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“I really don’t need you arranging dates for me, Flo,” Lockwood assured his friend.
He’d come downstairs that morning to find muddy footprints leading into his kitchen. Still clad in his pyjamas, he had gone through to find Flo was sitting at the dinner table, eating toast. She’d proclaimed to him that she had called by because she had organised a blind date for him that Friday, 7pm at the Gallows Club.
“She’s nice,” Flo said. “And it’s not like you are exactly a roaring success in the love-life department. Didn’t the last one try to kill you?”
Lockwood let out a laugh, as he sat opposite Flo. She had already made two cups of tea and she nudged one toward him. She knew him a little too well, knew his schedule. Lockwood knew it was the natural accumulation of information over the course of a friendship spanning years but sometimes the idea that she knew him concerned him. She had been through more than enough in her life. Getting close to him seemed a surefire way of ensuring she never got the peace she desperately wanted.
“She did. But, in my defence, I had only been dating her because I suspected her older brother was a serial killer. Right family, wrong sibling.”
“You deserve to be happy, Locky,” Flo said. “You know this won’t last forever. One day your talent will fade. They all do. Got to have something, or someone, waiting for you when you’re done with all of this.”
Lockwood paused, taking a moment to sip his tea. He savoured that first taste. He had always believed a day didn’t start right if he didn’t get to really enjoy his tea.
He was trying to think more about the future. Or at least think about the future in a different way. Because a few months ago, all his thoughts for the future were either very immediate, reaching only until the end of the current case he was on, or else very distant, thinking about the way he and his agency would go down in history. Thinking about his future, about what he would do when he had retired, whether he would marry, have children, what job he would hold as an adult… That was new to him, attempted in part because he was willing to believe he might actually make it to adulthood without deciding to throw in the towel.
“I can’t promise I’ll like her,” Lockwood said.
“You don’t need to. Just hoping this will be a good start, help us find the future Mrs Locky. I want to be an aunty after all.”
Normally when Lucy got a knock at her bedroom door, it was Lockwood. In fact, it was nearly always Lockwood. George only came to her if something required immediate attention: a phone call, a crisis, a cup of tea that needed drinking.
So she was surprised to find it was a calm George with no phone or mug to offer her. He offered her an unsteady smile.
“Are you free at 7pm on Friday?” George asked.
“Yes. I think so,” Lucy said, brow furrowing as she tried to remember if she’d agreed to do anything with Lockwood.
It wasn’t like she had many friends in London after all. And if George was asking her if she was free, she clearly hadn’t made plans with him.
“Good,” George said. “You’ve got a date.”
“What? You want us to go on a date?”
Lucy winced at the way it had exploded out of her. She was just shocked. She would never have thought George would have been into her in that way. Nor did she think if he was he would have the courage to have already organised a date and come knocking on her bedroom door simply to ask if she was free.
“Not us! No!” George rushed. “A blind date. I… Flo suggested I set you up with a blind date. Because we’re encouraging Lockwood to date and we thought it might help him get it right if he watched someone who is a little less of a lunatic than he is also dating.”
Lucy’s brow furrowed.
“You’re encouraging Lockwood to date?”
George nodded, studying her closely.
“Do you think it’s not a good idea?” he pressed.
Lucy paused for a second before saying she thought it was a good idea. After all, they both knew how Lockwood could become very easily obsessed with a case. It was best for them all if he had something else outside of ghost hunting, someone who wasn’t part of their inner circle to talk about normal things with.
“So you’ll go? 7pm, Friday at the Gallows Club?”
Lucy nodded. A grin broke across George’s face.
“I think you’ll really like him. He’s just your type of insane.”
“Lockwood, I’m going to need Friday evening off,” Lucy said.
She and Lockwood had settled into the library, Lockwood reading his latest gossip magazine, Lucy sketching him. Lockwood was her favourite thing to sketch. It gave her an excuse to watch him, the way his face shifted, the micro-expressions constantly playing over him as his sharp mind took in so much and made connections that so many others would miss.
“Of course. I was thinking we would have a quiet Friday evening anyway,” Lockwood said. “Flo’s making me go out.”
“Oh, anywhere nice?” Lucy asked.
Lockwood chuckled to himself, folding down the corner of his magazine so he could see her reaction.
“Blind date,” he answered.
Lucy frowned, a look Lockwood found himself mimicking.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Lucy paused, considering her words carefully.
"I also have a blind date at 7pm on Friday."
"Where?" Lockwood asked.
"The Gallows Cub."
