There, I’m ready. I think.
* * *
There’s bright and early and then there’s ludicrously early. Kelsey, her grandad, Mari and Calum looked up at the train departure boards. Apart from a man emptying the bins and a young woman unlocking a coffee kiosk, they were the only people on the Waverley station concourse. The old station clock told them it was ten to five. Mari held Kelsey’s hand, asking anxiously if she’d remembered tissues and hand sanitiser and a bottle of water.
‘It’s OK, I’ve definitely got everything I need, Mum. Don’t worry. I’ll ring you once I’m in my flat.’
Calum was chattering excitedly about the big screen actors who were in Stratford that summer, people he’d seen in sci-fi movies who were now in Hamlet and King Lear, showing they’ve still got what it takes to ‘do Shakespeare.’ Kelsey promised to get him an autograph if she saw anyone remotely famous, enjoying an unrestrained thrill at the thought of being in a town where actual movie stars hung out.
Kelsey’s grandad cast his eyes over his granddaughter with a look of pride so unmistakeable she could barely return his gaze for fear of crying. Stepping towards her, he held out a white paper bag.
‘I’m sorry it’s not wrapped. It’s from all of us, but there’s a wee something in there that’s just from me.’
She hugged him close, taking the bag from his hands. Inside was a beautiful hardback edition of A Midsummer Night’s Dream with cream canvas covers.
‘Oh wow! Thank you. A comedy for a change. Are you telling me to lighten up?’ Kelsey joked to cover her emotions which were threatening to bubble over.
‘Open it,’ he prompted with a fond smile.
There, inside the cover, was a braided plaid ribbon cleverly tied in a flat love knot.
‘That’s the Anderson tartan. Now, you know what the Anderson clan motto is, don’t you?’
Turning the ribbon over in her hands, she shook her head.
‘It’s “Stand Sure”. Now remember that. Wherever you are, you’re an Anderson, steady and sure and brave. And you’re my wee lassie.’
There was a sparkle in his eyes that wasn’t just pride as he reached for his handkerchief. Kelsey buried her head in his shoulder and thanked him with a whisper; she couldn’t manage anything louder.
And then the rush began: the train’s arrival, a flurry of kisses and hugs, the search for Kelsey’s compartment, and her luggage being stuffed into the overhead rack. Within minutes she was sitting behind glass grinning at her family on the platform. But they weren’t looking at her, they were looking along the platform at the figure running towards them shouting her name.
Kelsey staggered towards the open train door in time to see Fran, unshaven and panting, waving an envelope in the air. Kelsey, stared at him, open-mouthed.
‘I thought I’d missed you,’ he gasped. ‘Here, take this. It’s everything you paid into the deposit. I’ve closed the account. Just go and do whatever you need to do.’
The train guard stepped out of the driver’s carriage, getting ready to blow his whistle.
Soft bleeping sounds came from the speakers above the doors as the train’s engine whirred louder. Fran looked desperate. ‘I’ll see you in September, OK?’ The doors closed between them.
Kelsey’s heart was still pounding in her chest with the sudden rush and panic of her departure. Unsure what to do, she smiled apologetically as the train eased away. She watched her grandad walk over to Fran, shake his hand gently, and put an arm around him. Calum and Mari ran alongside the train waving frantically, her mum blowing kisses, and trying not to let her see that she was really sobbing. Kelsey pressed her hands against the glass and mouthed, ‘Love you, Mum,’ as the train disappeared into the station’s dark maze of tunnels.
Forcing herself to breathe deeply she flopped down onto her seat, just as the train re-emerged into the June morning light. The conductor was making his announcements, saying, ‘Welcome aboard this service to Birmingham New Street,’ as the train rolled out of Edinburgh.
Making a small rip in the corner of Fran’s envelope Kelsey gaped at the sight of the thick bundle of notes, all fifties, two thousand pounds at least. She stuffed the money into her satchel, being careful to buckle it up properly again. This would certainly help pay her rent this summer, something she’d been worrying about. Kelsey had been too shocked to ask Norma about the rate of pay during their hurried phone call and her contract had merely mentioned she’d be paid minimum wage. She could have cried with gratitude for poor Fran. Imagine rushing to the station at this time of the morning! He’d looked so sad and imploring it gave Kelsey a sharp twinge in her chest.
