Page 52 of Mirrors of the Past

‘Wait. What? You can’t come?’

‘No. I have too many commitments. I am so sorry.’ He sounded genuinely gutted. ‘I have a lot of — gigs — on. And I cannot afford to lose out on them. The money is good and I want to save up. I would like, you see, to come to you in the New Year.’

‘The New Year? But what about Christmas?’ It was her turn to be confused.

‘Flights will be expensive then. I will work, you see, on these gigs, to get money for New Year. For January. I will come then.’

‘January seems a long time away,’ she said.

‘It is. But you know, next Christmas, we will be together in Sicily again.’

It should have sounded comforting. It should have sounded blissful — Christmas in Sicily with Angelo. But it just — didn’t.

Not really.

Tegan liked Christmas at home, with her family.

‘Okay. Not to worry. We’ll sort something out nearer the time,’ she told him. What she would “sort”, she had no idea. But it wasn’t a discussion she wanted to have in a pub a couple of thousands of miles apart. ‘Anyway, you’re busy, so I’ll let you go. Go and gig and make some money. Oh — I love the photo on Instagram. The beach one you posted.’ She smiled. ‘With your guitar and the footsteps.’

‘The beach one . . . ? Oh! Yes. Yes. That one. From ages ago!’

‘Yes. Ages ago.’ She laughed. ‘Happy memories.’

‘Indeed. Happy memories. Goodbye then, talk soon! Oh! I must go — they are calling me onto stage . . .’

There was a rustle and a click, some muffled Italian words and then, just like that he was gone.

She stared at her phone for a moment. Then, for want of anyone else to chat to — and to not overthink the rushed goodbye and the no mention of the “love you” phrase — she decided to call her sister instead.

‘Merryn!’ she said in delight when Merryn answered. ‘How are you?’

‘Bloody fucking hell, Tegan, I think I’m in labour,’ Merryn said.

Oh, God. Bad call, Tegan, bad call!

‘Oh. Okay. You’d best — go then.’ Tegan held the phone at arm’s length, looking at it in horror, as if her sister would step through it, contractions and all.

‘No! Please distract me until Kit comes back. He’s on his way from work now. Argh!’

‘Shit, Merryn! What on earth can I say to . . . oh! Oh, yes. I know.’ Even as she closed her eyes and prepared to ask the question, Tegan knew that it was, on some level, a poor show. But you didn’t get anywhere in life without grabbing the bull by the horns sometimes. Carpe diem and all that. ‘What do you know about a girl called Viola?’

‘What? Viola? Oh my God, oh my God . . . hang on . . .’ There were a few deep breaths from the other end of the phone and Tegan screwed up her face, making a mental note not to get pregnant any time soon. ‘Viola. Right. She was Pearl’s sister . . . ow, ow, ow. Sketch of her in ballroom. By Elsie. Owwwww! She married . . . Hell, this hurts!’

Tegan yelped. ‘You need to go!’

‘Yeah, yeah. In a minute. She . . . Kit! Thank fuck . . . Can we go now? Straight away?’

‘Okay, Merryn — Merryn, can you hear me? Go. Go now and I’ll talk later.’

Merryn rarely swore so it was a bit of a shocker to hear her on the phone in that state.

‘Yes. Yes. Talk later . . .’ There was a clatter as Merryn apparently dropped the phone. Then it disconnected and Tegan was left looking at her mobile in horror.

She wished her sister well, she really did, but there was no way on this earth that she was wandering around Pencradoc that evening looking for random portraits. Viola or no Viola.

For one thing, she’d had enough of the creepiness of being alone in a room there today, and, for another, she had an awfully sick feeling that, once she found the portrait, the girl would look exactly like the woman who had appeared out of the shadows with a bouquet earlier on in her office.

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