He arched an eyebrow. It was enough for Lucy to suspect his blind date had been organised at exactly the same place. An idea came into Lucy’s mind. She scrambled to suppress it. She didn’t want to think about it. And yet it kept bubbling to the surface, even as she sat there. She decided that there was only one course of action.
"You don't think they're…"
"What?"
Lucy knew Lockwood was too good at making connections not to have come to the same conclusion she had. Which meant he was being a coward about it, going to force her to say it instead of him.
"Setting us up," Lucy said.
It felt like the best term. Less like they were being made to date and more like they were being framed for some terrible crime. At least that way it seemed to align with the experiences they had, rather than leaving them blindly fumbling over how on Earth they were meant to handle the relationship between them.
“Flo and George? No.”
Lockwood paused for a moment.
“Actually… I think they might be. Certainly something Flo would do. She’s a bad influence on George.”
Lucy grinned, pointing out that they were probably all bad influences on George in their own unique ways. Holding her gaze, Lockwood grinned.
“Guess it’s about time he got his revenge with a little prank,” Lockwood said.
Lucy paused, asking if Lockwood thought that was all it was: a prank. Lucy hoped it was. She wasn’t sure where on Earth George could have gotten the impression she and Lockwood should try dating each other. They were just friends. Well, not just friends. Colleagues, partners, allies. They risked their lives side by side. They sacrificed for each other. They fretted and fussed over each other.
They were… close friends.
“Do we tell them we know?” Lockwood asked. “Put a stop to this little scheme?”
Lucy considered it. She told herself that they probably should. Their team had found its stride. They were working well together, their talents complimenting each other. Anything that could possibly upset such a perfect dynamic was to be carefully considered.
But she heard her own voice saying that it might actually be some fun.
Because her mind had conjured up an image of her and Lockwood sitting across from each other in the Gallows Club. She’d have made an effort, Lockwood would have found a suit that wasn’t stained or ripped in places no one knew about bar and George (mostly because they had been there when the damage had been done). They would be able to eat a nice meal and tell stories and pretend to be the sort of teenagers who existed before the Problem, the sort who’s biggest concern was whether or not they would be getting a second date. And then they’d walk home together, side by side, hand in hand, and they’d linger on the front step like people always seemed to do in the sort of movies Norrie had used to make her watch. And then they’d shut their eyes and…
Where had that come from? Lucy felt a blush descending over her cheeks.
“You’re right,” Lockwood agreed, a far off look settling into his eyes. “It might be fun.”
"Should I bring flowers?" Lockwood asked. “To the Gallows Club Conspiracy.”
It was the morning of the date. Only they’d not been calling it a date. Lockwood, with his flare for the dramatic, had taken to referring to it as the Gallows Club Conspiracy and Lucy, as she often did, found herself humouring his little quirks until she couldn’t help but smile slightly when she used the name herself.
George was in the basement, oiling chains while Lockwood washed up from a cooked breakfast. Lucy was still at the table, compiling Lockwood's seven attempts to write a shopping list into a single coherent list. At least she knew they were getting low on teabags: they had featured on all seven lists, twice on one of them
"Do you want to bring flowers?" Lucy asked.
"I feel like I should. I took flowers on my last date."
"With the serial killer?"
"With the serial killer," Lockwood hummed. "Are you the sort of girl who likes flowers?"
Lucy shrugged, saying it didn't matter either way. Lockwood was meant to be pretending he didn't know she was going to be his date.
"I guess not. I think I will get flowers. Seems like something I would do."
Lucy was forced to agree with him. She watched as Lockwood turned to her. He had his sleeves fully rolled up, soapy bubbles clumping over his arms. Unlike George, Lockwood never wore an apron when washing up. Unlike George, he needed to. There were splatters of water on his shirt, turning the fabric translucent.
"Hypothetically, do you like flowers?" he asked.
Lucy paused before admitting she liked wildflowers, that they reminded her of the places she had used to play as a child. Lockwood nodded, turning back to the washing up.
“Should I bring something?” Lucy asked.
“Didn’t they date up North?” Lockwood returned, glancing over his shoulder.
“Yeah. But agents dating in my town meant sneaking a bottle of whatever your parents drank out to the back of the supermarket at dawn. Hardly seems like the sort of date you take a posh boy on.”
“Well, I do like to be adventurous,” Lockwood replied.
Smirking, Lucy suggested that it might be the adventure that killed him.
“I, personally,” Lockwood said, tipping out the bowl of soapy water and hanging his dishcloth over the tap, “only want my date to bring interesting conversation. Nothing else matters so long as I am not falling asleep in my starter.”
