by Lottie Lucas
I make another attempt. “What are we?”
There’s a beat of silence. Then he laughs.
“That’s what you’ve been so worried about?” He begins to trace languid circles across my bare collarbone. “Really?”
“It’s something that should be discussed, apparently,” I murmur thickly. His touch feels so good; it’s making it hard to form a coherent thought. I sink deeper into the bed.
“How very modern.” His hand slips beneath the covers, grazing across my navel as it travels downwards.
I gasp as his fingers find their target. It would be so easy to get swept away, to lose myself in the moment and forget all about this conversation. But I don’t. Instead I sit bolt upright.
“So?”
At my abrupt demand, his eyes darken with confusion. He sits up too, leaning back against the headboard.
“Something I said?”
“Something you didn’t say.” I pull the duvet up to my chin, wanting the sense of protection. This hasn’t taken the turn I’d expected it to. Despite all of my reticence to raise the subject, I realise now that I only ever expected one answer from him. And what I got was no answer at all.
That’s simply not enough.
Comprehension dawns across his face. “Wait … you’re serious about this, aren’t you?”
“Of course I’m bloody serious!” I snap, the tension getting the better of me. “Why else would I be asking?”
He takes my chin in his hand, looking into my eyes. “I thought we were having fun. Aren’t we?”
“Yes, but …”
“Aren’t you happy?”
“Yes, of course I am, but …”
“But you want to know.” He sighs. “Why do women always do this? Why do you always have to make everything so heavy? Look, Clara, I like you. You like me. We enjoy each other’s company. Isn’t that enough for now?”
He looks so earnest that I immediately feel ashamed of my outburst. Of course, when he puts it like that, it all sounds eminently reasonable. It makes my demand seem desperate, clingy, paranoid. I cover my face with my hands as he continues.
“And before you ask if I’m seeing anyone else …”
“I wasn’t going to!”
“… Oh, no, please do. Such an estimation of my stamina levels would be immensely flattering.”
I peep out from between my fingers. There’s a smile curving at the edges of his mouth.
“Stop it,” I say, my voice muffled. “You can’t make me feel better.”
The fact that he’s taking it all so well only makes me feel more mortified. I wish I could just shrink into the bed and disappear for good.
“I disagree.” He pulls me against him. “I think there’s plenty I can do.”
From downstairs, I hear the doorbell ring. I freeze, but Josh doesn’t seem to notice. He just carries on trailing kisses down my neck.
It rings again, reverberating throughout the house.
“Leave it,” Josh says against my skin. “If it’s important, they’ll come back.”
There’s nothing I’d rather do at this very moment. But my conscience tugs at me, refusing to let it go.
“I’d better get it,” I say apologetically. “It might be something to do with Casper. It often is. Just … stay there, okay? I’ll be back in a minute.”
Turning away from his disbelieving face, I pull on my kimono and run downstairs, trying not to entertain murderous thoughts about my own cat. But mark my words, if he has anything to do with the fact that I’ve been dragged away from what promised to be a particularly spectacular making up session, then I won’t be answerable for the consequences.
Casper chooses that moment to miaow a greeting from his position on the hall rug.
“So, not you then,” I say, surprised. “In which case …”
I open the door, and anything I was about to utter next dies on my lips.
“Hi,” Adam says simply.
Chapter 16
“Hello,” I reply warily. “What are you doing here?”
He puts his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels.
“Your house is very … pink. I didn’t notice it properly last time.”
“I like pink,” I say defensively. “More people should paint their houses pink, in my opinion. It would enhance national wellbeing immensely.” I regard him for a moment. He looks edgy. “But I’m guessing you didn’t come here specifically to comment on my paint choices.”
“No, I didn’t. Actually, I wanted to say sorry. I’m afraid I somewhat overreacted the last time we met. It wasn’t my finest moment and … Look, can I come in for a minute? It’s freezing out here.”
