“Yeah, see you there.”
I pull the dress over my head and throw on the strappy sundress I’d optimistically packed that morning, trying to push the creases out with my hands. Mammy would be furious if I left the house without my dress being freshly ironed but I don’t have time to worry about it.
I grab my things and run to the mirror, quickly unwinding my hair from its braid and shaking out the waves with my fingers. I pull out my make-up bag and top up the concealer beneath my eyes, give myself a liberal dusting of bronzer to stop me looking like a total zombie and then finish off with a slick of mascara. A quick roll of deodorant and a blast of body spray gets me feeling as fresh as it’s possible after six hours in that costume and, fast as I can, I’m out the door.
I emerge from the museum into the street and see that I’ve beaten Tommy there. Perfect. Now that I’m back above ground, I grab my phone and fire off a quick message to Jess.“On way to a mystery date location with Tommy! Then he’s walking me to dinner. Be outside for a peek at the hottie at eight xx”
“Hey.” I press the lock button on my phone before Tommy can see the text and try to act casual.
“Oh, hi, that was fast,” I babble. I throw my phone into my bag. We start to walk and I can smell something sweet. “What’s that smell?”
“Caramelized nuts. To tide you over till dinner. Want one?” He offers me a little paper bag and I realize we’re walking past a street cart selling them.
“Er, yeah, OK.” I take one gingerly. It’s warm and sticky between my fingers, but when it hits my tongue it melts in a little explosion of salty sweetness.
“Good?”
“Amazing!” I say, just as my stomach rumbles loud enough for the whole street to hear. Tommy looks shocked for a second and then roars laughing, pushing the bag into my hands.
“Here, you must be starving.” I try to hand them back, mortified, but he pushes them away. “Please, I insist. London delicacy.”
We continue in silence as I munch on the salty little treats while trying not to eat them all in one go. We walk along the riverbank and I point to a lone person walking on the foreshore, eyes focussed on the ground. He stops every few inches to crouch down and scan the sand, picking objects up and stowing them away carefully. “What’s that guy up to?”
“He’s mudlarking,” Tommy replies, pausing to glance over the wall.
“What now-ing?”
He grins at me and my eyes skim across the curve of his jaw and travel down to his unbuttoned collar. He’s still wearing the white shirt from his costume. It is tight in all the right places and suddenly very distracting.
“Mudlarking. People who go and look for bits of treasure along the Thames.”
I eye the grey expanse of water sceptically. “Treasure?”
“That’s what Geoff would call it. He’s got a licence for mudlarking, you know.”
“Why does that not surprise me?”
I polish off the nuts, crumpling the bag in my hand as we set off walking again. I drop the rubbish in a nearby bin and glance at my phone. No response from Jess. It’s half six already.
“Who’s that in the photo?” Tommy asks, nodding at my phone.
“That’s my little sister. Meghan.” I hold it up for him to see. Her sweet, pretty, freckled face beams out of my phone, ringlets of dark brown hair tumbling about her shoulders.
“She looks just like you. Is she in Ireland?”
“Yeah, she’s only a year younger than me. We were going to try and persuade my parents to let her visit, but after everything. . .” I trail off, realizing that I haven’t told Tommy anything about Will, only the attacks over the last few weeks. I can’t face ruining our romantic walk with the story. “After everything with my granny,” I correct myself, “it doesn’t look like she’s going to come.”
“You wanna talk about it?” Tommy asks gently.
“No, it’s fine. I’m just not sure what to do. . .”
He’s so easy to talk to and I feel so comfortable with him. Granny’s medical history and my doubts about staying in London pour out of me. I even start to tell him about the scholarship and how much I’d love to stay. Is it just me or did his face brighten a little when I mentioned that? At some point during my monologue, Tommy wraps his hand around mine and I finally stop.
“Sorry. I’m babbling.”
“Not at all. Listen. I think it would be great if you stayed.” We lock eyes for a few seconds and the strength of the tug in my chest starts to scare me.
He points at a large, soaring sign that declares us to be at Borough Market. “We’re here.”
