And suddenly there it was, appearing in front of her as she rounded the corner of yet another ancient twisting street: the house where Shakespeare was born. Without a second’s hesitation, she reached for her father’s camera, releasing it from its padded case, raising it to her eye, and framing the ramshackle old cottage. She was finally back in the birthplace of all the poetry, drama and romance that she’d dedicated her daydreams to since she was a teenager.
‘I’m home, Dad,’ she whispered.
Chapter Ten
‘I like this place, and willingly could waste my time in it’
(As You Like It)
It sounded nice, Saint Ninian’s Close. Kelsey imagined it as cloistered and sacred. She was hoping for a tree-lined avenue, rambling roses and steep steps leading up to a romantic garret where shafts of light from old leaded windows would illuminate the dancing dust, a timeworn desk under a beamed ceiling maybe, where she could write long letters home. As she trundled the suitcase behind her, she imagined herself, white feather quill in hand, dipping its elegant silver nib into blackest ink. Very Shakespeare in Love.
How can I be lost? Where’s a friendly local guide when you need one?
After much searching, a few dead-ends and a wrong turn along an overgrown canal towpath, Kelsey found herself in the shadow of Number One, St. Ninian’s Close, a tall Victorian red-brick with a blood-red door set within a smart porch. Looking again at the map, she realised that she’d completely missed the turning Norma had pointed her towards and in fact she was now only a few hundred yards down a back street from the beautiful gardens of Shakespeare’s Birthplace. Too tired to beat herself up for her pathetic map-reading skills, she searched for the key. She just wanted to unpack, have a bath, and fall into the sumptuous white sheets of the antique four-poster bed she’d been dreaming of.
Mavis Thornton, her new landlady, had told her she’d find the keys under the windowsill to the right of the door, and sure enough, there they were, hanging on a small silver nail obscured by the spiderwebs and the freshly unfurled foliage of the tangled Virginia creeper that covered most of the building. At first she’d thought it strange that the key would be left out for her where any passing tourist could spy it. Of course, nobody felt the need to lock themselves inside their homes back in the village, and her mum often left the door unlocked even when she nipped out to the corner shop, but Stratford was an altogether busier place, wasn’t it? And yet out here, just a few hundred yards from the main drag, in the shadows of the smart pre-war houses and beneath the canopies of tall oaks and chestnut trees the streets were quiet and still. The road was lined with parked cars but there was something contained and calm about this affluent residential area that reminded her of village life. So she unlocked the door with a familiar sense of homecoming that surprised her.
Having come this far in the blazing June sunshine, struggling over the threshold with her suitcase, camera bag, satchel, and Norma’s groceries took a Herculean effort. She was immediately struck by the sudden change in temperature as the heavy door closed behind her.
The hallway was cool and spacious and smelled strongly of lavender and beeswax. Two doors led off to the downstairs flats and a wide oak staircase stood before her with a big-eyed owl carved into the balustrade. The handsome old tiles from the porch continued all the way inside, bright and gleaming under her feet.
Someone must really look after this place.
The walls were papered in an elegant deep-green leafy wallpaper that looked about a century old. The overall effect was very grand and welcoming. Glancing back towards the door, she noticed a tall table with a bulbous flowerpot on top that was spilling over with the frothy fronds of a huge fern, and beside it hung the mail rack. Kelsey peeped hopefully into her own little compartment, flat 2B, wondering if anyone she knew had thought ahead and sent her a housewarming card.
Nope, empty. Hardly surprising really, this has all happened so fast.
She made a mental note to send a postcard to everyone back home in the hope of getting some mail of her own soon. And she’d have to contact Fran too, just to let him know she had arrived safely. Sensing another drop in temperature at the sudden memory of Fran and their argument at the pub, goosebumps prickled on her arms. If he’d simply congratulated her and wished her well, she’d have felt certain she was going home to him at the end of the summer, but the way they’d left things… Kelsey shook her head abruptly, trying to clear her mind. Somehow, it felt as though their rushed parting at the station had taken place weeks ago, in some other world. Had it only been this morning? With a shudder, she turned back to look at the stairs. It hurt to think about him, and she didn’t want to start wallowing in guilt or self-pity, not tonight.
