One Summer's Night

by One Summer's Night (retail) (epub)

  ‘Come on, let’s walk and talk. We’ve got a group arriving in thirty minutes.’ He motioned in the direction of the church.

  Kelsey trailed alongside Will, a little too distracted by him to appreciate the beautiful sights they were passing. They made small talk about her journey the day before and the unusually hot weather, all the while Kelsey was taking quick sidelong glances at her new mentor.

  He was clean-shaven and fresh-looking, and had his shirt tucked into black jeans with a brown leather belt. In fact, Kelsey noticed, he had a whole brown leather thing going on; from his watch strap to the leather bands on his other wrist down to his shining boots. Even the gilet looked good on him and the whole effect, along with his short sleeves showing off the muscles in his tanned and freckled forearms, was rather delicious – sort of sexy woodsman in the city. Kelsey suspected Will knew that women appreciated it.

  ‘I almost forgot, these are for you. Your brolly and your ID badge.’

  He handed her the badge – it simply had her name on it – and the burgundy golf umbrella he’d had tucked under his arm.

  ‘It isn’t forecast to rain, is it?’

  ‘I doubt it. No, this is for holding up so your group can find you in among the crowds. Sometimes there are three or four guides working on the same street, it can get pretty jumbled.’

  ‘Right-o,’ she replied meekly, turning her attention to the flimsy, plastic badge.

  ‘This is hardly an ID badge, is it? I could make this myself on a computer.’

  ‘Question is, Ms Kelsey Anderson, why would you want to?’ That grin again, he was enjoying her discomfort. ‘Wait there a sec. Just nipping in here.’

  With that, Will handed her his coffee cup and disappeared through the doors of a smart pub with a carved bird of prey above the door and a sign that read ‘The Osprey Hotel’. Kelsey took a moment to catch her breath. Will’s easy confidence, charm and, let’s face it, his looks, had thrown her. So much for the octogenarian Shakespeare boffin she’d expected. Instead she’d got this young, flirty, fit Englishman.

  He’s worked for Norma for donkey’s years? How old is he then? He looks about my age, bit older maybe? And that accent! He’s all suave and posh, like Hugh Grant before he went off the boil. And just where the hell has he disappeared to?

  Will reappeared a few seconds later, catching her trying to peer through the frosted glass of the bar-room window.

  ‘Missing me?’ He was attaching his name badge to his shirt pocket with a wry smile. Trying not to squirm with shame, Kelsey felt her cheeks flush, not helped by the sight of Will resplendent in his shirt sleeves – he’d ditched the gilet – with a long peacock feather tucked under his arm and a large backpack over his broad shoulders. ‘It’s going to be hot today. Do you want to leave your fleece here too? My room’s just upstairs.’

  ‘Your room? You live here?’

  ‘Actually, my parents own it. They let me move in over the summer when I’m working the tours. I’m usually away during the winter: skiing, snowboarding, surfing, that kind of thing. And then there’s the occasional acting tour.’

  ‘Hold on. You’re a surfer-tour-guide-actor?’ Kelsey laughed, and he smiled back, his eyes sparkling.

  ‘That’s me. Will Greville, Renaissance man and polymath.’ He slipped on dark sunglasses from his shirt pocket. Kelsey had no idea what a polymath might be, so she quickly steered the conversation back to safer ground.

  ‘Your parents live here too then?’

  ‘Not in the hotel, obviously, but yes, they’re from Stratford. Mum lives in the Cotswolds now though, and Dad lives across the river with his girlfriend. They kept the hotel going through the divorce. They’re pretty good friends, actually.’

  In warm and genuine tones he filled her in about his close-knit family. He obviously admired his parents a lot. Listening and nodding, she almost had to run to keep up with his long strides. As they dodged the clusters of tourists smiling up at cameras on selfie sticks, the conversation shifted to surfing. He was heading off to Taghazout to catch some waves in October. Kelsey admitted she had never even heard of the place. She finally felt herself loosening up as she told Will about her love of photography.

  ‘Do you reckon Norma will mind me bringing my camera to work some days? I’d love to take some pictures during my breaks.’

