Page 76 of Mirrors of the Past

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Present

The paperwork was definitely the dull bit. Seeing the wedding dress had been the exciting part, but Tegan knew that along with the fun stuff there was the work stuff and at least she’d been trusted enough to do this.

She couldn’t help but imagine the exhibition in all its glory, with that wonderful dress in the middle of the frozen lake and all the mirrors and things reflecting around the room. Should she, though, have it spinning around, like a musical box, or just somewhere people could walk around it . . . just somewhere it could be walked around, she decided, or it would end up more Chitty Chitty Bang Bang than The Snow Queen — too much like the bit where Truly Scrumptious did a ballet dance in front of the Baron and the Baroness. Then she remembered the Child Catcher was in that scene as well, and shuddered. It probably wasn’t the best thing to put in a family-friendly display.

‘Okay, so that’s us done,’ said Ianthe, bringing her attention back to the present. ‘I’ll get that sash tidied up and, like we said, I’ll get it sent down to you tomorrow.’

‘Fantastic. Thanks — we can get it set up in good time at Pencradoc.’

‘Send me some photos,’ said Ianthe with a smile. ‘I like to see my girls in situ, if you like.’

‘Most definitely.’

They shook hands and headed back into the studio where Ryan was lurking beside the dummy, staring at the dress again. He seemed a million miles away though, and he was certainly scowling.

‘Ryan — that’s us done,’ said Tegan.

‘Hmm?’ he asked, without looking at her.

‘I said, that’s us done.’

‘Oh! Great.’ Ryan turned and quickly smiled at them both. Tegan got a little shockwave of something — she hesitated to call it “desire” — but, heck, when he wasn’t scowling and smiled a genuine smile, he was pretty good-looking. ‘Um. Thanks for your help, Ianthe.’

‘Any time. Give my best to Sybill.’

‘Will do,’ he replied.

Then, after a final few words, Ianthe walked them to the door and they found themselves on the pavement again, the sharp scent of winter in her nostrils. Unsurprisingly, as, in the time they’d been indoors, the skies had turned grey and promised rain, sleet, snow or a combination of them all.

‘What now?’ asked Ryan, when the door had closed on them. He looked up at the sky and pulled a face. He was right to pull a face — a gentle drizzle had started. It then became heavier and the clouds seemed to lower and glower at them, taunting them to stay out of doors.

‘Elsie’s house?’ Tegan suggested. ‘Or Hyde Park?’

‘I think I’d quite like to see where Elsie lived. And it’s a bit closer than Hyde Park.’ Ryan held up his phone. ‘Thank goodness this is waterproof. I was doing some checking when you were with Ianthe. Um. Emails and stuff. And . . . well, directions. We’re just under half an hour to Elsie’s. Just a bit longer to Hyde Park. On foot, that is.’

‘Elsie’s, then. I think it would be a nice walk. I love this part of London,’ said Tegan. ‘I worked at a hotel here one summer. It’s a bit vile in the rain, though.’

‘We could maybe grab a coffee on the way? We’re bound to pass somewhere. This is London, after all.’

‘Sounds good.’ She was a little surprised at how easily she’d agreed. ‘Let’s see how far we can get before we drown.’

‘Challenge accepted.’

They started off along the path and, despite the rain, chatted remarkably easily about jobs they’d had, and things they’d experienced in them. She found herself telling Ryan about Angelo and how she was expecting him after New Year, but they just needed to confirm the details . . .

Oh.

Guiltily, she realised she hadn’t thought about Angelo much over the last couple of days. She wondered if she’d deliberately parked those thoughts in the excitement and horror of the Ballroom Incident, as she’d privately named it. Which, actually, reminded her . . .

‘You haven’t accepted my friend request yet!’

‘Oh, so we’re friends now, are we?’ Ryan looked down at her and grinned, the drizzly drops of rain sticking to his hair and his black overcoat.

She knew he was teasing and she shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Maybe. Maybe that truce is working.’

‘It’s certainly easier not to fight all the time,’ said Ryan. ‘I mean, look at us—’ he extracted his hand from his pocket and waved it around expansively, ‘— walking happily around London, not fighting, not sniping and actually communicating with words and things.’