When

Mornings were preferably slow affairs for Ellie, despite the necessity of haste during term time. When she was on school holidays in the middle of the year she would sleep late, eat breakfast slowly so that it sometimes finished when others were anticipating their lunch and she would spend all day in her pyjamas, or ‘home uniform’ as she described it to her mum.

This gap year job, if it lasted, was going to require a little bit of the haste necessary during term time, but certainly it held the opportunity to start each day somewhat more slowly than she was accustomed to. Ellie really liked the lull of quietness after Mum and Dad had both left for work at about 7.30. Her own alarm was set for 7 and she listened to the radio as her energy levels gradually rose sufficiently for her mind to think about getting out of bed. She stumbled into the kitchen to set up the coffee plunger just as her Mum and Dad were hurrying through their final routines before leaving – then quiet. While her head was in this fuzzy in between state it was enough to have Triple J radio echoing faintly down the hallway from her bedroom. She did not need it on in the kitchen – not yet.

As she let the infusion of caffeine soak into her bloodstream Ellie began wondering what clothes would be ‘right’ to wear to work. She supposed that jeans and tee would be too casual, but she didn’t think she needed the full clobber of ‘dressed up.’ The warmish weather persuaded her that a summer skirt and top with her red flat-heeled shoes would be about right. Mr Horden would tell her if she needed to dress up more.

Then Ellie began wondering just what kind of jobs Mr Horden would want her to do. It all sounded a bit vague to her. As she was thinking about this she remembered some of the books she noticed on the shelves in the short time she was there. In English Lit she had studied Shakespeare, of course, and she thought she remembered an old leather bound folio book with gilt lettering on the back that clearly said Shakespeare. She wondered if this was a really old one, or just a modern copy.

In year 11 her class had gone to a Festival Production of Twelfth Night. Some theatre company from Perth did a country tour and with some effort managed to stage it in the Town Hall. The sets and the costuming were an inspiration for Ellie and it she thought it was amazing to see actors bring the words to life on a stage. When they re-read the play in class afterwards, it made so much more sense because she could visualise the actors and the scenery.

When she started work, perhaps Mr Horden would just get her to do stuff for him, like make him coffee when he wanted one, and collect the post, and clean up after him. That might not be much fun.

But she would be able to have her lunch at the same time as Candy or Aaron and that would be something good to look forward to each day.

With all these thoughts buzzing around in her head, Ellie finished off her breakfast, showered and dressed and then wandered down the end of the street to wait for the 9.30 bus that should be passing by somewhere akin to that time – one always had to be 10 minutes early, just in case. It was, in fact, 5 minutes later than scheduled but still arrived in the main street terminus at 9.45 leaving Ellie 15 minutes to have another coffee at the Tratt. Eula was quick and never burnt the coffee.

As Ellie opened the door of Horden House Antiquarian Books, the Town Hall clock chimed the hour – ten o’clock. Good. Right on time. Ellie liked to be punctual. She always resented those kids at school who came in any time within ten minutes after the class was supposed to start.

“Hello,” she called. “Mr Horden? Are you there?”

“Oh, it’s you. Hello. Hello. I obviously didn’t scare you off yesterday.” It was clear from his tone that he was exaggerating and joking in that last comment and it helped Ellie relax a bit.

She giggled a bit, then said “I take a bit more scaring than that!” and GG laughed. This was getting off to a good start. “You said for me to come at 10 and here I am.”

“Yes, yes. That’s right, and here you are.” He paused for a moment as if he wasn’t sure what to do next.

“Well then? Are you going to show me around and tell me what my job is going to be?” While she knew that this sounded a bit like she was taking charge, it didn’t feel impertinent. Mr Horden was really the one in charge, but he might just need a few hints from time to time.

“Right, you are, then. Right you are. First of all let me show you around the shop – where everything is and goes. Now all around the edges of the shop I have my general books. Second hand books is a funny business – what one person buys and then discards because they don’t like it, someone else will snaffle up because it is half the price of a new book. Maybe some people clear up their bookshelves every now and then to make room for the next lot of new books they will buy. They bring their clear outs to me and ask me to buy them off them. I always feel awful offering so little, but if they are going to stay on my shelves here for a while it takes me a while to get my money back.”