  ‘Sure, as long as you’re doing your job Norma’s pretty easy to please, especially now she’s decided to close the agency.’

  ‘What? Hasn’t it been open for years? Seems a shame to close it now when business is obviously booming.’

  ‘I think she’s wanted to stop for a while. This is its twentieth summer, so she’s going out on a high, big anniversary and all that. She’s off to Italy in September. Retiring. And if you believe the gossip, she’ll be taking Gianfranco with her. He’s one of the other guides, you’ll meet him at the pub tomorrow night.’

  ‘So you’re taking me to the pub, are you?’ Kelsey attempted a flirtatious smile.

  ‘Yes. All the guides meet there before the Bard Crawl. You know, the weekly pub tour? We join forces and take the day’s groups around the bars. Well, some of them; some go to the theatre. Isn’t it on your rota?’

  ‘Uh… I don’t think I noticed that,’ she recoiled with embarrassment. What are you doing? You’ve just had a huge break-up with Fran, or whatever that was, and now you’re flirting, really badly I might add, with the first fit bloke you meet. Get a grip, Kelsey.

  As they approached the church, Will sharpened his pace, striding ahead to welcome his group: twenty Canadian undergraduates. Kelsey watched him from the pavement as he counted each one off their minibus, taking names and affably shaking hands.

  The town was getting busier as the first of the coaches rumbled by, heading for the big coach parks in the centre, and the hotels emptied of guests ahead of a long day of sightseeing, sunshine, and Shakespeare. Kelsey was intrigued to see Will at work. If he’s an actor, I bet he’ll be a natural. And he’s so cocky, I bet he’s got nerves of steel. She didn’t feel quite so excited at the prospect of having a group of her own on Saturday. How could she possibly hope to match up? But for now she was simply going to enjoy the sights. And that does not include your new colleague, she told herself sternly.

  ‘All right. Gather round, my friends,’ Will called out in a jovial voice, holding the peacock feather high above his auburn head.

  The students stopped talking immediately and shuffled into a semi-circle around him.

  ‘Our tour begins here, in front of Stratford-upon-Avon’s beautiful Holy Trinity Church.’

  One of the students, a pretty girl in her late teens, raised her phone to take a quick snap of Will as he motioned towards the churchyard behind him. Without stopping, he flashed a grin at her. She looked at the image on her screen, smiled coyly then made a show of devoting her entire attention to him, nodding fascinatedly as he spoke.

  Kelsey rolled her eyes. Now I get it. He’s the big man about town. The girls, and quite a few of the boys by the looks of things, go crazy for him. Look at him. He’s in his element.

  Will was powering on. ‘Baby William Shakespeare was baptised here in 1564, and this was also his last resting place in 1616. Follow me please as we make our way inside.’

  Joining the back of the group, Kelsey started scribbling notes with the rose-gold pen and jotter that Mirren had given her. They all filed respectfully past Shakespeare’s grave in the cool chancel. Gathering the group closely around him, Will continued in hushed tones, his voice husky and low.

  ‘Here you can read the inscription on Shakespeare’s tomb. He was terrified his body would be exhumed by treasure hunters, so he put a curse upon his grave.’

  Will was really good at this. The students leaned in, open-mouthed in fascination as Will, thoroughly enjoying himself but with a face as serious as the grave itself, dramatically recited the four-hundred-year-old spell.

  ‘Good friend, for Jesus’ sake forebear to dig the dust enclosed here. Blessed be
the man that spares these stones, and cursed be he that moves my bones.’

  Kelsey shivered to think of the cold skeleton beneath their feet. The students had brought a wreath of rosemary and bay leaves and as one of the boys placed it reverently beside the grave Will caught Kelsey’s eye, shamelessly winking at her over the solemnly bowed heads. Flickering candles illuminated the students’ faces as they stood in silence before trooping out past the pews and into the sunshine again.

