The Umbrella Shop

The rain hammered on Ginny’s head and she hurried along the pavement.  Rivulets of water ran past her feet and soaked her shoes.  Raindrops toppled from her nose.  Her once perfectly-straightened red hair glued itself in wavy, wet chunks around her face and neck.   Her beautiful red leather bag became stained with watermarks and her suit jacket slowly and inexorably began to collapse into bin-bag shapelessness.

And then, like the exact opposite of blind man spotting an oasis in the desert, she noticed that the shop window she was about to pass had umbrellas displayed in it.  She darted inside.

It was, she realised instantly, the sort of shop she’d normally avoid.  Her credit card wasn’t named after the appropriate metal for places like this.  The shop was decorated in white: white paint on the walls, white shelves and display cabinets.  Even the floor was white.  And she was leaving wet footprints on it.  Instinctively she took half a step backwards before someone decided to charge her for something.

The shopkeeper looked up from writing something down behind the till (which was white).  “Ah,” he said, “do come in!  The weather is terrible today.  Can I help you?”  He walked towards Ginny, smiling.  He was tall and well-dressed, in an expensive looking dark suit with a crisp, white shirt and dove-grey tie.  His hair was fair and cut stylishly but conservatively.  He had the sort of face that could have placed him at any age from about thirty-five to fifty-five; his slightly tanned skin appeared smooth and unlined and yet there was something in those brilliant Caribbean-sea blue eyes that suggested older rather than younger.

He extended an impeccably-manicured hand.  Too surprised to argue, Ginny shook it, thinking as she did so that not many shopkeepers offered to shake their customers’ hands.

“My name is Mr Agerbil,” he said smiling again.  His teeth, Ginny noticed, were very white.  Like the walls.  “Well, well, don’t stand there in the doorway, come in, look around!” He continued, and gently propelled her further into the shop.  “I’ll leave you alone for a moment, and if you need any help, just call – I’ll just be by the counter.”  And with that, he stepped back to his earlier position and resumed his writing.

Feeling a little like a rabbit caught in headlights, Ginny slowly dragged her eyes away from the counter and towards the sides of the shop, where goods were laid out in display cases and cabinets.  There was a lot of space between everything, as though some of the things might attack each other in a spat of jealousy if they were too close.  She walked towards what looked like some simple umbrellas in a stand in a corner.  They looked like they had plastic handles and had paper tags attached to them, maybe they weren’t too expensive.  Anyway, she reasoned, it would be no bad thing to have a good quality umbrella, something that would last and wouldn’t break the moment she tried to open it in the presence of a tiny gust of wind.    

As she moved, a flash of light caught the corner of her eye and she turned.  Ginny gasped, taking almost involuntary steps toward the source of the light.

The glass cabinet she was moving towards had been slightly out of her eye line before.  Now she could see that it contained an umbrella that looked for all the world as though it had been crafted out of finely-woven metal threads.  It was open in the cabinet, the material curving in an elegant dome back towards the wall.  As she stepped closer she could see that the point at the top and the end of each metal spoke was capped with a small but perfect diamond.  The case was lit with halogen spotlights, and the clean, white light reflected off the metallic surface and was scattered by the diamonds into beautiful rainbows of light.  It was astonishing.

She stared in open-mouthed wonder, until a voice jolted her.  “It’s beautiful isn’t it?” said Mr Agerbil and then, seeing her slightly startled expression, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump.”

“Er, no, it’s ok,” said Ginny.  “Wh- wt-t-“ she stumbled over her words, forced herself to pause and then said, “I mean, what’s it made of?”

“Ah, well,” said Mr Agerbil, clearly very happy to have been asked, “it’s a one-off of course.  Made for ceremonial purposes.  The canopy is made of threads of platinum alloy, very strong but it does limit the flexibility somewhat.  This umbrella can’t be folded.  They say it’s unlucky to have one open indoors, ahaha,” he paused, Ginny smiled faintly, “well, and the ferrule is tipped with a one carat brilliant-cut diamond – you see it catches the light very prettily, as do the half-carat diamonds on each tip.  The handle, I don’t know if you noticed, you can only see it if you walk round the other side...” he moved around and Ginny followed, “is made of agarwood.  It’s very rare – you can only get it from a particular type of tree which grows in South East Asia, and the trees have to have been infected with a specific type of mould.  It causes this beautiful colour, you see.”  He gestured.  The handle was indeed a polished, slightly gnarled piece of wood that shimmered with colours of dark coffee through to pale gold.

“It’s amazing,” said Ginny, “what did you say it was used for again?”

“Ah well,” he began, and then was interrupted by the voice of another man who’d apparently appeared while they were talking.

