Page 86 of Mirrors of the Past

‘Thought as much,’ she said.

‘Sybill . . .’ He took a deep breath and gave up the charade. ‘Do you think Wheal Mount is haunted?’

Sybill frowned. ‘That’s a good question. I’m not sure. I don’t think it’s as haunted as Pencradoc, if that’s what you mean. I believe that the Pencradoc spirits find you if they need to let you know something. They pop up and let you know if you’re being a bit — unreasonable about something. Stubborn. That kind of thing.’ She nodded, as if her words had satisfied her. ‘Maybe we’ve just had nobody at Wheal Mount who needs to be told something. Everything seems to happen up there.’ She sat back in her seat, waved her hand in the direction of Pencradoc and folded her arms across her huge bump. ‘Anyway — what are you up to for Christmas?’

‘Going to my parents,’ Ryan answered, relieved that the interrogation seemed to be over. ‘What about you?’

‘Pencradoc.’ Sybill smiled. ‘We’ve got the whole family this year. Merryn and Kit are coming with Rosie, and Coren’s mum and dad are coming too. And Tegan will be there, of course. You should go up there and see the exhibition before it comes down. You’ve been part of it and I know you’ve got photos, but it’s not the same as the real thing. Is it?’

Ryan flushed again, wondering if that comment had a double meaning. In the same way that Sybill had a photo of Louis and Elsie, he had kept a copy of the group wedding shot, tucked inside a notebook. He looked at it occasionally, but he didn’t think Sybill had noticed.

But this was Sybill and perhaps she had.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Photos aren’t the same at all. Actually . . .’ He thought for a minute. ‘Can I ask you something about that? I think I’d like to do something with a picture I’ve got.’

Sybill sat forward again, her eyes bright and her expression eager. ‘Ask away.’

‘It’s just about making old photos colourised. I’ve seen some and they are so lifelike . . .’ He shook his head, wondering how he could explain what he meant.

‘Oh! Yes.’ Sybill nodded. ‘I know exactly what you mean. Is that something you want to look into? And I also know just the person who can help. Let me get the info. I’ll email it straight over.’

‘Thanks.’ He grinned and headed back to his desk, looking forward to getting it sorted. He sat down and opened his emails, a smile still on his face.

Then he saw an email from the Glasgow gallery. From Allison, who had interviewed him.

He read the email. Then he read it again.

Congratulations, it said. We would like to offer you the job . . .