by Fay Keenan
‘It was me who kept you awake with the guitar playing, I’m afraid.’ He shook his head, and Florence couldn’t help again making the naughty schoolboy comparison. ‘I’m sorry about that. Sam’s bought me a really good pair of headphones now, so it won’t happen again.’
Florence nodded. ‘That’s very generous of him – I’ll have to make sure I thank him the next time I see him.’ She looked more closely at Aidan, trying to assess what exactly the relationship was between the two men who lived on the other side of the wall. They certainly didn’t look anything alike; Sam was tall and willowy, with ruddy blond hair and piercing blue eyes. Aidan was shorter, about her height in fact, which, while not short for a woman, was considerably shorter than Sam’s over six feet. Aidan’s colouring was different, too; wiry dark brown hair, warm-looking skin with a reddish tinge, and a stockier, possibly more gym-honed body, as if he was used to doing a whole lot more exercise than his housemate. She also noticed what appeared to be the tip of a scar peering out from his hairline, just above his left ear.
‘He, er, said you’d been over to complain about the noise – I just wanted to let you know it won’t happen again.’
‘Thanks,’ Florence replied. ‘That means a lot – I’m a teacher, so I tend to need a good night’s sleep to survive a day in the classroom with my rowdier students!’
‘I can believe it.’ Aidan paused. ‘Sam, as well as me, felt really bad about the fact I’d woken you – gave me a right bollocking for it. Although,’ he paused mischievously, ‘I think he was overdoing it a bit. He used to be in the navy and got really used to shouting orders at people!’
Florence laughed. ‘He seems a bit too laid-back for that sort of thing.’
She remembered the first time she’d met Sam, when he’d been on his doorstep with attractively rumpled just-got-out-of-bed hair and felt her cheeks burning a little. Then she remembered the abrupt volte face after the morning of the auditions when Josie had joked about Tom Sanderson getting a bomb under him. What if Sam had actually witnessed people being blown up in war zones? What a stupid thing for Josie to say, if so. Not that she’d have known, of course.
Zoning back into the conversation with Aidan, who appeared to be unwilling to break away just yet, she smiled. ‘Must be tricky sharing a house with him, then!’
‘Oh, he’s not so bad,’ Aidan replied. ‘He’s kept me on an even keel at times, too, although I’d never admit it in front of him.’ He bent over suddenly and rummaged in his brown paper shopping bag for something. Finding what he wanted, he straightened back up and Florence was touched to see a small rose plant in his hands. ‘I bought you this to say sorry for keeping you awake,’ Aidan said. ‘I noticed you had a lot of rose bushes in your back garden and figured this one could join it in the spring.’ He handed it over to her. ‘I was going to pop round later and give it to you, but since we’re back at the same time…’
The small, antique rose plant had delicate pink flowers and tiny, just emerging thorns. ‘Thank you,’ Florence said, surprised and touched. ‘There really was no need, but it’s very pretty.’
There was a pause between them, as Florence, wondering what else to say, fixed her gaze on the pink flowers in her hands. ‘I, um, guess I should get inside and crack on with this marking.’ She glanced at the box of books, still sitting inside her front door.
‘Looks like you’ve got a fun evening ahead!’ Aidan quipped. ‘I should probably get the rest of this shopping inside, too. Sam hates it when stuff’s just left on the counter and he has to put it all away after a long shift.’
The casually intimate way he said that convinced Florence that they must be a couple, and she found herself feeling a little bit disappointed. They were both pretty good-looking, after all; a shame she clearly wasn’t either of their cups of tea. Not that she was looking for a relationship right on her own doorstep, of course.
‘Have a nice evening,’ she said. ‘And thanks again for the rose.’
‘No worries. You too.’ And with that, Aidan rummaged in his own pocket for his keys. ‘Let us know if you need anything; we’re happy to help.’
‘Thanks,’ Florence said. As she went through her front door, stepping over the box of books to put the rose bush on the hall table, she found herself smiling; perhaps sharing a wall with Sam and Aidan wasn’t going to be a nightmare, after all. And maybe Sam might have a straight friend or two whom it might be more appropriate to lust over. She stopped that thought as soon as she’d started thinking it; she’d dated a couple of guys from the forces over the years, and it had never ended well. Whatever, she thought, Sam and Aidan certainly made a good-looking couple.
14
All thoughts of Sam and Aidan were banished as soon as rehearsals got under way in earnest for the play. Thankfully, Tom, possibly mindful of needing to keep the peace, decided to keep his opinions to himself for the next few sessions. In fact, things were starting to come together. Florence, despite her doubts about keeping her temper with Tom, found that her antagonism lent her performance as Beatrice an added edge, and it was not just Josie who commented that their scenes seemed to have an extra frisson. As the weeks drew closer to Christmas, and the decorations started to appear in shops along Willowbury High Street, Florence found herself looking forward to the production.
