Dave was due to arrive any minute when she gratefully took one of the mugs of coffee Jake had fetched for the team from Bertie’s. When Dave turned up a couple of minutes later, Rose met him at the grand entrance of the Priory.
He was clutching the chin strap of his helmet in his left hand, and there were deep furrows in his brow. Rose tensed immediately, wondering what had happened, wondering if he’d come to tell her that he couldn’t possibly work for the Heritage Trust Fund after all, or, worse, that couldn’t be with her any more.
She rose bravely on the balls of her feet to kiss him lightly in greeting. “Hello, Dave.”
“The address is correct after all,” he said.
“Why, yes,” Rose replied, confused.
“I’d thought it looked familiar when you gave it to me, but I hadn’t realised it was the Priory.”
“Is that a problem?”
“It is... was one of my favourite abandoned buildings,” he said, smiling as he shook off his confusion. “But what better place for the Heritage Trust Fund to use than the Priory, eh?”
“We haven’t used all of the rooms,” Rose said apologetically. She led the way to her office, taking in the newness of the place like Dave did. She hadn’t been able to appreciate how bright it was. At the same time, the halls and rooms had retained their ancient feeling, and she knew that once the smell of fresh paint and wood had evaporated it would smell like snuffed candles, warm wax and cool stone again.
She took Dave to her office.
“Nice place,” he said. “Although that wall looks awful.” He put his helmet down on the wide armrest of the dark brown leather sofa.
“Yeah, I was thinking of commissioning some artwork from a local artist,” Rose said. “I’m really shy and he seems the modest type, so I’m still working up my nerve.”
“Oh.”
Rose smiled, tucking the tip of her tongue into the corner of her mouth. “I was talking about you, you plum.”
Dave turned around, wide-eyed. “Really?”
“I’d love to have one of your photos up on that wall,” she said, closing the distance between them. She kissed him lightly.
“It’d better not be one of the shoot from Friday, though,” he said.
“Why not?”
“They’re... gorgeous,” he admitted.
“You’ve already worked through them?” Rose asked. Now that he mentioned it she noticed that he looked tired, tired in that good way, the way you felt after a great job done.
“I couldn’t resist,” he said. “They’re gorgeous and upsetting and... some of them are really hot.”
“I couldn’t imagine what those would be,” Rose teased him.
His eyes went wide.
Rose laughed and kissed him. “Don’t be embarrassed.”
“Who says I’m talking about the photos of me?” he growled softly.
It was her turn to do a double take.
A knock on the door stopped her from retorting. Mickey pushed open the door. She’d asked him to join Dave and her when they signed the contract, and she hoped he’d stay for lunch at Tony’s, where he’d meet Dominic and Jake. She really wanted her team to know about Dave, particularly since they had expressed so much concern about him being the Doctor’s spitting image. Rose saw no other way of convincing them that she was with Dave because he was Dave and not because of his looks or the memories she associated with it.
“Dave, meet Mickey Smith, my best friend and colleague,” Rose said. She noticed the long, hard stare Mickey gave Dave once the flicker of recognition had passed over his expression. “Mickey, this is Dave Tiler.”
“Nice to see you again,” Mickey said. “Thanks for helping Rose. I never said, but I’m really grateful for what you did for her.”
Now it was Rose’s turn to be surprised. Mickey was usually so protective of her, and he’d made it unequivocally clear that he didn’t believe her when she’d told him that her being with Dave had nothing to do with the Doctor.
“I only did what anyone would have done,” Dave said, shaking the younger man’s hand.
“In the middle of the night in an abandoned industrial area, in the rain and after an explosion? After I’d told you not to call 999?”
Dave shrugged.
“Let’s discuss the contract, shall we?” Rose said, gesturing for them to sit. “Did Mr Knowles find fault with any part of the contract I sent you?”
Dave opened his messenger bag and retrieved the folder containing the document. “Not at all. I have a question, though.”
“Yes?” Mickey leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. The receptionist chose that moment to appear with more coffee, from the shiny Torchwood Gaggia this time. Annie served the mugs and some of Bertie’s nibbles before she left as discreetly as she’d arrived.
“I was wondering if I could travel around to the more distant sites during the summer holidays so I won’t have to leave my kids with the au pair. I’d pay for their accommodation, of course, I just wanted to make sure it’s okay,” he said nervously.
Rose bit her lip. She should have thought of that. Of course he’d want to stay close to his children after what had happened. The situation only proved that she hadn’t really gotten used to the idea of him being a father yet. Maybe it was time to meet them after all. “I don’t see why that would be a problem,” Rose said, finding Mickey’s eyes.
Mickey nodded. “I can’t think of a reason why not.”
Dave’s tension lessened at their positive response. “Excellent. I had another idea last night, and I haven’t had the chance to run it past Robin... Knowles, my lawyer, yet.”
Rose perked up. “I’m listening.”
