyes like the gems and jewels beneath the counter and hear a hint of an agenda in her softy spoken reply.

I started to think, really take a few seconds. How could this human lad become my familiar? Weren’t they pets, like owls and cats? How could a person be a familiar to another person? Wasn’t that more like slavery…or marriage.

“Where’s the catch?” I questioned.

None, according to her. This Reid lad would be my familiar and do anything I commanded. She was telling me that I could, somehow, degrade this bad-tempered, rude lump into my personal servant? I should’ve felt bad, disgusted at this arrangement, but I hesitate to admit I didn’t feel those things. I was so bewildered and frustrated that any way at getting back at this stranger was good enough for me.

I didn’t know how being attached to me was going to save him from a gang, and to be quite frank I probably should’ve asked. But you know me, I’m a headfirst kind of lassie. I also don’t seem to be making a habit of long-term thinking. All I wanted to do at the time was embarrass this lad, teach him what manners were. He obviously wasn’t happy about being my familiar instead of the madams and seeing how irritated that made him was addictively satisfying. I’ve never taken such a quick dislike to someone, especially with hardly any provocation. I mean he was a prick, but I’ve been spoken to worse down the pub on a Saturday.

It’s probably best not dwelt on. I made the decision and we both have to live with it now. I agreed to this arrangement of master and familiar, whatever that means. The Madam conjured a small ring from her pocket, as if she bloody knew what my answer would be. Maybe it’s not just the front room where her powers of telepathy work.

She handed it to Reid, and without ceremony or grace he slid it onto my pinky, and that’s where it’s been for the last few days. It’s not an ugly ring, it is strange though. I think it’s probably gold, I’d check for a hallmark if it’d come off my bloody finger. I’m getting unwelcome flashbacks to that lassie with the snake ring. I get why she was so worked up now.

I’ve tried everything; fat, oil, soap, even cutting it off, but it won’t budge. And every time I fail, the wee beady eyes of the fox’s face glimmer triumphantly.

*fags – British slang, not to be confused for the offensive word that starts with the same three letters, and can be shortened to this. Another word for a cigarette.

*rando – Scottish slang, short for randomer. A stranger, a random person.

It’s been a few days since my encounter at the club, with the psycho and with Fionn. I was hoping to find some more sand to bury my head in, but I didn’t manage it. So, this morning’ I finally went to the shop.

I stood on the other side of the road so long someone thought I’d been given a *dizzy. I wish I had been waiting on someone from Tinder, I’m sure that couldn’t have been worse than what I was actually doing. I was inspecting the shop front, like by staring at it long enough I could puzzle out its secrets. But there was nothing out of the ordinary, and there never has been just looking at it. I’d been standing staring for so long that I did begin to notice something that was odd. No one walking past the shop ever looked into the window. This may not sound strange, but when I think back on it I don’t remember ever seeing anyone stop and look at the display, and there’s some nice things in there. Even the café next door received a cursory glance from passers-by, and they don’t even have anything in the window.

Why would no one ever look in the shop, even to check their own reflection? I do it, and whoever pretends they don’t is a liar. It was like the shop didn’t exist or was empty to everyone that walked by. But that was impossible. I was staring at it, I’d been inside and seen the hoard, got lost a few times, even added an item or two to the display. There was definitely a shop there, why people never looked inside, why everyone who does manage to find the door always buys something that alters their life in some way, and why the lost souls who come to see Madam Norna always have an impossible problem are all questions I was dying to have the answer to.

How did the Madam know that man, Sutherland, had murdered his missus? Why hadn’t the lassie been able to remove the snake ring when she’d wanted to? What had been up with that scarecrow, and had I just hallucinated those hounds that had chased me round the shop? Every day gets stranger, odder with every second confined by the shop, and now it’s followed me outside, to ma real life.

With what courage I’d managed to gather I went into the shop, heard the bell welcoming me back, the only thing to do so. The shop was empty, no Chronos, the wee shite, no Madam Norna. If I wanted answers, I’d have to go and find them. I went and put my jacket and bag behind the counter and just as I was about to make my way towards the private door, I heard the bell go again. Out of habit I whipped ma head up and saw a couple enter. Thinking back I’m not sure why I presumed they were a couple because they weren’t holding hands or anything like that. They didn’t even speak a word. It was just the way they were in each other’s space, as though magnets were drawing them to one another, two people so accustomed to being in each other’s company that it’s now their natural state. They both walked down one path and then the next, browsing in comfortable silence.