It crosses my mind to say no, but it occurs to me that would be churlish. Also, he has a point; it is freezing, and I’m standing here only in my kimono.
Literally, only in my kimono, I suddenly recall. Surreptitiously, I pull the wrap front more tightly around my throat. It feels slightly wrong, standing here with Adam having one of our strange conversations while Josh languishes upstairs in bed, but what else can I do?
“I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately.” He’s talking quickly, as though now he’s started he can’t wait to get it off his chest. “Mostly self-imposed, I grant you, but not entirely. You see, the head of my department is due to retire next year, and his successor is yet to be announced.”
I fold my arms. I suppose I owe it to him to listen, if nothing else.
“And you’re in the running?”
“We’re all in the running.” He shoves a hand through his hair, and I notice how tired he looks. “Of course, I should be well out of it. At my age … Whoever heard of anyone making head of department at twenty-nine? But there have been hints … suggestions … that I might still be considered. I’m viewed as something of a prodigy, you see.” He coughs, looking awkward. “But, naturally, my CV isn’t as advanced as those of my colleagues. I need to work twice as hard.” He sets his jaw. “I won’t lose out on the opportunity of a lifetime, not due to lack of application, at any rate.”
“And the museum?” I prompt. Upstairs, I hear a floorboard creaking and I fervently pray that Josh stays put. I don’t know why I care so much; it’s not as if I’m doing anything wrong. Why shouldn’t Adam know that I’m seeing someone? Maybe he’s seeing someone himself; I’ve never asked him about it.
For some reason, that last thought corresponds to a funny tight feeling in my stomach, which I swiftly attribute to a lack of breakfast.
“I have a lot of papers to my name, but what I really need is a book. I think my research in the museum could form the cornerstone.” The light dims in his eyes. “But there’s so little time. I’m afraid the pressure has been getting to me of late. I’m not acting … Well, I’m not myself. I thought you deserved an explanation. I didn’t want you to think badly of me.”
He really looks like he means it. The realisation makes me feel off-kilter, somehow.
“It doesn’t matter what I think,” I say softly.
“Yes, it does.” He pulls a brown paper bag out of his satchel. “I’m afraid I was rather unfair on Casper as well. I’ve brought him a peace offering, by way of apology.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what to say. “That’s actually very … sweet.”
Sweet. Professor Warwick. Who’d have thought it?
“Here.” He produces a fluffy white mouse from the bag and tosses it at Casper, who watches it land with disinterest, before batting it away beneath the coat rack with a challenging stare.
“I’m sure he’ll grow to love it,” I say weakly.
“Hmm.” Adam doesn’t look convinced. “He doesn’t appear ready to forgive me just yet.”
“You did call him mangy,” I feel compelled to point out. “You’re going to have to work hard to come back from that.”
“Then I will.” His eyes meet mine, and there’s an unexpected warmth there. “So, you and I … Is the truce back on?”
I never get the cha
nce to answer because, to my dismay, Josh comes cantering down the stairs, pulling his T-shirt on over his head.
“Everything okay? I heard voices.”
I find myself attempting to spring away from Adam, which is both ridiculous and impossible. Impossible because of the sheer lack of space in my narrow Victorian hallway, and ridiculous because …
Well, because it just is. Because it’s Adam, and nothing could be more above reproach. Yet I’m acting like there’s something illicit going on.
They’re both looking at me, and I realise that I’m going to have to say something.
“It’s just … someone from the museum.” My mouth has gone dry, and I swallow. “Josh, this is Adam.”
“Hi.” Josh shakes his hand, not seeming at all aware of the oppressive atmosphere. “So, you two work together, then?”
“Just someone from the museum,” Adam reiterates quietly. “Like she said.”
What does that mean? I dart a glance at him, but his expression is shuttered.
Casper is scratching at the hem of Josh’s jeans, begging to be picked up.
Something flickers in Adam’s dark eyes, but it’s gone before I can catch it.
