A sad sense of exasperation took away all the fight left in her. Looking out the passenger window as they pulled away into the empty road, she thought back to all those wintry mornings waiting for the bus, only for it to arrive late before it wound through the villages at a snail’s pace stopping at every single bloody stop. How much easier the past year would have been if she’d felt free to spend her own wages on a car of her own, but Fran had been so set on saving up for the flat. Breathe. Just breathe, she scolded herself. Fran had the car he’d always wanted and she should be pleased for him.
The morning traffic was only just beginning to roll onto the A-roads. Kelsey occasionally sneaked a look at Fran out the corner of her eye. He was smiling placidly, utterly oblivious to her frustration as they sped along the coast towards her mum’s house and another day of doing nothing in particular.
Chapter Six
‘The miserable have no other medicine but only hope’
(Measure for Measure)
Mari Anderson never booked in clients for Wednesday afternoons so she was free to pick up Calum from school and take him and his friends to the ice-cream parlour for their hump day family ritual. That morning she’d woken up in time to see her son off to the bus stop before making breakfast for Kelsey who was already on the sofa where she’d been firmly planted for three days now, comfy in her pyjamas and a fleecy blanket with her laptop across her thighs.
A studio debate about graduate unemployment was taking place on the TV, the kind with alarming statistics and loud men in suits warning of dire futures for arts graduates and lauding the choices of engineering and maths students. Kelsey had given up watching it ages ago and turned back to job-hunting.
‘Morning, flower. What time did you get up?’ said Mari as she curled up beside her daughter, putting the breakfast tray piled with jammy teacakes on the sofa cushion between them.
‘Six, I think. Old habits…’
‘Aww, love. Well, get some brekkie while it’s hot. What are you doing today then? Coming to get a banana split with me and Team Geek at school run time?’
‘That would be nice. I think I might.’ She took a big bite of teacake and closed her laptop in resignation. ‘I’ve been looking through the job sites all morning and there’s still nothing for me. All the photography jobs are in London and they want computery, media types. I wouldn’t have a clue how to edit photos for websites or magazines, not without lots of training.’
‘What about literary stuff? Or historical stuff? Nothing in the heritage industry you fancied?’ Mari persisted.
Kelsey kept her eyes glued to her teacake as she demolished it, answering between big bites. ‘There were loads of teaching jobs, but I’m not qualified for them, and I saw a couple of jobs for Scottish Heritage but they wanted people with degrees in marketing or conservation. I didn’t even know you could do a degree in conservation. I’m not especially qualified for anything, Mum, am I? I’ll end up back at the supermarket at this rate.’
‘Well, any job is a job. You could take something just to tide you over. What does Francis say about it all?’
‘Fran? He hardly said anything about the shop closing. He wanted me to take an unpaid internship and work at night to pay for it. Not ideal, is it? Anyway, he’s keeping a low profile at the moment. You know he’s blown a massive wodge of our flat deposit on a car?’
Nodding sympathetically in astute silence, Mari poured out two mugs of tea from the shiny brown teapot.
‘Mum… there is something I fancied doing.’
The pair sat on the sofa sipping tea while Kelsey told her all about the tour guide job in Stratford. She tried not to let her excitement show, but her wavering voice gave away her hopefulness.
‘You really want this job, don’t you, love?’
‘I do, but…’ she tailed off into silence.
‘But?’
Puffing her cheeks and exhaling hard, Kelsey readied herself to say the things she’d been keeping bottled up since she first spotted the advert in the theatre programme.
Seeing her daughter’s struggle, Mari placed the breakfast tray on the floor, shuffling along the sofa towards her and slipping her feet under the blanket. ‘Go on, darlin’, you can tell me.’
‘I really do want the job, or a job like it at least, but I keep thinking about how you’d be alone here with Calum… and I want to stay and keep you company.’ There. She’d said it, and the relief caused tears to well in her eyes.
‘Kelsey, if that’s all that’s stopping you, then you have to know that I’m not alone. I’ve got Ted and Alex and your grandad, and Calum and his pals are lovely company, even if they are a bit weird.’
She succeeded in making Kelsey smile.
‘I know, but it’s always been you and me together, looking after each other.’