Onwards and upwards, Kelse.
The stairs looked positively mountainous in that moment as a heavy fatigue caught up with her. Beginning the climb, she noticed there were fewer and fewer of the original Victorian features that had graced the ground floor. The first floor landing was far less spacious and modern fire doors led off to its three apartments. No more lovely leafy wallpaper up here then. Kelsey looked in dismay at the 1980s puffy vinyl that had been painted over many times in thick white gloss as she gripped the curving banister and climbed up and around again.
Flat 2B was immediately in front of her on the landing and there were three other flats off to its sides. The stairs continued upwards behind her, but they were narrower and steeper, presumably leading up to the attics. She slipped the smaller of her two keys into the lock and walked inside.
‘OK, this room’s teensy. What the hell?’
Kelsey glanced around her bedsit. There was a single bed with white cotton covers, one long kitchen unit with a cupboard underneath, a sink and a portable two-ring electric hob – not that she planned on taking it anywhere. The only pops of colour in the room came from the mint green toaster with matching kettle and microwave; everything else was white, including the carpet, which looked brand new.
In front of her was yet another door, leading to the world’s tiniest toilet cubicle. It was going to be a squeeze getting in there without actually having to stand on the loo to swing the door closed. She walked back into the tiny bedroom to search for her mobile.
‘Mum? I’m here. I’ve just got into my room. It’s so wee! It’s cosy though, in fact it’s boiling. The heat must get trapped up here at the top of the house… Yeah, it’s spotless, immaculately white in fact. Oh my God, get this. There’s a shower cubicle right up against the end of the bed. How am I even meant to get in there?’ Laughing incredulously, she tried pulling open the flimsy Perspex door. ‘Riiight, I can’t. It only opens about eight inches before it hits the bed. Well, this is going to be interesting.’
They laughed and chatted for a few moments more before Kelsey blew her mum a goodnight kiss down the phone. She needed to get some sleep before her first day in her new job.
Not bothering to unpack, she took out the photo album Mirren had given her. There was a picture of her and Fran back at uni. Both of them were laughing and holding each other tightly. He looked so handsome and clearly in love. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. If she didn’t send him a message now, she might never do it, she thought. So reaching again for her mobile, she typed the words.
I’m here. Hope you’re OK. Thank you for coming to see me off this morning. I know I should have talked to you about the job offer before I took it. I’m sorry. I’ll miss you.
As the message flew through the ether to Fran, Kelsey turned the page on the photo album, standing it on the shelf by her bed so that two pictures were displayed. One side showed her mum, dad, Calum, and grandad standing in front of Shakespeare’s house all those years ago, and the other was of Mirren and Kelsey roaring with laughter on a picnic blanket at the beach back home. She placed her grandad’s tartan ribbon between the open pages as her eyes drooped in the warmth of the little white room.
After a long swig of milk, she opened the window wide and lay down on top of
the covers, still dressed. Within a minute she was in a still, dreamless slumber.
As she slept, distant church bells rang out, their music carried on the wings of the dipping and soaring house martins who flitted between the hazy lawn below and the eaves above her where tiny fledglings chirped softly in the warmth of their safe nests.
Chapter Eleven
‘But yet thou shalt have freedom’
(The Tempest)
The morning dawned cool and quiet as Kelsey, bundled in her white cotton sheets, came round then dozed away again. The morning air from the window with its gently flapping lace curtains smelled of hot dust and sweet, distant summer rain. Slowly, the memories came back to her: the long journey, the shock of arriving in her new town, the fact that she would be diving headlong into a new job today. The world outside was still asleep and there were no sounds at all from the neighbouring rooms.
Reaching for her phone, she hoped Fran had seen last night’s message. Nothing. He’s probably busy getting ready for work. Or, he’s heartbroken and inconsolable round at his parents’ place? No matter how sad and alone that thought made her feel, she knew she had to face the day. Standing, straightening her spine with a long stretch, she tried to breathe away thoughts of Fran.
