1Chapter 2: Adlington's Bookstore
Berlioz followed his new friend as they pounced playfully through the wavering grass, heading constantly closer towards the town all the while. The gentle breeze cooled his smooth features as he chased after the graceful eagle ahead of him, his own robes ruffling and flailing, dropping gently off of his shoulder at regular moments. Awkwardly he would hitch them up again, in a vague hope that they would firmly stay where they were put, but asthough they had a mind of their own, they would slowly, slip down his shoulder once again.
"Monsieur Matthias...I mean errm...Mattie..." began Berlioz, hurriedly picking up his pace to become level with the tall stranger, "Vhere exactly...in the town are ve errm...are ve going?"
Matthias' glimmering eyes, turned to the young child beside him, in the bright sunlight they looked as if they had hints of gold twisted like ivy within the green iris' and he gazed thoughtfully into the depths of the child's own, sapphire eyes.
"I don't take to plannin' Berlioz...I plainly go where my feet take me..." he told him.
As they reached the bottom of the grassy hill, Matthias twisted his gaze back to the old rickety building standing shadowy and sinister some way away. Slowly he began to drop back into a walk and Berlioz, who had fallen quite a distance behind once again, suddenly found himself in step beside him.
"I think we're far enough away to go a little bit slower now." said Matthias, turning his glance back to the sandy road ahead that led into the small town.
Berlioz let his eyes drift over the stranger yet again. He did not look as threatening as he had done in the dark corridors not an hour before, now, as he strode through the orange and yellow beams of glinting sunlight, he seemed untroubled and approachable. Still, his pale skin was faultless and still, his charcoal hair fell limp over his viridian eyes, but amidst it all there seemed a difference, asthough once he was clear of the burden of school-life he became almost care-free. Berlioz observed the stranger as he stalked along beside him, full of odd beauty and grace. And at a length plucked up the courage to question him about his former time.
"Monsieur...I really hope that you do not mind me asking thiz, but err..." he stalled for a few brief moments and then added, "How exactly...did you come to be at the school? I mean, you seem so ambitious and vistful, I do not understand how you happened to find yourself in such a pointless educational dwelling..."
Matthias felt a large, uncertain lump form quickly in his throat and he turned to peer softly at the boy, his eyes suddenly curtious behind his frown. He slowly managed to raise a smile for his friend and shook his head wearily.
"Sometimes I even ask myself the same question..." he replied in a remote manner, asthough talking to himself rather than his accomplice. "I used to travel a lot in my earlier days...but the need for accompaniment grew and I knew that I could no longer face the world single-handedly. So I searched for a companion and soon found myself here, wandering the creeping halls and fumbling betweeen the crowds of eager minds..." once again his tone had converted itself and as Berlioz listened to the stresses and strains of the syllables he realised that Matthias was not only unique in his looks, but he had an eerie sense about him in the way that he spoke. "But this place suits me well and I plan to stay here for as long as I feel comfortable. I know that when the time comes for my accompaniment, Kitti, to leave, I will be left to face it all on my own again...but for now...I am happy..."
Berlioz frowned slightly at the mention of the name "Kitti" and Matthias decided it was best to explain himself. "Kitti is my best friend here at River-Dale. We are in most of the same classes, but he does better than myself." and when Matthias saw that the young boy was still frowning, he added, "He's a homosexual...thus the name, Kitti. His real name is Kyne, but he has a grudge against it...as it was his father who named him so..."
"My pere...I mean err...my father...vas very strict about err...sexuality. My great cousin Dartagnan, vas a homosexual and my father cast him out. I never saw him, but I heard the storiez. My...err...father...vas a very religiouz man, he did not believe in disobeying the Bible." Berlioz answered quietly, "He considered homosexualism to be...vell...evil. He vas equally hated az he vas liked...by many either vay..."
"Sometimes..." sighed Matthias, "Many people cannot understand what other people have brought themselves to be...the ones that cannot understand are not nessicarilly bad people, they just may need a little more in the way of education of today's world...I, myself...have had to deal with the harsh words of those, uneducated men, that throw your way many comments of hatred and dislike."
