‘Woah! OK, you have to stop.’ Kelsey couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and on their last night together for ages. ‘He’s not that bad, he’s just busy with work a lot of the time, and so what if he’s a planner? Somebody has to be in this relationship. Anyway, I do things. I have a life outside of Fran and me.’ Thinking hard about what that might amount to, Kelsey slumped back in her chair. There was always watching The X Factor on Saturday nights with her grandad and mum, and helping Calum with his school projects – usually the night before they were supposed to be handed in – and she went to all of Preston’s gigs round the local pubs, and for a while there she’d had the camera shop. That’s a life of my own, right? That counts?
‘Things with Fran might not be perfect, but I’m just waiting it out until it gets better.’
‘Is he a man or an unripe avocado?’ Mirren tried to joke but regretted her glib tone instantly. ‘I’m sorry, Kelse, I don’t want to hurt your feelings. Come on, we’re going to have a lovely night,’ she said consolingly, refreshing Kelsey’s glass.
Mirren was right, of course, but it hurt to hear her best friend telling her she was missing out. Especially when she knew Mirren had cheated on Preston in the past, and there he was, totally clueless, gazing at his girlfriend adoringly, holding her hand, and rubbing his thumb on hers.
When did she become the relationship expert? Kelsey masked a few deep breaths. Don’t say anything. You’re leaving on Wednesday. Just keep a lid on it.
This felt like the closest they had ever come to an argument. Not that Mirren hadn’t annoyed her or upset her over the years, but because she just wasn’t the type to pick at her friends. Besides, Mirren had been her rock when her dad died, and she always knew how to make her laugh. Taking comfort in this thought, Kelsey leaned over and kissed her friend’s cheek. She really needed her best friend right now. Especially as, at that exact moment, Fran pushed through the bar-room door, offering a weak smile as he spotted them.
Kelsey’s heart sank. He obviously hadn’t showered or shaved after being at work all day with the boarding kids, taking them to town on the school coach to spend their pocket money. He looked exhausted and fed up and here she was, about to break it to him that she was going off gallivanting all summer long.
‘All right?’ Fran nodded, looking at their grave faces, perplexed.
Mirren nudged Kelsey to her feet as Preston poured out a fresh glass of bubbly and handed it over with an encouraging nod.
‘Let’s go outside, Fran. I can’t hear myself think in here.’
It was a beautiful early summer’s evening, the first of the year where there was hardly any breeze and the sky was still pale blue and cloudless, even though it was almost nine o’clock and the evening chill would be setting in soon. Leading the bemused Fran towards the crumbling stone wall at the very back of the garden, Kelsey handed him his glass with a falsely sunny, ‘Cheers?’
Fran perched on the low wall, his back to the young wheat aglow in the golden light of the sun as it began its descent into the hazy Edinburgh skyline in the far distance.
‘Why is everybody acting weird? What’s the bubbly in aid of? They’re not engaged are they?’ He nodded his head towards the bar.
Sitting down beside him, Kelsey turned her face to meet his.
‘No, it’s not that… um… It’s for me, actually. I’ve got something to tell you, and I’m so sorry, I know I should have told you sooner.’ His glowering perplexity dampened her spirits, but she was determined to get her news out. ‘You know how I’ve always loved Shakespeare?’
‘Obviously, yeah.’ He took a long drink of champagne, maintaining eye contact cautiously.
‘Well, I’ve got a job. A good one actually. Tour guiding. Talking about Shakespeare and theatre and that sort of thing.’ Fran was listening and nodding, so she persevered. ‘It’s in Stratford-upon-Avon. Just temporary, like. I only just found a flat there this morning – well, it’s more of a bedsit really, but anyway… I’m leaving on Wednesday.’ Rewarding herself with a big gulp of bubbly, she let Fran take it all in.
‘You’re moving to England? On Wednesday?’ Fran’s slow monotone confirmed her worst fear. He wasn’t going to like this. ‘How long for?’
‘Just the summer. I’ll be back in September.’ Seeing Fran’s face fall she quickly held her glass out, more in desperation than in hope. ‘So… cheers?’