Taking one last look at the Castle Rock looming up over the tracks, she clasped her grandad’s tartan ribbon tightly in her shaking hands. Stand Sure? Kelsey had never felt so unsure of herself in her entire life.
Chapter Nine
‘This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle […]
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England’
(Richard II)
The sign by the roadside blazoned, ‘Welcome to Stratford-upon-Avon, Birthplace of the Nation’s Bard, William Shakespeare.’
OK, I’m here, just being cool. Just walking along. Nothing to panic about. Oh shit! Oh shiiiiit!
Nothing looked as Kelsey remembered as she followed the crowds from the packed train, decidedly creased and hot after the long journey. Tourists trundling wheelie cases, business women in clicking heels, and noisy teenagers stuffing themselves with after-school sweets were barging past in all directions. Looking down at the map in her hands she noticed it was trembling.
Well, this might as well be upside down and written in Russian. Where am I?
It was now almost five in the afternoon. She’d have just enough time to catch Norma before she went home if she hurried. But where was she hurrying to? Spotting a sign pointing towards Shakespeare’s House, she thought this seemed like a good option, knowing that it was in the dead centre of town and Norma’s office was somewhere near it.
Wow, it’s hot.
Dust rose in the air with each unsteady footstep, giving the impression it hadn’t rained for weeks. Walking past a pretty thatch-roofed pub she stopped to read aloud the sign by its door. ‘Do you think because thou art virtuous, that there shall be no more cakes and ale?’ A quick thrill of nervousness ran up her spine, making her light-headed. It must be a Shakespeare quote, but I’ve no idea which play it’s from.
She had spent the entire journey trying to memorise Norma’s information packs, her concentration shot through with the image of Fran’s desperate, mournful expression at the station. None of the dates and facts about outbreaks of the plague and destructive town fires had sunk in.
What kind of tour guide am I going to be if I don’t have all of that stuff on the tip of my tongue? What am I even doing here? Norma’s going to take one look at me and know for sure she’s made a terrible mistake.
The panic in her chest spiked. A cold sweat sent her from being a hot mess into sudden shivers as she realised she was still frozen to the spot, staring at the mystery quote on the sign.
Everybody must think I look crazy.
But glancing around, she realised no one was looking at her at all. She was nowhere near home and utterly invisible, all alone in a strange town where nobody knew her. There were no landmarks she recognised, not even familiar chain stores or restaurants that could help ground her.
The thought of Norma waiting for her at the agency spurred her feet to move and she joined the thronging crowds heading into town.
* * *
‘Come in, darling. Yes, yes, yes… come on in. Oh dear, look at you. You’ve had quite the expedition today, haven’t you? Kettle’s on, chop chop!’
Kelsey had only managed a surprised ‘hello’ when Norma Arden appeared suddenly to greet her on the stairs just seconds after she’d buzzed her into the building. Dressed in a deep purple, expensive-looking skirt suit (vintage Chanel? Kelsey wondered) an
d hot-pink pumps in a quilted-leather effect with little gold tassels over the toes, Norma Arden was a shock to Kelsey’s already shocked system. Her bluntly cropped bob was an outrageous bottle red. Kelsey had relaxed the instant she found the door to the agency and rang the buzzer, but following the friendly whirlwind of energy that was Norma Arden as she ascended the stairs, she suddenly felt even calmer.
‘Sit, dear, sit,’ jostled Norma, putting Kelsey in mind of a dog handler at Crufts. Norma was already stooped over the tea things, pushing her thick purple-rimmed spectacles up onto the bridge of her nose only for them to slip back down again, settling precariously on the tip.
‘Biccies? Yes, of course. Yes, of course. We do like our biccies!’ she shrilled at lightning speed.
Already exhausted, Kelsey barely had the energy to follow Norma’s abrupt movements. Her new boss thrust a delicate lilac sprigged teacup filled to the brim with milky tea and wobbling on its saucer into Kelsey’s hands and at last came to a stop on a swivel chair behind her desk.