“I’ll leave you to your Saturday.” He seems to look past me then, to where Josh stands with Casper in his arms. “I can see that you have everything you need.”
And then, just like that he’s gone. And I’m left standing there, unable to shake the feeling that something just happened. Something I should probably understand, but I can’t work out what.
“Bit of an odd chap,” Josh remarks mildly. “Is he always like that?”
“No,” I say slowly, more to myself than anything. “No, he’s not.”
***
“Jeremy?” I poke my head tentatively around the door to his office. “Do you have a moment?”
I can’t believe I’m actually resorting to this. Normally, I avoid him like he has fleas. Which is ironic, really, because if anyone’s likely to have fleas around here it’s me, what with Casper’s incessant wandering and frolicking.
Not that … I mean, for the record, I don’t actually have fleas. I just … Oh, never mind.
“Ah.” Jeremy doesn’t look in the least surprised to see me. “Of course. I’d quite forgotten. Thank you for reminding me.”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“Our monthly patrol,” he says cheerfully, rising out of the cracked leather office chair which looks to pre-date the office itself.
Ah. I’d forgotten about that too.
Every last Thursday of the month, Jeremy and I go on a walk around the museum and reassess our plans for the place. Or, rather, I should say, his plans. We look at how the exhibits are arranged, what’s gaining the most attention and if everything’s working as it ought to be. No paintings falling off walls and onto heads, and suchlike. It would probably be quite enjoyable if I could get a word in edgeways but, as it stands, it generally equates to me trailing around after him for two hours listening to his incessant droning.
“Nothing I’d rather do,” I say resignedly. “But first there was something I wanted to ask you …”
“Walk and talk, Miss Swift.” He slings on his most jaunty waistcoat, a brown and rusty orange floral pattern which makes me feel bilious every time I have to look at it. “Walk and talk! There’s no time to be lost.”
Where he gets this sudden urgency from, I’ve no idea. This is a museum; the default pace is glacial. Nothing’s changed here in almost two hundred years; it’s unlikely to in the next five minutes.
“Have you seen Professor Warwick this week?” I puff, following him along the corridor.
He draws up, spinning around to look at me beadily. “Why ask me? I thought you were such good friends.”
I bite back a retort, pretending to make a study of a nearby watercolour.
The truth is, I’m not sure what Adam and I are at the moment. Our relationship has always been an odd, uneasy one but I thought we’d got back onto a reasonably steady footing. Now, I’m not sure what I think.
I haven’t seen him much in the past few days; the one time I did manage to catch him, he looked like a startled rabbit. He mumbled something about being late for a lecture, and off he went. But the thing is, I know that he doesn’t have lectures on a Monday; he’s told me that in the past. If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if he was still avoiding me.
But he can’t be. Why would he? We sorted things out, didn’t we? We reinstated our truce. I mean, the only thing I can think of which has happened is that scene in my hallway last weekend. Which … well, it was a bit awkward, I suppose. But more for me than anyone else. I can’t see why it would make him want to keep away from me.
It doesn’t make any sense. I’m beginning to worry that something is seriously wrong. Hence why I’m here asking Jeremy about it. The last person in the world I want to have to rely on, but my last chance. No one else knows what’s going on; even Ruby’s normally invincible spy network has let me down. Perhaps Jeremy can shed some light on the matter.
“I found some old notes on our sarcophagus in the archives,” I say quickly, not wanting Jeremy to think that there’s anything personal in my asking. The last thing I need is more of his insinuations. “I thought they might be useful for Adam … I mean, for Professor Warwick. For his book,” I add hopelessly.
“Ah, yes.” Jeremy’s eyes gleam. “His book. A great coup for the museum, wouldn’t you say?”
“He told you about it?”
For some reason, that makes me feel a little hollow. Which is totally unreasonable, of course; why shouldn’t it be common knowledge amongst his colleagues? I suppose I’d assumed that it was a confidence, that he told me because I was special. Now I just feel foolish.
