“Go,” he mutters, lying down next to the pile of bones he’s gathered into a heap, curling himself around them. “Go!”
I don’t need telling twice.
I fight through the rising smoke, towards the door, and pour myself out of the crack and on to the soft, mossy ground. Tears are streaming down my face and my arm is starting to hurt now, but I can hear the crackle and pop of a fire catching inside, so I drag myself away from the building, leaning back on a small fence that rings a nearby grave.
“Niamh?” Meghan appears from behind the headstone, Jess and Will holding her up on either side. “Niamh, oh, thank God!” She shrugs them off and limps towards me, wrapping her arms around my waist and sobbing, little girl hiccups.
“Shhhh.” I grasp her with my good arm and realize I’m still clutching the lighter. I drop it and hug her the best that I can as she apologises into my midriff over and over again.
“Tommy?” Jess asks. Flames are starting to lick out from the gaps around the domed roof, the fire reflecting in her glasses.
“In there,” I nod. Heavy footsteps crunch on gravel behind us and I hear Derek’s voice. I sigh in relief as I lean back, hold on to my sister.
And watch the world burn.
The museum looks exactly the same as it did when I left it. But it will never feel the same. This is the last time I will ever see this street again.
“Ah, Niamh! What a lovely surprise. I must say, I didn’t think I’d see you back here after, ah, everything. Who was to know young Tommy was a bad sort, eh?”
“Hi to you too, Geoffrey.” I grin. I’m going to miss working with him. “Here.” I awkwardly hand him Jane’s beautiful costume with my good hand. It’s been lovingly cleaned and folded by Ruth and is now back in its rightful place. “I had to bring this back to you. Plus, I have to say thank you, too.”
Turns out Geoffrey hadeventuallythought my behaviour before I got in the Uber was weird enough to call Derek – his husband. Couple goals right there. Derek told him off for stopping for a hot whiskey first and notified Detective Moran, who Jess had just managed to get through to. Derek hotfooted it across the river and still hasn’t let it go that he beat London’s Finest there, even though he is retired.
Geoffrey’s round face flushes behind his neatly trimmed beard as he chuckles. “Oh, nonsense. I only wish I’d realized sooner, I was supposed to be keeping an eye on you,” he sputters, as I throw myself at him in a hug. “Oh, goodness me, now that’s quite enough, you need to watch that arm, my dear.” I grin at him again.
“OK. I’m not going to stay long, I just wanted to give you the dress. Oh, and this.” I pull the lighter from the folds of my sling and hold it out to him, flat on my palm.
“Exquisite,” he breathes, fetching another pair of glasses from his top pocket and switching them with the pair he’s wearing. “It looks remarkably like the one we used to have. Where did you get this?”
“Um. . .” I glance over at the doorway, towards my sister who is huddled next to my parents. They flew straight over after the police had been in touch about their delinquent children. They weren’t happy with us and they don’t even know the whole story. I spoke to Jess and Will the morning after the fire and we decided that it was probably best toslightlytinker with the truth for some people. I don’t want to end up on a psychiatric ward somewhere. I think I’ve made a friend for life in Jess, though; we’re already planning her trip to Kilkenny. Not that I’ve told my parents yet.
My insides tug a little as a bittersweet memory leads me to the best fib I can think of. “Mudlarking,” I say and Geoffrey’s eyes light up. “I found it. On the Thames, just near here.”
“Marvellous! May I?” He picks it up from my hand and begins to study it. “Early nineteenth century, I think, possible eighteen-thirties. Very unusual though, certainly handmade, based on a very early German model. See this here?” He points to a monogram, a pair of swooping hearts wearing a crown, decorated with a thistle and two swirling initials wrapped around one another. “This is a Luckenbooth. It originated in Scotland and shows it was a love token, something probably given to a man by his lover. It was often used as a sign of betrothment, or engagement. I can’t quite make out the initials. . .” He holds the lighter away from him and I fill the silence.
“That’s a J.” I point with my good hand. “And a T.”
“Oh, yes, good eye!” He smooths a thumb over the initials again. “J and T. I wonder who they were.”
If only he knew.
“Well, thank you my dear, that’s quite lovely to see.” He drops it back into my palm. “You did have a licence, I take it? To mudlark?”
“Errr, yes?”
He regards me slyly. “Our little secret then. Well, finders, keepers, I suppose. Enjoy it, it’s a wonderful little trinket.”
“Oh, no.” I hold it up to him. “I want to donate it to the museum. Something to remember me by.”
“Really?” he blusters, red creeping back into his cheeks. “Well, that’s very kind. We do need to replace some of the stolen objects.”
“Really.” I drop it into his hand, trying not to feel guilty about the priceless things I had destroyed in the mausoleum. I turn to see my mother glancing at her watch. “I’d better go,” I say. “Sailing home today.”
“Oh, dear. You didn’t make the cut with your essay then?”
“No. But never mind. Some things just aren’t meant to be, I guess.” Jasmine had been awarded the place after handing in a stellar essay (that I suspect Will wrote the majority of) not that she needed a free place. However, to my delight she was kicked off the course when she was caught shoplifting in Harrods. Turns out she had a proper case of kleptomania, which I should have known when I saw her wearing my cardigan. She’s welcome to keep that one, though – the rest of my London wardrobe is currently hanging on a rail in Jess’s local charity shop. Ben from the creepy theatre party was given the scholarship instead but I don’t care any more. I glance back at my family and my heart swells. I just have more important things to care about right now. “Geoffrey?”
“Mmm?”