‘Down the hatch.’ Norma raised her teacup, flashing lipstick-smudged teeth at her new employee. Kelsey already liked her immensely. Far from being the battleaxe she’d feared, Norma seemed unthreatening and charming with it, if a bit batty and unintentionally brusque. She’d have to be batty to hire someone she’d never even met before.
‘Norma, thank you so much for this opportunity. I can’t quite believe I’m here, it’s like a dream really. This morning I was at Waverley station, now I’m in Stratford. It’s surreal.’
Kelsey tried to stop herself wittering by taking a sip of tea, spilling some in the saucer.
‘My pleasure. I’m glad reinforcements have arrived. We’ve been struggling to maintain the front lines. With the addition of you, my dear, we’ve got enough guides to manage the summer bookings, as long as we don’t get any unexpected ones coming in at short notice.’
Norma took a huge slurp of tea, almost emptying her cup in one go. Kelsey took the brief respite from the machine gun chatter to study Norma’s heavy make-up and a jawline that suggested more than a hint of Botox. At a loss to guess her age, Kelsey would have put her at anywhere between fifty and seventy.
‘Do you need me to start right away? I’ve tried to memorise all the information you sent me, but I can’t promise it will all come out in the right order.’ Kelsey offered a smile and a modest shrug with this honesty. Best to tell the truth right from the start.
‘Oh, no, no, no, no! You won’t have a group of your own for a few days. I’ve assigned you to another guide who’ll show you the ropes. You’ll watch him do his tours, take some notes, get the gist, and then we’ll set you loose on sightseers of your own.’
‘That’s good to know.’ Kelsey exhaled with relief and downed the last of her tea.
‘Your rota has you shadowing William Greville tomorrow and Friday. He’s one of our longest-serving guides and one of the very best – he certainly gets the biggest tips. Been with us for donkey’s years! He’ll watch you taking your first group on Saturday too, see how you do, and all being well, you’ll be off on your own as of Sunday. Oh, and there might be a few extra shifts available here and there, and once you’re in the swing of things you can do the backstage theatre tours as well. Sound all right? Good!’
Norma hadn’t given her the chance to respond, so Kelsey smiled in assent. She liked the sound of William Greville. Posh name, bit aristocratic maybe? Definitely a hundred and eighty years old.
‘Sounds great,’ she replied with real enthusiasm despite the creeping feeling of dread at the very idea of addressing a large group of tourists. The thought of the tips helped quell some of the uneasiness.
‘I’ll take as many extra shifts as possible, please, Norma.’
There was still rent to pay and it was going to be pretty steep. She’d been stunned at the price of some of the larger lets in town and plumped for the smallest one available, and even that sounded pricey to Kelsey.
‘So, um…we haven’t properly talked about the hourly rate. Can you… tell me what it is, please?’
‘Oh, didn’t I mention that? Why didn’t you ask before? Well, I’m afraid its minimum wage, dearie. You’ll bring in about two hundred and fifty pounds a week before tax.’
Kelsey swallowed hard. That would only just cover her rent. Kelsey thought of the cash-stuffed envelope in her satchel. What would she have done were it not for Fran and his sudden change of heart about the deposit? Sitting there in Norma’s office, so tired and so far from home, Kelsey couldn’t bear to think about what it meant for their future together. If he’d cleared her savings from the account, the account that represented their shared future, what did it mean for all of Fran’s plans? Was she included in them any more? Did she really want to be?
Norma’s swift appraisal of her new protégé’s features told her something was wrong.
‘Try not to worry, little one. There are always plenty of extra bits and bobs up for grabs in the summer. I know a director who’s looking for a few end-of-season helpers, and the backstage tours pay extra, so we won’t let you starve! Don’t want you popping your clogs like young Chatterton, eh?’
Kelsey nodded, slightly uneasy at the thought of this poor Chatterton, wondering if he’d been one of her predecessors and suddenly worried about what kind of a racket she’d got herself involved in. Norma saw through her bluff like a purple Miss Marple.