It was only a few minutes before 7pm when Lockwood and Flo arrived at the Gallows Club. The Gallows Club was a beautiful place, an old public house turned into a private hangout for agents. You needed to show your credentials to get through the door (non-agents could only enter if accompanied by an agent). There was stained glass everywhere and scenes carved into the wood of the bar. Laughter and gossip filled the air as teenagers were free to just be teenagers.
"She's not here yet," Flo remarked, eyes scanning the room.
Lockwood only hummed his agreement. After all, George and Lucy were getting a cab over to the venue for Lucy’s date. No doubt they were on their way.
Lockwood looked down at the bouquet of wildflowers he held. It was simple. He'd not wanted to embarrass Lucy with something extravagant. Mostly blue hyacinths and thlaspi, wrapped in a plastic film. The royal haze daisies had been an added extra that Lockwood had insisted on, hoping they might serve as a pleasant reminder of their first case together.
Of course, giving Lucy flowers wasn’t like he was giving a girl flowers. It was a thank you really. 'Thank you for so graciously putting up with the schemes of George and Flo.' It wasn’t like him and Lucy were going on a proper date. They'd sit down for the meal, laugh fondly about their friends and return home to declare a relationship between them was nothing more than a fantasy.
A fantasy Lockwood was suddenly having a lot of trouble banishing when he saw Lucy walk in.
She looked beautiful, not as made up as she had been the night of the Fittes party but she'd still put on a nice top, done her makeup. Lockwood actually thought she looked better because she was smiling from the moment she walked in, had a confidence about her that made him so proud. She caught his eye and her smile only widened. Lockwood tilted the flowers in her direction and he caught the moment she noticed the daisies, the way her eyes flicked up to his face to see if the connection had been deliberate.
"What a coincidence?" George gasped as he came over.
"Is it really though?" Flo questioned. "Isn't this the go-to place for agents to hang out?"
George made an act of conceding.
"I don’t understand," Lockwood said, laying fake confusion on thickly. "I thought I was here for a blind date."
"You are," Flo said.
Lockwood waited for her to tack on 'With Lucy'
"There she is now."
Lockwood turned, seeing a petite blonde girl in a Fittes uniform had just walked in. She smiled as George waved, coming over to them.
"Locky, meet Tamara Stuart," Flo said. "And Tamara meet Anthony Lockwood."
Tamara gave a nervous giggle.
"You're taller than I was expecting," she remarked.
Her eyes landed on the flowers.
"Are those for me?"
Lockwood sent a helpless glance toward Lucy, seeing the shock on her face. She watched mournfully as Lockwood handed over the beautiful flowers.
"Let's get you two love birds settled," Flo said. "Then I can leave you to it."
Lockwood was guided away from the others to a quiet corner of the room where a two-person table sat, a reserved sign bearing his name in place.
Flo instructed Lockwood to sit in the chair nearest the wall so he faced out across the entire restaurant. He didn’t mind. Over Tamara's shoulder, he could see Lucy.
She was still standing by the door at George’s side, looking at him. She looked just as shocked as Lockwood felt. And it felt like the rug had been pulled out from under him.
Did George and Flo not think he and Lucy made a good couple?
Of course, they weren’t a couple. But Lockwood couldn’t think of any reason that George and Flo would think they should have been. After all, he thought that he and Lucy got on more than well enough.
Unless, of course, Lucy had been in on the conspiracy all along. Maybe she had actually schemed with George and Flo because she wanted to go on a date with whoever was showing up and had wanted her boss distracted.
But why? Did she really think he was too nosy to let her have a love life in peace?
Did she think he might be jealous of her? Upset she was going out with someone and he wasn’t?
Or did she think he might be jealous of her date?
Because, sitting there, watching as George excitedly introduced Lucy to a tall, brown-haired brute wearing a Rothwell uniform, Lockwood thought her concerns might have been… legitimate.
“You okay?” Tamara asked.
She had barely looked at him, since they had sat down, attention on the flowers he had given her, repeating over and over again how beautiful they looked.
“Yes. Fine,” Lockwood said, trying not to let his voice tighten.
“Okay. Because you’re reaching for your rapier.”
Lockwood looked down, chuckling as he realised that she was completely right. He rested his hands on the table, flexing his fingers. He turned to Tamara again, giving her an apologetic smile.
“Just nervous. My last date was with a serial killer.”
Tamara paused for a moment. Then she forced out a laugh.
“That’s funny.”
“It’s true,” Lockwood told her.
As Tamara stammered over a response, Lockwood glanced past her.