“It sounds a bit selfish, but it’s not entirely that. I was thinking of making a coffee table book about the sites of the Heritage Trust Fund.”
“I think we can cover that in a separate contract,” Mickey said. “The two wouldn’t be mutually exclusive. Actually, I quite like the idea of a decent, less touristy book about our sites.”
Rose nodded in agreement. “I like the idea.” She didn’t like the idea of not seeing Dave for an extended period of time when he was touring the country’s sights. She hadn’t seen him since Friday, and they’d only briefly talked on Monday to confirm today’s appointment. She’d missed him already, and today couldn’t come quick enough.
Mickey and Dave signed the contract, and after that they were off to Tony’s for lunch. Mickey gave Rose’s shoulders an encouraging squeeze behind Dave’s back, which made the tension melt off her. She was glad that Mickey approved of Dave; it made things so much easier. At Tony’s, they met Dominic and Jake, who she just introduced as colleagues, omitting what exactly it was they did. Dave didn’t seem too pleased at first at the crowd, but he gradually relaxed and by the time the main course was served she had the impression that he was enjoying himself and the company.
They had the whole afternoon to themselves, for as long as Dave’s schedule allowed. Rose smiled, licking her spoon. She couldn’t wait to be alone with him and to see what he had planned for them.
Chapter 22
Rose’s men left after coffee, and once they were gone, Dave reached across the crumb-strewn, tomato-splattered and oil-dribbled table cloth for her hand. He was pleased that Rose wanted him to meet them all so soon, and vice versa he was certain, and it had been gratifying to feel they accepted him. They were a very interesting, funny bunch of guys, completely different from any other men he’d met. There was something about Rose’s men that set them apart from everyone else. He knew that Mickey and Rose had come from another universe, so clearly that, if not their relationship and their travels with the Doctor, had forged a powerful bond between them. They had shared some short exchanges that neither he nor the other two men had been able to follow, so apparently they seemed to be trading quotes from the other universe’s pop culture. Rather than feeling excluded, Dave had paid both of them close attention. He had seen a very new side of Rose, one he wasn’t
sure he’d have gotten to see if it had just been the two of them.
The chemistry between Rose and her men went further than that though. It was clear that Jake and Dominic weren’t part of her and Mickey’s exclusive partnership, but it had also been quite plain that the four of them shared a secret. Just what it was Dave wasn’t sure. It certainly wasn’t the work for the Heritage Trust Fund. It was something more exciting, something more demanding and challenging than office work. Their relationship was based on complete trust, and they’d seemed to know each other quite well. Dave knew, however, that he’d have to wait for her to tell him about her job when she was ready for it. It was part of their agreement. It had seemed so simple on Friday, but already he began to feel the ramifications of it.
“I’m sorry,” Rose said, turning her hand in his to brush his knuckles with her fingertips.
“What for?”
“For talking so much shop,” she said. “I hope you didn’t feel left out.”
“I enjoyed myself, and it was interesting to see you in the company of your friends,” he said sincerely. “Besides, we have the whole afternoon to ourselves.”
“That we do,” Rose said, smiling that gorgeous smile of hers, with a hint of pink peeping from the corner of her lips. “So, what’s the plan?”
Dave grinned. She reminded him of his kids when they were excited about a surprise, down to the shine in her eyes. “I was thinking of having a peek at the photos unless, of course, you’d rather do something else.”
Rose put on a mask of concentration, and she managed to keep it in place long enough for him to start to worry if she really was pondering the suggestion as hard as she made him believe. He was about to say something when she said, grinning. “I’m dying to see the photos.”
“You, Miss Tyler, are a terrible woman,” he said, leaning forward to steal a kiss from her.
“I haven’t been able to think of anything else since you mentioned them earlier,” Rose said, dropping her voice seductively.
He took her hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles. “Well, in that case I suggest we go to the studio.”
Assuming that she’d be coming to the studio, he’d ridden his bike in the morning to leave room for Rose to park in the alley, because he knew she’d never find a place near the School of Art that late in the day. By the time she arrived — the bike enabled him to negotiate the Glasgow traffic more swiftly than a car — he had already spread out the preliminary prints on the kitchen table. After a quick visit to the bathroom he drew his fingers through his helmet hair and brushed his teeth.
“Hi,” Rose said, her smile radiant as he opened the door for her.
He only managed a pathetic little squeak. He had been so nervous earlier that he hadn’t realised how stunning Rose looked. She was wearing a narrow black skirt that came down to her knees, and a purple shirt. He was about to apologise for the dirt in the alleyway when he noticed she had changed into a pair of ballerina shoes. Taking her hand, he pulled her inside and into his arms, and pushing the door shut. Hopefully, doing that, pulling her towards him for a kiss, would never cease to amaze him. She tasted of coffee and strawberries.
