Page 89 of Mirrors of the Past

‘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.