  Will strode confidently ahead, reciting facts and dates, making sure everyone got the same amount of attention, answering questions and making everyone laugh. They wound their way down to the river which was softly lapping against the reedy banks. The branches of tall weeping willows dipped into the water while baby moorhens darted in and out of the dappled shade. They passed a group of fluffy grey cygnets making ripples across the surface of the broad river. Couples visiting the town on romantic minibreaks were holding hands as they climbed into white rowing boats at a shaded wooden jetty, looking forward to an hour or two of idle rowing down river.

  Kelsey watched as two young women, clearly deeply in love, gripped each other tightly and clambered into a little boat with the name ‘Viola’ painted on its helm in curled black letters. They screamed and laughed as the boat rocked and dipped. Settling down side by side they kissed briefly, smiling into each other’s eyes. The young lad in charge of the boats passed them two white oars and loaded a picnic basket into the prow by their feet. Pushing their boat out onto the river he waved them off but they were oblivious to him, so enraptured were they with each other.

  Kelsey sighed, with a sharp stab of sadness. Here she was in the most romantic spot in England and she was alone. It was beginning to sink in that she might never see Fran again. It had all happened so quickly; the argument, Fran closing their bank account, her hasty retreat down south. She’d hardly had time to process it. Wrapping her arms tightly around herself, she stared after the lovers on the river.

  ‘OK, everyone, we’ll stop here briefly.’

  Awakened from her reverie by Will’s velvet voice further along the riverbank, she rushed to catch up with the group. Will was spreading woollen picnic blankets on the grass beside a rose bed that was spilling over with huge blowsy pink blooms. He took a stack of plastic cups out of his backpack and handed them around before reaching in again for two large bottles of sparkling elderflower pressé and a bowl with a clear lid through which Kelsey could see the glisten of luscious red berries.

  ‘Let’s cool off for a moment or two,’ Will was saying. ‘Sorry I don’t have any ice. The roses in this bed are called William Shakespeare, by the way. Aren’t they beautiful? But a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, right?’ He pulled a daft face at his rubbish joke as the group groaned and laughed jovially, settling down to fill their cups. Will motioned to Kelsey to sit beside him with a gentle pat on a stripy blanket. ‘I also have some strawberries, raspberries, and blackberries for you; all grown here in sunny Warwickshire.’

  The students’ eyes lit up. Kelsey helped herself to a large strawberry, keeping her eyes on Will who was kneeling propped up on his heels, slightly elevated above the crowd. He reached into the back pocket of his jeans, making an announcement in a commanding voice.

  ‘As you enjoy a little taste of the English summertime, I’m going to read to you.’

  Kelsey gasped audibly as she saw Will reveal the exact same book of Sonnets as her own treasured copy. He noticed the look of awe on her face and, smiling, held her gaze as he spoke.

  ‘This is my favourite sonnet by William Shakespeare. He wrote it for his wife, Anne. It’s about how a poet’s praise can immortalise their beloved, keeping their love alive forever.’

  Will Greville certainly knew how to weave a romantic spell. Kelsey broke her long gaze into his smiling eyes to glance around the group. Some of them, obviously couples, were holding hands, engrossed. Without once looking down at the open pages of his book, Will’s clear English accent rang sonorously in the still summer air.

  ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate,’ he began.

  Kelsey watched his suntanned cheekbones and full pale lips moving as he sounded out each word with relish.

  ‘Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and summer’s lease hath all too short a date.’

  She couldn’t help but let her eyes wander across his moving throat and bobbing Adam’s apple and down across his chest which was rising and falling with the passion of his performance. She drifted off into a daydream of what it would be like to be held against that chest. Realising she was no longer hearing him, she tried to focus on the poetry. He was speaking softly now, with a honeyed warmth in his voice.

  ‘But thy eternal summer shall not fade, nor lose possession of that fair thou owest, nor shall death brag thou wanderest in his shade, when in eternal lines to Time thou growest.’

  She let the awakening pull of attraction to Will take over her thoughts as he took a long, slow breath before sighing out the poem’s final lines, looking directly into Kelsey’s transfixed eyes.

  ‘So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, so long lives this, and this gives life to thee.’

  The students burst into applause. Will made a small bow of his head, his auburn hair flopping over his temples.

