Cuff waited for Aurelia to sit, then lowered himself onto the window seat.She had to stifle a laugh as a few puffs of mist and words rose from where he’d sat down, like dust rising from an old cushion.But just like Marianne with Fezz’s tail, Cuff seemed unbothered by it.
“I was hoping to ask you a bit about the shop,” Aurelia began.
“Certainly, miss.In fact, Marigold had hoped we would have the opportunity to speak so that I could help explain things to you.I believe that is why she left my book on the table for you, at the end.”
“Really?”
Aurelia thought of how close she’d come to putting something new on the table and was grateful for her last-minute change of heart.
“Well, actually, I’m not all that surprised.She must have known I’d have a million questions.I mean, all of this is very unusual,” she said, sweeping her hand toward the other characters.
“It is unusual, miss.I certainly never had encountered such a thing before my first evening here.I cannot say I was a frequent customer of bookshops when I lived in London, but on the few occasions when I did visit one, I never came across characters from the very books on the shelves.”
“I still can’t believe this has been happening for years without me knowing anything about it.You mentioned that you visited the shop when Cristobel, Lucy, and then my aunt—Marigold—owned it?”
“Yes, I visited with each of them on several occasions.”
“Did they seem surprised when you appeared?”
Sergeant Cuff thought for a moment before responding.
“It is my recollection that they were not surprised to see characters in the shop, though they were surprised, at times, by which characters appeared.”
“What do you mean?”
“It seems that each time a book is placed on the table below, different characters appear to the owner of the shop.As you know, Rachel and I have appeared to you from our novel.Were you to place our book on the table again several months from now, it is my understanding that two different characters might appear.Or perhaps I might appear again with someone other than Rachel, or she might appear with someone other than me.”
“Interesting… And do you know why a major character like Anna Karenina hasn’t appeared from her own novel?”
Sergeant Cuff looked around the room, his lips pulled tight as though he were trying to keep from speaking.
“I don’t suppose you have a theory about that?”Aurelia asked.
“As it happens, I do.It is my supposition—mind, simply a supposition—that only characters who survive their novel may appear in the shop.Count Vronsky has indicated that Mrs.Karenina, his novel’s namesake, was not so fortunate as to have survived hers.”
Aurelia considered this.If it were true, she would never meet Anna, or Marmee’s Beth.The shop’s magic apparently reflected reality—those who were lost could never return.
“Why do you think that is?”she asked Cuff.“It seems very unfair.”
“Some things are too mysterious for even me to understand, despite my best efforts,” Cuff said philosophically.“Do you know, there is a rose variety at my cottage that will not bloom when planted on the left side of my fence post, but which grows quite abundantly when planted on the right side.The light, air, and water are the same, thus I cannot account for it using rational processes of deduction.Yet I know by observing with my own eyes that the rose prefers one side to the other.Regardless of the reason, the fact remains.Some aspects of this phenomenon”—Cuff raised his hand to signal the shop and its population of characters—“elude me, but they are no less evident, even if I am unable to define or categorize them.”
“Unanswerable mysteries,” Aurelia said quietly, recalling her recent conversation with her father.
“Indeed,” Cuff agreed.
They sat in silence for a few moments, reflecting on the mysterious.
“There is one question I felt convinced you would ask me.”
“I hate to disappoint you, Sergeant,” she said with a wry smile.“Okay, let me think.”
Aurelia’s mind ran back over the list of questions she’d written out earlier in the day.
“Well, I waited a few hours for you tonight, but you didn’t arrive until midnight.Is that when you always appear?”
“Yes.We arrive at midnight and depart at first light.”
“Oh.”Aurelia drew out the word, remembering the sudden disappearance of the people—other characters—she had spotted on that early morning just days ago.“What about your novel: do you know everything that’s been written in it—what happens to other characters, their thoughts and feelings?”
