A group of girls went past, swinging their satchels from their shoulders confidently and chatting loudly about the dancing they had done the night before.
‘Excuse me?’ Victoria said. ‘Are you here for the Robert Bell talk?’
They continued on as though she hadn’t spoken, bags swinging, heels clicking. Apart from them, there was nobody else around.
Well, if nobody was going to speak to her, she had no choice but to just find Harry. The door to the English block clanged shut behind her as she peered down the corridor and saw that his office door was open this time. Quickening her pace, she reached Harry just as he was leaving his office and locking the door. He spun around, the white grin that melted Victoria’s insides broad on his face.
‘Victoria! I was just wondering if you’d arrive soon. You’re early, that’s good. You can come over with me and meet Robert, if you like.’
It was at this moment, a moment which should have been a pure beam of elation, that Victoria realised with a jolt that she’d forgotten her copy of The Blue Door. She could see it in her mind, lying under some papers on the counter at Lace Antiques. In fact, she hadn’t even picked up the book since the day that Harry had come in. How had she been so silly? She should have finished reading it and brought it with her for Robert Bell to sign. Now Harry would think that she didn’t appreciate meeting Robert. She looked up at Harry’s face, which was bright in expectation.
‘I’ve forgotten my copy of The Blue Door,’ Victoria blurted out.
Harry turned back to his door and rattled his key back into the lock. He emerged seconds later and held out a worn edition of the book.
‘Here you go. Have my copy. I wasn’t going to get it signed, so you might as well.’
Victoria took the book from Harry, aware that their fingers were going to meet, aware that tonight’s sleep would again be a blur of Harry’s face, his voice, his scent.
‘Thank you, Harry. I haven’t had a chance to finish it, but I-’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that. Mr Bell won’t mind at all, as long as you’re enjoying it?’
They were walking now, out of the low building and into the warm, green air of summer. The castle spread out before them, its pale-gold stone gleaming in the sun.
‘Oh, I am. At least, I was. I haven’t read for a while. I’ve not been able to concentrate,’ Victoria said. It was as though Harry pulled her thoughts from her like a magnet. She shouldn’t have told him that, should she? Sally always said that you should make boys work for you. You shouldn’t let on that you liked them quite as much as you did.
But as she glanced at Harry, his strides long, his emerald-green tie blowing slightly in the pleasant breeze, his jaw strong, his countenance confident of exactly where he was going, Victoria realised that what Sally said about boys bore absolutely no relation to Harry, because Harry was a man, and what was more, he was the man who Victoria was going to marry.
‘Ah,’ Harry said. ‘So who do you think has the missing girl?’
Victoria forced her mind to return from her daydreams and gathered her thoughts back to when she had last read some of The Blue Door. ‘I don’t know yet. I feel as though we’re meant to think the girl’s teacher has kidnapped her. But I don’t think that he has a house with blue doors in it. He lives in a small flat, doesn’t he? And the ransom note said that she was behind a blue door. The man who plays music on the street is rather strange, but I think he’s too much of an obvious choice.’
‘What do you make of the detective?’
‘Oh, I like him. He’s not very confident in himself, but I think he should be. I’m sure he’ll crack the mystery.’
‘Well, you try and beat him to it. I’m positive that you will. You’re clever enough,’ Harry said, as he pushed open a set of heavy double doors.
The room where the talk was to take place was not so much a room but a theatre. The worn red chairs ascended up from the wide expanse of stage and were all empty. Victoria imagined what it would be like to sit in the theatre and listen to lectures about books, writing and poetry. Why had it never occurred to her before that there was a life outside Lace Antiques? Sitting in these red chairs and listening to lectures about books would be nothing like the monotony of school. It would be a whole new exciting world.
‘He’s not here yet,’ Harry said. ‘Why don’t we sit down? He won’t be long.’
‘Did you always know you wanted to work here?’ Victoria asked him, settling into a red seat that was harder and less inviting than it looked.
‘Yes. I did, actually. I used to live at the top of the hill and look up at the spires of the castle from my bedroom window and wonder how I’d cope if I didn’t one day have something to do with it. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’
Victoria nodded vigorously. ‘It’s very beautiful. I’ve always wanted to come here and my mother never let me. But whenever I’m walking up Castle Street and I see the castle it seems to want to pull me in somehow.’
Harry nodded. ‘I agree. I always felt rather the same. But the funny thing is, even though I got what I wanted, and I work here, I’m stuck in the ugliest block of the lot. No spires, no turrets, no nothing.’
Victoria laughed. ‘I’d noticed that. You should ask to be moved to the very top of the highest turret.’
‘I might!’ Harry laughed too, and Victoria fought the urge to touch him somehow, satisfying herself slightly by shuffling a little further towards him.
‘Have you worked here long?’ she asked.
‘Eight years. I studied English here and then a few years later I started as an assistant lecturer.’
‘Your dream came true,’ Victoria pointed out.
Harry gazed at Victoria for a few moments, something flickering across his features. ‘I suppose it did. Well, one of them did, at least.’
Victoria stared back at him, until they heard the heavy door of the lecture theatre swing open and the air in the room shifted with the presence of another person.
‘Ah. Here’s Robert,’ Harry said, touching Victoria’s hand and then standing up. ‘Let’s get started.’
Robert Bell was much shorter than Victoria had imagined him to be, with tufts of grey hair and a rather round belly. He smiled at Victoria and held out his hand to shake it. She took it, the new thrill of shaking hands with authors and sitting in lecture theatres flickering inside her like a candle.
‘Robert, this is Victoria Lace, one of your biggest fans,’ Harry said to Robert.
‘I’m reading The Blue Door at the moment,’ Victoria said, handing Harry’s copy of the book to Robert. ‘I haven’t finished it, I’m afraid, although I’m very much enjoying it. I was wondering if you’d sign it for me?’
‘Of course,’ said Robert, taking a pen from his breast pocket.
To Miss Lace
May your life be filled with dreams come true and blue doors opened.
Best wishes,
Robert Bell
Victoria read it and smiled at Robert. She thought of the sudden new feelings she had since she’d met Harry, the empty shop, the TAKEN ILL sign, her absent parents.
‘Thank you, Mr Bell. I hope so too.’
The lecture theatre began to fill up soon after Robert had signed Victoria’s book. Robert spoke quietly and the audience strained to hear his words. He talked about how he never, ever planned his books, how he wrote every day in his shed (even in the winter, he said) and how the characters became as important to him