I’m guessing that poor schmuck was your sort-of ex-boyfriend, the one you hadn’t properly ended things with? I’ll get out of your way so you have a chance to talk and maybe then I’ll be able to ask you out? Or is that too presumptuous? I don’t want to put any pressure on you. Maybe you want to give him another chance?
Reading it over, he frowned and cursed out loud. Scratching the nape of his neck with his fingertips he deleted every word and stalked away.
Little did Jonathan know that Kelsey was walking on air because of him and their intimate, relaxed evening together. She was whispering to Valeria that she might well take Jonathan into the secret garden tonight and offer him a taste of a sweet, ripe mulberry under the light of the July moon.
A smiling Will sauntered down the steps of the Yorick towards his fellow tour guides, hurriedly catching up to Kelsey with a spring in his step. ‘Ms Anderson, your beau had to go, I’m afraid. Something about being needed at the theatre?’ he offered innocently.
Kelsey looked around as the crowd swept her along towards the next bar. Will was right, Jonathan was nowhere to be seen. Cold, creeping disappointment stole over her.
For a while she followed the visitors on their pub crawl, but her heart wasn’t in it. Will bought her cocktails she had no appetite for and stayed by her side as the tour progressed, trying to make her laugh and, as usual, he was flirting wildly, but she barely took any notice. She slipped off home the very second her shift ended, her mind buzzing with the same thoughts.
I don’t get it. Everything was so perfect and then… what happened? A phone call from Peony, no doubt. She really does have him at her beck and call. And he always goes running. How can I compete with that? But why did he just abandon me when we were getting on so well? And no phone call or message? Bloody cheek!
And so her mind whirled on and on, even as she climbed into her pristine white bed beneath the lacy-curtained window, still wearing her make-up, cold and confused, a woman on emotional autopilot.
Chapter Twenty-One
‘Cupid is a knavish lad, thus to make females mad’
(A Midsummer Night’s Dream)
The robotic voice from the tannoy announced the train’s arrival, and there it was at the far end of the line, slowly rolling into town. Kelsey had slept fitfully after Jonathan’s unexpected departure the evening before; but it was her day off, her best friend in all the world was on her way to see her and she was damned well determined to enjoy it, Jonathan or no Jonathan.
In her skirt pocket were their tickets for tonight’s performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Jonathan’s gift to her.
I can’t tell Mirren about him. She can’t come all this way to find me moping about with a stupid crush on a man whose glamazon ex-girlfriend manages to break up every single encounter we’ve ever had. And he just scuttles off to keep her happy. And why the hell hasn’t he rung me since the Bard Crawl, for God’s sake? Ghosted again. Nope, I’ll keep that humiliation to myself, I think.
Kelsey paced the platform, deep in thought, as the train pulled up.
How can it be a month and a half since I arrived at this station? Six weeks since I last saw Mirren. And Fran. Straightforward Fran. He’ll have listened to my message by now, surely? I hope he isn’t too upset. He wasn’t exactly a Romeo but at least he wanted me, and forever too.
She steeled herself against the sad grip around her heart that felt very much like loneliness, but glimpsing Mirren’s grinning face at the grubby, dusty train window, she knew she would soon be brought back to life. The doors opened and Mirren rushed out, weaving her way across the busy platform, screaming so loudly that she startled a group of elderly Japanese tourists.
‘Come here, Kelse! Oh my God, I’ve missed you! Give me some love,’ she screeched as she pulled Kelsey towards her.
They hugged tightly. Kelsey’s happiness bubbled over into relieved tears. ‘I’ve missed you so much.’ She hadn’t realised quite how much she’d needed a girlfriend until now. ‘I’ve got so much to tell you.’
‘Lead the way. Take me to the nearest cream tea.’
‘I just happen to know the hottest spot in town.’
Twenty minutes later Kelsey was hopping from foot to foot, her hands clasped under her chin, a secretive smile on her lips, as she encouraged the bemused Mirren to climb the steep stairs that led to the roof terrace of Number One, St Ninian’s Close.
‘I’ve been dying to show this to someone,’ she said excitedly, as Mirren pushed open the hatch door and peered out into the cloudless sky.
‘Bloody hell, Kelse!’