One of them looked sad. He was the taller of the two, dressed smart with crisp shirt and tailored trousers. He was more interested in his boyfriend than the many trinkets and objects in the shop. After they were both finished looking round, they came over to the counter, a black box in one of their hands. I think there were cufflinks inside, if I’m remembering the right box. I’ve looked through the hoard so many times I should know for certain. The smaller one, who had the box in his hand, placed it on the counter and fished around in his pocket for his wallet. I took the box, opening a paper bag to put it in, and casually asked if the cufflinks were for the handsome lad that he’d come in with.

“What lad?” he questioned, stating that he’d come in alone. The cufflinks were a birthday present for his Dad.

I almost dropped the paper bag. I glanced between the lads, from one to the other, expecting the punchline, the obnoxious laugh of someone who’s pulled a successful prank, but there was nothing, just one of the most awkward silences I’ve ever experienced. My entire life’s beginning to feel like the lead up to a punchline, except I’m still waiting. To me, the two lads were as real as each other, both flesh and blood. Yet, somehow, the taller one was…what, another hallucination?

What was identical between the two was the sadness dug into the grooves and lines of their faces, hiding in the furrow of their brows. I didn’t say a word, my voice all but lost to me, and solemnly I handed over the paper bag with the cufflinks. I offered an apologetic smile but knew there was nothing I could say that would explain or make sense of what I’d just done.

The lad and his shadow left the shop, and I kept my eyes on them until they were out of sight of the window. I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding, and when I perched my hands on the edge of the counter, I noticed they were shaking. I didn’t need to look at the private door to know Madam Norna had joined me.

“What was that?” I questioned with a calm I was sure couldn’t last.

“A memory,” was the simple yet cryptic answer.

I stared at her, across the drawers and chairs and books. I noticed her fiery red hair, the impossibly blue eyes, and it was like I was seeing her fae the first time, again. Something in her eyes told me she understood that I knew the world wasn’t what I’d thought. I asked her how I could see this memory.

“They are called memories because they are neither a ghost nor a poltergeist, they have no earthly remains or unfinished business, but the longing they have for a person they left behind or of that person for them is so strong it creates a bridge over the void of this world and the next, so they can always be beside the one they long for. Memories fade with time, ghosts do not. They are harmless, noticed by few, including us.”

I don’t really know how I feel about the term “us”. It suggests I‘ve been initiated into this club I don’t remember joining, and I’m not sure I want to. What I was beginning to understand was that ghosts and memories weren’t the only things I didn’t understand. She invited me to join her upstairs as it was time for explanations.

We couldn’t go into the parlour without making some tea, except this time I wasn’t the one making it. From what I could smell and see the leaves she used looked to be more harm than good. The kitchen itself seemed no different from the last time I was in it. I don’t know what I expected, but shouldn’t things appear changed now? Shouldn’t the walls be brighter, the sky a deeper blue, the pavement a sharper grey? Shouldn’t I be seeing in 4K instead of HD?

Eventually the kettle was boiled, the pot filled, and it was time to go into the parlour. I half expected her to invite me to sit where customers usually do. Was that what I was? She didn’t say anything, and out of habit I sat on the floor and immediately asked her what the antique shop was. Her answer was that it was an antique shop, full of old items waiting for owners to find them. Realising this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation, I pointed out that wasn’t all it was. The Madam liked that I hadn’t phrased it as a question and gave me one of her subtle smiles. According to her, the shop is there for people who need it, as is she. There are things that must be done, and she was there to ensure they were. If this sounds to you an awful lot like fate then you’re not alone, and I said as much.

“The all-encompassing fate, the premise that your life is written for you and everything you do is predestined is not quite true. There are some things that must happen in a person’s life, predefined points that they must live through; as for the rest that is entirely up to them, to a certain extent. If someone strays too far from their fated point then nature will correct them, one way or another. I observe the power of fate, I help it along if needs be, but I am here for other purposes, there are more forces at work than just destiny, but that is for another day. Tell me, how do you think you ended up in this shop?”

That was easy, I’d seen a notice in the window, and stumbled through the door with a CV in hand. By the sly smile she gave me I started to think that wasn’t the right answer.

“There was no notice, I did not place one there.”

