Jess shakes her head, curls dancing. “No, I’ll meet you at the museum.”
“Jess, there’s really no need. It’s miles away!”
“No arguing, I don’t want you on your own too much. See you at six?”
“Yeah, OK.” I pause before tucking my chair in. “Thanks.”
“Of course. Plus, I might finally get a sneak peek at lover boy.”
“Ah, now it makes sense!” I don’t blame her, I have talked about Tommy roughly every five seconds since my last shift. “Just don’t drop me in it, OK?”
“As if I would.”
I can still hear her laughing as the door swings shut behind me.
“Niamh, my dear, wonderful to see you.” Geoffrey’s voice booms over the cobblestones as I emerge into my other life. I automatically scan the room for Tommy and my heartrate speeds up as I spot him chatting to some visitors, cap in hand, blonde hair tousled and shining.
“Hi, Geoffrey.” He looks a little worse for wear today, leaning heavily on his stick. I always assumed it was a prop, but maybe he actually needs it, like Ruth. “Is everything OK?”
“Oh, yes, yes, just a bit of the old gout playing up. Happens occasionally after spending the day on my feet.” He removes his top hat. “I am going to call it a day, though. It’s been quiet today and I’m sure you and Thomas will do a grand job without me.”
“Of course, don’t worry about us.” I blurt. Me and Tommy? Alone? In a quiet museum? “You go home and rest.” Subtle, Niamh. I might as well push him out the door.
“Thank you, dear. Now,” he wags a finger at me, like I’m a naughty pup, “don’t work too hard.”
I smile. “I won’t, don’t you worry.” He chuckles and waves his hat regally, then begins to tap towards the staffroom.
“Just us two, then?” Tommy’s voice teases my ear and my insides immediately begin to melt.
“Hey,” I stutter, turning. He is smiling. “Yeah, looks like it.”
“Great.” He gently nudges me with his shoulder and the physical contact leaves my mind blank and my skin singing. I don’t think my heart can take four whole hours of this. “So, what do you want to do, my lady?”
“Do?”
“Yeah, it’s dead in here. Those two visitors have just left and the weather is amazing today, or so I’ve heard. I don’t think we’ll see anyone else for a while.”
“Seriously?” I fall into step beside him as he meanders along the cobbles. His hands are jammed deep into his trouser pockets and they pull around his bottom half in a way I pretend not to notice. His hair looks soft, clean. I bet it feels amazing.
“Niamh?” Uh-oh. What did he say? He’s speaking slowly, clearly repeating himself, the words coming out all slow and pronounced. “I said I have an idea.”
“Er, OK.”
“I’ll be back in five. Meet me in the Temperance Bar?”
He’s gone before I can answer.
The Temperance Bar is at the other end of the museum, in its own little corner. The lights are dimming as I start hesitantly towards it. I wish I had a torch or something. There’s no direct route; the museum has been laid out so visitors have to walk in and out through different shops in order to get anywhere.
I enter the apothecary, which is the start of the route to the opposite side of the street. I pause in the shop, like I do every time I’m here. The shelves behind the scarred, wooden counter fascinate me, rows upon rows of cloudy glass flasks and bottles. Most are empty, though some have remnants of who-knows-what in the bottom of them. A few even have their original hand-written labels, the ink faded and edges curled and brown. It feels like a magic shop, a far cry from a chemist on the high street, which is what it would have been. I could spend hours in here, but I pick up my pace again and leave through the back door, into a small, cramped alleyway.
This bit, Geoffrey explained, isn’t real like the rest of the museum, but weirdly it’s always felt the creepiest to me. Above my head, white cotton tunics faintly sway on a washing line strung between two windows. There never seems to be a breeze here, so the swaying always creeps me out, like the alleyway is breathing. I think I see a long-haired figure, a swish of dark cloth out of the corner of my eye.
“Hello?” I try, just in case it’s a visitor who has got lost.
Nothing.
I open my mouth to call again but stop myself. What if it’s Jasmine? Or J—