“Agerbil, Agerbil, what am I going to do with you?  Really.  I’m sure this poor girl is in a hurry, she doesn’t need to spend ages looking at that thing, she needs something to keep the rain off her head,” said the new arrival.  He too was dressed in an expensively-cut suit, but that was where the similarity ended.  Where Mr Agerbil was tall, fair-haired and blue-eyed, this man was rather shorter, barely taller than Ginny herself.  His hair was ebony-black, neatly slicked back, and his eyes were a curious shade of coppery brown.

Mr Agerbil pursed his lips.  “I’m merely talking to her Fulrice.  She was interested.  We were going to get to business in a moment.  In fact, perhaps you could get back to your, ah, stocktaking?”

The exchange jolted Ginny back to reality, and she looked at her watch.  “Oh, my goodness, I’m going to be late!” she exclaimed, “I need to get to my meeting, my boss is going to kill me, damn!”  Fulrice smiled.  Agerbil winced, but then said quickly, “let me show you something a little more practical.”  He led her to the stand she’d been looking at originally.  There were several plain black umbrellas, the sort of simple nylon type with a metal shaft and a straight, plastic handle.  They also cost less than the price of a half-decent dinner.  In short, Ginny could afford one.  She breathed a sigh of relief.  “I’ll take it,” she smiled.

“Ah,” said Fulrice, quickly covering the space between them with a few surprisingly long strides, “you know we do have some very special offers at the moment?  If I may....” He led Ginny to the other wall, where there were some very elegant umbrellas.  With tastefully discrete designer logos.

“This one, in particular is rather lovely, don’t you think?” Continued Fulrice.  “I noticed that you liked red,” he nodded at her bag, and then opened the umbrella with a flourish so that Ginny could see the inside of the canopy, which was decorated with a pattern of rich red and black.  The outside was classic, plain black and the handle was shiny red.  The clasp that held it together when it was closed looked like it might be made of silver.

It was rather nice, and Ginny couldn’t help thinking it would match very well with her bag and generally give her a much more stylish look in the rain.  “It is lovely,” she said cautiously, “but how much is it?”

“Well,” said Fulrice smoothly, this umbrella – which is handmade by an Italian designer by the way – normally costs one hundred and thirty pounds.  But as I say, it’s on special offer.  It’s the last one we have, and you seem like a woman with excellent taste.  I could let it go for, oh, let’s say seventy?  And you know, we could work out a simple credit arrangement.  You’d only need to pay a small deposit and sign a simple document.”  A piece of yellow-coloured paper appeared from nowhere in his hands.  “It would only take a moment, and you could be walking out of here with this very stylish and elegant – did I mention designer? – fashion accessory.  Oh yes, and I almost forgot, if you buy one of our designer items today it comes with exclusive membership to our club.  We have a partner store which sells other items, shoes and bags and so on, and your membership gives you a fifty percent discount on anything at all in there.  What do you say?”

Across the other side of the shop, Agerbil frowned but said nothing.  He still held the plain black umbrella in his hands.  Ginny looked at Agerbil, and then back at Fulrice and his piece of yellow paper.   The red and black designer umbrella was very nice, and really, if she didn’t have to pay for it all now... she shook her head.  This was ridiculous.

“No, thank you Mr Fulrice.  It’s very nice, but I think that if I paid that much for it I’d almost be scared to get it wet!  I think I’ll go for the simple one that Mr Agerbil showed me.”  She walked back to the tall, blonde man and took it from his hands.  He smiled.  The light from the platinum and diamond umbrella in the display case glinted and flashed as a ray of sunlight escaped the gloomy clouds outside and shone through the shop window.

Mr Fulrice scowled and looked as though he was about to argue, but Mr Agerbil narrowed his eyes and, instead, he simply said, “as you wish,” nodded, turned and walked behind the counter, disappearing into the back of the shop.

Ten minutes later, Ginny was outside with her new purchase.  It was still raining, although the sun was trying to break through.  She stood in the shop doorway and put the umbrella up gratefully.  Then she checked her watch.  She’d been in the shop for less time that she thought, but nonetheless she was going to have to run for it now.  Glancing perfunctorily to her right she dashed into the wet road.

The bus driver, who had pulled out of the left lane to get past a cyclist, stamped hard on his brakes to avoid the girl with the red hair and black umbrella who’d just run out in front of him.  The wheels skidded horribly on the wet tarmac, and as if in slow motion Ginny turned to see the huge, red bus right on top of her.  Unthinking, she swung the umbrella so that it was between her and the bus.  Her head twisted round, and she saw Mr Agerbil looking out from the shop doorway, his mouth open in a warning cry.  Mr Fulrice stood at his left shoulder, his coppery eyes almost glinting red in the thundery light.  Time slowed....

And stopped...

There was a flash of silver, and the bus stopped two inches from her feet.

In the umbrella shop, Mr Agerbil smiled, and Mr Fulrice scowled and made a sound that almost sounded like a hiss.

Later, the bus driver would swear that he’d felt the bus hit something.  But since the girl had walked away unharmed, no one really believed him.

Author's note: with thanks to Shag, from ISCAS BBS, for the idea.