Making the three short steps from her bedside to the tiny nook that constituted her kitchen she cut two wonky slices of bread, popping them into the toaster. The mouth-watering scent of walnuts and sunflower seeds turning deep brown and starting to sizzle and crack made her ravenous. Holding the honey jar close to her nose as she popped the lid, her senses were assaulted with the deep fragrance of sweet clover and dark molasses. There was nothing to distract her from the slow pleasure of watching two dripping spoonfuls pour onto the hot toast.
Gathering up her breakfast, a mug of milky tea and her camera, she tiptoed out the door, taking her keys with her. She was about to head downstairs for a barefoot stroll around the dewy lawn, but decided to have a quick peek upstairs first.
There can’t possibly be more flats up there under the eaves, surely? We’re squeezed in like battery hens up here as it is.
The stairs leading upwards from her own small landing were straight and steep and made of black cast iron. At the top there were two small hatches. One had a laminated sign pinned to it.
‘Cleaner’s Store. Oh well, that solves that mystery then.’ Kelsey was getting used to talking to herself already. ‘This is how all mad women in attics start out,’ she told herself as she pushed the other door, its round wooden handle turning easily in her hand.
Kelsey inhaled sharply as she opened it, slowly at first before letting it swing open with a bang on the wall behind. She was met by the rush of fresh air and the bright glare of the June morning sunshine. Grabbing the handrail she pulled herself up the last few steps out onto a tiny terrace sunk between two sloping slate roofs; one obviously belonging to the original building, the other newer and part of the extension that housed her own apartment.
On sun-baked terracotta tiles there stood a chair and a small mosaic table. Squeezing past them, Kelsey looked out over the low railings that enclosed the little suntrap, but a vertiginous dizziness forced her back from the edge. The view was beautiful in the morning light beneath a cloudless sky and there was heat in the sun already.
The spire of the big church by the river was just visible over the tree tops and red roofs. Far off to her right she could just make out a strange monument, a towering stone obelisk standing alone on a range of low rambling hills that she didn’t even know the name of. There were no signs that anyone had been on the terrace recently; no plants growing in pots or cigarette ends in ashtrays. It was as immaculately tidy as the rest of the building.
Settling down with her breakfast, Kelsey didn’t mind the astronomical rent on her tiny bedsit quite so much in that moment, not if she had the use of this perfect little space high above her new town.
There’s plenty time to shower and dress before work. My new commute’s going to take no more than ten minutes on foot. Kelsey stretched her body in leisurely comfort. For now, she was going to enjoy her amazing find in perfect solitude.
Chapter Twelve
‘There is flattery in friendship’
(Henry V)
No, no, no, no, I’m so late! Mr Greville’s going to be furious. And what will Norma think?
Kelsey’s feet pounded the pavement as fast as they could carry her. It had been the uniform’s fault.
She’d been so sleepy the night before she hadn’t thought to look at it, but after breakfast as she’d stood by the bed in her pristine white room – now very steamy from her morning shower – wrapped in her towel, hair dripping over her shoulders, she’d unwrapped the uniform, examining it in dismay. Sure enough, inside the bag there were not one, but two, thin fleece zip-up gilets, both a very murky burgundy. She was relieved to see the label read ‘small.’ There were also two white short-sleeved shirts, possibly designed for a skinny man, definitely not cut for a woman. She almost screamed as she discovered the final item: a bottle green and burgundy striped neckerchief, like the ones cabin crew wear, except this one wasn’t cute and sexy like the Virgin Atlantic girls’; this was like something you’d wear over your perm at a Balmoral grouse shoot. And that was it.
No trousers? I thought ‘uniform provided’ meant an actual complete outfit.
There followed a frantic half hour of flinging clothes from her suitcase and realising she had no choice but to wear the capri pants, hoping that the cherry-red colour wouldn’t clash too much with the burgundy gilet.
