Stephanie laughed. ‘I suppose that’s an occupational hazard for you, isn’t it?’ Then she blushed, a deep red tint. ‘Sorry. I… I googled you. After you called. When you said you were a writer… I wondered if I’d know anything you’d written, so…’

‘It’s okay,’ Toby told her. ‘That’s an occupational hazard, too. There are quite a few in my line of work.’

‘I’m a writer as well, that’s all,’ she said. ‘Well, an aspiring one. I’m at university in Edinburgh studying history, but I volunteer here when I’m home because… well, you don’t need to hear about that…’

‘I bet this is a great place for inspiration,’ Toby said, wanting to be kind.

‘It is!’ Stephanie said. ‘It really is, and I’ve learned so much about research, too.’

Toby gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile, and was perplexed when her fading blush returned.

‘Well,’ the young woman said awkwardly, ‘I put the tables together to make things easier for you. There are quite a lot of papers, you see. Was there anything in particular you’re looking for? Any particular era of Braecoille you’re interested in?’

Toby glanced at Rachel, who had a slight smile on her face, though he couldn’t work out why. ‘Well, I for one am fascinated by the James MacDonald Tower,’ he said. ‘Perhaps any documents you have from the years it was being built?’

Stephanie’s face regained its composure as she seized upon a solid task. ‘I can do that for you,’ she said brightly. ‘It might take me a few minutes, though. Make yourselves comfortable and I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

She turned and crossed the room to disappear through a firedoor. They heard quick footsteps moving up stairs and away, and then the soft thump of her footfall above their heads. Toby pulled out one of the chairs beneath the table and sat, then realized Rachel was still smiling.

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Something.’

Rachel shrugged. ‘Think you’ve got an admirer there.’

‘What?’ Toby looked over his shoulder at the door that had clicked shut a moment before. ‘Stephanie? Don’t be daft.’

‘Trust me,’ said Rachel, wandering to one of the bookshelves, ‘she’s got a bit of a crush on you.’

‘I’ve only been here five minutes!’

‘She googled you, Toby. There are plenty of photos of you online.’

‘She’s young enough to be my daughter, isn’t she?’

Rachel laughed. ‘Some women go for the rugged older man type. Why do you think the Indiana Jones movies were so popular?’

‘Rugged? Me?’

Her laugh had resolved into a smile that he could hear in her voice even though her back was turned. ‘You do have a certain kind of charm. And you were injured in the line of duty, so to speak. Put it all together and it conjures a certain intrepid image.’

‘Does it? I had no idea.’

‘Well,’ Rachel said, her back still to him as she surveyed the many spines before her. ‘Now you do.’