He watched George sit Lucy and her date at a table across the restaurant. Where she had been sat meant Lockwood had an unobstructed view of Lucy and she seemed to realise almost immediately too. Her eyes locked onto him, a grim smile on her lips. Clearly her first impressions of her date had left a lot to be desired. Still, George seemed highly optimistic as he slipped away.
Lockwood and Tamara ordered their food, sitting there as they waited for their order to be prepared. He had ordered the salmon. Tamara had gone for lamb.
She spoke non-stop as they waited and yet she said nothing interesting at all. She gossiped exclusively about people Lockwood had never heard of and the gossip was not even interesting. He didn’t care who had been taking up the best mirror in the Fittes’ girls' bathroom every morning for the last week. Nor did he care about who had taken the last custard cream.
He caught Lucy’s eye and subtly mimed a yawn. Lucy looked sympathetic.
Sympathetic enough that Lockwood was sure she had not been a part of the evil schemes of George and Flo. She was as much a victim of it as he was.
He was almost annoyed at himself for doubting her. Of course, Lucy never would have toyed with him like that. If she thought he had feelings for her, she never would have let him think for so long that they would be going on a date at the end of the week.
Shared suffering then.
She rested a hand over her mouth, staring Lockwood down. Then she subtly pointed to the side with one finger. Lockwood followed where she was gesturing. An oil painting hung on the wall. It was a farmyard scene, showing a large patch of mud that housed a very smug-looking pig. Clearly she was as disappointed with her date as he was.
Lockwood choked back his laughter, getting a strange look from Tamara. He was glad when his food came, the plate of salmon looking beautiful. He thanked the waiter, smiling. Tamara cut off a piece of her lamb, waving it about animatedly as told him about the pair of shoes she had brought that weekend. Lockwood would say he was better educated about shoes than most young men. His uncle had always been very particular about it. He had felt like an education in the way a gentleman lived and dressed would help his isolated nephew fit in with the world. Lockwood wasn’t sure if that had been naivety on his uncle’s part - thinking that a young gentleman would easily fit in with other teenaged boys - or wishful thinking in the belief his nephew was sure to make it to adulthood at all, let alone with a reputation that might be described as gentlemanly.
But even if he knew about the subject, it didn’t mean he wanted to launch into long discussions of it. He also knew a commendable amount about plumbing but he was sure conversations on what went on in the pipes of 35 Portland Row would not go down well.
He glanced across the restaurant to where Lucy was sitting.
She was like an island of sanity amongst the ocean of mind-numbing boredom that threatened to drown him. No, that was too kind. Drowning, on the whole, was a very exciting experience, Lockwood had found. Far more exciting than a conversation with Tamara Stuart.
What it was more like was sitting in a DEPRAC refresher training session while Barnes was in full flow and seeing… Well, seeing Lucy sitting there.
She smiled at him, gesturing toward the space on the table where her plate would go when food came. Her date was talking obnoxiously loudly with the poor defenceless waiter who had come to take their order. It took Lockwood a moment to understand what Lucy was asking but he mouthed back the answer as to what he was eating. Lucy seemed to struggle for a moment with the word then she glanced toward her date. Checking he was thoroughly distracted, she used her hand to mime a fish. Lockwood’s face lit up as he nodded. He watched as the waiter turned to her and Lucy seemed about to say her order when her date called the waiter’s attention back onto him once more.
“So, have you been on any interesting cases recently?” Lockwood asked, turning to Tamara in an attempt to make an effort.
“You seriously want to talk about work?” she asked, flicking her hair out.
“I just thought it would be something we have in common. You haven’t even told me your talent yet.”
“Touch,” she answered, curtly. “You’re a seer, right? Yeah. We hear a lot about you.”
“Really?” Lockwood questioned. “What do people say about me?”
Now that was some gossip he was interested in.
“That you’re dating that Carlyle girl and that’s why she turned Kipps down when she asked him out. Of course, now I get to correct them. Sandy is going to be so jealous. You know she barely got her grade four, right? Like she only got it because she was dating her supervisor’s younger brother and that was a whole thing.”
Lockwood waited for her to pause for breath.
“Do you have any hobbies?” he asked. “Play any instruments?”
“I like shopping. Why? What do you do?”
“I train with my rapier mostly. But I’m also a mostly self-taught pianist.”
“Mostly self-taught?” Tamara challenged.
Lockwood informed her he had been given lessons by his mother. Tamara nodded.
