Page 25 of Mirrors of the Past (Cornish #5)

Present

Tegan didn’t take long to sweep what possessions she needed into an overnight bag. She was used to travelling light and packing smartly, but she had to admit that she was awfully glad Ryan was actually lurking in the corridor like a dour sort of bodyguard, waiting for her. It must, after all, be a bit scary for him as well. He was probably expecting something to jump out on him as much as she was.

After dropping the hatbox in at the office, they’d gone up the servants’ staircase as planned and that didn’t feel as bad, or as eerie, perhaps, as the Grand Staircase did that night. It was like the ballroom thing — the atmosphere was fluid and shifting, and Tegan didn’t really know how to deal with it. She had scoffed at her sister’s stories about the ghosts of Pencradoc but now she was here, in the middle of it all, it was no scoffing matter.

Ryan had, she noticed, studiously ignored the other wing as they’d headed up to her room — not even looking along the corridor curiously or commenting on the refurbishments.

It was no surprise. Finding yourself randomly in a room, with your hand stuck up a grotty old chimney breast was on a par with things coming out of the shadows at you in your place of work — definitely.

‘Okay, I’ve got everything I need,’ Tegan said, coming out of her room. Ryan was peering out of the window at the end of the corridor, almost as if he didn’t want to see what was coming at him from the other direction. She could have, she supposed, asked him inside to wait, but that would have been a bit awkward. There wasn’t enough privacy in there for a guy you worked with to not see you grabbing your smalls out of a chest of drawers. As an afterthought, she’d tossed her battered old copy of Little Women into her bag. It was her go-to book and tonight she felt she would really need to “go to” it.

‘Great.’ Ryan turned around, and, for a moment, with the uplighting from outside the building illuminating his silhouette through the window, he looked more like the chap in the scowling photos than he looked like himself. He adjusted the way he was carrying the photo album, fiddled with his cuff and walked towards her, and her heart began to pound. It was a gesture she’d seen before, and not on Ryan.

‘Let’s just — go,’ she said and turned away, hurrying along the corridor. Ryan’s footsteps followed her — at least, she hoped it was his footsteps, but wasn’t going to look behind her to find out.

She headed to the servants’ staircase and straight down it. ‘I’ll text Coren when I get to the pub, tell him what I’m doing tonight.’ She was babbling just to hear noise in that eerie old place. God, it was a big house when you were practically on your own in it. She didn’t know how Coren lived there all the time. Surely, he must just stay in his apartment and not go out of his front door at night! ‘I’ll just say I’m staying over at a friend’s this weekend. I’m not sure of the protocol, when you’re kind of in staff accommodation . . .’

‘No, me neither.’ Ryan caught up with her, his strides longer than hers. ‘Wheal Mount just doesn’t feel like this at all.’

‘Does Wheal Mount have — guests?’ She didn’t want to say the word “ghosts”, just in case Laurie or Viola appreciated the attention and jumped out at them at that point.

‘Not that I’ve heard,’ Ryan said. ‘But who can say?’

They had reached the front door now and Tegan pulled it open, stepping out into the chilly evening air. Only then, did she feel she could breathe properly.

Ryan had his van parked in the staff bays and he drove them the short distance to the White Lady in the basic but apparently cosy vehicle, and, luckily, the pub had a vacancy. By the time Tegan had checked in and dropped her stuff off in the room, Ryan had managed to grab a table in the corner and there was a large glass of red wine in front of her seat, and a pint of real ale in front of Ryan.

‘Just guessed at what you might like.’ Ryan shrugged. ‘I think you had a bottle of red at some event in Glasgow. I don’t know — it was a while ago . . .’

‘Red wine is fine. Thanks. Next round’s on me.’ No way was Tegan letting Ryan buy her drinks all night, like they were on a date or something. This was strictly two colleagues who’d had ridiculous experiences at the same place and were bonding over the horror of it all.

‘That works for me,’ said Ryan, and seemed to visibly relax a little. Maybe he’d been thinking the same thing. ‘Maybe after we’ve had our second, we can have a look at the book.’ He half smiled. ‘We might be a bit more relaxed by then.’

‘I actually feel wound up as tight as a bobbin.’

Ryan grinned. ‘That’s an old-fashioned phrase!’

‘Oh, God!’ Tegan took a slug of her wine. ‘I seriously hope I’m not morphing into our Edwardian Dollar Princess!’

‘If you are,’ said Ryan, matching her with a slug of his ale, ‘start worrying if I quote romantic poetry at you and then try to rewrite history.’

* * *

Ryan had never thought, in a million years, that he’d be finding himself sitting in a country pub with Tegan Burton on a Friday night, not sniping at her nor having her snap at him. It was a relief, actually. This job would be so much more difficult if they maintained that awful attitude towards one another.

And it seemed that they had bonded, willingly or not, over some people who had lived over a century ago.

Which reminded him. ‘Did you keep a copy of the magazine link in your emails? We could try to match the people in the photos to the characters in the album.’