The teacup stopped halfway to my lips, close enough for me to smell the bouquet of herbs she’d made it with. I stared at her blankly, my mind takin a few minutes to wrap itself around what she was implying.

“So, I imagined it?” I checked after a while.

Apparently, no. Well, she said not quite. The fact is there was no sign in the window, not a physical one anyway. She reminded me of what she’d told me when I’d first started, about people only entering the shop if they needed to be there. Therefore, I needed to be in the shop, and the only way I’d have gone in was by seeing a job advert in my hour of need.

The handful of brain cells I possess were working overtime, pulling all the information I’d been given together to try and form some understanding. I’ve taken easier exams.

“You’re saying that my working here is a destined point in my life?” I questioned.

The only reply I got was a gentle nod of her head. I narrowed ma eyes.

“What are you?”

Unfortunately, she said it wasn’t time for me to know that yet, but it would come, like so many other things. We continued in silence as she sipped her tea and I tried to swallow mine. I sensed we were beginning a new kind of relationship. I began to feel like she’d never been my boss, but instead, a teacher. I just wish I knew what she was teaching me, and why.

I then proceeded to grill the Madam about everything that’d happened to me since starting my job, and the first on the list was, obviously, the scarecrow. The creepy wee doll that had changed an innocent wee lassie into a demon, and according to the madam caused all the misfortune around her Mum’s pals and neighbours. It met a fiery end in the Madam’s fireplace. I was starving for answers, but the Madam takes her time doing everything. Taking a long sip of tea was more important than putting me out ma misery.

“It was a cursed object, it brings misfortune to all that own it, or rather those who are near the person who owns it. It feeds from its owner’s hatred and anger. There are not many left. It is a rare thing to see.”

It’s quite hard to pick up on what Madam Norna really thinks, her tone is always level, her gaze always calm. I’m getting to know wee signs, wee details that tell me something. One of them is tone. Underneath the silk voice, you can sometimes catch an emotion. She explained the cursed object with some reverence, as if she was happy she’d got to see a rare thing, despite its aforementioned destructive capabilities.

I queried why she hadn’t been more insistent on taking it from the wee lassie if it could cause, and did cause, so much harm. At the time she’d told me to leave it in the shop, but that sentence reminded me that it’d also disappeared from where I’d put it. I, in my voluntary ignorance, assumed the lassie had taken it – more wanted the lassie to have taken it. I checked with the Madam, and yes, that scarecrow did literally climb out the bucket I’d tossed it in and walked out of the shop. I was more than happy to leave the logistics of its escape to ma imagination.

I sipped the tea, more out of politeness. It’s a bit like alcohol, it gets better after a few sips. Sitting on the floor, after more than a month of working in that shop, I realised in that time I’d exchanged very few words with my employer, or whatever she was now. We’d never chatted or gossiped, or anything you’d normally do with a colleague. I still didn’t know anything about her. Perhaps that would come in time, like the other things had.

The front room has a different feel to it when there’s no customers. It’s like a sanctuary, a place people go to be safe, and although I didn’t need help, I still felt like the darker side of what I’d experienced couldn’t get me in there. Perhaps it was the Madam. Everything about her is calm, like still water in a loch, and there’s a touch of the otherworldly, as if she’s not all human.

That sounds daft, what else can she be? I can’t put my finger on it, but at times there’s a streak of the unexplainable about her, on a different level from the rest of the shop.

Next on the list was the snake ring that wouldn’t come off the lassie’s finger. I’d actually looked this one up, or at least tried to, and Google had told me that a snake eating its own tail was called an Ouroboros, an ancient symbol of a cycle. As you can tell it didn’t give me any more of a clue on what the ring had been.

Turns out the snake design is more literal than symbolical. It’s literally a serpent eating its own tail, which translates to someone who destroys their own chances of happiness through the decisions they make. The lassie was being unfaithful to her boyfriend, so the ring wouldn’t come off until she fixed her mistake.

This one was a bit far-fetched for me. If there was such a thing as anti-cheating jewellery, why couldn’t I get it at Primark? I said as much to Madam Norna. That got a delicate chortle. Unfortunately, there isn’t such an object that prevents infidelity, it’d just worked that way on the lassie, and wouldn’t work the same way fae the next person who it ended up with.

