ALYSTAIR’S CHAIR

‘Three-hundred-year-old tapestries. Five-hundred-year-old medieval weaponry. Not even a glance. But this?’ Fredrick’s voice was exceedingly loud. Not that William could hear him. His jaw movements and the urgency in his signing gave it away. Wearing the overpriced headphones, like their classmates who wandered the museum with the narrator waffling in his ear, did not help. …