Berlioz now had his head down, his brown hair practically covering the solemn expression on his ashen face and his petite hands scrambling for his sunken cloak pockets. Matthias smiled warmly and placed a faded palm to rest on the smalll child's feeble shoulder. "One gets over the hardships in life at one time or another...it's not healthy to dwell on the past." he told him hopefully, "And I can plainly see that we are now in the town..."
Berlioz lifted his head at the mention of the town and his eyes widened as he stared around at the bustling streets. Rows upon rows of dated victorian houses stood along wide cobbled streets, all coloured with fading browns and reds. Mixtures of shops stood down one street in the center, lining either side with large glass windows and hanging "welcome" signs. Crowds of happy shoppers twined this way and that, arms full of bundling shopping bags. The chattering air floated towards the two friends and Berlioz glanced to Matthias, "Well..." said Matthias, a large friendly grin sweeping over his entire colourless features, "Let's get to work..."
The two boys edged through the congregation, Berlioz now clinging to the hem of Matthias' cloak after finding himself lost numerous times among the whirlpool of twisting people. Many people shoved past them, armed with boxes or bags, containing their purchases. Berlioz found his own feet trodden on a series of times by hurrying passers-by who did not have the curtisy to stop and apologise and Matthias, wandering slowly ahead, drew the young follower along behind him, often peering back to check that he was still there, or gripping for the boys arm to haul him forwards a few hundred feet before letting slip again.
"Mattie...errm...may I ask if the town haz a bookshop, that ve might visit?" asked Berlioz as Matthias gently took him by the wrist and towed him forwards with a matter of ease.
"Of course..." Matthias answered, letting Berlioz's frail wrist slide gradually out of his grip and then glancing backwards over his shoulder to peer at the innocent youngster, who was obviously failing to keep up in the hustle. "We'll go there now if you like?"
Berlioz nodded, smiling toothily, plainly the boy was in high spirits and it was pleasing to Matthias to see that he was making somebody happy for once.
Skillfully, Matthias crossed the cobbled street without making contact with any passer-by, leading the way to a small building with dusty, square windows and crumbling, crimson brickwork, Berlioz trying his utter most hardest to follow. The shop was a lot smaller than the rest down either side of the street and over the small, wooden door hung a sheet of grey plastic hung over a rusty nail. The faded black lettering on the plastic was only just readable and as Matthias stood ahead of it, squinting, Berlioz came up at his shoulder and said defiantly, "Adlington'z Bookstore. Now Open." then looked up at his friend, "Shall ve, Monsieur...?"
Matthias nodded and stepped up to the round door handle that had been carefully structured into the delicate shape of a lion's head. He twisted it slowly and nudged the door open. As the wooden door gave way to the entrance, creaking slightly on its old hinges, the tinny sound of a shop bell echoed from somewhere above Matthias' head and an old grey faced man bobbed up from behind the counter. Matthias hesitantly stepped inside, Berlioz eagerly following behind him. The shop was dingy and grey with four, neatly placed shelves of books, running down the center and both walls at either side were crammed with book spines. A faint smell of tobacco and coffee hung in the aphotic air and Matthias cast warily around the shop. Berlioz was already peering excitedly at the books on the far wall, often picking one up to wipe away the aged old dust and read the back cover. The wooden shelves were tarnished and shabby and he edged over to Berlioz's side.
"This place looks like it needs a bit of a clean up." he whispered in his young friend's ear.
Berlioz shook his head and pulled a very large, dusty book out from one of the shelves. "Thiz place is vonderful, Mattie! There iz so much history here and so much knowledge..." he answered, wiping away at the grey dust with the sleeve of his cloak, revealing the title, "Professor Gilinsky. Pyschology."
"Can I help you at all, sir?" asked a sudden voice at Matthias' ear and a strong scent of tobacco and too much coffee drifted into his senses.
