Chapter Thirty-Three

Present

If someone had told Tegan how successful her midwinter wedding exhibition would be, she would have nodded and agreed and said of course it would.

But if she was honest, she’d had her wobbles over the last three months or so, and, truly, if anyone had told her how much she would ultimately enjoy working with Ryan Jackson, she would have thought them crazy.

However, she had loved it.

He’d made a point of coming up on the opening day — on his day off, apparently — to give her moral support, a bottle of champagne, a lovely box of chocolates and a huge bouquet of flowers. He’d then asked Coren if he could work on Pencradoc’s ticket kiosk that day as well, to help out.

‘You really don’t need to be here,’ she’d said, gnawing at the edge of her thumbnail, bobbing around next to him as they’d prepared to open up. ‘Nobody will come anyway.’

‘Yes, they will.’ He grinned at her. ‘Trust me. I’ve been sharing the hell out of it on Wheal Mount’s socials as well. I think you underestimate Elsie’s fan base. Wait and see. And if not, I’ll be here and we can commiserate with each other and get wrecked at the White Lady tonight to forget it all.’

She couldn’t help but laugh. ‘It’s a long time since I got wrecked!’ she said. ‘But — crap. I didn’t arrange any press coverage!’ She looked at him in a panic. What a stupid, stupid, rookie mistake!

‘Not to worry,’ said Ryan. ‘I did. And also, it’s a while since I got wrecked too. Maybe we’ve grown up a bit.’ He smiled at her, then nodded towards the door. ‘Do you want to unlock it? I’m ready for the onslaught.’

The onslaught was a trickle at first and Tegan started to panic, but by about ten o’clock, there was a steady stream of visitors — including a journalist from the local newspaper and someone from Sunday Stage , a creative-arts magazine who often reported on the Pencradoc and Wheal Mount events. Tegan could have hugged Ryan — but, obviously, she didn’t.

Almost everyone left looking delighted, apparently stunned at the amazing outfit and chattering excitedly about how romantic it was, and how perfectly presented it was. The beautifully illustrated copies of The Snow Queen , ordered by Tegan on a whim, flew off the gift-shop shelves, as well as so many postcards, pretty notebooks, sketching and painting sets, guidebooks and reproduction wedding photos — so much so that Tegan found herself called into the gift shop to help out.

When they closed the door on the final visitors of the day, she looked up at Ryan and exhaled.

‘Wow.’ She shook her head. ‘Did we do that ?’ She pointed at the closed door, and then at the healthy sum in the till. ‘Sorcha radioed through before and said her takings had been much higher today in the tearoom. Actually, she was asking if I could go over and give her a hand, but I couldn’t so I had to send Katy over.’

‘We did do that. Or rather, you did. And it was just as well Katy was around, wasn’t it?’

‘Definitely. But honestly.’ She shook her head. ‘I couldn’t have done any of this without you.’

‘Yeah, you could.’ He grinned, shrugging his jacket on.

‘Well, yeah, I could ,’ she said nonchalantly, teasing him. ‘But it was better with your help. It actually was.’

‘Better than that sodding catalogue we effed up in Glasgow?’

‘Much better.’

‘If we’d adulted earlier, the first time we worked together, we would have been unstoppable.’ He looked at her, a little sadly perhaps. ‘How stupid we were. Never mind.’ He blinked, as if trying to stop himself saying something. ‘Anyway. Yeah. So, White Lady? Not gonna get wrecked, but I think we can celebrate. My trusty van is ready and waiting for me in the car park, so I’m good for a celebration.’

‘I think we can certainly celebrate,’ she said.

‘Um, yeah.’ He looked down for a moment and took a deep breath. ‘Also, I have something to tell you. I didn’t want to say until after today because I didn’t want to take the shine off your exhibition.’

‘Oh?’ Her heart pounded a little faster.

‘Yes. Another — um — cause for celebration.’

‘Really? What . . . what’s that?’

‘I got the job.’ He looked up at her, his eyes sadder and more puzzled than they ought to have been considering he had his dream job. ‘The Glasgow one.’

