Page 35 of Mirrors of the Past

It was wrong. So very wrong.

She was in love with Angelo and shouldn’t be imagining Ryan like that at all.

Ugh.

However, Ryan didn’t seem to notice her discombobulation. Instead, he looked down and sorted through some documents, then his forehead creased.

‘Okay — apparently I put this in too. I can’t remember doing it — maybe it was stuck to another letter. They must have been filed together after all . . . not sure where though . . . hmmm.’ He looked up at her, looking a little confused. ‘Oh well. It’s appropriate, anyway. It’s the Halloween letter.’ He read it quickly. ‘It definitely fits the scene. I can confirm it’s between Elsie and Pearl. And oh — your friend Viola is mentioned in it too. Look.’

He handed it over to her and she accepted it, half reluctantly. No more weird images? That was good. That was very good.

A couple of lines jumped out at her: I’m desperately hopingViola will still be here for Halloween. Yes, I agree, let’s show the little ones how we do Halloween properly. I am happy to host it here, but I know how keen you are for that little poppet to spend time at Pencradoc — and to hell with all that snobbery. American Aunt Pearl and Aunt Viola will make sure Marigold is as merry as a grig when she sees our jack o’ lanterns!

‘I still have no idea what those weird words mean,’ said Ryan. ‘But I kind of get the gist.’

Tegan pulled a face. ‘As “merry as a grig”. It means lively, full of fun, sort of thing. They’re implying that Marigold is going to have a jolly good evening.’

‘Well done.’ Ryan smiled at her, quite genuinely, and it made her blink. That was unexpected. ‘How did you know that?’

‘Oh, my friends Meg and Jo,’ said Tegan. ‘They’re American. I learned a lot from them.’

And she had — but what she wasn’t going to tell Ryan, was that Edwardian slang that sounded rather American was never one of the things they’d talked about in Sicily.

She didn’t know how she knew that at all — she just . . . did.

* * *

Ryan was actually impressed at how professional Tegan sounded — and a little stunned at the fact she seemed willing to discuss things with him, but he mentally high-fived himself at the fact he’d managed to correct her a couple of times.

Here, in their new jobs, they were both on an equal footing. In Glasgow, she had been the permanent employee and he’d been, as she had said, just summer staff. She flounced around as if she knew everything and on occasion it was apparent that her enthusiasm and confidence outweighed her knowledge.

‘Tegan,’ he suddenly found himself asking. ‘Why did you leave the gallery in Glasgow?’

‘Why?’ She shrugged. ‘Well, it’s none of your business really, but I got bored. I wanted a change. And . . .’ she glanced at him. ‘That manager really, really pissed me off.’ She held his gaze and there was almost a smile on her lips. ‘Do you think that catalogue was an appalling reflection of the gallery and the staff in it?’

‘What? That one we argued over?’

‘The very one.’

‘Well. Yes. I suppose one could say that. But did it really matter?’ There was a beat. ‘It was a rubbish exhibition anyway and we sold how many tickets?’

‘Twelve.’

‘Twelve.’ Ryan nodded. ‘I was pleased to get of the place that night — he really went to town on me.’ Suddenly he grinned, remembering how he’d glowered at the man silently until he ran out of steam and stopped shouting. Then he remembered again how Tegan had looked when she came out of the office and felt, for the first time, perhaps, a little guilty. ‘You genuinely looked upset though. Sorry. I maybe should have checked on you when you disappeared into the bathroom.’

‘You think I would have let you in there with me?’ Tegan scowled and shook her head vehemently. ‘It was all your fault for playing that crap music. And also, I wasn’t sad-crying, I was angry-crying and there’s a difference.’

‘Fair enough. But my music was great.’

‘Was not.’

‘Was.’

‘You were a weird gothy type and you liked weird music. Do you still like that music?’

‘I do.’

‘So are you still a weird gothy type?’ There was a certain twitch at the corner of her lips that may or may not have been amusement.