Absent-mindedly, he chinked his glass against hers but he didn’t speak and he didn’t drink. This was going even worse than she’d feared. She gazed at the wildflowers in the field margin – towering red spikes of valerian mingled with pale peach hollyhocks – giving him processing time. After a few minutes, she was getting anxious.
‘Please say something, Fran.’
He nodded as though deep in thought, so, buoyed by the bubbly, she persevered. ‘If you think about it, it’s sort of a dream job, isn’t it? I get to talk about poetry and plays and history all day long, and they’re going to pay me for it. And I get to go to the theatre and see all those plays I’ve read, like, a hundred times.’ A buzz of excitement ran through her body just talking about it. ‘I might even get free tickets from work.’
Realising that Fran hadn’t offered her any congratulations yet, she pressed on with an increasingly imploring voice. ‘There’s Othello and Antony and Cleopatra, and this visiting American company doing A Midsummer Night’s Dream: all my favourites. I’ll never get this opportunity again.’
She was drawn up short as she spotted what looked like a sneer appearing on Fran’s top lip, but he was trying to hide it. He laughed instead, but it wasn’t warm or amused. At last, he spoke.
‘So… what? You’re running off to find yourself, are you?’
‘Come on, Fran, it’s just one summer. I’ll be back before you’ve had a chance to miss me, and you can come and stay any time. Anyway, you’ll be busy, you’ve got that school leadership conference.’
But Fran wasn’t hearing her.
‘This is so like you, you’re always off in Kelsey’s dream world. Well, I’ll let you into a secret. Life isn’t all Romeo and Juliet and “I wandered lonely as a cloud”, or whatever.’
That’s Wordsworth, you div. Eyes fixed on the ground, Kelsey didn’t correct him. Now he’d hit his stride, she couldn’t get a word in anyway.
‘You do know none of that’s real, right? Life isn’t like a play with a happy ever after. It isn’t perfect, and it isn’t easy; you just have to work at it, but that’s what being a grown up is about, Kelsey. Running off isn’t going to help us, is it? You’ll be back in September and jobless again.’
Kelsey chewed her bottom lip, another of her habits Fran didn’t like.
He was still talking. ‘What are you expecting to happen to you? None of Shakespeare’s heroines ever ran off to do a one-woman Andean trekking adventure, or open a little fudge shop by the sea, or… whatever… And some of them met pretty sticky endings!’
‘You’re making fun of me?’ she said in a sad, quiet voice. ‘I’ve had a rubbish time since uni, since Dad died, even.’ Getting tearful now, she tried to fight it back. ‘I’ve had all this drama and tragedy in my life and… and you’re making fun of me for wanting to find a little bit of poetry?’
‘Kelse, I haven’t a clue what you’re on about. One minute we’re buying a flat together, the next you’re running off to spend the summer with a bunch of luvvies doing God knows what a thousand miles away from me. When you figure out what you want, you’d better hope I’m still hanging around waiting for you.’
‘I’m the one who doesn’t know what they want? Me?’ Looking around, she realised she had the attention of everyone in the pub garden, so she lowered her voice. ‘You’re the one who blew our flat deposit on a car. And I’ll be three hundred miles away, not a thousand.’
‘All right! Don’t get hysterical.’ Fran shook his head, holding his hands up defensively and doing innocent puppy-dog eyes. ‘The thing that hurts most is that you didn’t even ask me
what I thought about all this. You just took the job.’
‘I know. I’m sorry. I should have told you about it. I just couldn’t face having this argument and maybe never getting the chance to go.’
‘That’s you all over, Kelsey, isn’t it? You never think about anybody but yourself.’
The world lurched as though it had spun momentarily off its axis. The tiny, long-suppressed spark of resentment within her suddenly seemed to be burning out of control sending firecrackers exploding in her brain. Before she even realised what was happening, she was standing up and there was a voice she barely recognised growing louder in her ears.