I’ve thought about this since. If there’s an item like that in the shop as I speak that can sort out people’s lives for them, then what does everything else do? I’ve definitely said before that everyone who comes in and buys something always seems to find an item I’ve never seen before. Is it like selective blindness? The people who buy things are the only ones who can see it because it’s meant for them? That’s how the shop works, isn’t it? The people who go in and seek help, the people who go in and find a job, and the people who enter to have a look. They all need to be there. I don’t see the objects they buy until they hand over the money because that item isn’t meant for me.

I find it so fascinating. At least most of me does. The rest is afraid I’ll touch something I’m not supposed to and end up cursed for life. I understand why I’m getting paid so well now.

I wasn’t done with my questions though. I finally asked my boss how she knew the things she did about customers. The man on my first day who’d killed his missus, the cheating lassie who’d bought the ring. The Madam had known all of it.

She informed me it was her job to know, and that she could see these things about customers. I didn’t understand what she meant by see. She explained that when a customer was in the parlour, she could essentially read their mind. She didn’t put it that way, but that’s how I understood it. During their conversations whenever the Madam asked a question there were two answers. The one which the customer said aloud, and the other which they thought, subconsciously or not.

I glanced at the sofa where the customers always sat and vowed to never sit there. I was a bit disappointed. I’d wanted her to be clairvoyant, you know seeing into the future, but I’ll just have to settle for telepathic.

The final question I managed to ask her was probably the one I was more personally interested in. Who was Fionn? I told her about how he’d saved me at the weekend from the psycho in the alley. Madam Norna paused here to sip her tea, even though I knew there wasn’t enough left in her cup. It was the first time I’d ever seen her hesitate before answering, and I began to feel like I’d overstepped. There was something in her gaze, something that hurt me to look at, as though it was hurting her as well. It was gone almost as quickly as I’d glimpsed it.

She told me he was an old friend. The reason he’d said we were even was because I’d saved him the first time we’d met in the shop. I didn’t need to dig far to remember the day we’d first met. Sometimes when I’m in the flat by myself I can hear the feral growls rumbling around.

I’d been right. They were dogs, I just couldn’t see them right, although I was assured that my sight would develop in time. The dogs were debt collectors, and Fionn had fallen into some trouble over unpaid debts and had visited Madam Norna to ask for help getting out of it. I don’t know what these debts were, she wasn’t forthcoming about that. Maybe it was a student loan.

They entered the shop to collect Fionn, and make sure he paid his debt, but I’d expelled them before they managed. Not sure how – unless I can wish for things now. If the Madam can read people’s thoughts, does that mean I get a cool ability? I think I’d rather have telepathy than whatever I did to those dogs.

There was one last question I wanted to confirm, about Fionn and her. But I couldn’t bring myself to ask. There was no mistaking what I’d seen when I’d asked about him the first time. I’m not a complete cow, I didn’t want to rub salt on a wound. Thankfully, we both heard the bell on the door ring. It was fainter up here, but it also echoed, lingered in the air like spring rain. Knowing a cue when I saw one I got up and tended to the customer, who predictably parted with some cash.

*a dizzy – Scottish slang; to be stood up.

*Croaks* I’m a bit hungover today, no surprise there. *Clears throat*. I don’t usually do this now, after 4 hours of sleep, but I want to get this recorded before I forget. I haven’t been to the shop in a few days, ever since…whatever it was happened. I’ve been having nightmares of being chased by something I never see, but I can hear the low growls, and somehow I know what it is and that I need to get away from it. As much as I’d like to think it’s just me, stress getting to me, or an undiagnosed mental condition, I just can’t convince myself. It’s that shop, it’s Madam Norna and the work she does, tearing away my perspective of the world until I’m left with something I don’t recognise.

I try not to dwell on these things, in fact I’ve actively been avoiding the subject with a very healthy dose of booze and nights out. Maybe it’s done something to my memory, making me see things…

So, me and my pals are at this club not far from here in the town centre. The one where every student and their dog ends up on a Friday and Saturday night because it’s the only decent place to go. Maybe not even decent, just the only place. We’ve all been drinking for hours, mostly shots, *Buckie, and I want to say gin, but after a while it all tastes the same. We’re all *steaming, so the night’s gone well.

