Miss Araminta's Curiosity Shop sits quietly among the other shabby retailers on Goldfinch Lane in Whitechapel. This well trodden thoroughfare's once genteel aspirations are now just a mocking dream as poverty and vice creep ever closer, the tiny brass bells over the doorways tinkle less frequently and many despair. Not Miss Araminta. She revels in obscurity and finds comfort in the shadows at the back of her establishment. Customers disturb her infrequently and even the weak rays of sunshine that permeate the grimy window panes enter here cautiously, tentatively picking out the glint of a glass eyeball or twinkle on the matted fur of the Taxidermy tableaux which sits on the desk beside her armchair. Miss Araminta knows that this shop finds those who need it. As for the rest? She gives not a care.