I pull two pieces of canvas apart and slide in unnoticed. I’m in a darkened corner directly to the right of the main entrance. I shift over a few steps so I’ll have an unblocked view of Edward’s face when he walks in.
The entry curtains peel back, allowing Edward inside. He takes two steps into the room, head turned sideways as he chats with a colleague.
“Turn around, dammit.” I mutter under my breath. Any minute now a staff member will see me standing here and force my attention elsewhere.
At last, the colleague laughs and says goodbye, calling out for his wife in front of him.
Edward is always so stoic, I wonder if I’ll even notice a difference in his expression. With my luck, he’ll tighten up his jaw, blink and stride on, ignoring the magnificence I’ve spent hours creating. I take a deep breath in and hold it. I wait.
I watch his eyes first. They widen in surprise. He turns his head left and right, skimming the room to take it all in. The corners of his mouth tweak up, incontrovertible proof of his first impression of my work. Although he is mumbling under his breath, the words are clear enough for me to read his lips.
“My god, she’s done it.”
That’s my cue.
I sidle up beside him, careful not to give away my presence until I’m ready.
“Will it do, Edward, or is it too Disney for you?”
Together we take in all the rich details that make up the theme. With Harry’s help, we found enough antiques and artefacts tucked away in dusty cupboards and drawers to enable every one of the college’s ghosts and portraits to have one to hand. Some carry books, others have candle snuffers tucked away in pockets. Bartie has a worn college journal in hand. Catherine Morgan and Dr Rachel Thickett are holding court at a small table, their reflections shimmering in the diamond-like facets of the crystal wine glasses they’re holding in their hands, keeping them visible to the guests.
I flag down a passing waiter and take two glasses of champagne from his tray, pressing one into Edward’s hand before sipping my own. I’m about to slip away when Edward finally speaks again.
“I’ve never seen anything like this, Ms Payne… Nat. Truly. And I’ve been to many of these events over the years. It is extravagant, both familiar and unfamiliar at once. It is so utterly and completely…” his voice trails off.
“Ridiculous?” I fill in the gap.
“Perfect,” he corrects. “It is authentic and quintessentially St Margaret. I do not understand how you’ve done this in such a short time. If I hadn’t seen your notes myself, I’d swear you used magic.”
I try not to laugh out loud as he walks off into the room.
Chapter Twenty-One
Mathilde tracks me down after dinner, grabbing my arm and dragging me onto the dance floor. I pretend to fight her off, but it’s a half-hearted attempt. I’ve been tapping my toe to the music and waiting for an excuse to stop working and let my hair down. The band is a huge hit, skipping effortlessly from swing music to jazz, over to Aretha Franklin and then the Beatles. The guest list is mostly college donors and alumni. This is their era, they know every song lyric by heart.
I lean across to Mathilde, yelling over the music, “Is this how you do the Charleston?” My legs flip out to each side, my feet twisting and nearly sending me tumbling. Mathilde’s only response is to burst into laughter. I suspect she’s a few drinks ahead of me.
A group of young Eternals dash out to join me. “Ms Nat, stop!” they call out. “You will hurt yourself. Let us show you.” Lining up side by side, they lift their skirts so I can follow along with their feet. They make it look effortless, which given they’re ghosts, it probably is.
In between numbers, I realise we’re missing a member of our trio. “Mathilde, where’s Kate? She should be out here with us.”
Mathilde stifles a giggle, raising her finger to point towards one alcove. Kate is sitting on a sofa, her feet tucked underneath her, wineglass in hand, chatting away with Bartie. Despite the music and the crowd, they appear to be in a world all of their own. I fan myself, spurring Mathilde to laugh again.
Slowly but surely, as the night carries on, the crowd slims down. I spy Harry slow dancing with her husband Rob, both polished up in their evening best. She gives me a wink when she passes by, reminding me once again why we trusted her with the secret of the magic. She’s been my rock for the past two weeks, never breathing a word to anyone about the truth of my gala plan.
Edward slides in and out of my view, always standing on the side, chatting away. I catch him watching me dance with the Eternals, his cheeks colouring slightly before he gives in and raises a toast in my direction. I gather up my courage to invite him to dance, but get distracted midway by a rustling sound coming from behind one of the dessert buffets.
“Oh my word, H!! What are you doing in here?” I hiss when I spy a familiar-looking spiky black tail sticking out from underneath the table. I flip up the tablecloth to find H hunched over the remains of a cheese platter.
“Oi, missie. Why din’t ya tell me thar was gonna be cheese ‘ere? A whole wedge of Lincolnshire Poacher cheddar, just sittin’ thar abandoned.”
I look around the room, hoping to find someone who can help me smuggle him back out of the marquee. Everyone is caught up in their own fun, the Eternals mixing effortlessly with our human guests.
Maybe one more won’t hurt.
I know I’ll probably regret it, but I lean under the table, dragging H out by
