Page 1 of Mirrors of the Past

Chapter One

Present

When Tegan Burton arrived at Pencradoc, the first thing she did was to drop her well-travelled suitcase on the ground and stare up at the old building.

‘Hello, Pencradoc,’ she said. ‘Where are all your ghosts, then?’

The grand old house, which stood on the very edge of Bodmin Moor in Cornwall, didn’t respond.

Tegan hadn’t really expected it to. It was just a step too far to believe in the Pencradoc ghosts. Her sister, Merryn, swore the place was swarming with them, but Tegan wasn’t convinced. Tegan had, she liked to think, both feet too firmly on the ground for any spectral visitors to whoosh up to her and go “Boo!”

‘Nobody there? Nope? Okay.’ She shrugged and picked up her case. ‘I guess this is the point where I need to go and meet my new boss. Last call for any ghosts!’ She raised her voice and looked around. Still nothing. Unsurprising. ‘Right. Coren Penhaligon, here I come.’ She walked up the steps into the grey building, which perhaps should have felt foreboding but definitely didn’t.

Pencradoc was an arts centre — it was populated by artists and creatives who taught and learned from one another. Visitors and families enjoyed looking at the galleries and wandering through the centre and gardens — perhaps stopping by the Tower Tearoom for a coffee and a cake — and, if Merryn was to believed, all the while being supervised by ancient members of the Pencradoc family who had lived and loved there years before. Merryn’s husband, Kit, and her brother-in-law, Coren, had inherited the place a few years ago from their Great-Aunt Loveday and turned it into what it was now — not only a highly respected place for the arts, but a beloved local community hub and a place that attracted visitors from all over the country.

And that place, Tegan thought as she looked around the hallway, was the location of her new job.

‘Little Elsie!’ she cried, momentarily forgetting she was trying to find her new boss and hurrying towards a marble bust of a little girl at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Well, I’ve heard all about you, that’s for sure.’ The girl was beautiful, all wild hair, mischievous eyes and a big smile. She was the famous Lady Elsie Pencradoc, an ancestor of Kit and Coren, and someone who had, if all accounts were to be believed, tilted Edwardian society on its axis by her surprisingly modern outlook for the world she’d lived in as an adult.

Patting the marble curls and taking a moment to appreciate the sculpture, Tegan continued through the hallway. Merryn had given her directions to find Coren’s office and Tegan walked confidently towards it.

Starting a new job was exciting and something new, and she always looked forward to the challenges and excitement it brought. Tegan had a very varied CV, it had to be said: hospitality and tourism expertise, barista work, waitressing, a chalet girl in Switzerland. She’d worked in a gift shop. She’d been a tour guide. She’d done nannying and event planning. She had a raft of qualifications in all sorts of things, but she hadn’t yet found her niche.

That was the one thing she envied her sister for. Merryn was the eldest, settled and sensible, working for an art dealer in London, then she’d come here, to Pencradoc. Met Kit. And the rest, as they said, was history. History that was about to become even more settled and sensible with the imminent arrival of Merryn’s first child.

Tegan shuddered. She didn’t envy that. She had too much of the world to see and too much of her life to live yet.

Oh. And lemon-picking in Sicily. That had been Tegan’s most recent adventure. But she was ready for a change of scenery, ready to sort some things out in her head, and this post at Pencradoc — as Merryn’s maternity leave, no less — was the ideal solution. She’d do Merryn’s job for the year, as agreed. Decide what she wanted to do with her life in the meantime. And move on.

* * *

Ryan knew there was a logical order to the boxes and boxes of “stuff” in the family archives at Wheal Mount. It just wasn’t his logical order. That was all.

Tammy, the archivist at Wheal Mount, and the woman who seemingly guarded the archives with fire and brimstone, had worked with a placement student last year to get some of it organised. The student, Bryony, had left, and Ryan had made the mistake one day of mentioning that it sounded like quite an interesting task.

Tammy had reported back to Sybill, the manager of Wheal Mount Arts Centre, and almost straight away he’d been called into Sybill’s office and welcomed with a big smile. Which had scared him a lot. Usually intent and efficient, Sybill had loosened up over the last few weeks and then she and Coren Penhaligon at Pencradoc had announced their pregnancy news, so she’d been smiling much more.

But it had still been pretty scary to stand in her office and be — well — smiled at.

‘Ryan.’ Her smile had grown wider. ‘Tammy’s been telling me a few things.’

‘Sure . . .’ He blinked, confused. He talked to Tammy a lot; the pair of them had been at Wheal Mount the longest out of all the staff and had formed a friendly relationship, so he wondered which “thing” Sybill was referring to.

‘So, the thing I’m interested in,’ Sybill continued, as if reading his mind, ‘was your interest in the archives.’

‘Oh! Yeah. I just said that it seemed there was still a lot of work to do, but the things they’d found had been good. Especially since you’ve got Pencradoc’s stores too.’

‘Yes. We all decided the Pencradoc items were safer here.’ Pencradoc and Wheal Mount had been owned by the same family, and everyone at Pencradoc knew that Sybill had more experience and more staff to deal with them. ‘But, our placement student could only do so much. And Tammy is fantastic, but I’m going to be working more closely with her on the day-to-day management of the centre, because she’ll be covering my maternity leave. It makes a lot of sense.’

‘Yes — it does. Tammy will be great in that role.’ Ryan smiled, genuinely delighted for his friend.

‘She will. But it means there’ll be a big gap to fill in the archives and stores management. Which is where, Ryan, you come in.’ And there was that smile again. Yep. Still scary. ‘Because you’ve been with us a while, I’d like to give you more responsibility at Wheal Mount Arts Centre, and I think that’s a perfect place to start.’

‘Oh! Well — yeah. Thanks. That’s great. But I’m not sure how long I’ll be staying. I’m going to have to start thinking about a career. A proper career.’ He caught Sybill’s horrified look and quickly back-tracked. ‘I mean, I love it here, I really do — and, yeah, it’s a great career for you and Tammy and such like—’ hell, she looked even more cross with him — ‘but do you really want me here on a more permanent basis?’ Yes. Good. That was a good thing to say. ‘What I’m trying to say, is that I’ve worked here for years, through my course and everything—’

‘Just like I did,’ replied Sybill, a little coldly. ‘I started by sitting on a seat and welcoming visitors too, you know.’

‘Yes, I know. But what if — what if . . .’ He took a deep breath. ‘What if I decide to go back to Glasgow or something?’ Ryan thought back to the summer job he’d had during his course at a gallery in the west of Glasgow. He loved the vibe up there and he fully intended going back at some point.