Page 62 of All I Want for Christmas

‘Me and him. We both are.’

Darcy’s frown deepened – why didn’t she believe him? – but the archivist got up and made his usual trek to the kettle.

‘So was last night’s shift another dead end?’ he asked.

‘Yes...and no,’ she said, thinking back.

‘Oh? A development?’

She watched as he spooned instant coffee into their mugs. ‘Viggo, there isn’t any way someone else’s work could have ended up in Johan Trier’s files, is there?’

Viggo straightened up with the sharpness of a man fifty years his junior. ‘Absolutely not. Harald Morgensen arranged the files when the Foundation was created and he was an utterly scrupulous man. To the point of obsession.’

‘Right,’ she sighed.

‘Why do you ask?’

‘It’s just that there’s a handful of watercolour studies in there that don’t fit Trier’s MO. I was just wondering if they belonged to another artist and were accidentally misfiled? I mean, that must happen occasionally, surely?’

‘Never. Only two people have ever filed these archives: Harald and myself.’ He fixed her with a stern look, as if his integrity had been called into question.

‘Well, then I wouldn’t doubt either of you.’ She received her morning coffee with a smile, sliding her hands around the mug for warmth, and gave a little shiver.

‘Cold?’

‘A little chilled.’

‘If there’s one thing I can assure you of,’ Viggo said, takinghis seat again, ‘it’s that no mistakes have been made down here. Everything is where it should be. If those watercolours were in his file, they’re his. Why do you feel they’re not?’

‘Because I’ve never seen any other botanical studies by him, for one thing. Nor watercolours.’

He considered these points. ‘You’re right – neither are his metier. Perhaps he experimented with them and felt he couldn’t achieve the level he wanted in those fields?’

‘Mm; they were accomplished, though. It wouldn’t have been for lack of talent he abandoned that path.’

‘Lack of interest, then? Did you come across anything more encouraging?’ he asked hopefully.

‘Sadly not,’ she sighed, already weary even though the day had barely begun. ‘The more I dig, the further away I feel I’m getting. You know that game kids play when they’re looking for something and the closer they get, you shout “hotter”?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, I’m approaching freezing.’

Chapter Thirteen

Darcy checked her reflection in the window of the restaurant. Her hair was hairing and she’d successfully achieved a smooth winged eyeliner in the tiny mirror of the downstairs toilet in the gallery. Remembering her much-anticipated date with Aksel, she had had the foresight to pull on her new winter white jeans this morning, brown jodhpur boots and a chunky moss knit jumper beneath her coat.

‘Cute but cosy,’ she had said in the bathroom mirror as Freja brushed her teeth; she only came home each morning for fresh clothes.

‘Cute but cosy doesn’t exactly scream “fuck me in the club toilets”,’ Freja had said, spraying toothpaste everywhere.

‘We’re going to play board games. I’ll be lucky if he kisses me with tongue.’ Darcy threw her hands up. ‘With my luck, I’ll be lucky if he kisses me at all!’

She skipped down the basement steps of the yellow building and pushed on the door of the cafe. Freja had first taken her there soon after they’d met, saying that if a good mood could be a place, this would be it. It had the convivial pub vibe Darcy missed from back home, crammed with sofas, chairs and tables of assorted sizes, and the walls lined with shelves groaning under the weight of almost two thousand board games. It was always heaving and Darcy had prudently reserved a table.The ambient noise level was already high as she walked in and she stood taking in the scene, trying to locate her date.

It appeared she’d arrived first and she checked them in, a slight sinking feeling in her stomach. She’d pushed for the date, booked it, he’d cancelled once and now he was late? It wasn’t boding well.

‘Here you go,’ the guy said, leading her to their table. It was set between some bigger tables with groups on. They were already rowdy, pushing their chairs back and leaping with shouts as the die were rolled.

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