We’re dancing together, with each other, with *randos, the music is so loud you can feel it beneath your feet. Everyone has their hands up, down, swirling around them. I’m having a grand old time, then it starts to get hot, and I begin to feel my calves burning. The alcohol’s starting to wear off, and the reality of my surroundings is starting to show itself. I’ve been splashed with something I hope is beer, it’s not just my calves that hurt but my feet, and the two grinding together beside me is beginning to make me feel like I stumbled into a private show.

To completely kill my buzz one of my pals, Michelle, weaved her way through the crowd like only a master can, coming in our direction. She didn’t look happy, more like the burden that alcohol had made her forget had returned with a vengeance. I stopped dancing, much to my leg’s relief, to ask her what was the matter? By asking I mean going as close as I could to her ear and shouting so she could hear me over the beat.

She said that she was being followed around the place by a lad who wouldn’t leave her alone. I started to scan the crowd to see if I could tell who this lad was, searching the sea ae faces and bodies that surrounded us. The strange thing was that it didn’t take me long to find the likely culprit. He was tall, rising above most of the people in the club, but the most distinctive feature was the cleft chin that I could make out even at some distance. He was leaning against the bar, practically on the other side of the club from us, looking straight in our direction with an intense stare and trouble carved into the set of his features. I say looking at us, but his eyes were glued to Michelle, almost predatorily.

What worried me more was I couldn’t seem to focus on his face. It was distorted, and no matter how many times I blinked, squinted, or blamed the flashing lights, it wouldn’t clear up. The shape of his face and the colour of his hair were the only details I could be certain about. It was probably the alcohol; it’d no worn off as much as I’d thought. I’m also blaming that for the light layer of smoke that floated in the air around his hand and the drink he held in it. Needless to say, I didn’t need to go nearer to know I didn’t like him.

In the off chance I was wrong, I checked with Michelle and she confirmed, solemnly, that he was the lad. Now, I wanted to go and say something, why should he get away with ruining her night? But Michelle shook her head when she saw what I was thinking told me that if she ignored him he might go away. I didn’t believe it, but I wasn’t about to upset her.

Instead, I pulled the rest of our group further into the crowd, hoping he’d lose sight of us. It wasn’t closing time for another few hours and the rest of my pals didn’t want to leave, so we stayed. A club’s really shite if you’re starting to sober up, but I couldn’t go and get another drink because of that arsehole, so he ruined my night as well, in more ways than just that.

I tried to keep an eye on Michelle, but as the most sober one of the group it was like trying to herd sheep. One was about to have a fight with a lassie we didn’t know, claiming there had been some kicking going on, another’s phone had to be confiscated to stop her fae calling her *roaster of an ex, the usual drama. At some point I inevitably lost Michelle, and the next time we met was closing time when we were all in line to get our jackets.

Amidst the drunken `I love you pal` I noticed that Michelle wasn’t with us. No sooner had I started looking for her I saw her as she walked past us, arm in arm with the cleft-chinned lad from earlier. Without really thinking I left the rest of the mob in the queue and ran after her, managing to catch them before they got to the stairs to leave. The first thing that came to my mind to say was “ye forgot your jacket”. Michelle leaned in close and whispered that she wouldn’t be needing it, followed by a suggestive wink that even I wasn’t drunk enough to miss. Before I could say anything’ in reply her new pal interrupted us, ensuring that he’d make sure she was safe.

Saying’ it like that makes anyone with any sense think you’re going to do the opposite. This time he was close, a bit too close for my liking, and the unsettling thing was I still couldn’t quite focus on his face, as if I was looking through ma grannie’s glasses. I could see his dark grey eyes, the neatly combed honey blonde hair, but everything else, the shape of his nose, the state of his skin, the wee details were blurred.

I focused my attention on Michelle, trying to contort my face into a question, checking if she was really sure she wanted to go anywhere with this creep. But her face had this glazed look to it, almost like she’d mixed alcohol with medication. Growing quite concerned by this point I reached out and placed my hand on her wrist, giving it a wee squeeze in the hopes it’d wake her from her trance. I asked her if she was sure, my final attempt at throwing her a lifeline before I’d be forced to watch as she left with the weirdo.

As soon as the question had fallen from my mouth Michelle dropped the stranger’s arm like it was infected, and stumbled unsteadily back, glancing with panic between the both of us. She began shaking her head confusedly, stating that she wanted to go home. I directed her to our pals who were waiting in the queue for the cloakroom and didn’t turn to the lad until I saw her safely with them. When I did look back at him, he was eyeing me with a peculiar expression. Not like the one he gave Michelle, predatory and confident. The one he gave me was something I’ve not seen since I punched a lad at school when I was twelve because he pinged the back of my bra – an unsteady concoction of confusion and fear.