“You know, I went to this restaurant where they had this pianist and he was really good but the food was terrible. And they had these lights that looked like…”
Lockwood was staring at Lucy again, thinking about all the things they could be talking about. There were so many complexities to her that he could listen to her talk for hours. But he knew she would never allow that. Ever since she had convinced him to start opening up, she had been slowly coaxing more and more from him, little facts about himself that he had forgotten long ago. He felt himself beginning to expand inwards to the pieces of him that had grown barren through loss, reclaiming the ground and making it habitable again. He’d not played the piano since Lucy had come to stay with them. He hadn’t liked to play when people had been there to listen and with two people to avoid things had become more complicated. But Lucy had been sitting at it one day, playing a few chords. Lockwood had sat beside her, guiding her hands the way he did when he helped her perfect a new lunge.
The waiter had just returned with their plates of food. Lockwood wasn’t sure what it was for a few seconds. Only as the plate was put in front of Lucy did Lockwood get a good enough look. Well done beef steak? Lucy didn’t like beef steak.
He saw the way Lucy looked at her date, almost accusingly, and Lockwood remembered how the young man had stole the waiter’s attention just as she had been about to order.
He had ordered for her.
Lockwood knew that could be a very nice gesture sometimes but only if the other party was willing. And he knew Lucy would never have wanted that.
And clearly her date had no taste whatsoever, ordering something that immediately made Lucy turn up her nose. And worst still her date was just shovelling his own helping into his mouth. He didn’t seem to care for a moment that his date was unhappy.
Still, Lucy forced a smile. She began to shuffle the food around her plate with her fork, letting her hand rest on her chin. Her eyes began to wander and Lockwood held her gaze as it landed onto him.
She rolled her eyes, letting her unimpressed boredom sit on full display. Her date continued to inhale his meal, snorting like a pig as he did so. He certainly had the manners of one.
“What are you staring at?” Tamara asked.
She turned, looking over her shoulder. Not wanting her to see, Lockwood cleared his throat.
“No, sorry. Just zoned out for a second. What were you saying?”
He flashed her the sort of smile that won hearts and contracts, that he had once been told could charm the visitor off a source. Tamara sighed in exasperation.
“What I was saying was…”
Lockwood was back looking at Lucy. She had tried a bite of her food and almost choked on it.
“Could you excuse me for a moment?” Lockwood asked.
He didn’t bother waiting for a response. He was already on his feet, hurrying across the restaurant. He stopped by Lucy’s table, leaning across it to block Lucy’s view of the thug George had decided to try to set her up with. Lockwood would need to have words with George later, check he wasn’t cracking under the pressure of ghost hunting. Something had to be up if he was showing such bad judgement as to put Lucy on a date with someone like the young man sitting across from her.
Lucy’s eyes glistened with relief as they landed on Lockwood.
“Hey, Lucy. I’m sorry to interrupt but I was wondering if you could remember the name of that sailor who’s ghost we were fighting last week. I’m trying to tell the story and I just can’t think of it.”
Before Lucy could answer, her date cleared his throat gruffly.
“Who’s this?” he demanded.
“Tristan, this is my colleague, Anthony Lockwood,” Lucy said, the look she offered Lockwood instructing him to play nice. “Lockwood, meet Tristan Murphy.”
Lockwood sighed and turned, fingers catching under Lucy’s barely touched beef steak. He offered one hand to Tristan as the other swept across the table as casually as Lockwood would muster, pulling Lucy’s plate with it. Within moments, the plain white plate was smashing on the floor, the steak landing with a soft thud. Vegetables scattered everywhere.
“Oops!” Lockwood said, dancing out of the way of a roast potato.
He was simply thankful Lucy hadn’t bothered to waste any gravy on the meal she clearly wasn’t going to eat.
“I can be so clumsy sometimes.”
“And Lucy said you were a fencing champion,” Tristan scoffed.
A thrill passed through him as Lockwood noted down that Lucy had been talking about him. He turned to Lucy, making an act of apologising profusely as he offered to buy her another meal. A waiter had already come over to begin picking up the scattered food, Lockwood saying he would take the job if the waiter would take Lucy’s order from her. He made sure to stress ‘from her’.
Tristan didn’t get the message, loudly beginning to order the steak for Lucy once more. Lockwood flicked a very solid roast potato at his ankle. It startled Tristan for a moment and he turned to look. Lucy jumped at the opportunity, ordering herself the salmon. She sent a grateful look at Lockwood as he stood, holding the remains of the plate.
“Salmon?” Lockwood grinned. “Excellent choice.”
If George had not set up the date, Lucy probably would have stormed out the moment Tristan had refused to let her order her own food. The only reason she was still sitting there was because she knew, she just knew, Tristan was the sort of person who was going to not take being rejected well. The longer she got into the date, the better things looked for George, who certainly didn’t deserve someone like Tristan bad-mouthing him to the other young agents.