Wrapping her arms around her knees, pulling them in close to her chest, Kelsey thought back to the early days after her dad died, trying to coax her mum to eat or get dressed when Mari was so overwhelmed with grief, all she could manage was to feed and rock baby Calum. Kelsey had done all the shopping and housework by herself and that was on top of her schoolwork and trying to keep the truth hidden from her grandad about how bad things had become. Kelsey didn’t like to acknowledge it but sometimes she felt that helping to look after her mum and Calum for so long had kept her back when all her friends were out on dates and work experience or embarking on proper careers. She’d been left behind.
‘Kelse, you’ve always been here for me, but I don’t want to be the one keeping you here, not if you’ve got itchy feet and need to get away. Things have changed so much in fourteen years. Look at me, I’m almost a normal mum now.’ Flashing a daft grin and slipping her hand into Kelsey’s, she persisted, ‘You’re always putting everyone else first, but it’s your time now. You have to do your own thing.’ Mari hesitated, before adding, ‘Even if that doesn’t involve Francis. You’re allowed to do what you want, you know?’
Kelsey didn’t have the strength to be indignant, or even to pretend everything was fine with Fran. ‘I know. You’re right, you’re right.’ Wiping the tears away with the corner of the blanket before they could fall she leaned into her mum’s arms.
* * *
Not long afterwards, Mari had gone out to do a quick perm refresh for one of her elderly regulars. When she returned at half past two she was dismayed to find Kelsey still on the sofa in her pyjamas, pale, headachy and demoralised. The tissues crumpled in Kelsey’s hand told Mari there were no new jobs this afternoon. ‘Ice cream time?’ she offered with a gentle smile.
‘Yep, let’s go. I’ve sent off eighteen speculative emails to the bigger shops and cafés in Edinburgh. Let’s see what comes back.’
‘Good for you. I think you’ve earned an extra scoop.’
Kelsey ran upstairs to pull on grey skinny jeans and a long burnt-orange top ready to collect Calum from school. She was slipping on her scuffed Converse when her phone rang.
‘Hello, may I speak with Ms Anderson, please?’ asked a woman with a clipped English accent.
‘Speaking. Hello?’ Kelsey faltered, trying to use her best talking-to-a posh-English-person phone voice. Without realising, she’d stood up and started pacing the room.
‘Ah, perfect. Ms Anderson, this is Norma, from the Norma Arden Agency. I’ve got your application form in front of me.’
This is it. Why haven’t they just emailed? Rejection is much easier to take when it’s written down. Unless…
‘Oh yes?’ Aiming for casual and failing badly, Kelsey didn’t know what else to say.
Having heard the ringtone, Mari eagerly popped her head around Kelsey’s bedroom door just in time to see her daughter rolling her eyes in frustration and knocking her palm against her forehead.
Norma barely took time to draw breath. She launched in at bewildering speed. ‘I won’t mess about. You’re just the sort of applicant we’re looking for. In fact, I could do with five or six more of you for the summer tours. I’ve had two of
my old regulars decide to retire this year and I’d been relying on them to start the season off. I’ve got groups booked in from all over. You don’t say if you speak any languages?’
‘I’m afraid not. Just a bit of French from school, but I doubt I’d remember much of it.’
‘Hmm, well never mind. I could lump you with the North Americans, the Danes as well, and the British groups, obviously. Think you’d manage that? Tell me, how quickly could you get here?’
Kelsey’s mouth fell open. ‘What? I mean, I mean…’ She looked at Mari with wide eyes, lost for words. Is she actually offering me a job? In England?
‘Ms Anderson?’
‘Sorry. I, uh, didn’t think it would be quite this straightforward, and please, call me Kelsey.’
‘There’d still be contracts to organise. You’d need to send me a copy of your passport and your degree certificates, if you have them. Oh, and I have the tour guide information packs here. They’re pretty hefty but I can email them, give you a head start on memorising it all. I’ll need your bank account details, national insurance number, and, of course, you’d need to find somewhere to stay. Have you looked into that at all?’
She spoke so fast Kelsey could barely keep up. No, she hadn’t thought about any of that. Living in Stratford! Actually living there! And moving all my stuff. How am I meant to do that?