‘Darling, Thomas Chatterton, the tragic poet? Haven’t you seen the painting? The Death of Chatterton? Henry Wallis? Dear, dear! What do they teach you young ones at university these days?’ Norma cast her eyes heavenward.
Thrown, the colour rose in Kelsey’s cheeks. Oh great. I can add that to all the other stuff Norma expects me to know that I just don’t. I am a total imposter. A bloody fraud.
‘I’m teasing, sweetheart,’ smiled Norma, sensing the change in mood. ‘Right, dearie, let’s get you on your way to your lodgings, eh? You’ve had a long day and tomorrow’s going to be busy. You’ll be needing these.’ She handed Kelsey what she assumed must be her uniform wrapped in clear plastic bags.
Kelsey smiled weakly to hide her look of horror. Oh no. Not a fleecy gilet! And in burgundy too? Please tell me it’s not. Whatever it was, it did not look appealing. Norma thrust a shift rota into her other hand. The entire company of guides’ names were listed in the first column beneath her own: William, Myrtle, Valeria, Gianfranco, and Lukas.
‘What lovely names.’
‘They’re all lovely people, and great tour guides, the best in the business. Between you all, you speak eleven languages.’ Norma beamed proudly.
And I only speak English. She must think I’m useless. Kelsey took a deep breath, trying to silence the perpetually critical voice in her head. Did it ever take a day off? With an uncomfortable jolt, she realised how much the voice sounded like Fran.
Norma, jangling a bunch of keys, walked Kelsey downstairs and out into the street where she took the crumpled map from Kelsey’s hand.
‘This is the way to your lodgings, along here, then down there.’ She ran her red painted fingertip along the page. It looked like an easy enough walk. ‘Come back here for nine a.m., Will Greville will be waiting for you. Any worries, ring me at the office. OK? OK, good.’
Kelsey nodded, giving up hope of getting a word in between Norma’s rounds of heavy artillery speech. Norma looped the handles of a fancy tote bag over Kelsey’s arm and walked away in the opposite direction, before stopping suddenly and turning on her heel with the look of a person who’d forgotten to say something very important.
‘Oh, and, Kelsey, dear? Beware of the midsummer madness.’ Looking Kelsey up and down with a faint smile at the corners of her mouth, she added, ‘Something tells me you’ll be particularly susceptible to it. Be wise, dearie. Be wise.’ With that, Norma blew two sharp air kisses towards her and bustled away, leaving Kelsey convinced she could hear her new boss’s cackling laughter ringing in the still, airless afternoon.
‘What the…
? She’s as mad as a brush,’ Kelsey muttered under her breath, smiling in astonishment at her first new acquaintance in Stratford.
She remembered with curiosity the bag Norma had pushed over her wrist and took a peek inside. It was full of treats: Darjeeling tea, a thick slab of fudge with a picture of Shakespeare on the wrapper, a jar of cloudy Warwickshire honey, and a huge diamond-shaped loaf in brown paper wrapping – obviously fancy artisan bread, nothing like the plain loaf her mum usually bought – and a pint of milk in an actual glass bottle, gold top, of course. Kelsey got the feeling Norma was used to the finer things in life – either that or she was insanely generous. The smell of the bread hit her and made her tummy rumble immediately. Reaching into the bag she broke off a hunk, munching it greedily.
Mmm, divine. This isn’t going to last long. Cheers, Norma!
The ancient broad street had all but emptied by now. Kelsey presumed the pubs and restaurants were packed with the pre-theatre crowds and the nine-to-five workers had all gone home. The afternoon sun lit up the enormous floral displays attached to each of the old-fashioned street lamps lining her route. There was a coat of arms on every lamp post, just visible beneath the drooping begonia heads. Each coat of arms was shaped like a shield with a yellow background and a golden spear lying diagonally across a black stripe. Kelsey felt a triumphant bolt of recognition.
It’s the Shakespeare family coat of arms, if I’m not very much mistaken!
She’d remembered something. Maybe she’d be a better tour guide than she’d feared. With a few days shadowing old Mr Greville and a bit of practice, she might well become a proper tour guide, a good one even. She walked on, now with a little swagger. The excitement was returning at last.
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