Kelsey had been hard at work all morning hanging strings of delicate fairy lights along the low iron railing that enclosed the terrace, and she’d dotted small pots of lavender and frilly white pansies that she’d picked up at the town farmers’ market all around. There was just enough room for Mirren to tumble up the steps and out onto the warm terracotta tiles that Kelsey had covered over with a new hot-pink picnic blanket which was all set out with teacups and plates. Each cup held a slice of lime and a few blueberries inside. Mirren was too over-awed by the view to notice them.
‘Beautiful, right?’ Kelsey beamed, her head and shoulders just visible through the hatch. ‘You stay there, I’ll go get the tea things.’
Mirren sprawled out across the rug, gaping open-mouthed over the pretty town in the near distance. The sun was high in the sky and the air was still and dry. A perfect July day. Kelsey returned minutes later with a tray piled high with strawberries, huge lopsided scones from the town’s old-fashioned bakery, clotted cream, and raspberry jam. She’d even bought a bright yellow teapot from the little Aladdin’s cave of a homeware shop on the high street.
‘Yummy.’ Mirren smiled, inspecting the tray. ‘Oh, you forgot the milk.’
‘Nope, we don’t need milk, Mirr,’ Kelsey said as she deftly poured the icy gin, fruit juice, and tonic from the teapot into the already garnished cups.
‘Kelsey, you wee legend!’ Mirren leaned over to hug her friend who was already arranged comfortably on the rug beside her.
‘OK, tell me everything. I’ve missed a whole month of gossip,’ Kelsey prompted, as she sipped the cool clear liquid, the bitterness of the juniper and lime cutting through the icy freshness of the sweet berries and sugary tonic.
‘Where to start? I saw your mum last week. She gave me a care package to bring with me. I only had a quick peek, but it looked as though it was mostly gossip mags, new pants from M&S, and a tin of shortbread.’
They were laughing already, relaxed and happy. There was nothing at stake emotionally, not like the past few weeks with Will, or with Jonathan. Kelsey was becoming aware of how exhausting it had all been. But here they were now, just two old friends picking up where they’d left off and feeling as if they’d only just seen each other the day before. It was funny how true best friends could do that for each other, Kelsey was thinking as the gin hit her bloodstream, and if it didn’t happen, then they were probably not your best friend after all.
‘Is Grandad all right? I’ve called him a couple of times but he’s not great on the phone, he seems a bit more distracted than usual.’
‘Erm…’ Mirren wriggled slightly, enough for Kelsey to know that all wasn’t well at home.
‘He’s fine… but… your mum’s been worrying about him a bit. She’s been trying to convince him to move into your old room. Not your old room, I mean, into your room.’
‘Poor Grandad!’ Kelsey exclaimed, feeling a wave of guilt for being so far away and not picking up on her mum’s worries when they’d chatted.
Mirren was already busy telling her that her mum had kept it from Kelsey so as not to upset her, but Kelsey already understood. That was so like Mari.
‘I hope he does move into my room,’ said Kelsey, making a mental note to call her mum as soon as Mirren left on Monday. ‘He won’t like moving. That house is all he’s known for sixty years and it’s full of memories for him. I guess this is it from here on in. I m
ust remember to send him some tourist toffee, the kind with the postcard stuck to the front of the box.’
‘He’s doing all right, please don’t worry. Honestly. He’s had lots of visitors and Preston’s been calling in on his way to and from the recording studio most days.’ Mirren cast her eyes down, looking rather solemn at the thought of her adorable, earnest boyfriend.
‘What a sweetheart. How is Preston?’ Kelsey chimed, remembering her lovely friend back home. He was the kind of person who was always doing nice things for everyone else but who often seemed to get overlooked. Kelsey was imagining her grandad and him listening to Preston’s latest songs over a cuppa.
‘He’s good, same as always.’
Kelsey watched her friend’s features shift – the change would be imperceptible to anyone else, but she had gotten to know it over the years; that same sad, remorseful look in Mirren’s eyes. ‘Things aren’t getting any better, then?’ She tried to sound casual as she worked her knife through the plump scones.