I warned him, channelling my inner twelve-year-old, to leave Michelle alone. I’m not stupid enough to stick around to hear a retaliation so I walked away towards my pals in the queue, and eventually lost sight of the stalker.

 I would’ve said I was almost completely sober by this point, but it’s what happened next that makes me think otherwise. As we were still waiting in the eternal queue for the cloakroom, I glimpsed something that shouldn’t be there. Beside the door to the stairs that led outside, was a wee brown rabbit, sitting bonnie, with its ears sticking up. Its button nose wiggled ever so slightly from left to right, as if it were smelling a fresh carrot. By the way it was staring at me, glassy eyes wide and innocent, you’d have thought I was the one with the carrot. As soon as it realised it had my attention it began to hop its way over to the stairs. I thought it’d get trampled on, it was so wee, but not one of the drunken partiers stumbled anywhere near it. It arrived at the top step, and a few seconds later the white cotton ball of an arse disappeared down.

I don’t know what anyone else would do, but apparently I just follow my hallucinations now. After carelessly handing over my cloakroom ticket to one of my pals, the next thing I remember is being halfway down the stairs, eyes fixated on that white tail. Somehow, I managed to swerve around the rest of the people taking their first unsteady steps home.

Why did I follow? That’s a fuckin’ good question. There was no song, like with the sailors and the sirens, no encouragement from someone. In short, no rhyme or reason, but something in my head, so hidden and unknown, wanted me to follow that rabbit. I must be going *daft, but whatever it is, mental illness or something else, is starting to scare me…a lot.

I continued to follow it until it led me to the cobbled alleyway beside the club entrance. I know how that sounds. At the time it should’ve got some reaction, but I was hypnotised, lured into tunnel vision. Then it disappeared. I’m no talking ran off or disappeared in a poof of smoke. One minute it was hopping and the next it was gone.

My eyes scanned around, barely able to see anything in the amber light streaming fae the lampposts. Mostly everything was in shadow. That was when I heard something from deeper into the alleyway, where the giant bins and steaming grates are. It was a loud thud, like something falling on the ground – if that something was a person. I began to squint, edging further into the alleyway, trying not to be tripped up by the uneven cobblestones. When I realised what I was seeing I wished I hadn’t left the queue inside.

I was closer than I wished to be so I’m pretty sure this is what I saw. There was a man, bent over, dragging a barely conscious, if not completely out of it, lassie further into the alley. She was leaving a trail, and by the metallic taste in the air and the glistening surface, I began to think it was blood. The man pulled her further into the darkness of the alleyway. He eventually placed her into a circle on the ground, scrawled with what I was hoping was black paint. There were a few candles on the boundary, lighting up more detail than I wanted to see.

I must’ve still been drunk because no sober person would ever be this stupid. I stepped further into the alley and said that I’d call the police if he didn’t let the lassie go. *sighs* Why didn’t I run? Why didn’t I go and get help? I’ve played this bit over and over in my head and I can’t understand myself. Standing up to a creep in a club is expected, a right of female passage, but interrupting an assault or murder, or whatever it was, is *mental.

When he whipped his head up to look at me, can you believe it was Mr cleft-chin from earlier? Obviously after no getting his way with Michelle he’d found another poor lassie to take advantage of. It would be my luck to meet him in a dark alley, wouldn’t it?

He said something strange next, although I don’t think you can say anything normal in a situation like that.

“You again?” he sighed, “I would meet someone like you, wouldn’t I?”

Well aye, if ye want to avoid meeting drunken *ijits then the only club in town is not the place to go, pal. I at least had the sense not to say anything, or maybe his question didn’t seem weird at the time. I kept my distance, hoping my phone wouldn’t slip out ma hand it was so sweaty.

Again, I channelled my inner twelve-year-old and told him to let the lassie go in my most threatening tone, which doesn’t seem to work on Chronos, the cat, so probably had no change of working on this psycho. Predictably, he refused and gave the reason that he needed a lassie as a sacrifice for the ritual, and that I’d already taken away the perfect one. Oh, and he wasn’t afraid of me, but it was said with an ounce of uncertainty, like that bairn in class who refuses to do something the teacher tells him to so he can look cool in front of his pals, but deep down he knows he’s getting a *bollocking after.