After a lingering kiss, Rose tucked her head into the crook of his shoulder and neck, where she fitted perfectly thanks to her flat shoes. She held on to him firmly and he basked in her warmth and the beating of her heart for a while. It occurred to him that he couldn’t remember when he’d last felt so at peace.
“Hello,” he said at last, dropping a kiss on top of her head.
“I missed you,” Rose said, pulling back a little so she could look at him.
“So did I,” he said, smiling. “But it’s great to know that we get to see each other on Wednesdays.”
“Which doesn’t mean we can’t meet any other day of the week,” Rose said. “Although I was quite busy, which helped. A little.”
“Forgive me for saying this, but you do look a little tired.” He bit his lip. Where had that come from? This, David Michael Tiler, is certainly not the way to charm the knickers off the lady.
Rose ducked her head. “I’m sorry. Something came up on Monday, just after I called you. It was an emergency.”
With the Heritage Trust Fund? he was about to ask when he remembered that Rose hadn’t told him what else it was she was doing. He had the sneaking suspicion that the Heritage Trust Fund and her involvement with Vitex were just a story to keep the media satisfied. She’d talked of working cases before, but she’d also said she wasn’t with the police. What was it she was doing? And why couldn’t she tell him? “Were you able to sort it out?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Rose said. “Yeah, we were. It was great, but exhausting.”
“Are you sure you’re up for this?” he asked.
“Oh yes,” Rose replied. “Please?”
He broke away from her and, with his hand at the small of her back, he guided her to the kitchen table. He had printed the first version of some of the photos. As usual, he had wanted them to be perfect, even more so because it was his personal project — and because Rose was part of it.
He had spent most of his time getting the mirror shots right. He had worked on their reflections first, working them into the mottled glass in their dressed state. They were touching the surface of the mirror, reaching out to touch the fingers of their naked selves standing in front of the mirror. In one version, Rose was reaching out for herself and he was reaching out for himself, and in another one Rose was reaching out for him and vice versa. He was very proud of these pictures because it had taken him a long time to get them right.
“These are... gorgeous,” Rose said. “I had no idea... This is just great. I love how we reach out for ourselves and for one another. I... I don’t know what to say.” Her voice was an odd mixture of reverence and excitement. When she looked at him the amazement and vulnerability in her eyes deeply touched him. It was as if she was telling him about her past all over again.
“It was an idea I had while we were there. I wasn’t sure it’d work,” he said. “I’m glad you like them.”
“I love them. The idea of getting in touch with oneself is great, but I also like the ones in which I reach out for you. They mean so much to me on different levels,” Rose said softly, but she stopped herself.
“Would you tell me?”
Rose sighed. “Are you sure you want to hear it?”
“You don’t have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable. But I think it might help.”
Rose hesitated for a few moments, collecting her words and finding a starting point. “When the wall first closed on me I touched it, imagining I could reach out for the Doctor behind it and that he was doing the same. It’s silly, I know. It’s why I’ve only just painted the walls in my bedroom; after it was clear that I can’t go back. That white wall reminded me of him, of the need to get back to him after a particularly bad day,” Rose explained. “But it also feels like the Mirror of Erised in a way.”
“Like what?” Dave asked, puzzled.
“The mirror from the Harry Potter books that shows people their heart’s desire. ‘s why it’s called Erised, it’s just desire backwards,” Rose said.
“Oh. Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. I felt more like seeing an important part of ourselves in that mirror. I hadn’t thought of the books. It’s been a while since I read them.”
“I like that too,” Rose said, her voice barely above a whisper. “So I am an important part of you?”
“That’s how you feel to me,” he said carefully, hoping it wasn’t too much too soon. He so wanted to tell her he loved her, but something still held him back. “I like your explanation as well.” He bit his lip.
“You haven’t removed the scars,” Rose pointed out, picking up one of the photos.
Panic pooled in the pit of his stomach. “I didn’t have time for that.”
“Oh, no, it’s all right!” Rose hastened to reassure him. “I think they ought to be there. The photos wouldn’t be the same without them.
I wouldn’t be the same without them.”
“Are you sure? It’s easily done.”
“No,” she said firmly. “Unless... They’re your pictures.”
Dave could feel his face fall. “I’d thought they were ours.” He pulled out two of the pictures she had taken. They had turned out surprisingly well. Either Rose had been lucky, or she was a far better photographer than she’d let on. He suspected it was the latter.
Rose took the prints and studied them. The first one was a portrait of him with the mask on and the black eye make-up bleeding into his white skin from beneath it. The combination of the compact and the lighting — a tad too bright — had a chilling, ghostly effect. He hadn’t recognised himself, but he had felt deeply moved by the anguish in his mask of grief. He’d never thought that it was possible to capture such strong emotions without being able to see their eyes, but this had worked beautifully.
Bigger on the inside: Space, Time Travel, Alien Criminals (A Space Time Travel Mystery Book 1) Page 24