‘I did better than that,’ she said with a grin. ‘I downloaded the photos after I sent them to that Ianthe person. I’ll pull them up in a second. But I’ll get the next round in anyway and then we can settle down.’

‘Good idea.’

He watched her head to the bar, and was impressed at how Tegan managed to weave her way between the people propping up the bar and emerge not too long after with two glasses. The people parted like the Red Sea for her — she just had that sort of confidence. That was the Tegan he remembered from Glasgow.

‘Here we go.’ She put the drinks on the table and sat down, scraping her chair a little as she moved it closer to him.

He pulled the photo album towards them and opened it up as she clicked through her phone to find the wedding pictures.

They spent a pleasant half hour or so comparing the photos. Elsie was easy — she was the witch in the middle of the Macbeth shot and looked just as radiant in her wedding photograph.

‘I’m not sure who those other two girls are,’ said Tegan. ‘I’m guessing at Holly and Pearl. She was besties with them.’

‘They aren’t on the wedding group,’ said Ryan. ‘But that little girl is — and so is the dog.’

They both smiled at the little cat and the cheerful-looking mongrel.

‘I’m not sure who they are,’ said Tegan. ‘I don’t know enough about the family history yet.’ She blushed. ‘Which is shit to admit when you’re in charge of the history side of the arts centre.’

‘You’re new to the post,’ said Ryan, surprised on some level that he was sticking up for Tegan . . . and she was admitting to not being very good at something.

‘Yeah. But I bet you know more about your family at Wheal Mount than I do about mine at Pencradoc.’

‘They’re the same family, really.’ Ryan grinned. He pointed at the four blonde girls in the wedding photos — the four who were not Viola, because God knew they were both pretty familiar with what she looked like now. ‘Those are my girls. Clara, Mabel, Lucy and Nancy.’ He pointed at them from tallest to smallest.

They flicked through the album until they found the pages with the girls on to compare them.

‘That one must be Louis’ brother,’ said Tegan, pointing at the apparent best man. He looks like Louis.’

‘He’s not in the photo album,’ said Ryan. ‘But that guy is.’ He indicated a dark-haired man who wasn’t Laurie. Again, he knew enough to know who Laurie was.

‘Those must be Elsie’s brothers and sisters, then,’ said Tegan, looking at the sea of genetically blessed people. ‘Again, God, I don’t know their names.’

‘And I don’t know who this lot are.’ Ryan studied two boys and a girl who didn’t look like anyone else in the wedding photo, but were at the party. ‘God, we’re useless.’ He laughed. ‘How are we still employed?’

‘I have no idea!’ Tegan laughed with him.

And it was while they were both obviously having a good time, that Ryan heard a delighted, yet half-curious voice speak. ‘Well, isn’t this nice! Good to see you both networking.’

Shit.

‘Sybill. Hello. And, um, hello, Coren.’

Sure enough, it was their employers, walking into the White Lady hand in hand.

‘Are we okay to sit here?’ asked Sybill pleasantly. ‘Place is a bit busy tonight.’

Tongue-tied, Ryan nodded and out of the corner of his eye he saw Tegan subtly move her seat away from him a fraction to make it look a little less cosy.

‘What can I get you all to drink?’ asked Coren, equally pleasantly. Ryan had the feeling that he was trying to stifle a laugh.

Tegan and Ryan muttered their requests and sat in silence as Sybill fussed around and sat down. ‘Coren got your message,’ she said to Tegan. ‘Said you were staying at a friend’s tonight. And then we saw Ryan’s van in the car park here, and wondered what he was doing there. And here you are. Together. How lovely.’

‘We’re working, actually,’ said Tegan stiffly. ‘As you know, Ryan brought the Halloween things over and we decided to come here and look at them.’

‘What’s wrong with working in the office?’ asked Sybill. ‘Although, I must say, it’s nice in here.’

‘It’s got a totally different atmosphere,’ muttered Ryan dryly.

Sybill studied him for a moment. ‘I suppose it has. Yes. Oh — thanks Coren.’ She smiled up as Coren came over with a tray of drinks, then took his own seat. ‘Tegan and Ryan tell me they’re working tonight.’

‘That’s good,’ said Coren and smiled at them. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Looking at this photo album,’ said Tegan, clearly giving up. ‘Trying to spot the people in the wedding photos. But we, um, don’t know enough of the people in the family to know them all. We don’t know these three people, or this guy. Or the names of Elsie’s family. Or the dog or the little girl.’

‘We know practically nothing,’ added Ryan miserably.

‘Don’t worry about it. It’s a big family,’ said Sybill. ‘Took us a while to work our people out, didn’t it?’ She looked at Coren and something unspoken passed between them, which was gone in an instant.

‘Yes. It took way too long. Can we have a look? Maybe we can help.’

‘Sure.’ Tegan pushed the album and her phone over to them. ‘The article it relates to is linked there too if you want to read that first. We know the Wheal Mount girls, the bride and groom, the best man, but we don’t know his name. We know Viola and Laurie—’ there was a pause, which, unless you were aware of the situation, you wouldn’t know exactly how weighted it was — ‘and that’s about it. Oh, the maid of honour — I think that’s Elsie’s sister. Dunno which one though.’

