Page 15 of Match Point in Crumbleton
After edging between her own piles of cardboard boxes, she’d flopped down onto the patchwork sofa and indulged in an afternoon nap. As if by magic, she’d woken up with a plan of attack for the museum. A plan that was simple and straightforward. She’d dug out her journal and scrawled it down so that she couldn’t forget its brilliance.
Now, the torn-out page was folded in Cath’s back pocket like a talisman against getting overwhelmed. Reaching for it, she pulled the page out and unfolded it carefully.
One box at a time.
‘So far, so good!’ she said with a smile, returning the note back to her pocket for safekeeping.
Grabbing the pair of scissors she’d brought with her from the flat, Cath broke down the empty box so that she could stash the cardboard near the door, ready for recycling. It felt ceremonious, somehow.
‘Only about three hundred thousand more to go,’ she chuckled, carting it towards the entrance and leaning it up against the wall.
Cath glanced longingly at the door. She’d closed it on her way in, but now she was tempted to open it up again. She could do with letting a fresh breeze in to combat the fusty smell of stale air and newly disturbed junk.
Wiping her hands on her jeans, Cath grabbed the heavy old door and pulled. Beams of golden sunlight full of dancing dust promptly flooded through the gap.
‘Fresh air!’ cheered Cath.
Hmm… maybe it wasn’t the best idea to leave the door wide open while she worked, though? But this was Crumbleton, not London. She was sure she’d be completely safe. That said, she wouldn’t put it past curious visitors to just wander in… and she definitely wasn’t ready for that yet.
Turning to search for a solution, Cath’s eyes came to rest on an old plastic school chair balanced precariously on top of a stack of suitcases.
‘Perfect!’
She grabbed it and propped it in the doorway with its back to the outside world. There. That should at least slow down any unwanted visitors!
A bit of fresh air was such a simple pleasure, but there was no way Cath would have even considered doing such a thing back at the gallery. For one thing—the air in the capital wasn’t exactly what you’d call fresh! But there was also the safety side of things to consider.
The gallery had boasted a sophisticated alarm system, which was a total nightmare to deal with. Even when they were open, there had been a security guard posted outside the door, and they’d had a wealth of panic buttons to choose from too.
‘Ridiculous,’ muttered Cath, weaving her way back through the box maze to where she’d been working. Why anyone in their right mind would want to burgle the gallery was beyond her. Sure, some of the splodgy paintings and sculptures had been worth hundreds of thousands of pounds, but just the idea of someone trying to half-inch a chunk of metal that looked like someone’s first welding lesson was just… funny.
Even though she’d worked there for years, Cath didn’t think she was going to miss the gallery for a second. Sure, this was different, and it was definitely going to be quite a challenge… but it could be a lot of fun, too.
Patting the note in her pocket again, Cath smiled. One box at a time. It was time for the next one.
Rolling up her sleeves, she eyeballed the next likely candidate and flipped open the flaps. It was a box full of empty jam jars along with several dozen rusty lids.
Cath grinned. If she made this into a game, the time would fly by. She’d have three categories: Display. Store. Dispose.
Easy peasy!
‘Dispose!’ she cheered, hauling the box into her arms and tucking her hands under the bottom just in case it decided to fall apart on her way back to the door.
‘Hello?’
Cath jumped, let out a little squeak of surprise and fumbled with the box. The jars clanked ominously as she hugged the whole lot tightly to stop it from slipping.
‘Andy!’ she gasped.
‘Sorry, sorry!’ he said, looking mortified. ‘I didn’t mean to make you jump, but the door was open. I thought I heard you talking to someone?’
Cath winced. ‘Just myself!’
‘Woman after my own heart,’ said Andy, holding out a takeaway cup. ‘Anyway, swap you?’
‘You do realise you’re in serious danger right now, don’t you?’ said Cath, relaxing slightly as her eyes rested on his strong, rough fingers curling around the cardboard cup.
Don’t be weird. Don’t stare!