‘Oh. I mean oh! Brilliant!’ She forced a smile on her face and tentatively reached out and patted his arm. ‘Well done.’ The leather coat felt cool and ridged where the creases were on the arm. That little gesture turned her stomach into a spin-dryer and she felt as if she was going to burst into tears.

This sucked. It really did.

But she was not going to rain on his parade?

‘You rocked it, then,’ she said, reluctantly removing her hand from his arm.

‘Apparently so.’ They stood in silence for a moment. ‘Thanks to you helping me,’ he added eventually.

‘Yeah. Any time.’

He half smiled. ‘Pub?’

‘Pub.’

And so the celebration was a double one, but Tegan’s heart was no longer in it, although she tried to laugh and joke and act normally and say all the right things.

But yes. Deep down, it sucked.

The exhibition continued to be a huge success, and the press reports were very complimentary indeed. Even Coren congratulated her in his own quiet way and that meant an awful lot to Tegan. Merryn was a hard act to follow, but she thought she, Tegan, was doing okay, actually.

And now, finally, it was Christmas Eve! The exhibition would stay there for a few more days, and, as one member of the public wrote in the visitors’ book, it certainly had “added in an entirely awesome way to this whole, magical time of year!”. But Christmas Eve was, in Tegan’s opinion, the most magical day of the year. Obviously, when she was younger, she’d much preferred Christmas Day, with all the food and the gifts and the music and the company . . .

To be honest, she still loved all of that — and this year was going to be even better and something very special. Her family was coming to Pencradoc and it would be little Rosie’s first Christmas. Her niece was a bit more interesting now, being nearly three months old. She would happily lie on a play mat and kick her legs, or raise her head up if she was on her tummy. There were smiles now too — many, many smiles, and some of them were even directed at Tegan. Rosie also seemed to recognise her, which delighted her more than she’d thought possible.

But still — three months! She had to keep reminding herself she had actually only been at Pencradoc for three months, more or less, and look at what she’d achieved.

Just as they were starting to close Pencradoc on Christmas Eve, she told Coren she needed to check something in the ballroom and slipped away to her Snow Queen realm.

The ballroom no longer scared her or felt peculiar. The feeling she’d had that day when Ryan had been here, when they’d looked at Viola’s portrait and witnessed that mist coming towards them had, somehow, dissipated with the exhibition going up.

Elsie’s dress was still beautiful and sparkly, and Ianthe had been correct that the evergreen headdress and wreath would last well. Tegan would head out to the gardens soon and get some more flowers to scatter around the glass “lake”, as the ones she’d put down were looking a little sad now.

Of course, she knew that in a few days the exhibition would be coming down, ready for something else in the New Year, but there was no need to keep tired old flowers here when there was a garden full of stuff. She’d ended up with a guilty conscience after her last botanical expedition, so she’d checked with the gardeners earlier if it was okay with them that she picked some more, and they’d said that was fine, and one of the best places to forage would be Rose’s gothic garden because there was a lot of greenery there that wouldn’t be missed. So that was her plan.

But for now, she just wanted to sit quietly in the darkened ballroom and look at the dress, and imagine Elsie’s wedding, and perhaps that reception in Claridge’s . . .

“I swear, if that report goes out and says I’m maid of honour, I’ll come back and haunt the fellows who think that!”

Tegan blinked. ‘But we didn’t say you were maid of honour,’ she whispered into the air. ‘You just came back and haunted us anyway!’

It didn’t seem an odd thing to say in that quiet room, surrounded by the scent of evergreens and floor polish.

She could have sworn she heard a laugh. But before she could catch anything else, the scent of evergreens was overlaid with something else. Woodsmoke and tobacco and leather . . .

Ryan.

She would recognise that aftershave anywhere, although she’d never been certain if the leather was anything to do with his boots or his ridiculously long coat, or those thong bracelets he wore on his wrist . . .

Whatever.

She smiled into the empty room. She didn’t know why she did it — this was Ryan ! But she couldn’t help herself. She would miss him terribly when he went to Glasgow and she wanted to hang on to every precious moment she could grab with him.

Even if he perhaps didn’t think they were quite as precious as she did. She didn’t know for sure how he felt. She’d never asked him.

But she did wish she could somehow slow down time.

