Chapter Three

Present

Tegan found the door she assumed — no, she knew — was to Coren’s office. She allowed herself a small smile. There was no ethereal, otherworldly feeling about that; none of this walking straight towards a doorway one had never encountered before and knowing what lay behind it. This door had a modern sign on it which said: Estate Office, Coren Penhaligon, Manager.

She rapped on the door and looked around curiously. This place was well hidden away, though. Right at the back of the hallway as per Merryn’s instructions. It was quiet at this end of the building, Merryn had said. The visitors tended to use the front half of the building and flow into the rooms there. This part was for staff only, and Merryn had told her there was a main office just along the corridor from Coren’s domain, which Tegan would work in. There was a photograph on the wall just opposite Coren’s office. It seemed to be a wedding photograph. The man had fair hair and the woman was dark, a froth of veil and bouquet surrounding her. Tegan peered at the label: Louis and Elsie , apparently. Ahh — Little Elsie all grown up, perhaps? She looked more closely and she could definitely detect the look of mischief in the woman’s eyes, mirrored in Little Elsie’s marble bust. Tegan smiled to think of that little girl growing up into such a beautiful, happy-looking bride.

‘Come in!’ called a voice from within the office, and Tegan moved away from the photograph and pushed open the door. A man was sitting at a desk staring at her very intently and for a split second, her stomach turned over. He was the image of the man in the picture.

‘Um . . .’ she said, quite unusually thrown off track.

‘Tegan?’ The man’s face changed and softened as he stood up and smiled at her. Holding his hand out, he continued. ‘I’m right, aren’t I? You look a lot like Merryn.’

Tegan wanted to disagree. Yes, they both had similar hair, but hers was strawberry-blonde, bleached a pale rose-gold by the Sicilian summer, whereas Merryn’s was, in her opinion, dirty blonde. Well, it had been when she’d been in London. Now, Tegan conceded, Merryn’s hair might be lighter because she lived in Cornwall. She hadn’t seen her sister since last Christmas, although they’d been in touch via email and text message, the way busy people like Tegan managed their lives and commitments.

The Burton eyes, though, were definitely the same in the sisters; that dark, mermaid-green that ran in the family. But where Merryn had curves, Tegan had nothing. She was, to be perfectly honest, quite flat-chested and narrow-hipped. It was a figure many women envied and Tegan did appreciate it, but, sometimes, especially when she’d been younger, she’d bought push-up bras and stuffed tissue down them to give her that little extra shape. She would, a well-meaning friend had told her, look good in a flapper dress or a 1960s minidress. As flapper dresses and original 1960s minidresses cost more than Tegan could afford in the vintage clothing stores, Tegan hadn’t rated that advice as very helpful really.

Tegan shifted her attention back to the moment in hand and the man standing in front of her. ‘Yes. I’m Tegan. You’re Coren, I guess? You look like the chap in the photo outside the room.’ She nodded back towards the door and held her hand out to shake Coren’s. ‘But it can’t be you, because you’re obviously not called Louis.’

Coren smiled. ‘Yes. That’s Louis and Elsie’s wedding photograph. They’re relatives of mine. We thought it would be nice to take a copy of it and put it up there. This used to be Louis’ study and, well . . .’ He shrugged, seemingly reluctant to continue.

‘And if he comes to visit his study, he can see the photo outside, without coming in and bothering you,’ said Tegan smartly.

Coren looked a little taken aback and she reminded herself this was her new boss and that had probably been completely the wrong thing to say to him. Strike One.

‘Oh. Sorry. Merryn mentioned Pencradoc might be haunted . . .’

Ugh . She really needed a filter . . .

But then he surprised her by laughing. ‘Yes. That’s one way of looking at it. Please. Sit down.’ He indicated the chair at the desk and Tegan obediently sat. She’d got away with that one, but she really needed to be more careful. ‘I have to say,’ continued Coren as he sat down too, ‘that I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.’

Crap .

Strike Two.

‘Ah. Yes. I got an earlier flight,’ replied Tegan. ‘I kind of thought I’d come and show willing. You know.’ She smiled brightly. ‘I’m keen to get started.’

She didn’t think it was worth letting him know she had thought it so much easier to just head here, than head down to Marazion to spend the night with Merryn. It just seemed a long way to Marazion and she was very tired, and she’d been promised accommodation at Pencradoc for the term of her contract.

‘Well, I’m not going to start you in a new job at three in the afternoon,’ said Coren. ‘But your suite’s all ready. Merryn did have an inkling you’d rock up early.’

‘Did she?’ Tegan was surprised.

‘Yes. She said you’d seemed anxious to leave Sicily and all her recent messages to you were undelivered, so she assumed you’d hopped on a plane.’

‘I must be more predictable than I thought,’ Tegan said wryly.

‘Maybe your sister just knows you well. Anyway. I’ll show you up to your rooms and tell you where you can go for food and drink in the village — there’s a really nice pizza place, we like to go there — or you can try the Tower Tearoom if you don’t want to go too far. And we’ll start properly tomorrow. Do you need some help with your bags?’