‘Well, you know what, Fran? I think Shakespeare had it pretty spot on, actually. Maybe if Juliet had concentrated on enjoying being a teenager instead of giving up her future for some Flash Harry she’d have had a chance at life! Or if Cleopatra had stopped trying to juggle a whole bunch of dumb blokes and just got on with her PhD… or, or… if Lady Macbeth had ignored her power-crazy dick of a husband and just focused her ambition on going to night school or, I don’t know, building herself a house with her bare hands or… anything else… these tragic, sad women might have been a whole lot flaming happier! Maybe that’s what he’s been trying to tell us.’
Gasping, she held her fingertips to her mouth in amazement, her body shaking with adrenalin and elation. Where did all that come from?
Fran watched her tirade through wide, incredulous eyes as if she were crazy.
She let her shoulders fall, releasing the tension in her body. ‘Fran, maybe we should use this summer to figure out what we want because this doesn’t feel good. None of this feels good. And what were you doing buying a car with our money if you want us to move in together? Is that really what you want any more?’ Her voice broke with emotion.
That’s when she felt her knees grow weak. Just as she thought she might be in danger of crumpling, exhausted, to the ground in front of Fran and grovelling an apology, Mirren and Preston appeared at either side of her. Saying nothing, they each slipped an arm around her waist and led her out through the busy pub to Mirren’s car.
Fran watched them leave without a protest. Slumping down off the wall onto the grass he stared out over the fields until long after the sun had set, the champagne turning flat in his glass.
Chapter Eight
‘You that way, we this way’
(Love’s Labour’s Lost)
Lining up the bulging suitcase and her camera bag – freshly stocked with new film – by the bedroom door, Kelsey stood back to look at them, tiny flutterings of excitement mixed with trepidation in her stomach.
This is really, actually going to happen.
The past few days had raced by in a strange blur. At first it had felt as though she were making the arrangements for someone else as she booked train tickets and dragged the suitcase down from the loft.
Fran’s reaction had put a real dampener on her high spirits since Norma Arden’s job offer. He still hadn’t called but then again she didn’t expect him to. Whenever they argued he’d ignore her calls for a few days and Kelsey knew it was best to leave him to mope. He’d always make the first move towards reconciliation when he was ready. But this felt different. She was leaving for the summer. She’d tried to reach him that morning, but had been greeted by the crackling emptiness of his voicemail. Unsure what to do, she’d hung up without speaking.
Thankfully, there hadn’t been too much time to fret over the uncertain state of their relationship. Norma, as good as her word, had sent the tour information booklets along with a short, simple contract which Kelsey had signed and hurriedly posted back. Flicking through the booklets, she’d winced at the pages upon pages packed with dates, facts, and anecdotes she was expected to memorise.
‘I’ll read them on the train on Wednesday,’ she’d told her mum. Right now, her head was spinning and she couldn’t take it in. There were so many other more pressing things to be sorted out before then anyway.
‘Just how do you pack for a whole summer living and working miles from home?’
That was all Mirren had needed to hear before she was at Kelsey’s door, notebook in hand.
‘Show me your summer capsule wardrobe, Kelse,’ she’d demanded.
Pulling the closet door open, afraid to ask what exactly a capsule wardrobe was, Kelsey lifted out her only summer sundress; a knee-length midnight blue floaty affair with dark yellow sunflowers printed all over the crinkly fabric. It was years old but she loved it.
‘And?’ Mirren wrinkled her nose.
‘And what? That’s it, really. Apart from some jeans and there’s these, I guess?’ Kelsey shrugged, holding out for inspection a pair of tight-fitting cherry-red capri pants that she’d bought on impulse and never dared wear. ‘At least I don’t have to worry about work clothes; the contract says I get a uniform.’
After an appraisal of the entire contents of Kelsey’s modest wardrobe, which didn’t take long, Mirren had picked out a few outfits that would see her through her days off, ticking each item off her list of essentials. Mirren loved a list.
‘OK, let’s see… Sunglasses, swimsuit, raincoat, brolly – because you just never know – flat black pumps, check. Black leggings, check. Jeans, I guess. Is there any point in asking where you keep your date outfits?’
‘I doubt Fran will be coming to Stratford, Mirren.’
‘It wasn’t Fran I was thinking of. There’ll be thousands of brooding intellectual arty types milling around those theatre bars, Kelsey. And where there’s life, there’s hope.’