‘Hello, Ryan,’ she said now, without turning around. ‘I wondered how long it would be before I saw you today.’

But there was no answer and she turned around, surprised. Nothing and nobody else was in the room with her. That familiar shiver ran up her spine again and she wondered if Laurie had drifted in, looking for his lover.

She stared at the door, wondering if she should stand up and leave, or just wait here and see what happened. Half of her thought that, actually, she’d enjoy seeing them both, today of all days . . .

There was a movement at the door and she caught her breath as a figure emerged from the darkened corridor beyond.

‘Tegan! I thought I might find you in here!’ called the person. He walked into the room and she exhaled.

‘Ryan. It was you.’

‘Was me what?’ He came over to her, their voices oddly echoing in the long room.

She stood up and brushed the dust off her bottom. ‘Was you what came in here a moment ago. I recognised your aftershave.’

‘That sentence isn’t even English. And, no, I didn’t come in before. I just got here.’ He smiled down at her. ‘I parked the van out front. Going a bit further north, home for Christmas and all that. Devon.’ He nodded approximately north. ‘But I brought Sybill up and brought you something too.’ He flushed and stuffed his hands in his deep pockets. He was, she saw, sporting the hideous man-bag again.

‘Man-bag.’ She nodded to the offending article.

‘I’m getting quite attached to it,’ he said. ‘Does that mean I’m now officially an adult, or does it mean I’ve turned into a hipster.’

Tegan smiled. ‘You could never be a hipster.’

‘Good.’ Ryan grinned. ‘An adult I am, then. I still like the Mission, still play their songs all the time , so I was hoping not to be hipster. Truth is, the man-bag contains the things I have for you.’

‘Oh?’ Tegan looked up at him, their eyes fixed on one another, and a weird little charge of electricity seemed to flicker between their gazes. It made her catch her breath and her heart pound just a little faster.

By the look on Ryan’s face, she felt that he had experienced something similar.

She cleared her throat. ‘Do you — want to talk in here, then? Or go elsewhere.’

‘Are we alone in here?’

She slowly shook her head. ‘Not certain.’

‘Hmm.’ He tore his gaze from hers with apparently some effort and looked over her head. ‘This is amazing, by the way. Elsie’s dress — it’s fantastic. I know I’ve said it before but you’ve really got the feeling in here. That magical Christmas shizzle. Sorry you couldn’t get a real sleigh. But that one looks great.’

‘It does, doesn’t it?’ she said. ‘But, yeah — my budget-busting sleigh was not to be.’

‘Not to worry.’

‘Um, I was just about to go outside.’ She pointed to the window. ‘I was going to—’

‘Rose’s garden?’ He fixed her with a look that sent a strange combination of static and apprehension throughout her body.

‘Exactly there.’

‘On Christmas Eve,’ he said, almost to himself. ‘Could it be more perfect?’ Then he grinned and nodded. ‘Yes. Okay. Let’s go. I think what I’ve got for you would work pretty well there.’

‘Cool.’ She nodded. ‘I’ve been told I can forage for my flowers there. Just want to refresh the display.’

‘Perfect. After you.’ He took his hand out of his pocket and gestured for her to go ahead.

And so she did.

* * *

Ryan followed Tegan out of the ballroom, with the weirdest sensation that they were being watched.

It wasn’t surprising, considering what he had in that document case.

In fact, when he’d come into the ballroom to find her, she hadn’t looked as if she’d been on her own at all. There’d been definite shadows moving behind the dress, but, oddly they hadn’t worried him. He could almost see two people, one tall, one petite, walking together hand in hand, heading out of the door at the far end of the room.

But his attention was on Tegan and she was the one he wanted to see. And, yes. He did want to see her. And when she’d said she was going into that garden . . . It just made perfect sense.

They walked past the Grand Staircase, the place no longer feeling eerie or scary or anything negative at all. Since he’d been here last, Pencradoc, like Wheal Mount, had gone all out for the festive season. A huge Christmas tree was in the hallway, and Little Elsie, at the bottom of the stairs, had a cheerful garland around her hair, not unlike the holly and ivy headdress she’d been wearing on her wedding day. Bowls of pinecones were placed on tables and jam jars with lights inside were strung in a zig-zag fashion across the hallway ceiling, interspersed with giant silver stars and baubles, suspended there for good measure. The scent of spices and fir trees was everywhere, and it really did feel like Christmas was eventually here.

