Page 41 of On Circus Lane

I step over to the plaque and read the words. I gape at Tom. “This is John Knox’sgrave?”

“Well, it’s hereabouts. They reckon it was to the west of Charles the Second. This used to be a graveyard.”

“John Knox, the author ofThe History of the Reformation in Scotland?”

He nods. “Yep. I bet you’ve read that, too.”

“It was part of my dad’s book club.”

For some reason, that seems to amuse him, so I leave him laughing and examine the plaque, feeling excitement run through me. “This isamazing,” I say, shaking my head in bewilderment. “How did you know?”

His smile widens. “Ah, you see, Idoread guidebooks.”

“Really?”

He winks. “Nah. I came across it when I parked here last year. It’s quite strange, isn’t it?”

I look down at the stone. “Not really. He didn’t like fuss. It seems perfect.” I whirl around and thrust my phone at him. “I need a photo of me with it for my dad.” I frown as a car begins to approach. “Oh no, there’s a car waiting to park.”

He brandishes my phone at the car occupants with a charming smile, and the older couple gestures for us to continue.

He snaps a picture and then takes another two for good measure, and I quickly step away, allowing the couple to park. Tom calls his thanks and hands my phone back.

I stand to one side, typing on my phone, and jump when he comes up behind me, propping his chin on my shoulder. “What are you writing?”

I shudder at the feel of his breath on my neck but continue to type. “‘Lord, give me Scotland or I die!’”

There’s a pause. “Is that on your Christmas present list? It’s nice, if a bit demanding,” he finally says, and I snort and pat his hair. I have time to register how soft and silky the strands are before I pull my hand back.

“It’s a quote. He’ll recognise it.” I tap to send it and grin at him. “There done.”

“You want a bit longer here?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, do you want to soak up the atmosphere a bit more?”

I don’t think anyone apart from my dad has ever registered that I like to linger. How does this man I’ve only known for a couple of days already know that? It’s very strange, but also sort of nice.

Tom raises an eyebrow, and I hasten into speech. “No, it’s fine.” I smile at him. “Thank you so much.”

He looks startled. “It’s nothing really.”

“It’s a lot to me, so thank you.”

I follow him back through the car park, thinking about his arse. I meanculture. All the culture I’ll be seeing.

“I need aticket,” I say in dismay, hearing it echo around the room. I stare at the lady on duty in the kiosk. “I really need a ticket?”

She nods. “All entry to the castle is only through tickets.” She looks entirely too pleased about the fact.

“Okay. Please, can I buy one?”

Her face creases into an expression I’m sure is supposed to look sympathetic. “All tickets for the day are gone, sir.”

I sag in disappointment. “Ohno. I wanted to see the Great Hall and St Margaret’s Chapel.”

She waves a hand. “Oh well, better luck next time, sir.”

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