Then there’d been a smart and sassy Cleopatra, played by a megastar of 1970s TV, who still very much ‘had it’ in her late sixties. It was easy to believe she could seduce bluff, brazen Antony. Kelsey was held, transfixed, by the passion and the all-or-nothing commitment of Cleopatra’s love. Then there had been an exhilarating Hamlet and a weird, other-worldly King Lear, and a sparklingly light Twelfth Night.
During these brief interludes in the theatre, Kelsey forgot herself – forgot Fran, Will, and Jonathan too – she was transported to other times in other worlds. But afterwards, as she stepped out of the glamourous playhouses into the drizzling darkness, real life closed in on her again, and it came back in waves – memories of Jonathan’s gestures, or his scent or something he’d said.
She’d been tempted to text him, but what would she say? She’d done the shoot now, his pictures would be arriving soon. What else was there? Peony had very publicly staked her claim to him and they were obviously more than just fellow actors in the same company. She remembered with some pain the photograph of Jonathan kissing Peony that she’d seen in their intimate little dressing room. Her thoughts careered down and down in free fall.
They’re obviously together. They must be. If not, she has quite some hold over him. Is she his ex, maybe? I can’t very well ask him, can I? I’d look ridiculous. He hired me for my photographs, I took them, now he’s disappeared into his cloistered little theatre world and I’m not part of it.
Torturing herself, she imagined the two of them up on stage in the pretty fairy bower on their opening night wrapped in each other’s arms, reciting beautiful poetry, Peony looking stunning in that costume. And they’ll be doing this every day, two shows a day. Of course they’re together. How could I be so stupid?
And so, on a drizzling Midsummer’s night, after that first rainy weekend spent struggling with herself, she resolved to begin the slow process of accepting that Jonathan was just a friend – not even that, an acquaintance, if anything. Telling herself that she’d imagined their intense connection – it had been the build-up of the electrical storm in the air or her hormones and missing Fran at home, or Will and his damned mulberries – she buried her feelings deep.
Examining her features in the landing mirror on that rainy summer solstice, she gave herself a pep talk. ‘Whatever was going on in that studio, you’ve got to get your head back in the game. This is supposed to be your summer of enlightenment. This is your Eat, Pray, Love summer – but without the effort of all the yoga and meditation stuff, or the dysentery risk.’ She practised a breezy smile and watched her reflection as the forced grin fell. ‘But how I wish, I wish, Jonathan Hathaway was mine.’
* * *
As the early July days progressed and the rain clouds rolled away from the Welcombe hills (she’d discovered that this was what the hills in the near distance were called), tour guide life resumed as before. Will had come back from London in a foul mood and was keeping a low profile. Sure enough, word had spread among the guides, but no one dared ask him how his audition had gone, it was all too obvious, and they weren’t supposed to know, anyway. The sun shone again and Kelsey’s rota seemed relentlessly busy.
It was getting on for a fortnight since the shoot that had ended so abruptly and awkwardly, when two things happened to disturb Kelsey’s usually quiet and very early breakfast.
The first was a text from Mirren.
See you next Saturday. Train arrives in SUA just before 2pm. You’ve got me till Monday morning. M, xxx p.s. Can we top and tail? Can’t get a room in town for love or money.
Just as Kelsey was coming up with ideas for things they might do together – get out of town into the Cotswolds, maybe – she heard the postie dropping the mail through the letter box. The heavy slap of a large parcel falling onto the doormat reverberated in the tiled hallway and up the stairs. She knew exactly what it was: the proofs from the shoot, along with other photographs she’d taken around Stratford, fresh from the developers. Abandoning her breakfast, she rushed downstairs.
The pictures were better than she had anticipated, even with her handsome subject. The light wasn’t too harsh or too soft on Jonathan’s perfect features, the contrast between dark and light wasn’t too severe, and, apart from one dodgy one, they were all in perfect focus. The pride swelled in her chest as she pored over the photographs spread out over her bed. There was no denying it; looking at his face replicated over and over again in velvety monochrome and remembering the intensity of that hour in the studio theatre, she knew for sure she couldn’t help falling for him, and hard.
If I hurry I can get these to him before work.
