Page 94 of Mirrors of the Past

And a horse whinnied, so loudly it made them both jump.

They sprang apart and both turned to face the gateway to the garden, which gave out onto a branch of the main driveway. There was that misty look about the gateway again, the same sort of mistiness that had swallowed them up in Russell Square. Beyond the gateway, Tegan saw a row of lamps lining the driveway, and, coming up it, the shadowy image of a horse and carriage through the heavily falling snow.

The carriage was decorated for Christmas, the horse trotting happily along, lifting its hooves high and, despite the fact that it should have been terrifying to witness, Tegan felt a smile twitch at the corner of her lips. ‘Can you see it, Ryan?’ she whispered, turning to him. ‘Do you see what I see?’

‘I suspect I do.’ His voice was filled with awe and his eyes followed the carriage as hers had done. She noticed he still held her hand and she squeezed his hand even tighter and moved a little closer to him.

The horse stopped and the driver dismounted. Discarding his coat and hat, tossing it to one side on a tree stump, tearing his scarf off and throwing it on top of them, a young man in a white shirt strode purposefully to the carriage door and flung it open.

Tegan watched as he reached out and bowed, holding his hand out and waiting for another hand to take it. A young woman, petite and dressed in an old-fashioned winter coat, sporting a warm-looking hat and a hand muff, took his hand and alighted from the carriage. There was a moment where she hesitated for a moment and looked up at him.

The couple walked towards Tegan and Ryan, completely oblivious to them, looking at one another, the snow blanketing the ground and falling steadily around them.

‘It’s them,’ whispered Tegan. ‘Laurie and Viola!’

‘Definitely.’ Ryan was staring at them, wide-eyed. ‘Is it them, though, or one of those ghostly memory things, where something happened that left its imprint on the area?’

‘You’ve been doing your research. But yes, I’ve heard of those too . . .’

The couple came closer and stopped. Then they turned to one other . . .

But whatever happened after that was lost to the mysteries of time and the magic of Pencradoc as the figures faded and became as unsubstantial as the mist and the snowflakes that, even now, were slowing down and melting on the ground around them.

Tegan blinked and the scene settled into her own familiar time and place. The horse and carriage had gone, the paths were only lit by the cheerful jam jars and the ground was just simply wet.

She turned to Ryan and there were still the ghosts of snowflakes glistening in his hair and on his shoulders, but, even as she watched, they melted and disappeared. No snow was evident beyond that, anywhere at all.

‘Snow’s stopped,’ she said.

‘That’s actually a bit of a shame,’ he replied. Then he shrugged. ‘Mum and Dad will be happy at least.’

Tegan hid a smile and was just about to make a flippant response when the church bells started chiming, and continued chiming until they had rung twelve times.

‘Midnight?’ she asked, confused. ‘But . . .’ She checked her watch. It was barely five o’clock in the evening. ‘It can’t be.’

Ryan shook his head and when he spoke, his voice was low. ‘It’s not midnight here. I think it’s midnight on Christmas Eve somewhere. Sometime. Like, oh, I don’t know, in 1911?’

A chill ran up Tegan’s spine. He was right. Midnight on Christmas Eve was the time when Miss Viola Arthur had been requested to visit Rose’s garden.

‘I’d say it was the witching hour,’ she said. ‘But it’s not.’

‘Not at all.’

‘It’s the magical hour. And I think we just witnessed their magic. Laurie’s and Viola’s.’ She held up the letter. ‘I think I can guess the rest and why they kept this. It was special to them. Incredibly special, I’d say.’

‘I’d agree.’ Ryan nodded. Then he pulled her gently towards him again so they were facing one another. Gosh, he was tall!

Or was she just short?

Oh, it didn’t matter.

All that mattered was that they were there, together, on Christmas Eve — the most magical day of the year.

‘Do you think we could go so far as to say it’s incredibly special for us as well?’ asked Ryan. For the first time, he sounded unsure. He looked, in that enchanted garden, as young and unsure as he had done the first time he’d walked into that gallery in Glasgow.

What had she thought of him then?

If she was honest, and examined her feelings, she hadn’t hated him at all, not really. She’d actually felt a little annoyed that yet another man was working in that place and not only that, but a big, tall man with piercings and dark hair and a scowl that could make you scowl back.