Page 69 of Watch For Me By Candlelight

But on the day of the photograph, the girls had snuck out of the house, instigated by Cat, of course, and Philip had followed them. He had threatened, good-naturedly, to blackmail them and asked for their puddings for a week to ensure he said nothing. It had been such a fun morning.

It was a couple of days later that Cat had decided to go it alone and had the accident. Millie had been nursing her bruises from their initial attempt and had preferred to sit indoors on a soft cushion. She’d been disapproving and said Cat shouldn’t do it, but she hadn’t been able to stop her.

Kate held the photograph now and realised that if Elodie’s archive system was working, this picture would still be in the Hall — but where, she had no idea. Unless . . .

‘Millie, can we paste this in the book?’ she asked. ‘Then it’ll be safe forever.’

‘Of course we can,’ Millie responded, surprised. ‘I thought you might like to keep it though.’

‘I do want to keep it. But I’ll only lose it, so if you put it in this book,’ she lifted the cover up so she could check what it was like — it was brown and had birds and flowers painted onto it in black — ‘I’ll know exactly where it is forever.’

Millie shrugged. ‘If you insist.’

‘I do. And I want you to promise that you’ll never, ever take it out.’

‘I won’t. I promise. Will I put the other one in too?’ She picked up the Bath chair one.

‘If you want,’ Kate said, ‘but I’m really not too bothered about that one, funnily enough.’

‘I might just have it framed and gifted to you,’ Millie replied, playfully.

‘Do what you want with it!’

‘I most certainly will, then! I might even write a little message on the back for you. I’ll have to consider what is most fitting.’ Millie smiled, mischievous. ‘I really will have to consider it very carefully. It has to mean something to us, so we both know the spirit in which it’s intended. Anyway — look, I’ll only put a dab of paste on each of the corners of this skating one. Then if you want to remove it, it’ll be easy to do without spoiling anything.’ It was Millie’s turn to lean across and hug Kate.

‘I’d like that very much,’ Kate said. ‘It will certainly make things a bit easier for me in the future.’

They were still hugging when a clock struck somewhere — it was the church bell, ringing for Evensong — and Kate found herself on the edge of the river they had skated on. She was shivering a little bit and dripping for some reason, but there was a warm body next to her — Will, she suspected — and she closed her eyes, trying to remember every little bit of that visit to Millie.

She wondered whether Millie had seen the leaves fall from the trees that year; whether she had seen another winter out at the Hall; or whether, when the spring buds came, she had been lying in the churchyard at peace. Kate determined to go there and find out. It was desperately painful, even now; but at least she would, she hoped, have a grave.

Which was more than her beloved blacksmith had—

* * *

‘Welcome back,’ said his voice. ‘Any time you want to tell me why you decided to launch yourself off that riverbank, feel free.’

For a moment, she was confused. Hadn’t she just been rescued from the skating incident? Was the timeline as confused as she was? Because Will had died, hadn’t he? And now Millie was dying, but Will was back and he’d just rescued her again and her ankle was hurting and—

Kate clung to him and buried her face in his chest. ‘I thought you were dead,’ she murmured, breathing in the scent of his t-shirt and his body and the strawberry and cherry shower gel and . . .

‘I’m not dead. But you might have been if I hadn’t hauled you out of the river. It’s probably not a good idea to do ballet leaps after three glasses of wine, Kate. Not onto the stepping stones, anyway.’

She pushed herself away from his chest and looked up at him. It wasn’t Will. It was Theo — although it wasn’t easy to tell the difference, to be honest. She only had the fact that this guy was wearing twenty-first century clothing to go on.

‘Ballet leaps?’ she asked faintly. She had a sudden image of herself doing a grand jeté and cursed the wine.

Theo nodded and thumbed the side of her face. He pushed the hair away from her forehead and peered closely at it, then looked down at her legs. ‘May I?’ he asked and she could only nod, dumbly, as he ran his capable hands down her legs and rolled her ankles gently.

He looked up at her, surprised. ‘You’re fine. I was expecting a sprain at the very least there — a break at worst.’

‘A spiral break?’

Theo nodded and pressed gently again. ‘It’s fine. Bloody hell.’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘How? How can you fall like that and not get injured?’

‘I’m a dancer. I’m pretty bendy. I’ve gone over on my ankles more times than I care to remember. I must have stretchy ligaments.’ I may also, she thought, have had my fair share, in some life, of leg injuries. So she was getting a break, excuse the pun, in this life.

He moved her hair back again. ‘Not a mark on you. I was sure you’d given yourself a head injury. I thought I saw a big gash there. And your leg looked so much worse when I picked you up.’ He frowned, and she wondered what he was thinking. ‘It was just . . .’ But he shook his head again and didn’t pursue the matter.