Forty minutes later she was at the door to the Willow Studio which was wide open. An A-frame sign stood by the steps with a poster pasted to it. It read, A Midsummer Night’s Dream by the Oklahoma Renaissance Players. Performances 2pm and 7pm. Box Office Open. There was a picture of Bottom the Weaver beguiled and confused in his ass’s ears reclining in Titania’s arms. Peony was, of course, utterly gorgeous and ethereal in her white gossamer fairy costume and crown. Kelsey swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sudden guilt.
I’m not here to steal her man. I’m here to complete my assignment. Head shots delivered. Done and dusted. That’s all. Oh, I hope he’s here!
The lady at the box office shook her head. ‘Sorry, love, he doesn’t usually arrive until after lunch. Can I give him a message?’
‘Tell him Kelsey, I mean the photographer, dropped by with his new head shots, please. Oh, and he left two tickets here for me, they’re comps.’
Kelsey handed over the precious photographs. There was a code inside so Jonathan could log into the developer’s website and order as many high-resolution copies of the digitised images as he liked. Kelsey had kept nothing but the negatives. As the photographer they belonged to her. They meant she would never lose this lovely man completely. He’d always be in her possession, in mirror reverse images on sleek transparent plastic where all that is dark appears bright.
Chapter Twenty
‘The very instant that I saw you did my heart fly to your service’
(The Tempest)
‘So, ladies and gentlemen, I hope you enjoyed your tour today. Have a safe journey on to Heathrow and enjoy the Netherlands.’
The elderly tourists were slowly clambering aboard their coach looking forward to a long air-conditioned snooze. Kelsey still held aloft the long-stemmed plastic sunflower she had bought to replace the agency’s standard-issue golfing umbrella. It worked like a charm to keep her groups together as they made their way between beauty spots and historical wonders.
She had come to learn that the North American visitors enjoying their last day in the British Isles were the most generous tippers, passing on unspent sterling to their friendly, knowledgeable tour guides. Accepting the notes with a gracious ‘thank you’, she’d slip them inside the pages of her Sonnets – she’d taken to reciting poetry at important sites in the town just as Will had shown her. Later, at home, she’d gasp as she opened the book to reveal crisp bundles of tens and twenties.
Just as today’s last tour group were safely stowed on their bus, Kelsey’s phone rang in her pocket.
‘Hey, it’s Jonathan Hathaway.’
As if he needs to tell me his full name. ‘Hi, how are you?’ Be cool. Be cool.
‘I’m good. I just picked up your shots from the box office. Man, they are incredible!’
‘Well, I had a pretty good subject.’ Nice one, Kelse. ‘Hey, how was opening night?’ That’s good: friendly, not desperate… or besotted.
‘Awesome. But I was real nervous, I threw up before I went onstage. I… uh… don’t know why I told you that,’ he laughed. ‘I was kinda hoping to see you in the audience. Did you get your tickets?’
‘Uh-huh, picked them up yesterday, thanks. I’m bringing my friend Mirren on Saturday night. I can’t wait.’
‘I promise I’ll try extra hard to be good on Saturday.’
She could tell he was sm
iling. He sounded as sweet and genuine as she remembered him being at the theatre.
‘We never did get that dinner, you know? Come meet me Friday?’ he urged gently. ‘There’s no evening performance this Friday. The director’s doing an onstage Q and A schmoozing thing with the press instead that night.’
Kelsey’s resolve to stay away from the Jonathan-Peony thing, whatever the hell it was, wavered as he drawled on with his sweet questioning inflection.
‘Well… OK. But you know Friday’s the Bard Crawl. I’ll still be working, technically. Why don’t you bring Peony along too?’ I’d better get my reward in heaven for this. ‘It would be nice to get to know her better.’ No it wouldn’t, no it wouldn’t, and NO it wouldn’t.
‘Uh, I guess I could ask her?’
‘Shall we say four? I’ll be done with my second tour by then. Meet me at the Yorick? We could have a quick bite then go on the crawl?’ What am I doing? This is so stupid.
‘OK. The four o’clock early bird special at the Yorick it is! I’m already in love with their scampi and fries. OK, uh… OK. Bye, Kelsey.’ And he was gone.