‘The village is fine. I like pizza. And I don’t have much luggage, so I’ll be totally fine. This is it.’ She indicated the case she had with her. ‘I’m used to travelling light. I’ll go home at the weekend, see Mum and Dad and grab anything else I need.’ It was the back-end of September after all and this was England, so she didn’t think she’d need much in the way of summer clothes. Cornwall, however, still seemed to think it was the height of summer. Tegan had noticed the gardens were looking green and lush, the flowers still blooming, a profusion of roses and summer flowers had greeted her on the way in, and there was that unmistakeable scent of moss and earth and distant moorland on the soft breeze.

Maybe she should retrieve some of her summer clothes this weekend — just in case.

‘Anyway. I’ve just got the essentials here today. And thank you. I do mean it. For the job here and for letting me stay, and for not getting cross because I’m a day early.’

‘Our pleasure. It makes things a bit easier to cover Merryn’s leave if she’s happy with the person in the job.’

‘And can tell them what to do!’ She said it with a smile, though.

‘Yes. Like I said, so much easier.’ Coren grinned.

‘I’m looking forward to it.’

‘Us too. I have to warn you, though, I think she’s coming in tomorrow to see you. Something about a handover?’ His eyes twinkled a little mischievously and he stood up. ‘She said if you didn’t go to her house, she’d catch you here instead.’

‘That sounds like Merryn.’ Tegan stood too.

‘Oh, and we’re arranging a meeting later in the week with Sybill and someone from her team at Wheal Mount. We work so closely that it makes sense to introduce you.’ Coren indicated she should leave the office and offered to take her case. Tegan, however, shook her head and walked out, pulling it behind her. ‘I can manage, thanks,’ she said. ‘Just lead the way to the room and I’ll be forever grateful.’

The stairs seemed to go up and up and up. Tegan bounced her case along in her wake and followed Coren upwards and along a corridor. She had a feeling they had just travelled up the servants’ staircase and wondered if she could get to her accommodation via the Grand Staircase she’d spotted when she walked in — the one with Little Elsie at the bottom and the beautiful painting of that old-fashioned lady hanging on the staircase wall. Ruby? Rachel? Rebecca? It was an “R” name — she remembered that. Merryn had mentioned it when she’d been telling Tegan about the artworks in Pencradoc and how excited she’d been when she’d discovered it with Kit.

Regardless of who the lady was, Tegan did have a longing to flounce down those stairs herself, maybe in that flapper dress her friend had mentioned. Maybe even dancing her way down, like in those old Hollywood movies she loved. Now that would be fun! The opening bars to “New York, New York” came into her mind, and she bit her lip and ducked her head to hide her smile. Doo, do, doo dodo, do do do doo do doo do . . . Entirely inappropriate to start humming that now.

And also, Coren was talking.

‘It’s the flat Merryn and Kit sometimes stay in,’ he was saying. ‘So it’s pretty comfortable. Here we go.’ He opened the door and stood back, and Tegan walked into a light, airy kitchen area. Beyond that, was a lounge with a big picture window overlooking the grounds and a small dining table in the window with two chairs. A door led off on one side of the lounge to the bedroom, and a door on the other side led to a bathroom.

‘It’s really nice!’ said Tegan. She meant it. She’d been in some dodgy accommodation before, and to be honest had stayed in worse AirBnBs.

‘It seemed madness for you to rent somewhere when this place was available,’ Coren said. ‘Merryn won’t be using it for a while if she’s off work and Kit will be more than happy to drive home if he’s up here.’ Marazion, where Merryn and Kit lived, was a pretty coastal town full of artists in the south-west of the county. You could see St Michael’s Mount from Kit and Merryn’s little cottage, and the soft, golden sands of the beach were a hop, skip and a jump away from their blue-painted front door. ‘So you might as well make use of it,’ continued Coren. ‘I’m along the other end of the house, a couple of floors down — basically just break all the rules and walk through any door marked “Private” and you’ll eventually find me.

‘So it might seem like you’re rattling around in Pencradoc on your own, but you’re not. My number’s on the business card there if you need anything.’ He nodded to a bowl on the dining table, which was probably supposed to hold fruit but looked to be the receptacle for keys, phone numbers and other useful bits and bobs. ‘And if ever I’m going to be away overnight, I’ll let you know.’

Tegan was tempted to ask if there were meant to be any ghosts on that side of the house who could keep her company, but she bit her tongue and thought better of it. She suspected there wouldn’t be — she definitely didn’t feel a spooky vibe here — and she didn’t want to run into a potential Strike Three within her first hour or so of being here.

‘That’s all great. Thank you so much. What time do you want me down in the morning?’

‘Nine o’clock will be fine,’ replied Coren. ‘I’m usually around earlier, but won’t have had enough coffee before nine. So you’re safest to come then. Just head back down to the office.’

‘And . . . can I go down the main staircase to get there?’ She had to ask.

‘Oh, of course. It’s that way. A little longer travel time, but do whatever suits you best.’

‘Thanks. Right, I’ll get unpacked, have a shower and head out for food.’