Aghast, she glanced over at Mari who was giving her an emphatic thumbs-up and mouthing the words, ‘Just say OK. Say OK, whatever it is.’
‘I’d need to sort out somewhere to stay, I haven’t actively looked at lettings yet,’ Kelsey managed.
‘I’m sure we can find you a nice little garret somewhere in the town.’ Norma sounded feisty and smart and like she was used to getting her way. ‘A few of my guides use Mavis Thornton, she’s a landlady, owns half the town. I’ll email you her number, shall I?’
‘Yes please. You said you needed me to start soon? How soon?’ asked Kelsey, hardly believing what she was hearing, while Mari punched the air with her fists, dancing a jig in the hallway.
‘I needed you yesterday, dear,’ said Norma abruptly. ‘My skeleton staff are managing, but it’s about to get a lot busier. By mid-June we’ll be run off our feet. Can you be here in a week?’
Kelsey felt the room spin, and she managed a meek ‘yes’ before sitting down again and cradling her forehead in her free hand.
‘Good. I’ll email you everything you need right away. Send the contract straight back, won’t you? Let me know when you arrive and you can come directly to my office. You’ll soon know the ropes. Anything you want to ask me?’
There’s no messing about with this woman. ‘No, nothing.’ She gulped, her mind blank with shock. There must be a million things I ought to ask. ‘Thank you, Ms Arden.’
‘It’s just Norma, my dear. Right, toodle-oo for now. I’ll see you in Stratford next Wednesday.’ With that, she hung up and Kelsey threw herself back onto the bed screaming in amazement, her eyes wide.
‘Mum, they want me!’
Mari, glancing at her watch, rushed into the room, grabbed Kelsey’s hands and pulled her onto her feet before crushing the air out of her with a joyous hug.
‘Well done! I knew you could do it. Right, it’s an extra-large banana split for you. Come on, we have to collect your brother.’
Their excited laughter trailed behind them as they rushed out the door shaking their heads in happy disbelief. How quickly life had changed its course.
Chapter Seven
‘My drops of tears I’ll turn to sparks of fire’
(All is True)
Mirren carried the silver ice bucket dripping with condensation over from the crowded bar to the brass-topped table where Preston was waiting with the four champagne flutes.
‘Pushing the boat out tonight then, Mirr,’ he said in his usual placid way.
‘It’s a big night for Kelse, and she might need some Dutch courage when Fran gets here.’
‘She still hasn’t told him then?’
‘Not yet.’ Mirren shook her head with a grimace, her long darkest-brown hair shimmering in the rainbow lights from the jukebox behind them. ‘She said she didn’t have the heart to tell him over the phone and she hasn’t seen him since she heard. You know how he can be a bit temperamental. She figured he’d react better if she told him in public.’
‘Well, you couldn’t get more public than this. The whole village is in tonight.’
It was a typical Saturday at the Bonnie Prince Charlie, Kelsey’s local, a horse brasses and pint pots over the bar kind of pub. The barman had raised an eyebrow as Mirren ordered the only bottle of champagne in the place. Mirren had been the first person Kelsey called once the shock had passed. It was beginning to sink in for everyone that in a few days she’d be in a new home in a new town with a new job. Everyone except Fran that is.
‘Such a bad idea,’ said Preston, shaking his head and sliding down in his seat, pretending to hide under the table in mock terror. ‘She can’t just spring information like that on the poor bloke. What’s she going to say? “Sorry, babes, I’m leaving for another country on Wednesday, here – have some pork scratchings”? What if he cries?’ Preston chuckled wickedly, his fists balled up by his temples, clearly enjoying this. He’d always tolerated, rather than enjoyed, Fran’s company.
Mirren elbowed him. ‘You’re supposed to be here for manly moral support, so try to be nice to him. Anyway, he’s more likely to storm off in a huff than cry, don’t you think, going on past experience? Oh, here she is.’
Kelsey made her way through the throng. Her long hair was freshly blow-dried and flowing down her back in wild waves. She was in baggy dark jeans turned up at the ankles, her thin grey jumper and her trusty Converse. Mirren was already standing up with her arms outstretched ready to pull Kelsey in close for a congratulatory hug.