She hung up, sighing loudly and letting her shoulders fall. ‘Bring Peony? Get to know her better? Ugh!’ She sloped homewards, muttering under her breath, ‘You are a sick, sick glutton for punishment, Kelsey Anderson. A cosy dinner for three with Peony and her evil-eye curse? You idiot!’
* * *
Friday rolled around slowly and Kelsey began to feel resigned to her friend-zone fate as she walked towards the pub. She’d done the decent thing and invited Jonathan for some platonic pub grub and extended the invitation to include Peony, just as she should. She is, after all, Jonathan’s girlfriend. Please don’t let him kiss her in front of me.
Making her way inside the cool airy pub and finding it almost empty, Kelsey ordered half a pint of the special guest ale, Drop of Mandragora, thinking how much she liked the name. She settled herself inside the cavernous inglenook fireplace, pulling one of the scatter cushions up across her tummy and sipping the amber-coloured ale. It tasted sweet, spiced, and autumnal.
I won’t drink after this one, I don’t want to make a fool of myself in front of Peony, or worse, make her feel any more threatened than she already does. Yup… this is fun; meeting two new friends for friendly drinks and then I’ll go home alone and hurl myself off the roof terrace.
Before she could descend into further fits of anxiety, the bar door swung open and in walked Jonathan with the air of someone who’d been rushing but didn’t want anyone to know. His cheeks looked flushed and he was a little out of breath. Kelsey looked past him, expecting Peony to follow behind, but there was no sign of her, or her thundercloud.
‘Kelsey! Hi.’ He strode across the bar room towards her, smiling broadly, making her heart thump hard in response. In one sweeping natural movement he stooped and pressed his lips against her cheek, sending her mind reeling. She told herself dismissively that this was just his bluff American friendliness, but it felt like so much more.
‘I’d forgotten you were so tall. I mean… it’s nice to see you again.’ Kelsey fiddled with the beer mat. And he smells so good. Is he blushing? Damnit! Stop being so flaming lovely, this is hard enough.
He enquired how she was with an earnestness in his voice that she wasn’t used to.
‘Umm, I’m good,’ she answered distractedly, looking past him again towards the door. ‘Is Peony coming along later?’
‘Uh, no. She’s giving an interview to a newspaper then she’s onstage for the director’s Q and A thing. And anyway, I didn’t invite her, sorry. I know you wanted to meet her, but I… I wanted it to be just the two of us.’
Kelsey took a long drink of her beer and watched him as he gesticulated towards the bar.
‘Can I get you another drink? What is that?’
‘Drop of Mandragora, it’s the guest ale.’
Jonathan grimaced. ‘I don’t love English ale, but I’ll drink it for the Midsummer Night’s Dream reference. Mandragora is in Titania’s love potion,’ he told her as he walked over to the bar.
Kelsey knew that, of course, but she simply smiled. Within moments he was back at the little cosy table under the towering chimneys and dried hop garlands. He placed another half-pint of the ruddy-golden ale in front of Kelsey, raising his own glass. ‘Cheers?’ His pale eyes gleamed in the afternoon light.
All that mental preparation for a cosy dinner à trois and here I am alone with this beautiful human being, and he is totally off the menu. What kind of sick joke are the gods playing?
Jonathan looked into her eyes. ‘Kelsey, are you OK? You’re very pale, if you don’t mind me saying. Do you want me to take you home?’
With a splutter, Kelsey dribbled her ale down her chin and onto her shirt. She’d have to come clean, but what would she say? Jonathan, I’ve thought of nothing else but you since we met and I’m having a hard time stopping myself crawling over this table and ripping your shirt off? Hmm… Maybe not.
‘Jonathan, the thing is,’ she faltered, mopping up the beer with a tissue and keeping her eyes focused on that task. ‘The thing is, I don’t know if Peony would like us having drinks together, especially if you haven’t told her you’re here with me. She doesn’t seem to like me very much, and um…’ Her voice tailed off into silence and embarrassment.
‘Peony wouldn’t like us drinking together? What do you mean? Oh! Kelsey… I’m not with Peony. Is that what you’ve been thinking? Oh my God.’ He pronounced it ‘gawd’.
