Miracle at the Museum of Broken Hearts

Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

Early the next morning, I hurried to the museum. The streets were dark and empty with streetlamps casting eerie halos in the thick fog. I shivered, quickening my pace. This was Jack the Ripper territory, and at moments like this, it was all too easy to imagine.

Forget Jack, I told myself. Just think of the day ahead. Setting up exhibits was my favourite part of the whole process – when the hard work of cataloguing and organising ended, and the items really came to life.

After returning from ParteePizza yesterday (thankfully, before my boss had come back from the bank), Heath and I had positioned all the furniture he’d ordered in, making the house look lived in and real. Today, I’d place the artefacts in strategic positions in each room to make it look like they’d been left there by their owners. Above each object on the wall – in tarnished frames I’d tracked down from an antiques dealer at Spitalfields Market – would be an accompanying letter, detailing the item’s story. As museum-goers filtered through the rooms, they’d almost feel like they had wandered into the owners’ lives . . . or so I hoped. Now I’d see if my concept actually worked, and I was practically shaking with nerves and excitement.

But all of that would come to nothing before Christmas unless we could get the proper planning permission to open the museum. Poor Heath. Although he hadn’t said anything while we worked yesterday, I could sense the tension in the air. I’d longed to throw him an encouraging word – to be able to say that his mother was on the case – but the way yesterday’s conversation had unfolded, I suspected Liz would rather cut off a finger with a pizza slicer than help this museum succeed. I could hardly believe she hadn’t jumped at the chance to make amends. Maybe she just needed more time to psych herself up?

Sighing, I unlocked the museum door and flicked on the lights. No more cold cellars for me; yesterday, we’d brought up each and every neatly labelled item, all ready to go. I grabbed the collection for the child’s bedroom and made my way up the stairs.

I was just about to place a well-loved teddy on the bed when I heard the door downstairs opening. Shaking my head to clear it, I noted with surprise the skies outside had lightened. Dust motes danced in the sunlight streaming in through the large sash window. I’d been so absorbed in getting the bedroom just right, I’d barely noticed time passing.

I stood back now, smiling as I observed my handiwork. Almost all of the items had been positioned, and the space looked as if a young one had just popped out to play. I’d even left the bed covers slightly rumpled, like someone had been lying there. Running my eyes over the objects of the broken-hearted, I couldn’t help shivering. Now that the room was set up, the items seemed even more poignant; more real.

‘Wow!’ Heath appeared in the doorway, his cheeks red with cold. ‘Brilliant job in here. It looks fantastic.’

A feeling of pride swept over me. ‘It does, doesn’t it? I’m going to do the adult bedroom this afternoon, then the lounge and kitchen tomorrow. Then, all we need to do is mount the frames, fill in any missing gaps, and we’re ready to go.’

Heath’s face twisted. ‘Except for the bloody planning permission from the bloody council.’

Oops. In my excitement, I’d forgotten about that.  I gnawed on my lower lip, thinking maybe I could plan another visit to ParteePizza. There must be something I could say to convince Liz to help.

But a few hours later, just as I was trying to toss a tatty trilby onto a hat stand, Heath burst into the bedroom. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes twinkling. I’d never seen him so revved up.

‘We got it!’ He took my arm and spun me around. ‘We got the planning permission!’

‘Oh, fantastic!’ I couldn’t help laughing as I lurched off balance and tumbled onto the bed. ‘What happened?’ It must have been his mum! A thrill of happiness mixed with nerves went through me. Had she told Heath I’d paid her a visit? I risked a glance up at him, but his face told me nothing.

Heath shrugged and collapsed onto the bed beside me, his shoulders sagging with relief. ‘Who can understand the mysterious ways of the council? All I know is that they rang me up just now and told me everything’s been approved. Guess my grovelling yesterday with the councillor worked.’ He got up and pulled me to my feet. ‘Forget all this for now. Let’s get a drink to celebrate.’

I glanced around the room. ‘Okay, I guess I can. I’m almost done here, anyway, and we have another week to put the finishing touches on things.’

Heath met my eyes, a slow smile spreading across his normally serious face. ‘Thank you for working so hard. I couldn’t have done it without you.’

My cheeks flushed and I jabbed a curl away from my face. ‘Er, that’s okay.’ I almost said he should be thanking his mum, but I snapped my mouth closed just in time. Had Liz hurried things along? And if so, why hadn’t she said anything to Heath? Didn’t she want to make up with her son?

‘Are you okay, Rose?’ Heath gave me a puzzled look, and I realised I’d been shaking my head back and forth as I tried to puzzle out recent events.

‘Sure, sure,’ I mumbled. ‘Now come on, let’s go get that drink.’ God knows I needed one.