And she supposed, if she was being honest with herself (although she wasn’t entirely sure she deserved that level of honesty) there was another reason she was still sitting there. And that was the sight of Lockwood on the other side of the restaurant.
She was curious to see how his date went and determined to be on hand when he collapsed with boredom to try to revive him with CPR - Conversation Providing Rhapsody. He had moved onto dessert, tucking into an absolutely heavenly-looking chocolate cheesecake. Tamara hadn’t ordered any dessert, clearly under the belief Lockwood would be willing to share. He had gone to flag down a waiter for her to get her own slice when he had noticed her staring but she hadn’t wanted it. She had wanted his. Lucy knew Lockwood was not big on sharing desserts - more than generous with making sure everyone got a portion but once portions were given out it was only fair a person got to eat everything on their plate.
“Are you ready to order pudding?” Tristan asked.
Lucy glanced down at her half-eaten salmon, a fork full of fish halfway to her mouth. She hated how good it was, hated how Lockwood’s high society tastes were seeming to rub off on her.
“Do I look like I am ready to order?” Lucy asked.
Tristan shrugged with a grunt. It seemed to be his favourite thing to do. It had been the answer he had given when she had asked what he liked to do in his spare time and been the enthralling review of what it was like working for Rothwell.
Lucy felt like she was talking to a brick wall. He certainly seemed to have the emotional sensitivity of one. Why on Earth George had thought they would be a good match she had no idea.
Unless, of course, he was trying to distil down what exactly she found attractive. It wouldn’t be the first time he had done an experiment on her after all. Just the first time one of his experiments hadn’t involved ghosts. Lucy supposed it was probably inevitable that he would begin to branch out one day. And perhaps he had started with her because of her ability to talk to type threes.
Why he was starting with her love life was anyone’s guess, unless of course she and Lockwood had been right all along and it was just some convoluted scheme on George’s part to get them together. After all, George had made no secret of the fact he thought she and Lockwood liked each other. Maybe he had just gotten very frustrated with waiting around for them to make the decision themselves and had decided to force their hands with a conspiracy that was more complex than they had initially thought.
Bringing herself back from her thoughts when she heard voices before her, Lucy saw Tristan had flagged down a waiter and was ordering himself from red velvet cake. She glowered at the waiter when he tried to take her half-finished plate of salmon, firmly taking another mouthful.
Tristan said nothing, as the waiter moved away, only looking at Lucy’s plate hungrily. She turned her gaze past him to Lockwood. She wanted to say that she was hoping he was having a better time with his date but she honestly wasn’t. At the very least, she was rather hoping Lockwood and Tamara would go their separate ways at the end of the date so she could walk home with him.
Lucy had been looking forward to it, to her and Lockwood going on a date. Why on Earth did George and Flo bring in Tristan and Tamara when Lucy and Locky were right there?
Lockwood had a smudge of chocolate sauce on his cheek.
Lucy bit her lip, trying to suppress her smile. It caught Tristan’s eye.
“Why are you smiling?” he asked.
It was a pretty good assessment of how poorly a date was going when someone genuinely asked why their partner was smiling.
“Just thought of something funny that happened today,” Lucy said.
She prepared to come up with some funny story, thinking back through all the things she, Lockwood and George had done over the past week. Tristan didn’t bother to pursue the topic because the waiter arrived with his slice of cake. He began to eat greedily.
With Tristan thoroughly distracted, Lucy tried to catch Lockwood’s eye. He smiled at her, gesturing down to her plate. She nodded her approval back. Then she lifted her thumb to her cheek, stroking purposefully at the skin where Lockwood wore his chocolate sauce. He raised an eyebrow at her, struggling to understand what she was trying to convey. There was something very endearing about the brow-furrowed expression. Lockwood wasn’t very often confused and when he was, he was often battling to hide it. To see him being so open and honest about a ‘vulnerability’ was a nice change.
And then his face brightened with comprehension.
He wiped at his cheek.
The wrong cheek.
For a moment Lucy considered leaving it. Tamara was completely capable of pointing it out to him. But then she remembered how Lockwood had reacted after they’d failed to point out he’d accidentally dropped doughnut jam down his front just before he had stood in front of some newspaper photographers. She liked to think they would have an uneventful evening besides two bad dates but she had to admit one could never be sure with Lockwood.
She swiped at her other cheek, forcing an innocent smile when Tristan had bothered to glance up at her. His chin was speckled with crumbs. Lucy deemed him too far gone.
