Page 23 of Mirrors of the Past

Chapter Nine

Present

Tegan knew he was looking at her, so she stared him out. He had changed a bit since those days in Glasgow; his long, dark, horrible hair was shorter now — well, more styled at least. He had a side-parting sort of thing, and his hair flopped over his forehead, and he didn’t look like he’d shaved for a couple of days. His brown eyes stared unblinkingly back at her.

Taking him at face value — if she didn’t know him as she did — he looked like an earnest, intelligent and deep type of young man. The piercings in his ear hinted at a more edgy personality, well hidden, and on another man, that floppy bit of hair might even be classed as “endearing”.

However, this was Ryan Jackson and he had crap taste in music, still apparently wore all-black clothing and preferred wallowing introspection to living real life.

Ugh.

If this was karma having a laugh on her behalf, karma was still a bitch, but no longer her bitch. Tegan thought of Angelo, and his dark hair and dark eyes, of Angelo sitting, cross-legged, plucking at his guitar while the sparks from the campfire danced to the melody.

Oh, how she missed that feeling — that feeling of relaxation and completely giving herself over to the warmth of Sicily and the dark, sultry skies.

Babes, said the latest text on her phone. I miss you so badly. I cannot sleep, I cannot play my guitar, I want you back in my bed.

Why on earth had she left Angelo and come here? Back, unwittingly, into the world of bloody Ryan Jackson?

But she had to tear her gaze away from Ryan, and her thoughts away from Angelo, as Sybill was talking.

‘So,’ said Sybill. ‘I take it you two know each other? And, no, we don’t want the history. What we want, Coren and I, is to make sure we all work together professionally and Pencradoc and Wheal Mount can continue supporting one another as they always have done.’

Ryan and Tegan murmured consent, even though Ryan turned red — it must have killed him to agree to that. That seemed to satisfy Sybill, who smiled at them brightly. ‘Good. Okay, I’m not sure how much Merryn has told you, but these are the sorts of things we do between the two arts centres . . .’

Sybill talked for a little while about the joint exhibitions the places had run in the past. Even though the exhibitions were not joint in the true sense of the word, each property would usually try to have at least one gallery supporting the other.

Tegan found herself extremely interested in Sybill’s words. Coren didn’t say much, but appeared to hang on every word Sybill uttered, which didn’t surprise Tegan. Merryn had said Sybill was definitely more people-focussed than Coren and gradually Tegan relaxed into the conversation enough to not be totally reliving the Ghosts of Galleries Past with Gothy Ryan over there.

‘Coren told me that the next joint exhibition would be changing,’ Sybill said eventually. ‘Can you explain why you decided that?’ She looked at Tegan.

Tegan nodded, trying to remind herself that this wasn’t an interview, that she had the job, and despite Gothy Ryan, she needed to look and sound professional. ‘Yes. It was felt that the War was just too expansive a topic and we needed to concentrate on something more seasonal and uplifting for people. It seemed too much going from a wonderful midsummer ball to conflict.’

‘Ryan, what do you think?’ asked Coren.

Ryan looked at Coren and nodded. ‘Yes. I completely agree. Something more seasonal would be great — I mean, not only have we got evidence of a midwinter wedding for Lady Elsie, but Tammy said we’ve got some references to Halloween in the archives, and I’ve already seen a letter about it. Maybe we could look at that properly another time. Or as a lead up to the wedding.’ He looked a little startled at what he had said. ‘But yeah. It’s fantastic that Merryn decided to focus on the wedding instead.’

‘Actually,’ said Tegan. ‘That was my idea. The wedding, I mean.’

There was a silence at the table and everyone stared at her.

Strike Four!

Potentially?

Dear God, she hoped not.

‘Well.’ Ryan’s face contorted through a few different expressions as the silence in the room grew uncomfortable. Eventually, he caught Sybill’s eye, then dropped his gaze and raised it again. He fixed his eyes on Tegan and she blinked, suddenly aware of how piercing that gaze was.

Hell, yeah, it’s like he knows your soul and he’s staring . . . Right. Into. It!came that American voice again and Tegan felt a little sick. She took a deep breath and refused to lower her own eyes.

‘It’s . . . a good idea,’ he said, then dropped his gaze again.

It must have killed him to say that.

Inwardly, Tegan wanted to run around and do a celebratory lap of the room. Instead, she nodded — she hoped — graciously, and muttered, ‘Thank you.’

‘Excellent!’ said Sybill. ‘We’re all on board. Ryan — can I ask how much information you have relating to Halloween in the archives? I’m not sure it’s a traditional thing for the family to be celebrating.’