good, a couple of sulky teenagers, you two should get on like a house on fire.’ Morris walked towards the door. ‘I’ll leave you alone to make your introductions.’
She didn’t turn to look at Adrian. Instead she feigned interest in the standard-issue police posters. He knew what she was waiting for, she was waiting for him to speak first. It was a game, a manipulation. It was childish. He respected that.
‘Well, you must have done something really fucked up to get stuck with me,’ Adrian laughed and stood up. ‘Come on, let’s go and get your access codes sorted out.’
‘Why? What did you do?’ For the first time since she had entered the room she looked at him and he saw her face properly. Her freckled skin was peeling across her nose and cheeks, she spent a lot of time outside. Her hazel eyes were framed by the longest blackest eyelashes he had ever seen. Not a trace of make-up and he had no idea how old she was, her clothes suggested she was a fifteen-year-old boy.
‘Lost some evidence, let a major local dealer walk. You know, a real career-defining moment.’
‘Are you always this forthcoming?’ Grey’s face softened to reveal a cheeky smile. Adrian suspected that she was relieved that he was out of favour too.
‘Definitely not. But if we’re stuck together I would rather you heard it from me, Grey.’
‘I guess that makes sense.’ She smiled begrudgingly.
‘So what did you do?’ Adrian held the door open, instantly realising his mistake as she grabbed the door and signalled him out first.
‘None of your business.’ She winked, he almost thought she was going to slap his backside and, unless he was mistaken, the thought had crossed her mind too.
The Taxidermist
She stared into the beady eyes of the dead cat, its lustrous fur still soft to the touch. As her finger brushed against the side of its hardened stomach she saw the dust erupting in tiny clouds. She put a yellow sticker on the animal, yellow means ‘restore’, this animal needed to be returned to its former glory, or as close an approximation as anything dead can have to something that was once alive. Abbey Lucas had worked in the Eden House Memorial Museum for five years now, she never ventured out on to any of the four main exhibition rooms, hardly spoke to any of the other staff and never dealt with the public, she just stayed here in the archive rooms. For the last five years she had been working her way through the thousands of stuffed animals, from kangaroo to platypus, from a common goat to this stunning example of evolution, the cheetah. She wondered why no one ever bothered to stuff cows or sheep, maybe they were too boring to part with your money over. Although, Abbey had always thought cows were rather beautiful, with their big sad brown eyes.
Abbey walked down to the lobby, the porters were bustling. They were just reassembling the lobby after a week’s closure in order to redecorate it. The whole building was undergoing refurbishment after a large sum of money was bequeathed to the museum when the former director died just a few months ago. They had been trying for the last fifteen years to get the funding to put the place back together. Only fourteen of the possible thirty-two exhibition rooms had been open to the public for quite some time, with most of the smaller ones on the second floor closed. The museum had been ravaged by an electrical fire around twenty years ago, bad wiring and a faulty circuit breaker had caused damage to at least a quarter of the building. As the owners had been unable to fix the place straight away, some of the rooms had been cordoned off or used as storage until they had enough money to go ahead with the refurb. The Neo-Gothic museum, built in the eighteenth century, housed various Celtic and Roman artefacts that had been discovered in the local area. It was also home to a huge menagerie of various animals, costumes and fossils. Fortunately the damage was predominantly cosmetic. The new colour on the walls was vermillion red, almost a bright orange. Abbey didn’t think it belonged in a place like this, it was garish and distasteful. The red was a far cry from the drab Georgian grey that had been the colour in every single exhibit room since she had started here. Now each room had an accent colour, as per the interior designer’s remit. Of course the most striking had to be the entrance. It was less of an accent colour and more of a full assault on the senses.
‘Abbey!’ Mr Lowestoft, the director, exclaimed with a winning smile. He was a gentle old man. Like a grandfather, with his round glasses, ruddy cheeks and novelty dickie bow, he always brought a warm feeling to her. It had been that way from the start. He had not only welcomed her but made her feel like this was her home. Every time he said hello it was as though he were greeting a beloved family member. Mr Lowestoft was one of the few people in the world who put her at ease.
‘Mr Lowestoft, hello.’ She smiled, a real smile full of genuine warmth, truly glad to see the old man. His presence in the museum had decreased since he had received the cancer diagnosis. A finished, fully functioning museum was to be his parting legacy.
‘Ah, Abbey, I was hoping you would be here. What do you think? Do you like it?’ He beamed, glowing with pride.
‘It looks amazing.’ She didn’t have the heart to tell him anything different.
‘I’ve been asked by the University if we would accommodate one of their PhD students for the foreseeable future while he writes his thesis on historic preservation, or something to that effect. I thought you would be the best person to deal with him.’
‘Me?’ She didn’t know what else to say to that. She was used to working alone, she liked it that way.
‘Oh, and I’ve got another surprise for you! Come and see!’ He walked over to something large covered in a sheet, reluctantly she followed. She hated surprises. He pulled at the sheet and she was confronted with the grimacing mask of a samurai looking down on her from his lofty frame. His rigid leather body armour was polished to the point where she could see her reflection. ‘I never understood why we keep this hidden upstairs. It’s one of my favourite pieces.’
An evil grin was spread across the surface of the mask and a gaping black hole where the eyes should be. The demonic red horns that protruded from the helmet and towered above the face were razor sharp, menacing. She had forgotten just how vile the warrior’s face was. It had been years since she had seen him, always walking the long way around to avoid ever walking in his path. The face had always seemed so inhuman and she could feel the black nothing staring into her. Involuntarily she found herself stepping backwards. She didn’t want to have a panic attack; she had to get away from him.
‘It looks perfect here.’ She stepped back further, flustered, off balance.
‘Are you all right, Abbey?’
‘Yes, I’m fine. I just need to use the bathroom.’
Abbey rushed into the toilets reserved for the public and dabbed her face with cold water, trying to normalise the temperature of her skin. She could feel it burning. She really didn’t like surprises.
Abbey emerged from the bathroom into the empty hallway. The silence of the museum magnified her solitude, the faint whisper of the atmospheric music in a distant corner of the museum at the edge of her hearing. She turned the corner and bumped straight into the security guard.
‘Busy day?’ Shane Corden was standing in her way. His bleached-blonde hair stuck to his glistening forehead.
‘Yes.’