“Oh, yes, he told me about it,” Jeremy says cryptically. “Which reminds me, there’s something I need to run past you.”
For a second I think I’ve misheard him. But then he carries on, and I realise that I can’t possibly have done.
“… I think it would be prudent … an introduction, you understand. An opportunity to elucidate on the qualities the museum strives to embody, going forwards …”
“Jeremy …” I move around so I’m in front of him, stopping him in his tracks
“… simple English, please.”
He looks distinctly put out by the suggestion, but obliges. “What would you think about making the introductory speech at the gala unveiling next week?”
My mouth falls open. Literally, I’m ashamed to say.
“Don’t gawp like that.” He tuts, straightening a framed embroidery. “It’s terrible manners.”
“But …” I search for my voice. “That’s your thing. Not mine.”
Jeremy always does the speeches. Much, I have to say, to the dismay of the audience. But this time even I wouldn’t begrudge him his moment in the limelight. The acquisition of the new Holman Hunt took months of haggling, endless back and forth negotiations. Luckily, that’s one area where Jeremy appears to come into his own. He pulled it off with aplomb. And, knowing Jeremy, I bet he can’t wait to tell everyone all about it, in minute detail.
It makes no sense, but then nothing makes any sense at the moment. Adam, Jeremy … even Casper, who can normally be relied upon to be unwaveringly himself. Maybe I should be getting used to it by now.
“It needn’t require in-depth discussion, thank you,” he says briskly. “A sensible answer will suffice. What’s it to be?”
I’m momentarily speechless.
“I don’t need to point out that this is a big opportunity, do I?” Jeremy says with more than a trace of impatience.
“In which case, she’ll take it.” A deeply amused voice reverberates from just behind me. “Does it come with a pay rise too?”
I don’t turn around, but then I don’t need to. My skin is already tingling with awareness.
“Professor Warwick.” Jeremy raises an eyebrow. “How unexpected. We haven’t seen much of you of late.”
“I made the mistake of setting a three thousand-word essay for my third year students on the Classical Civilisations module. It seemed a good idea at the time.”
“I would be honoured to,” I say, recovering my voice. I’m aware that I seem to have dropped out of the conversation. Or, rather, it’s been hijacked by an unwelcome interloper. I direct my comments purposely at Jeremy. “I’ll have a draft by early next week.”
“Good, good.” Jeremy’s already distracted. His mind never lingers on one topic for long. “Well, let’s be getting along, then. Museums don’t run themselves, you know. Unless …” He looks up at us through his half-moon glasses. He’s the only person I’ve ever met who actually possesses a pair; prior to that I thought they only belonged in fiction.
“Actually—” Adam steps in smoothly, taking the cue “—I was wondering if I could steal Clara away for a moment?”
I instantly bristle. What am I, some baggage to be passed around?
“I have no time to be stolen away, Professor Warwick,” I say stiffly. “I have work to do, in case you hadn’t noticed. Work which you’re interrupting.”
Jeremy’s watching our exchange with unabashed fascination.
“You go,” he says at last. I glance at him in surprise, but he’s looking at Adam instead. I frown. I can’t help but feel that there’s something going on here, something I’m missing. “I can manage the rest.”
I can barely wait until he’s out of earshot before whirling to face Adam. “What did you do that for?”
He looks surprised at my vehemence. “It’s called saving you. Unless you really wanted to spend the afternoon with Jeremy?”
Not massively. But somehow that doesn’t seem to be the point right now.
“I do not need saving from my job! Contrary to your beliefs, I do actually have a lot of responsibilities.” I pause, then can’t resist adding, “If you’d been here lately, perhaps you would have seen that.”
He looks at me for a long moment. Then he nods knowingly. “Ah. I see what it is. You’re annoyed with me, aren’t you?”
“Why would I be annoyed with you?” I scuff my shoes on the polished wooden floor, aware that I sound like a sullen child. “I’ve no reason to be.”