Broken Ever Afters

Part 2 - Chapter 1

The marble steps are cold as I hurriedly descend barefoot to the ground floor. My fingertips skim over the polished mahogany balustrade with a low squeak, breaking the utter stillness which otherwise dominates the house.

I skim through the various stacks of books lying around, hoping to find the one I seek before disturbing my father's work. We own a bookshop in the city centre and since I can remember our house has always overflowed with books. After reading through an array of genres and authors in the past twelve years, I learnt books should never be judged by their covers.

Empty handed, I turn to my father's studio and without knocking,  lean against the doorway. This is not the first time I watch him work on his books. When I was younger, I used to sneak up on him and observe him for hours while he threaded through the yellowing pages of a book or brushed the spine with glue before attaching it to the restored cover. He never complained as long as I wouldn't interrupt him.

"What do you need, honey?"

"Have you come across my copy of Pride and Prejudice? I left it somewhere down here but I can't seem to find it anywhere. I hope it isn't in one of the store boxes."

At our store we mainly sell books and newspapers but we also lend to registered customers from our private collection of rare books. From time to time, Dad goes through our inventory and checks the books for damages because of their frailty. Most of them were printed over hundreds of years ago. Books needing repairs come back to the house from the store in a cardboard box. When they are restored to a decent shape, they are collected in a new cardboard box and returned to the store.

"I recall seeing it lying around somewhere in the living room," he says without shifting his gaze from the book he's operating on.

Ever since getting my hands on this book, dropping it has been impossible. At first, the plain brown cover with a black cameo was unappealing but when I opened it and read the first page, the plot captivated me. The book tells the story of a couple, the Bennets, and their five young and unmarried daughters. Elizabeth, the second eldest of the five, is falling in love with Mr Darcy, a gentleman who moves into their town.

A sequence of soft raps echoes through the living room as I walk in and pick up the book off the coffee table. I recall sitting on the armchair, both legs tucked underneath me, the book in my hands and a creamy hot cocoa on the coffee table. I left it there after helping my father pack the boxes he took to the store this morning.

Louder knocking interrupts my train of thought. I stare down at the book in my hands, tempted to ignore whoever is standing on the doorstep. Who can it be at this hour? The sun is setting and the darkness is trickling in. By nine o'clock, nationwide curfew time will come into play. The streets will empty and patrolling officers will pour out instead, making sure no civilian is outside after hours.

"Quinn, honey, can you answer the door please?" Dad hollers from his studio. When he has his hands full with replacing covers, he can't drop everything to do something else.

Reluctantly, I place the book back on the coffee table and walk hurriedly to the door. I hope whomever came will keep it brief and leave to avoid trouble for us both. After the Third World War, countries were able to get back to their feet and liberal governments took over their respective territories, setting up legal frameworks to avoid further unrest. Some of these measures, for example this curfew, are a little extreme.

I catch my reflection in the full-length mirror hanging by the door, smoothening down my unruly red bangs, hoping to look decent. Without looking through the spyhole, I slip the chain off and open the door. Given the time, I should have checked who it was before opening the door but I'm glad I didn't as a gasp escapes my lips when I see who came by. What is he doing here this late?