‘Thank you!’ Sybill and Coren bent over the phone, read the article, clicked back onto the photo and flicked through the album pages, punctuated by agreeable noises and nods.

‘Okay, so this might help,’ said Sybill, eventually. She pointed at the wedding photos. ‘Marigold and Biscuit — Elsie and Louis’ daughter, and Elsie’s dog. Huge scandal, not surprised the magazine didn’t expand on the relationship. Why tarnish Miss Viola Arthur from New York with an English scandal? Fabian, Elsie’s best friend — went to Paris and fell in love with a wonderful man by all accounts. Edward, Albert and Evie — Lily Valentine’s children. Isolde, she’s the maid of honour. That’s Medora, Clem, Enyon and Arthur. Elsie’s other brothers and sisters. And Drew, Louis’ brother. How does all that sound?’

Ryan was stunned and looked at Sybill. ‘That sounds great, but how on earth did you know all of that?’

Sybill half smiled. ‘When you’ve been involved with the Pencradoc family as long as we have, you learn a few things along the way. Is there anyone else you need us to identify?’

‘These two from the witches’ picture,’ said Tegan.

‘Easy. Holly and Pearl. And those chaps at the end of the album are Noel, Ernie and Sam. Holly and Pearl’s husbands, and Viola’s brother.’

‘Wow. Thank you,’ Tegan replied. ‘It all — makes sense — now.’

‘Splendid. Happy to help.’ Sybill sat back in her chair. ‘So — where does your friend live?’ she asked Tegan. ‘Is she local? Or is he local?’

‘Quite local,’ Tegan replied vaguely. ‘I mean nothing is set in concrete yet. I’m waiting for her to confirm it’s all okay.’ She retrieved her phone and waved it around, as if she was indeed waiting for a call. Ryan bit his lip and dipped his head, frightened he would start laughing quite inappropriately.

‘I see. And Ryan — are you staying in the car park tonight?’ asked Sybill. ‘I mean, with your van being here and all that? And . . .’ She nodded towards his empty glasses. Gosh, there were three in front of him now . . . ‘You’re obviously not driving.’

‘No. Not driving tonight,’ he said. ‘Heading home in the morning.’

Coren chipped in. ‘You could always stay at Pencradoc. We’ve got the Retreat rooms free. There aren’t any sessions booked in this weekend.’

‘No, thanks,’ Ryan said hurriedly. ‘The van is fine. Absolutely fine .’

‘Hmm.’ Sybill studied him and he felt his neck growing uncomfortably warm beneath his t-shirt. ‘Has anyone told you, actually, that you look a bit like Laurie Teague, Ryan? The likeness is quite astonishing when you see those photos. I didn’t realise before.’

‘Not something we’ve — I’ve — noticed,’ he said, glancing at Tegan as she dropped her head and looked extremely interested in whatever was on her phone at that precise moment in time.

‘Okay. Well, maybe it is best if you don’t stay at Pencradoc tonight,’ said Sybill. ‘Either of you. I know it can sometimes be intense if you’re living the job.’

‘Exactly,’ said Ryan.

‘Very true,’ added Tegan.

Ryan was just about to breathe a sigh of relief that he didn’t have to explain himself away any more tonight, when Sybill threw her curveball in. ‘Oh, I’ve been in touch with Ianthe Shelley and on Monday I’m going to book your tickets to London — the pair of you — to go and see how Elsie’s wedding dress is getting on. I’ll book them for after the Halloween event, so you can go up closer to Christmas. You can check out where Elsie used to live if you want. There’s not much of it left now, but it might give you more of a sense of her as well, along with the church she got married in and all the rest.’

‘Should be nice near Christmas,’ said Coren. ‘Get you in the festive mood for our work. I might ask you to try to nab some ideas from the Hyde Park Winter Wonderland.’ He grinned, then looked at Sybill. ‘Think our budget’ll stretch to any of that?’

‘Absolutely not!’ said Sybill, smiling back at him.

They began to talk about other things relating to Pencradoc and Wheal Mount, and joking with one another about various things.

But Ryan didn’t hear half of it — all he was hung up on was the phrase: “On Monday I’m going to book your tickets to London — the pair of you.”

And, when he cast a quick glance at Tegan to see if she had picked that up as well, he could tell by the look on her face, and the slightly slack jaw and the trepidation in her eyes that, yes, she had heard that too.

It looked as if they were going to be in each other’s enforced company in London near Christmas.

But, strangely, the thought of that didn’t bother him half so much as it would have done a few weeks ago. Tegan was actually turning into someone he thought he might like to spend a bit of time with. He glanced at her again and this time she caught his eye. Her expression changed and the trepidation left her face, and a smile took the place of that anxious look she’d had . . .

And he chanced a smile back at her and her smile grew wider, and he thought that she might not be as bothered as she would have been a few weeks earlier either.

And that felt pretty good.