Mirren knew exactly what her friend meant and there was no use pretending. She sighed aloud, her shoulders drooping. ‘He’s the sweetest man in the universe, like, he’s far too good for me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why can’t I just be happy? He works hard, and he brings home enough money to cover his share of the rent, and he’s gorgeous and talented and kind… and… and everything, but…’
‘But the magic just isn’t there?’ Kelsey offered.
‘I do love him though. I am in love with him. I just feel so restless all the time. Sometimes I wish I could do what you’ve done, Kelse. Just move somewhere new and start again. With someone new, maybe? Or maybe not even someone, maybe I could just play the field a bit and see what’s out there without all the guilt. Plenty of blokes are doing it, why should I feel bad about wanting the same thing?’
‘You shouldn’t,’ Kelsey agreed, the gin warming her tummy and making her feel slightly anaesthetised. ‘It’s just that you can’t do it while you’re with Preston. That wouldn’t be fair to him. Right?’
Mirren sighed hard and set to work slathering a scone thickly in clotted cream, trying to drown her sorrows in carbs. ‘I’m not going to do anything, and it’s ages since I… you know, cheated.’ Mirren winced. ‘I figure, in time, I’ll feel more settled. He is literally the perfect man, and I’m trying to deserve him.’
Kelsey hated seeing her friend beat herself up about not feeling settled with Preston. God knows she’d tried. Kelsey had seen it all played out before, all the heartache and the sneaking around and the inevitable guilt.
‘Don’t be so hard on yourself, Mirr. No man is perfect. And even if he was, he might not be perfect for you. Maybe something’s just off balance, you know, chemically.’
Kelsey’s mind jumped straight to Jonathan and the day of the photo shoot and then again to the pub when her shatteringly primal attraction to him was activated as if from nowhere. It had made her believe in romance again, for the first time in a long time. And she was sure he’d felt it too: a true chemical, undeniable attraction. But then again, where was the good in that when he just wasn’t available? The coldness of the realisation instantly shut down the warm memories.
Mirren watched Kelsey over the rim of her teacup, downing the last of her gin, squinting suspiciously. ‘Oh yeah? What’s been going on here then?’ she teased, breaking out into a wicked grin, momentarily forgetting her own problems.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Kelsey retorted, embarrassed that her friend could read her so well.
‘Come on, spill it. Have you been seeing someone else?’
‘Someone else?’ Kelsey exhaled sharply. ‘What do you mean someone else? I’m not seeing anyone, remember? You haven’t spoken with Fran have you?’ She thought of the hurried message she’d left for him the night before at the Yorick when she’d been stupid enough to think Jonathan was interested in her enough to actually stick around until the end of a date. The humiliation was replaced with a rush of guilt for poor Fran’s trampled feelings. She really wasn’t any better than Jonathan.
Alarmed at the sudden change in her friend, Mirren reached for Kelsey’s hand.
‘Kelse, I didn’t mean anything. I know you and Fran are history. In fact, I should have told you this earlier.’ Mirren filled her lungs deeply. ‘He’s been… he’s been seeing someone he met at the teachers’ conference. Kirsty somebody or other. They’re pretty smitten with each other, apparently. He rang me last night, said he wanted me to break it to you. I’m sorry, I didn’t quite know how to say it.’ Mirren spoke with a confiding gentleness, adding a final apology and a conciliatory rub of Kelsey’s arm.
‘He’s moved on? He’s dating? That’s great, I’m… really happy for him.’ Kelsey blurted out the words, surprised at how heartfelt they were. Relief pervaded her dreamy gin-induced state. So it’s finally, definitely over. Reaching for the teapot, she refilled their cups. ‘Here’s a toast. To Fran and Kirsty something or other. Good luck to them.’
They crushed their cups together and drank deeply, both realising at the same moment how intoxicating the ‘tea’ had been.
‘We’d better stop soon, or we’ll be too sozzled to drag ourselves to the theatre,’ said Mirren, relieved to see Kelsey receive Fran’s message without any obvious heartache. ‘Well done you, scoring us some freebie tickets. That reminds me, I picked this up in Birmingham at the station news stand.’ Mirren reached into her handbag and tossed a folded newspaper towards Kelsey. ‘It’s got a feature about the play we’re seeing in it. Front page news.’