‘Come here, give us a squeeze.’ Mirren planted a deep red lipstick kiss on Kelsey’s cheek, then smudged it away with her thumb.
Preston welcomed her with a gentle hug too. ‘Congratulations, Kelsey. I’m so chuffed for you,’ he said lifting the champagne off the ice. ‘A little drink to toast your success?’
‘Wow, bubbly! Thanks, you two.’ Feeling bashful, she sat down facing the pub door.
‘He’s not here yet,’ said Mirren, feeling her friend’s anxious energy. ‘Shouldn’t you tell Fran somewhere more private?’
‘I know! It seemed like a good idea earlier; now I’m not so sure. But it’s too late!’ Kelsey flinched as Preston popped the cork. ‘He’s going to come in here and see us guzzling bubbly and be the very last person to know. Ugh!’ She buried her face in her hands. ‘I’m a horrible person.’
Mirren stepped in to talk her friend round.
‘He’ll be fine. It’s only two and a half months, not years. And it’s time you did something just for you. He should be delighted… and I’m sure he will be.’ This convinced no one.
The pub was loud with all the excitement of the weekend and the eighties pop songs that were in no way an ironic retro decision on the part of the pub management; it just so happened that 1988 was the last time they’d updated the jukebox playlist. Kelsey fiddled with the zip on her camera bag. She’d brought it with her, hopeful of capturing some nice, daft photos of the gang to take with her to Stratford.
Kelsey turned to face Preston. ‘Would you be delighted if Mirren was going away for the summer?’
‘Course he would,’ Mirren jumped in before he could reply. ‘You know how sweet he is. He’d drive me there himself and send me flowers every day…’
‘Uh, I’m sitting right here, you know,’ Preston butted in.
‘Fair point, Mirr,’ said Kelsey, ignoring Preston with a playful wink.
Mirren laughed before leaning over to kiss him. They’d known each other since they were kids and it showed. The three of them were always together at after-school drama club and all those pantos and community shows they’d performed in growing up. They’d stood side by side
at her dad’s funeral, they’d sipped their first beers together, and discovered the Edinburgh nightclubs at the same time. Through thick and thin, their easy camaraderie and years of familiarity buoyed up their friendship.
Still laughing, Mirren got to her feet and raised her glass towards her childhood friend. They were an unlikely pair. Mirren, tall, dark, and curvy, with the kind of huge almond eyes that made grown men swoon, always wearing black, a true rock chick; and Kelsey, shorter, and very fair, almost always in autumn colours, jeans or cute skirts – she firmly believed that all skirts should have pockets – and her berry red Converse. But their history bound them together.
‘Here’s a toast to Kelsey, flying the nest at last. Good luck, gorgeous girl, and safe travels.’
They clinked their glasses in accord and, taking a sip, Kelsey felt the rush of alcohol race through her bloodstream accelerated by the adrenalin of the last few days since Norma’s phone call. She cast another furtive glance towards the door.
‘I hope he turns up. I’ll have to go round his place in the morning to tell him if he doesn’t.’
Placing a manicured hand on Kelsey’s, Mirren leaned in to make herself heard over the Wham medley blaring out from the jukebox.
‘Surely if you love somebody you’re meant to help them do whatever helps them become the happiest version of themselves? Listen, we all love Fran, but…’ She tailed off, suddenly regretting her words.
‘But what?’
Seeing how rattled her friend was, Mirren tried to use her gentlest tone of voice. ‘But sometimes I think you deserve better. There, I’ve said it. I’m sorry.’
‘You’re telling me this now? It’s been years! Don’t you like him either?’ Kelsey was thinking of her grandad who hadn’t warmed to Fran.
‘No, I do, I do.’ Mirren was speaking so softly now it was hard for Preston to hear her, but he could see the sparkle of tears forming in her eyes and he reached for her hand. She continued, ‘It’s just that I’ve seen what going out with Fran has done to you. You were so happy at uni. You had the photography club and your exhibition at that gallery and all those arty friends.’ Her hands shook, but she’d said this much so had to go on. ‘These days you’re either waiting for Fran to call or waiting for him to turn up… and you’re so afraid of spending any money in case Fran gets bent out of shape about his precious savings pot.’
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