The Most Amazing Mouse Emporium

By Jeff Jenkins

Propped up in a forgotten corner amongst old bookcases, hat-stands and an eighteenth-century sea trunk, there stands an Edwardian writing desk. Leaning against it is a wonky bar stool, on top of which sits a box labelled 'Geest Bananas' that is actually full of aging Christmas decorations. Within this writing desk - in the third drawer down on the left-hand side, as it goes - there lives a family of mice; they moved in just a couple of months ago after looking for somewhere to sleep during the day, and to run around at night.

Mice aren't the only ones living in this old emporium, however. There's Syd the big spider for instance, along with his friend Spiggy who sometimes lends a hand (or eight). And Bertie the bat hangs around upside-down in the rafters, keeping an eye on the day's (or more often, night's) activities.
I'm the only who knows this, of course. And when the doors close at night... well, the things I could tell you! Tales of a champion mouser, an all-out attack by crane flies, what happened on Bonfire Night, and even... spooky ghosts!
Oh, you want to hear more? Go on then.
So, where shall we start...?

• Language: English
• Publisher: A H Stockwell
• Release date: Oct 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9780722352144

Book preview

1: All Mice Have an Antiques Emporium, Don’t They?

I’m sure if you search long enough, and hard enough, eventually you will find they have! Well, in this particular antiques emporium they have!

Among the old bookcases, hat and coat stands, and an old sea trunk dated 1767 – and not forgetting a box to put your television set in, from a time when it seemed everybody was putting their television set in a box – there stands an Edwardian slightly dilapidated writing desk. I think I’m being a bit kind when I use the word ‘dilapidated’, because in reality it’s only just managing to stand up. It’s propped in a corner, which takes care of one half of it, and on the other side there is a wonky bar stool on top of which is placed a box marked ‘Geest Bananas’ crammed full of aging Christmas decorations. A card, which looks suspiciously like an old address label, is tied to it, bearing the words ‘Edwardian Writing Desk, bargain, going cheap, £225’.

Well, in this writing desk, third drawer down on the left-hand side, there lives a family of mice. They moved in a couple of months ago – somewhere to sleep during the day, and somewhere to run round during the night.

There’s Father McKenzie, Mother Molly and their four children – three boys, Mostin, Monroe and Morton, as well as their only daughter, Millicent. McKenzie also has a Great Aunt Matilda, who lives on the far side of the Emporium, quite high up, in a Clarice Cliff Bizarre-range teapot with a £300 price ticket.

Now, you may have noticed all of their names begin with the letter M. All mouse names begin with this letter; and if you ever see a mouse running about, I can assure you, you will get him or her to stop dead in his or her tracks if you call out the right name. Good luck with getting the right one!

Of course, the mice aren’t the only ones living in the Emporium. There’s Syd, the big spider. He often comes tumbling down from his web just to see what’s going on. Being all big and hairy, he likes to stay out of the way as he’s noticed that people tend to give him a tasty whack with a rolled-up newspaper! He also has his friend Spiggy, who’s called on occasionally to lend a hand, or eight! And not forgetting Bertie. Bertie is a bat who hangs upside down in the rafters and is very useful at seeing what’s going on. He sees it and flies down to the mice, and he’s the reason they all know about things long before anybody else does!

Syd, Spiggy and Bertie are friends with the mice, and when the doors close at night – well, the things I could tell you! In fact, even during the day, the things I could tell you!

Oh, go on, then, you’ve talked me into it – I will!

***

Well, on this particular Saturday morning a frightfully posh couple popped in because it was raining, just for a look round, and…

2: Who Wants to Buy an Edwardian Writing Desk?

Mostin was posted as lookout – a job he didn’t really like. He much preferred to be running round getting up to mischief, but on this occasion it was raining and he didn’t fancy getting his paws wet. So he sat underneath the writing desk watching all the toing and froing of the people walking round. Some stayed for only a few minutes; but some stayed for nearly a whole hour, picking and prodding at the various antiques and buying nothing.

Then suddenly…

Oh, Edward! Oh, look – they have one!

A lady dressed from head to toe in a white mac so you couldn’t see if she had anything else on was standing ten feet away gesticulating madly with her right hand at the writing desk.

Oh, have they? said Edward wearily.

Actually you could change ‘wearily’ to ‘sleepily’ as it was very hard to tell the difference.

A man in a shabby brown raincoat came round from behind one of the display cabinets. Ignoring all other things that could be wrong with the desk, he went straight for the price. Mostin had backed away slightly, almost out of view, but not too far so he could see what was going on.

£225. Hmm, not a bad price, he said wearily (or sleepily). I don’t suppose they have any others – after all, it is in a bit of a state.

Why, what’s wrong with it? asked his wife in the same indignant voice she’d used when she first spotted it lying abandoned, propped up in the corner.

Well, it’s a bit, isn’t it? replied Edward.

A bit what? asked his wife, looking more indignant.

This was the one she was having, and nothing was going to change her mind.

A bit like it’s survived the Blitz, just! said Edward.

What’s going on, Mostin? asked Millicent, who had sneaked down from the nest to find out what all the commotion was about.

Shh! There’s a lady here who thinks she’s going buy the writing desk, said Mostin.

Millicent looked horrified! Over my dead body! she exclaimed in a loud whisper.

Mostin looked her up and down, and finally said, Very probably!

Come off it, Hortense – it’s falling to bits! said Edward.

Maybe it is – it means it’s lived a life, that’s all! replied Hortense.

Hmm, still living it! exclaimed Edward, and started to walk away.

In the distance the two mice could still hear her protesting: Well, I like it. I think I’ll come back one day in the week and buy it. I reckon the chap will take £200 just to get it shifted!

Edward muttered something about woodworm all over it as they disappeared out of sight, round the corner.

Right – action stations! exclaimed Millicent.

What can we do? replied Mostin.

Whatever it was, Millicent was doing it. The two mice swung their way up and over drawers four and five and landed with a thud into drawer three.

What’s going on? What’s all the commotion? asked McKenzie. Don’t tell me someone is thinking of buying the place?

Yes! shouted Millicent.

You have never seen such a hullabaloo! Every round thing in every square thing’s place! Monroe was dispatched to go and find Syd, and Mostin was given the job of chewing through the knob on one of the drawers on the right-hand side. Millicent’s job was to give the writing surface a bit of a chew (it tasted horrible, by the way), and Morton with McKenzie and Molly climbed down, and over to a five-foot standard lamp which was standing to one side.

Syd came slithering down from God knows where!

What’s going on? he asked. I’ve never known you all this frantic.

Some posh woman in a white mac wants to buy the place! exclaimed Morton.

I can’t believe it! retorted Syd.

It’s true! replied McKenzie. Now help me get this standard lamp over.

As much as they tried, it just wouldn’t go.

I know – Spiggy! said Syd.

Spiggy had already been watching the comings and goings, and slithered down, also from God knows where!

What is going on? he asked.

No time for that now – just push! said McKenzie.

They did, and with one final heave the standard lamp fell into place; so now the writing desk couldn’t be seen clearly from anywhere inside the Emporium.

Thanks, you two! called out McKenzie as Syd and Spiggy went back up their gossamer threads to – you guessed it – God knows where!

The mice, jobs all done, all out of breath, clambered back into the nest.

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