  ‘So you see,’ he continued, ‘Shakespeare experienced a love so strong, so overwhelming, he was moved to write this sonnet in the hope that his lover could cheat death and live on forever. How could he possibly have imagined that we’d be here, gathered from all over the globe, four hundred years later, on the banks of the River Avon, celebrating the strength of his enduring love? Now that is romance.’

  Will was still enjoying the compliments and pats on the back as everyone cleared away their little picnic and folded up blankets ready to continue the tour. He edged over to Kelsey as the students chatted happily and took selfies on their phones, posting them to social media with messages for their friends back home.

  ‘So, what do you think? Enjoying the tour?’

  ‘It’s lovely,’ she replied, shaking her head slowly in admiration. ‘You really know how to draw them in, don’t you? Poetry and roses? It’s like a performance really, isn’t it? And the elderflower juice and local berries. That was a nice touch.’

  ‘They’re from Waitrose, but don’t tell them that.’ He laughed in low tones close to her ear. ‘But the poetry recital’s straight from the heart,’ he added mirthfully, placing his hand on his chest and raising his eyes to the heavens in mock earnestness.

  She couldn’t help but laugh at his clowning. He didn’t take himself seriously and that was very attractive. He seemed to swing between being very flash and authoritative, then very silly and fun, but always supremely confident.

  ‘There’s no way I’ll be able to do what you do,’ she confided, remembering what was expected of her on Saturday with a horrid anxiety.

  ‘Well don’t. You’ve got to find your own style and just enjoy it. I’ll let you in on my secret, shall I? I remind myself that I’m the only person in the group being paid to be here, then I don’t feel so nervous.’

  ‘You? Nervous? I’ll never believe that,’ Kelsey exclaimed.

  ‘You’d be surprised, Kelsey Anderson.’ He screwed his lips up to one side into a shy pout, casting his eyes downwards. It looked kind of cute and a bit camp and Kelsey laughed again as Will’s face broke into a broad grin.

  The pair walked on to meet the rest of the group, enjoying their easy rapport, which Will clearly had with everybody he encountered. The rest of the day was just as pleasant as they visited ancient timber-beamed buildings with wonky floors and wandered in Elizabethan knot gardens with low box hedges forming intricate topiary patterns. They stopped for lunch in a café by the river where everyone sat outside in the sun and ate jacket potatoes with melting Red Leicester cheese. Afterwards, they all relaxed on a canal boat ride, the students chatting about their studies back home.
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  Kelsey filled pages of her notebook with ideas about how to get her own tour groups invested in the history of this beautiful town, knowing that not all of them were going to be as interested in Shakespeare as these English majors. Will knew how to get people emotionally engaged and she wondered if she could do the same thing. It was going to take a bit of practice, she realised, and a lot of self-assurance. She really needed a confidence boost if she was going to replicate Will’s relaxed delivery.

  At five o’clock she said goodbye to her new Canadian friends, promising to meet them on Facebook. On her way back to her bedsit, she stopped by the convenience store in the town centre loading her basket with microwaveable meals and a bottle of cheap white wine. Walking back to her new home at a slow pace in the late afternoon sunshine she thought over her day out in the fresh air surrounded by vibrant young people and historic wonders. She found she was already enjoying the excitement and novelty of her new way of life and realising that she wasn’t wishing herself back in Mr McLennan’s camera shop any more. It struck her how lonely she’d been there. A change had been needed, and this sudden, drastic move now felt very right indeed.

  Eating by herself on her sunny little roof terrace that evening, she allowed herself a smile for her new friend, the funny and charming Will Greville.

  Because that’s what we are: friends. God knows, I need a friend here. The last thing I want to do is get involved with a colleague. Nope, from now on it’s just me. And that’s fine. Even if he is all hot and posh and clever… Kelsey, no! Just because I’m on my own doesn’t mean I’m all alone. I can do this. This is the all new Kelsey Anderson. Independent, confident, self-sufficient…

  As she poured herself another glass of wine and settled down to read the opening acts of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, she felt convinced this was true. It wasn’t until she climbed into bed that night that she checked her phone to find three missed calls, all from the same familiar number, and a text.