‘Great. We’ll see you tomorrow, then. Have a good evening and of course don’t forget to call me if you need anything.’

‘I won’t.’

Coren nodded and headed out of the room, and Tegan followed him, shutting the door behind him. She turned around and looked at the room. Yes. This was nice. This would do.

And it may not have had spooky vibes, but it had good vibes and that was awesome.

* * *

Ryan felt he’d made a good start with the boxes and papers in the Wheal Mount archives. Bryony had set up a database and once he’d had a play around with that, things started to make more sense. It was okay recording things — that was the easy part. It was thinking of the wider picture and remembering the items, making the database searchable and knowing what related to what that could pose a problem.

Nothing for it though but to roll up one’s metaphorical sleeves and get on with it.

‘It’ll fall into place,’ Tammy told him as she brought a mid-morning coffee up to the attics for him. ‘And Sybill’s very much of the opinion that the most important stuff will make itself known to you.’

Ryan looked at her and pulled a face, even as he accepted the hot drink gratefully. ‘Not sure I believe that one, Tammy.’

Tammy grinned and sat down, perching herself on the edge of a trunk.

Her bright dungarees, rainbow paint-spattered Doc Martens and colourful hairband were incongruous in the dusty, cluttered room. The glint in the top of her ear piercing caught the light and Ryan thought back to when they’d first met. He had started at the place as a student when he’d been going through some weird, emo/goth art student phase, and Tammy had been the first to compliment him on the industrial-sized piercing in the middle of his ear.

‘Daith piercing. Cool,’ she’d said. ‘I was thinking about getting mine done but I don’t like pain that much, so I think I’ll just go with a helix instead.’ Ryan had been impressed with Tammy’s knowledge, admired the piercing high up on her outer ear when she’d finally been for the procedure, and they’d formed a friendly relationship.

‘There’s never been anything that jumped out at me, I must confess,’ said Tammy today, ‘But I have a mind like a machine and a very good memory so I’m pretty good at knowing where things are. Problem is, if I ever leave, nobody will know that. Hence Bryony coming and now you taking over.’ She leaned over and punched him lightly on the arm. ‘Thanks, by the way. There’re not many people I’d trust up here. It’s my treasure trove.’

‘You’ll be too important to come up here before long,’ Ryan said, teasing his friend. ‘I’ll have to book an appointment to see you in the boss’s office.’

‘Hmmm.’ Tammy laughed. ‘I’ll let you in any time if you bring biscuits.’

‘Done.’

‘Great. So, where are you working at the minute?’ Tammy looked around curiously.

‘Here.’ Ryan indicated a box of paperwork. ‘I’m not getting far. I keep getting distracted and reading the papers.’

‘Hazard of the job. What are they?’

‘Letters between Elsie and her brother, Laurie.’

‘Oh! Yes, I think he was the one that fought in World War One.’

‘Did he?’ Ryan didn’t know much about Elsie and her family. He’d worked at Wheal Mount a long time and knew a lot about Elsie’s Uncle Jago and Aunt Alys, the Duke and Duchess of Trecarrow. He knew about Lady Elsie’s professional status of course — the fact that she was a brilliant artist, photographer and all the rest. But he didn’t know much about her private life. ‘These letters were from well before the war, though.’ Ryan pulled one out of the trunk at random and read out the date. ‘1911. November.’

‘Ah, I think if you keep looking we’ve got some Halloween artefacts from that year too,’ said Tammy. ‘Dated not too long before that letter. 1911 definitely rings a bell with me. I’m sure there’s something between Elsie and her friend Pearl.’

‘That’s cool,’ said Ryan. He liked Halloween. ‘You’ll have to let me see the letter.’ He grinned at Tammy, read a bit more of the 1911 letter to himself, then spoke. ‘So here , they’re talking about getting together before the wedding. She wants him to come to London, she’s got a dress fitting and bizarrely wants him there.’ Ryan looked at Tammy. ‘Damn sure I wouldn’t want to get involved in dress fittings with my sister. Talk about a bridezilla. But Elsie’s very kindly sketched her frock out as well to help. Look.’ He showed Tammy the back of the letter and she nodded.

‘Lovely sketch. But that is curious.’ Tammy raised her eyebrows. ‘Not sure my brother would be that interested in my wedding dress.’

‘I can’t actually imagine you in a dress, anyway, Tammy. But I don’t suppose we’ll ever find out why Elsie wanted her brother there. I heard Sybill say Elsie had been “capricious” once. Maybe that’s just the way she was. Or maybe her brother could offer her good styling advice.’ He looked at the box and its many layers of jumbled secrets, yet to be discovered.

Maybe the answer lay in there somewhere.

Or maybe he was the one being capricious and there was no secret there whatsoever, and no logical answer to his question.

Ah, well. He wasn’t that bothered really.

It was just kind of . . . interesting . That was all.

But part of him held back from becoming too invested in Tammy’s archives. Working in these musty attics, despite how absorbing the contents were, was a “for-now” job, and he was still pinning his hopes on Glasgow and the chance to handle Rennie Mackintosh artefacts instead of Pencradoc ones.