I have no words, and I had no words at the time. He lost me at sacrifice. It was hard to concentrate on what he was saying over the deep thud of my heart pounding in my ears. My vision was already beginning to spin, and I knew the hangover headache wasn’t far behind it.

A mixture of booze, confusion, and general *roaster-ness stopped me from knowing what to do or being able to think clearly. I should call the police, my phone was in my hand, but there was a disconnect between my brain and my fingers. They never made it to the emergency button.

It might’ve been a few seconds, it might’ve been a millisecond, but the man was within arms’ reach of me quicker than he should’ve been at that distance. I wasn’t that close, I made sure of that. Before he could reach me someone else joined us in the alley.

You’re never going to believe it because I didn’t – it was Fionn, Madam Norna’s friend with benefits. He was right beside me, his hand grabbing the man’s wrist, preventing a very sharp looking knife from being plunged into my stomach.

I might’ve yelped, I might’ve been silent, but I nearly fell on my arse stumbling back. It was like I was in a nightmare, except I couldn’t wake up. Everything made so little sense it may as well have been a dream. After a few seconds of tense silence, Fionn threw the man’s wrist away in disgust. Of all the things Fionn could’ve said, he chose “You know who I am?”. It made as much as sense at the time as it does now. None.

Cleft-chin stared at Fionn, as if trying to find something, like the answer was lying in the curves and lines of his face. Whatever he saw there he didn’t like because after a moment or two his eyes bulged, he paled, and them stumbled back as if Fionn had given him a slap.

From where I was barely standing, I couldn’t see Fionn’s face, but his shoulders were tense, squared, and I could just make out the outline of the veins on his neck as they pushed against his skin. I knew from what I was seeing, and the faint tingling in my fingertips that he was *raging. He told cleft-chin to run back to the rat’s nest he’d come from, and he didn’t want to see his face again.

 The psycho didn’t need to be told twice, and much like myself with a spider, gave Fionn a wide berth as he scuttled from the alley. I half expected Fionn to turn on me next with the rage I could feel radiating from him like steam from a boiling kettle. But when he turned to look at me he had an amused smile spread across his face.

He told me I should be more careful, and that lassies weren’t supposed to wander the streets by themselves at night. And then he said we were even.

“Even?” I managed to repeat.

In a very madam-esque way he shrugged, and informed me I’d find out soon enough, before he suggested I return to my pals, and that he’d help the lassie.

I was more than willing to follow the last order and I left the alley to return to the club. I was silent all the way home, not able to join in the drunken karaoke session of my pals. A part of me thinks I should’ve stayed, helped him with the lassie, and the police…if he even called them. But I was saturated with weird. I’d had enough.

I hadn’t gone to the shop in days because I wanted a break, I wanted that normality life had before the shop, where the biggest problem I had was what *Pot noodle to buy for dinner. But it found me anyway, and I’m beginning to understand that there is no normal anymore. The shop, the things in it, the events that orbit it, that’s the new normal.

I get it now. I can’t keep burying my head in the sand, can I? I can’t keep stringing things together with incomplete and outlandish theories, that deep down, I think I’ve always known don’t fit right, don’t explain everything. I’m ready for answers now, whatever they may be.

*Buckie – Scottish slang for Buckfast, a fortified wine that gets people drunk quite quickly.

*Steaming – Scottish slang for drunk. Yes, we have a lot of words for this too, watch out for them in the podcast.

*Randos – short for randomers, British phrase for strangers.

*roaster – you guessed it, yet another word for a stupid person/an idiot. This one will come up a lot, so best to try and remember it.

*daft – mostly means stupid i.e. don’t be daft, but in this context can mean crazy.

*mental – always means crazy i.e. that goal was pure mental.

*bollocking – in my experience this usually means a dressing down, or being given into trouble by someone. Occasionally I think it can also refer to minor physical violence, but not really sure. I’ve only ever used it or heard it used in the context of a verbal telling off i.e. His Mum gave him a bollocking for taking the car without permission.

*raging – Scottish slang term for very angry, livid.

*Pot noodle – brand of instant snack in the UK. As the name implies, its dried noodles in sauce – just add boiling water. Needless to say, not the healthiest food on the shelves.