Matthias spun round to see the shop-keeper stood beside him. A tall, scraggly man, with long grey hair that fell across his spiny shoulders in dry, wavy twists he was, his large grey eyes glaring at the boy from behind small, frameless glasses. His ancient skin was crumpled across his features, he had a slight hunch and was leant dependently on a crooked, oak walking stick. The man stared at Matthias, obviously waiting for an answer.
"Errm...no...we're jus' lookin'." Matthias finally answered, glancing nervously back at Berlioz, who was quite happily still surveying the contents of the disarrayed shelves.
The man frowned slightly and then nodded, "You jus' be careful wi' them ol' books o' a fortune to buy ya know..." and then turned and headed off back to the counter, mumbling under his breath, "Young ens' these days...when I was a lad I'd never come into a shop 'n'..." his grumbling died away and Matthias hesitantly turned back to Berlioz, who was now half way down the row of shelves and still picking up rather large, heavy books and wiping them over with his sleeve.
"Are you ready to go yet?" Matthias hissed, rushing to his friends side, "That guy's givin' me the creeps!"
Berlioz chuckled slightly and placed back the book he had taken, "Really Monsieur!" he said in quite a scolding tone that someone's mother might use when the child disrespects an elder. "Von should be more respectful of those old, demented people!" Matthias smiled and Berlioz added, "Yez, Mattie...I am quite ready..."
"Good..." answered Matthias, glancing back at the shop keeper who was watching them intently with a fixed stare, a long brown pipe hanging out of one side of his pursed lips. "The sooner we're outta here, the-"
"...so I told Graham to put him in detention, but no...he had to do it his way and before long I ended up with a great class of hooligans! Believe me, if Arthur would have seen it he would have sacked me for sure! And it would have been all Graham's fault!" came a shrill vioce at the door as the tinny bell sounded and two tall, cloaked figures paraded in.
"Well...that's the thing with these so-called younger teachers...they always think that they know best and we're, as they say, gettin' on a bit." replied the other and Matthias' heart sank. He'd know those vioces anywhere. It was Mr Spline and Mr Palfrey, obviously out buying new study books.
Oh great...thought Matthias, sinking down behind the nearest bookshelf, They just had to decide that they wanted to restock today...didn't they...
Mr Spline, his small, beady eyes squinting behind his thin, black framed glasses, took up a book from the middle shelf and after wiping away the dust with the sleeve of his cloak, as Berlioz had done, called Mr Palfrey, a small, bald man, with broad shoulders and pudgy cheeks, over to him and they both began to examine the large, leather bound, book very carefully.
"Berlioz..." whispered Matthias, glancing over his shoulder to see his friend, "Berlioz we need to..." but he stopped in mid-sentence, the aisle was clear of anything Berlioz like and where he had been stood not a moment ago, was the book that he had been looking at. It was laid flat out on the floor of the shop, pages splayed and spine bent asthough he had dropped it. Oh great...it just keeps on gettin' better and better... thought Matthias, desperately gazing around the book shop for his little friend.
"I just think that the school needs a new disciplinary system." said Mr Palfrey confidently, "They should bring the caine back, that'd stop all those boys gettin' outta line."
Matthias felt himself shudder at the thought of getting cained and decided to put it out of his mind.
"It'd definately work." replied Mr Spline, putting away the book and glancing around the shop, "Though I doubt that the government would actually allow it..."
The two teachers slowly began to move off around the opposite side of the bookshop and Matthias, spying no sign of Berlioz, decided that this would be the best time for him to exit. Carefully, yet hastily, he darted out of the shop and cringed when the tinny bell rung to signify that the door had been opened. But it made no difference as he hurtled into the commotion of the street, still searching for Berlioz all the while.
Finally he managed to escape the crowded streets of the town and began to make his way steadily back to the school, with hope that Berlioz had already set off that way and wasn't still concealing himself from the teachers back in the dingy old bookshop, with the crazy old man.