‘I’m going to be working most of the time, Mirr, and even if Stratford turns out to be a haven for hot blokes, I won’t be looking. Not with things like this between Fran and me.’ Kelsey was packing her hair straighteners.
Mirren sighed, shifting on the bed. ‘What do you want to do about Fran?’
‘There’s not much I can do if he won’t talk to me. Him and his sulks! It’s been like this for a while, Mirr. Some weeks we barely speak. I always seem to be doing something that irks him, whether it’s because I’m not earning enough, or I’m not being ambitious enough. And let’s not forget it was him who pushed me to learn to drive but when I actually passed my test, he wanted me to put my savings in the joint account so I couldn’t afford a car of my own anyway. It’s all right for him with his salary and his grand plans. He can’t have it both ways, can he? Telling me to aim high then curtailing me when I try?’
‘Don’t you think he’ll come to see you in Stratford, have a romantic reunion?’
Kelsey shrugged doubtfully. Every time she pictured herself there, she couldn’t quite see herself with Fran, or with anyone, for that matter. The future looked strangely blank, and Kelsey couldn’t deny that the opportunity to colour in that blankness was exciting.
‘Maybe Fran’s right. I do live in my own little dream world, reading my sonnets and plays, wishing I was living them. I’ve never been very practical or go-getting.’
‘That’s not entirely fair, Kelsey. You’ve had a hard time of things, of course you’ve wanted to retreat into yourself.’
‘It’s a bit pathetic, though. I mean, do you spend half your life fantasising you’re somewhere else?’
Kelsey didn’t notice Mirren swallowing hard as she inwardly answered the question before shaking the thought from her mind. Mirren worked at the evening newspaper office in Edinburgh as one of two reporters covering all the news from the city’s Magistrates’ Courts. She liked her job and knew there were thousands of people who’d kill to take her place. It paid well enough and was interesting, but the hours were long and she couldn’t see any opportunities for promotion on the horizon. She really wanted to be a features editor on the paper’s weekend editions, but for now she was biding her time. Just like she was biding her time with Preston, hoping she’d at last conquered her roving eye, trying to settle down and be contented.
Mirren steered Kelsey back to the task at hand.
‘At least pack some decent linger
ie, Kelse. This is the underwear of a woman who’s given up on life.’ Mirren gingerly picked a voluminous pair of grey cotton knickers from the suitcase. Kelsey grasped at them, stuffing them back into her luggage.
‘They’re comfy, all right!’
Mirren, cross-legged on the bed, shook her beautifully poised head with the air of a wise – if slightly oversexed – Buddha. ‘Well at least take these.’ She reached into her dress pocket before throwing a pack of condoms onto the bed.
‘You’ve got to be joking! I haven’t had so much as a snog for weeks with Fran and you think I’ll end up being pity-shagged by some sleazy thespian.’
‘I heard Eddie Redmayne was in Stratford last summer, and Keanu Reeves the year before that,’ Mirren replied knowingly. Those particular men were Kelsey’s kryptonite.
‘Fair point.’ Kelsey threw Mirren’s parting gift into the bag alongside the factor thirty, her mascara, and lip gloss.
‘Good girl.’
‘You will come and visit me, won’t you, Mirr?’
‘Course I will. Here, I got you a proper present.’
Inside the pretty gift bag Kelsey found an orange leather photo album, a matching notebook, and a shiny rose-gold fountain pen. There was a tiny card inside too, printed with spikes of lavender and inscribed in Mirren’s neat slanted handwriting, ‘Go girl, seek happy nights to happy days.’
‘Aww, that’s beautiful, Mirr. Thank you.’ Kelsey grinned broadly, holding the card to her chest. It was a line from Romeo and Juliet. ‘I’m going to miss you so much.’
They hugged and said their goodbyes before Mirren reluctantly left her to finish packing. Kelsey slipped a few treasured photographs into her new album and put all the presents in her satchel beside her purse and train tickets. Her Sonnets were already in there along with a map and directions from the station to the Norma Arden Historic Tours Agency.
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