She’d done her best to create what Mirren would call ‘a look’. She swept nude-pink gloss across her lips, attempted a bit of mascara, and a lot of powder – the clammy heat in her room had left her skin shiny and flushed.
As she ran, she caught sight of her reflection in the glass of the bus shelter. This was not her best look. She was so glad she’d packed her new black pumps. They were comfy and fairly smart, and together with the cropped capris they had a cute 1950s feel. At least her bottom half looked all right. She’d tucked the shapeless shirt in, trying to create a sense of a waist and left the top buttons undone, tying the neckerchief of doom in as small a knot as possible to complement the gamine Audrey Hepburn sunglasses-on-head style she was trying to channel.
It was after nine when she arrived at the Agency door, breathless and hot. Right, where’s this old Mr Greville then? Perhaps he’s wandered off, disgusted at the tardiness of the younger generation. He’s probably gone upstairs to tell Norma.
Just as she was reaching for the office buzzer, ready to face the music, she spotted a man in a burgundy gilet just like her own coming out of the coffee shop on the other side of the road. He was carrying two frappuccinos and had an umbrella tucked under one arm. Except this was no decrepit old historian as Norma had suggested. He looked only a few years older than her and even in that uniform it was obvious that he was gorgeous. He casually crossed the street avoiding the traffic, grinning at Kelsey, or maybe he was laughing. Kelsey smiled as he stopped in front of her on the broad pavement.
‘You’re the man I’ve been looking for?’ She regretted her choice of words immediately.
Amused, he flashed perfect straight teeth. ‘You’re the tenth pretty girl to say that to me this morning.’
They both laughed, Kelsey a little nervously.
‘Pleased to meet you, I’m Will Greville,’ he said, with a sudden air of formality.
‘Norma said you’d worked here for donkey’s years. I thought you were going to be ancient.’
‘Glad I’m not?’ His eyes sparkled with good humour. Kelsey looked at the ground, abashed. He deftly offered her one of the plastic cups. ‘Iced coffee?’
‘Thank you. Your voice is so posh, like Prince William! I didn’t think real people actually talked like that.’
Will gleefully cocked an eyebrow, his lips quirking wickedly as Kelsey inwardly flinched with shame. Why did I say that? Stop talking, Kelsey! She was go
ing to have to force herself to be sensible. ‘What I mean is, thank you very much for the coffee, William. I’m Kelsey, by the way. I’m sorry I’m so late. First day glitches and all that.’
She offered him her hand and he clasped it firmly, his touch pleasantly cold from carrying the coffees.
‘Honestly, I have no idea what you just said. I’m going to have a hard time deciphering your accent. It’s very nice to meet you all the same. It’s just Will, by the way. Only Norma and my grandmother call me William.’
Kelsey stiffened her neck in confused response. Is he being kind and pretending not to have heard me gushing nonsense at him, or is he just bloody rude?
Will was leaning back on one foot shamelessly surveying Kelsey with an appreciative look from the ground up. ‘Well, I must say, that is one way to rock this uniform.’
His eyes, she noticed, were mossy green. These, combined with his auburn hair – which he kept pushing backwards only for it to flop endearingly onto his forehead again – made a striking first impression. Suddenly aware she was staring at his face, Kelsey stumbled for words, any words.
‘Yes, well, I didn’t have time to shop for trousers or anything. I like yours much better. Your uniform I mean; not your trousers.’ She pressed her lips tightly together with a mortified squeak. Jesus Christ, Kelsey. What is wrong with you? She had to attempt to save herself. ‘At least you don’t have to wear this weird monstrosity around your neck,’ she offered.
Will, she’d noticed, was wearing a smart tie in the same striped colours as her budget-airline bandana.
Raking his fingers through his hair he leaned towards her, intoning in a low conspiratorial voice, ‘I think it looks very sexy on you.’
Kelsey attempted a casual shrug as though she were accustomed to compliments from hot strangers. He let out a throaty laugh. She had never met anyone as disarming as this before.
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