Lockwood tried to wipe the sauce off his cheek but proceeded to scrub at the skin just below. Tamara kept glancing at him as if he was insane but didn’t seem at all interested in helping.
Well, if he had felt free to interrupt her date, Lucy felt she was entitled to invade his. She got up, walking purposefully over to their table. Tristan protested with his mouthful, sending crumbs flying.
Lucy crept up behind Tamara and tugged on the jacket she had hung on the back of her chair, letting it fall to the floor. With Tamara turning to pick it up, Lucy wiped the chocolate sauce from Lockwood’s cheek. She caught his eye, the expression on his face almost enough to freeze her in place. It really would have been a perfect night if they’d have just been sent on a date together - like a scene from one of the films Norrie loved so much.
“Guess we know why you have so many mirrors,” Lucy remarked quickly before continuing on, disappearing into the bathroom like it had been her intention all along.
Lucy found herself staring at her reflection in the mirror as she stood in the toilets. She needed to wait at least a few minutes, make it seem like she had gone in there for a genuine reason and not just because she had been bravely saving Lockwood from a chocolate sauce-based disaster.
She thought about making a vow to herself. She could promise herself that her next date had to be with Lockwood. Even if things didn’t work out between them, she knew she was carrying a torch for him that either needed to be allowed to grow or allowed to burn itself out. She needed to explore it.
But the same fears came back. What if it changed everything? What if it ruined what they had? Something that burnt that brightly could easily do a lot of damage. And Lucy had experience with how quickly fires could take hold.
And the truth was she wasn’t sure if Lockwood felt the same way. He was so charming with everyone. Lucy knew there was a danger what she was hoping was attraction was just Lockwood being as he saw with everyone. She didn’t know exactly how powerful his gaze was when it was directed at someone else.
Realising she was spiralling, Lucy stared at her reflection in the mirror.
“Are you really going to let Anthony Lockwood and his smug grin do this to you?” she asked.
Her reflection did not give her the most comforting response.
Tristan didn’t seem to have minded her absence. In fact, he’d eaten her salmon in between bites of red velvet cake. The thought of that combination alone made Lucy lose her appetite. More interestingly, was what was going on at Lockwood and Tamara’s table. Things had certainly gotten tense. Lockwood had slotted in place the smile he wore when working to appease upset clients but Tamara was not listening to his attempts to calm her down. Lucy suddenly realised that she might have been spotted cleaning Lockwood’s face.
“I have been patient with you all night but every time I look up you’re staring at that witch over there!”
Tamara thrust an accusing finger in Lucy’s direction. Lockwood rushed to supply an explanation but Tamara was faster. She snatched up her drink, throwing it over Lockwood. For a moment he looked shocked and then he chuckled. Tamara gave an aggravated scream. She got to her feet, storming toward the exit. Lockwood remained calmly in his seat, fixing his hair after the sudden ‘shower’.
Biting back her own laughter at Lockwood’s situation, Lucy felt Tamara’s furious eyes land onto her as she raged her way through the restaurant.
“And you! You can have him!” Tamara shouted.
She snatched up Lucy’s glass. Although Lucy could tell what was coming, she had no time to react. The contents of her half-full glass hit her in the face. Then Tamara slammed the glass down and stormed out.
Lucy calmly peeled her hair from her eyes. Tristan was sitting across from her, agape. Over his shoulder, Lockwood had gotten to his feet, hand on his rapier, furious. Lucy got up, forcing a smile at Tristan.
“Thank you for… Actually, none of the good from this evening came from you. Goodbye.”
She strode across the restaurant, seeing Lockwood.
“Are you alright?” he asked. “Sorry, I didn’t think she’d noticed me looking.”
“It’s okay. You’re just lucky neither of us were drinking tea.”
She glanced down at Lockwood’s half-eaten cheesecake, mournfully.
“The cheesecake any good?” she asked.
“Amazing,” Lockwood answered. “Do you want me to get you a slice?”
“Yes. In a to-go box.”
The walk home was a wonderful one. Visitors had been quiet lately, leaving Lucy and Lockwood feeling relatively safe as they walked the streets with their rapiers. Lucy was eating her cheesecake as they walked along. Lockwood was holding two extra to-go boxes, one for George and one for Flo.
“You know they don’t deserve it, right?” Lucy said. “They set us up with those two. Worst date I’ve ever been on.”
“I would say it is only my second worst,” Lockwood declared.
“Well, we haven’t all had the pleasure of dating a serial killer.”
“How do you know? Tristan certainly had something about him.”
Lucy shook her head in disbelief.
“Why couldn’t we have just gone on a date together?”