Tiny flutterings of hope flapped like butterfly wings in the pit of Kelsey’s stomach. ‘What?’ Suddenly close to tears, she fought to rein in her feelings. ‘But Peony…’
A furrow formed between Jonathan’s light eyes. He reached over the table, making contact at last, his cool fingertips trailing over the back of her hand in slow circles. ‘But Peony is always there?’ he offered, helping her out, his eyes heavy-lidded and soft.
‘Yes, and she’s… you know, a bit cross,’ added Kelsey, looking down at their touching hands, too abashed to look up and see that he was smiling.
‘Kelsey… no. No, we’re not together. We were once, but that was when we were kids at performing arts school. Oh man, I’m so sorry you thought that. It’s just… we’ve known each other all our lives. Back in Tulsa we lived on the same street. I was twenty-two when I joined the company, Peony signed up too and we’ve been touring together ever since, but that’s all.’
‘Really? Does she know that?’ Kelsey narrowed her eyes doubtfully, making him laugh.
‘I guess she can be a little possessive and, you know, maybe she does harbour some… residual feelings for me, but mostly, I think she’s just lonely. She doesn’t have any family back home. The company’s her family now. And you know, we’re under so much pressure to add more and more performances and we’re both exhausted. She’s right that we don’t really have time for long photo shoots or to put our feet up. She’s worried we’ll look like amateurs in the reviews. And she’s under so much more scrutiny than me, being an actress and all. I don’t get half the negative crap in the press that she does. Once you get to know her, you’ll love her too.’
Kelsey was nodding, searching his face. ‘Poor Peony, I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Jonathan. Can we start this over again? I’ve been acting crazy.’
‘No you haven’t. I can totally see why you’d think what you thought. I’m just sorry because I really…’ Pausing, he took a shallow breath and Kelsey felt his fingers spreading over her hand. ‘Because I really like you. I should have told you sooner, huh?’ He laughed and shook his head. ‘I’m such a doofus when it comes to this kind of thing.’
‘Whereas I’m totally down with this kind of thing. Look at me, cool as a cucumber.’
The tension was broken and for a moment a new atmosphere settled over the pair in their cosy nook, something fresh and simple.
‘What about you?’ Jonathan asked hesitantly, looking down at Kelsey’s hand enclosed within his own. ‘Are y
ou seeing anyone? Anyone special, I mean?’
Oh no, here it is. Full disclosure. Feeling as though she’d been yanked by the heartstrings kicking and screaming back to a place she didn’t want to go, her cheeks reddened at the sudden recollection of Fran. Reluctantly, she drew her hands away from Jonathan’s and cradled her glass.
‘There was someone until pretty recently, and it was quite serious. But… I don’t know… it didn’t end so much as it imploded. Anyway, I don’t even know if he knows it’s over, not properly over anyway. But it is.’
A little burning pang of guilt rose up at the thought of Fran’s unanswered message still there on her phone. She heaved a deep sigh, knowing that she couldn’t leave Jonathan with a half-truth, not when he was being so open with her.
‘I mean… it will be over… I just have to face up to it and tell him once and for all, but he’s being patient with me, you know? I think he’s waiting for me to come round. We had something really special for a while there and it’s been strange letting it go. It’s not something you need to worry about though.’
She felt a sudden decisiveness hit her as she looked at the beautiful man listening to her so intently, the earnest look in his eyes making her feel grounded again after so long spent adrift. What had been ‘Kelsey and Fran’ had been hanging suspended, up in the air, waiting for resolution. Sitting here in Jonathan’s solid, reassuring company she knew she was ready to let all that history fall to the ground now.
‘Can you, um, give me a minute? I…’ Kelsey stood to leave, taking her phone with her. ‘I’ll be back. Just wait there.’
Feeling drunk and light-headed and knowing it had nothing to do with those few sips of beer, Kelsey made her way to the ladies’ room. Her hands were shaking with the strange insistent feeling compelling her to speak to Fran without losing one more second. How could she enjoy her feelings for Jonathan when they were cut through with the guilt of Fran pining for her in Scotland? It’s time to grow up and say goodbye, she told herself as she scrolled up the screen. But she rang through to Fran’s voicemail. The wry irony wasn’t lost on Kelsey. It seemed fitting really; the last of many near-misses and failed connections with poor, striving Fran.
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