Kelsey unfolded the paper to be met with a picture of Jonathan and Peony from their production of Hamlet. Jonathan was beautiful, shrouded in black, a fencing sword at his side and Peony knelt at his feet, a weeping Ophelia all in white. The headline blazoned, A STRATFORD LOVE STORY. Kelsey cleared her throat, unsure what to do, as Mirren stood shakily in her heels and teetered downstairs to Kelsey’s apartment.
‘I’ll pop the kettle on, make us a real brew. What do you say?’ Mirren asked cheerily, utterly unaware of the million tiny explosions of rage, shock, and sadness going off in her friend’s imagination at that moment. Kelsey barely noticed Mirren’s departure. She read on, holding her breath.
Audiences are being treated to a spectacular summer love story this season as the Oklahoma Renaissance Players launch their run of A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the town’s Willow Studio Theatre. Stratford Examiner reporter, Adrian Armadale, caught up with stage stunner Peony Brown, 26 (appearing as Titania) between shows this week.
‘I’m so fortunate to act alongside my real-life Romeo, my very own Hamlet and my Faerie King,’ said the Oklahoma-born actress, confirming rumours that she and fellow actor Jonathan Hathaway, 30, are long-term lovers going back to college days when the teenage thesps set the stage alight in acting class. ‘We fell in love playing iconic couples who transcend time. Touring together all over the world bonded us in ways few couples could ever hope to recreate. We’re part of an amazing ensemble, a travelling theatre family.’ Drama Queen Brown explained their nickname amongst fellow cast members. ‘Jonathan and I have been called “PB and J” for as long as I can remember, and like peanut butter and jelly, we’re a classic combination.’ When asked if there were plans for the couple to wed, Miss Brown commented, ‘Our careers come first, but I wouldn’t rule out an engagement somewhere along the line.’ Audiences can catch a glimpse of the all-American sweethearts before their run ends on 1st September.
Kelsey folded the paper away and reached for the teapot once more. Another slug of gin might numb the sickening wrenching at her heart. Jonathan Hathaway really was a good actor. He’d managed to deceive her into thinking he’d liked her and all this time he’d been playing poor Peony too. She swallowed down her feelings along with the sweet liquor and set a thin smile on her face. Mirren would never know the stupid, humiliating mess she’d narrowly avoided getting entangled in.
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘I shall the effect o
f this good lesson keep as watchman to my heart’
(Hamlet)
Later, with speech slurred and cheeks rosy-pink, after they’d covered all the important topics like Mirren finally getting in line for a chance at promotion in the newspaper office and Preston’s band getting signed to an indie label who were going to help them organise a mini-tour across Scotland, Mirren wickedly found her way back to her most pressing concern: Stratford’s male population. She had squeezed her fulsome body into the tiny shower cubicle that stood at the foot of Kelsey’s bed and was washing the conditioner from her hair. Kelsey, on the other hand, was already getting a headache from all the sunshine and booze, not to mention the Stratford Examiner’s sensational cover story. She slouched cross-legged at the head of the bed with a cold, damp flannel pressed to her eyes.
Mirren shouted over the sound of the water. ‘Are you expecting me to believe you haven’t so much as bumped into anyone you fancy in the entire town, Kelse? This building might look like a nunnery with all the pristine white and the lace, but really? There hasn’t been the slightest hint of a snog? Tell your auntie Mirr.’ She switched the shower off and squeezed her head around the door, reaching for a towel. ‘Who installs a shower with a clear door right at the foot of a bed? A bloody pervert, that’s who. Anyway, come on, you didn’t answer me.’ Mirren laughed, thoroughly enjoying teasing her friend and not ready to give up on the interrogation.
Kelsey groaned, knowing Mirren wouldn’t stop until she’d had some details. ‘All right, there was one guy, Will Greville. He’s a tour guide – my mentor, as it happens – and I thought he was gorgeous at first. I mean, he is gorgeous. He’s got dark reddish-brown hair and green eyes like you’ve never seen. You’d like him. And he’s all posh and well-travelled… and rich, I’m guessing. His family are loaded, anyway. He makes me feel like I was raised in a cave by Neanderthals half the time.’ Kelsey was laughing now. ‘But he loves himself way more than he could love anybody else. It’s a shame really, because he’s always trying it on.’
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