It had slipped out before she had even realised what she had said. In fact, she only realised when she realised Lockwood had stopped dead. And even then she had scanned the street first to check they weren’t in danger of a visitor attack.
Lockwood let out an awkward chuckle: “It certainly would have been more fun for us to have time hanging out.”
Lucy supposed it was an out that he was offering her. And it was one she might have taken. Agreed with him that if they would have just acted like they were friends getting lunch rather than a couple on a date.
But he had brought flowers, she told herself. Flowers that had been seemingly tailored for her. She’d not missed how they were wildflowers, how most were blue, how he’d included daisies, a nod to their first case.
She was going to be brave, prove to the world she could handle Lockwood any day of the week.
“No. I mean as a real date,” Lucy said, boldly. “Not as friends. As… As the other thing.”
“Enemies?” Lockwood suggested, a playful look in his eye.
“Maybe. If you aren’t going to take this seriously.”
“Oh, Miss Carlyle, I take you very seriously.”
He stepped closer to her, his eyes fixed on her.
“I think a real date certainly would have been a lot more fun. A much more productive way to spend the evening too. But, it is only about three metres to the nearest ghost-light.”
“And why does that matter?”
Lucy found the words hard to get out. She felt breathless as if Lockwood’s proximity had sucked out all the air. Her heart raced, eyes playing over his face, settling onto his lips as he let out a soft chuckle.
“Because we’ll be a lot safer closing our eyes there than just out in the middle of the street.”
“And why would we be closing our eyes?”
“I’ve heard it’s the custom when two people kiss.”
"It's them," George hissed.
He and Flo had taken up positions in the lounge, curtain twitching as they waited for their friends to return. They knew it had been something of a success simply because their friends had not immediately walked out.
He and Flo had been trying to get Lockwood and Lucy to go on a date for a while. They’d tried setting up romantic moments for them. George had hidden all the umbrellas bar one last time it had rained to force them to share. They’d been smiling and brushing up against each other the entire walk under the umbrella Lockwood had held and yet they’d not caught on to the fact they were practically a couple in all but name. George had told one of their clients Lockwood and Lucy were dating too, hoping that being told how cute a couple they were would ignite something. Lockwood and Lucy had both blushed a brilliant red even as they stammered out denials that any feelings existed. Flo had gotten them to go undercover as a couple but when she’d ‘jokingly’ suggested they kiss they had leapt apart like the other was about to ghost-touch them.
So they’d realised that the only way they were going to get Lockwood and Lucy to date was to make them date other people. It would force them to stop thinking about each other for at least a minute and think about the concept of dating. And then, hopefully, they would realise that they were practically dating each other anyway and should just make it official.
“Do we confront them now?” Flo asked.
“No,” George said. “We need to see how it went first. Anything could have happened with those two.”
Flo nodded her agreement and the two hurried up the stairs to retreat into the one room they were sure Lockwood and Lucy would not immediately head into: George’s bedroom. They settled into listen by his bedroom door. The front door opened and they heard the muffled voices from below. The kitchen door opened and closed footsteps echoed up the stairs.
“George! Flo!” Lockwood called as he moved up the stairs.
George smirked at Flo, knowing that Lockwood had no clue where to look for either of them.
“We brought you back some cheesecake. It’s in the fridge.”
There was a pause as the two lingered on the landing just outside George’s bedroom door.
“It’s not that late,” Lockwood said. “I was thinking of reading in the library.”
“Might want to change and wash your hair first,” Lucy said. “You’ll hate being a sticky mess.”
Lockwood agreed, before asking if she would join him in the library after she got washed and changed. Flo excitedly jostled George.
“I would love to,” Lucy said.
George’s eyes widened as he heard two sets of footsteps heading up the next set of stairs toward Lucy's room. He turned to Flo, biting back an excited laugh.
"Forgotten where your room is, Lockwood?" Lucy’s muffled voice questioned.
"Of course not. Just thought I would walk you to your door," Lockwood said.
"Why?" Lucy asked. "Think there might be a visitor up there?"
"That depends. Have you been sleeping with sources again?" Lockwood replied.
George knew the exact expression Lucy was offering Lockwood, the sort of expression that said she wasn't sure if she should be scolding him or kissing him.
Still, she said nothing more as the two made their way up the stairs. George and Flo heard them coming to a stop on the floor above them, no doubt just outside Lucy's room.
"I would say that was a roaring success but they've acted like that since the day they met," George said.
Flo moved out into the corridor, stopping at the bottom of the stairs.
"You two had better be making out up there!" Flo shouted.
"Flo!" Lucy and Lockwood yelped from above.
"Don't make me come up there!"