Tegan led him outside and along the pathway to Rose’s garden. It was actually more eerie out here than it had been in the house and Ryan followed, the lanterns that lit the pathways flickering in the late afternoon twilight.

‘Here we are,’ said Tegan, almost in a whisper. She hesitated. ‘Can you feel it here too? Or is it just me?’

‘No, there’s definitely something here,’ said Ryan, equally quietly. He looked around him and the rose garden had, as well as the house, been treated to some Christmas cheer. There were fairy lights winking out from the plants and strings of them were wrapped around the tree trunks. Sparkling silver baubles hung from the highest tree branches and there was a sort of net above the hollow the garden was situated in, covered in lights and crystals.

He wondered what it had been like all those years ago, when Laurie had . . .

But no.

Before that, he needed to show Tegan the first thing he’d brought with him.

‘Do you want to sit down?’ he asked, indicating the bench they had shared three months or so ago.

Tegan shook her head slowly. ‘No. I think I want to stand, actually.’

Ryan grinned. ‘In case we need to make a hasty exit?’

‘Something like that.’

He nodded. ‘I’ll be quick then. Here. I asked Sybill for some advice on photo restoration.’ He rummaged in the document bag and brought out an envelope. ‘Specifically, colour restoration. Have you ever seen it?’

‘Oh! Yes!’ Tegan nodded. ‘It’s where people bring the colour back to black-and-white photos, isn’t it? Makes the people really come alive . . .’

She stopped herself from continuing and Ryan laughed. ‘Yes. I get it. But this is different. Look.’ He opened the envelope and took something out of it.

He handed it to Tegan and she gasped. ‘It’s the wedding photo! The group shot. Oh, this is fantastic! What a brilliant piece of work.’

‘Isn’t it?’ He was impressed with the thing himself. ‘All I had to do was tell the specialist some of the colours I knew were in there. Like red, for Elsie’s sash, and the colours of their hair and the headdress and all that. He did the rest.’

‘Well, even if it’s just clever guesswork,’ Tegan said in delight, ‘look how real they all look!’

Ryan nodded. He’d studied the photo so many times since he’d received it back from the restorer that he knew it off by heart. The girls’ dresses were red, green and gold, their faces peaches and cream. The men were all smartly dressed in black, and, to Ryan’s surprise, three of the attendants had sported rich, red hair. Sybill had told him their mother Lily Valentine had been famously red-headed, so it was unsurprising in some ways.

He had, of course, studied the figures of Laurie and Viola most. It had given him a shock the first time he’d seen them — they looked even more like himself and Tegan. But Tegan seemed to have bypassed that and was just delighted with the whole thing.

‘Thank you. Thank you so much!’ she said, clutching the photo to her chest. ‘This means so much. Honestly, it’s like the icing on the Christmas cake.’

‘Brilliant.’ Ryan smiled. ‘But if you like that, then I think you’re going to love this one.’ His heart pounding, he extracted the second item from the envelope.

It was something that he had never come across before.

In fact, it was something that had been inside his notebook, when he’d gone to take out the wedding photograph. It had fluttered to the floor and he’d leaned down to pick it up, and . . .

But no. He wasn’t going to overthink it, he wasn’t going to wonder how it had got there.

It was there, that was all that mattered.

He offered it to her and Tegan took the folded piece of paper from him, looking up questioningly.

‘Be careful with it,’ he said quietly. ‘I think this is maybe the most precious thing we’ve got. But I still don’t know what relevance it’s got. But — I know it has some.’

‘Okay.’ Tegan nodded, and turned her attention to the paper.

She carefully unfolded it and read it. Then, her eyes wide, she read it out aloud.

‘For the prompt attention of Miss Viola Arthur,’ she said. ‘ Come to Rose’s garden at midnight on Christmas Eve. Your carriage awaits .’

‘And here,’ said Ryan quietly. ‘We are.’