“The shelves go so high. How do people get up to see what you have got?”

“I had to buy this special step ladder with wheels on the back so that you can move it around easily. Most people are happy using it. Otherwise I go up and tell what is there. You might have to do that for some customers.

“Now these books are the bread and butter of the business. I couldn’t afford to do what I really love if I didn’t put up with this.’

“You mean you don’t really like all this?”

“Well, not really. Most of those books are rubbish writing anyway, and the publishers used rubbish stock to print them on. In a hundred years’ time, most of them will have been lost and shredded – gone forever. Just like the movie, which I didn’t really like – PULP FICTION.

“The real books are on these shelves here – in the middle. You don’t have to reach up to see these. Buying and selling these is what I really love doing. Look at that leather binding. See how it wraps firmly round the spine of the book. Those pages are never going to come apart. Books like these are real works of art. You could almost say each one was unique.”

“I do like the colours they make the leather and the gold lettering. It really makes it look special.” Ellie’s hand was gently caressing the spines of a row of books.

“Now you know, don’t you, that you have to be very careful how you handle these books. People will generally want to look at them. Using the table is the safest way for them to do that. Dropping a book, even from a relatively low height can be disastrous for the spine.”

“How do you get so many books like this, Mr Horden?”

“Oh please, Ellie, call me GG. I don’t think I could get used to being called Mr Horden – ever! Everyone calls me GG so you might as well, too.”

“But I always call grown-ups Mr or Mrs – at least until I get to know them better. It might take me a while to feel okay about that, … GG”

“It doesn’t matter, really. It doesn’t matter. I suppose we will work it out soon enough. Now, the truth about my books is that mostly I buy them from catalogues. Sometimes I buy something I know a customer wants. Sometimes I buy because I want to see it. Sometimes I buy to keep myself. I get some books locally – usually when someone dies and their children clear out the house. But that is not very often.”

“And do you sell many of these special books?”

“Not really, I suppose. I just like having them on the shelf. Someone will come in one day and find something they have been looking for.”

“So which one is your favourite? Have you got a favourite?”

“Well the most extraordinary one I have at the moment is a facsimile edition of Shakespeare’s First Folio Edition. All 36 plays are in it and it has over 900 pages. Even though it is a facsimile it is over a hundred years old – here it is, just over here. Lift it out carefully and put it on the table.”

“Wow! It’s so heavy. We did a Shakespeare play last year – Twelfth Night – after we saw the Festival Performance of it. I find Shakespeare is much harder to read than listen to. When people say the lines well it makes so much more sense than when you try and read the words on a page.”

“I have never thought about it like that, but you are right, Ellie. If you look carefully at this you can see corrections that have been made to the text. When the printers set it up originally they made lots of mistakes, but it was too expensive to just make the whole page again, so they corrected the words in the margins. I know this is really a copy, but it is amazing to think that someone actually wrote those words on it to make it right.

“We have some other treasures here as well, but you can gradually get to know them. The other part of the job for you will be to help me out the back here when deliveries of books come in. We have some set things we have to do with each book – checking it for any blemishes or damage and then writing it in the catalogue, so that if people ask we can tell straight away if we have something.”

“Do you use a computer for that?” asked Ellie.

“Oh no, dear. Oh no. We haven’t done anything like that. I have both a big book with everything in and a card index – like the ones they have in libraries.”

“Like they used to have in libraries, Mr Horden. I remember when they changed our primary school library from cards to a computer. It is so much easier than cards.”

“Yes, but when the power goes off, what do you do then, eh?”

“But that hardly happens, even here in Quarabup. I could help you with a computer if you got one. I have one of my own at home. You wouldn’t need a fancy big one, I am sure.” Ellie was liking the look of this job. It seemed to get better with every new aspect of it.

“You’ll have to let me think about that for a bit, Ellie. When I get around to it, I am sure you will be a great help.”