Florence and Josie had taken to having a post-rehearsal drink in the pub on Willowbury High Street, The Travellers’ Rest. It was an atmospheric, ancient place, having been a coaching inn in Queen Elizabeth I’s time and, bedecked with holly, pine sprigs and other decorations of the season, was a great place to have a glass of mulled wine and dissect the progress of the play so far. Inevitably, talk got onto work-related matters, as always happened when two teachers spent time together, and it wasn’t long before Josie was regaling Florence with anecdotes from her long teaching career.
‘So, I think probably the most embarrassing thing so far I’ve had to deal with was when I realised that the mother of one of my Year 8 students had basically seen me naked,’ Josie, sitting at the bar sipped her post-rehearsal glass of Pinot Grigio and winced. ‘And not just a seen-getting-changed-in-the-swimming-pool-locker-rooms kind of naked, either!’
Florence nearly choked on her own glass of wine. ‘Oh go on, you’ll have to tell me now.’
Smiling wickedly, Josie took another sip of her wine before she continued. ‘Well, a few years ago, Nick and I were even more strapped for cash than usual. Jake had only just started school, but I was struggling to find a job that would fit around his school hours.’
Florence wondered for a moment where this was going. With Josie, she could never be quite sure.
‘Lovely Jack Winter, who owns the Cosy Coffee Shop, who I’d got to know quite well when I was still a stay-at-home mother, offered me a job, but to be honest I’m not the greatest at carrying huge piles of plates around, so I decided to do something a bit more exotic.’
‘What, burlesque dancing?’ Florence suggested.
Josie laughed. ‘Not quite, but you’re close. There was an art class in Stavenham town hall that had just been set up, and they were looking for life models. I’d done a bit of the same back when I was at university a few times, so I figured I might as well do it. After all, it’s not too bad, sitting still for a couple of hours while people try to get your likeness on paper. Anyway, it was a few years ago now so I didn’t think anything of it.’
‘So what happened?’
‘There I am, getting my official on for Parents’ Evening last year, when this woman walks in and sits down. I’m chatting away about her precious offspring’s literary prowess – or, frankly, the lack thereof – and she suddenly gasps. I’m there wondering if I’ve hit a nerve, and frantically mentally back-pedalling, trying to work out what it was I’d said, when she blurts it out. She was given one of those blessed life drawings by a mate a couple of Christmases ago, and I’m hanging in pride of place over her bed!’
Florence burst out laughing. ‘Oh god! How do you follow t
hat?’
‘Well, as you can imagine, it put me totally off my stride. Thankfully, she told me how much she liked it. I can’t imagine what little Eddy would have thought, had he been there at the appointment.’
‘Has he said anything to you?’ Florence was imagining just how that particular classroom conversation might go down. Badly, she assumed.
‘Nope,’ Josie said, not without a trace of relief in her voice. ‘I’m guessing she didn’t enlighten him about who it is who’s hanging on his parents’ bedroom wall in the buff. After all, it’s enough to put the poor kid off English, and other things, for life!’
‘Well, I’m happy to say that, as far as I know, none of my students has ever seen me starkers, although I dread them catching me at the local swimming pool,’ Florence said. ‘I do worry, living so close to the place, that I’ll get witnessed doing something un-schoolmistressy.’
‘Oh, students crop up in the most ridiculous of places,’ Josie said airily. ‘Most of the time when you’ve got a drink in your hand, I find.’ Surreptitiously, she glanced around the crowded bar. ‘Seems like we’re OK today, though!’
Florence also relaxed a little, until Josie followed up with her next question. ‘So, has Tom offered you any more one-to-one rehearsals?’
Florence grimaced. ‘Either I’ve improved to his so-called standards, or he’s given up trying.’ She took a sip of the deliciously cinnamon-and-spice-flavoured mulled wine that Josie had replenished from the bar a few minutes before.
‘From what I can see, as your director, you’re doing fine,’ Josie said gently. ‘I know I talked you into this part, but, honestly, it’s been lovely to see you getting into your stride.’
‘Now you’re talking like one of my old Drama teachers!’ Florence joked, to hide how pleased she was by the praise. ‘But that doesn’t mean I’m going to take him up on the one-to-ones, even if he does ask me again.’ She frowned. ‘You don’t think he was, er, hitting on me when he suggested it, do you?’
Josie burst out laughing. ‘To be honest, I think Tom’s far too in love with himself to consider sharing his luvvy life with anyone else.’ She paused. ‘Besides, I don’t think you’re his type.’
Florence felt a little stung. ‘What makes you say that?’
Josie rolled her eyes. ‘Let’s just say he’s far more alert when that gorgeous next-door neighbour of yours pops in to rehearsals. It wouldn’t surprise me if Sam’s more Tom’s cup of Earl Grey than you, darling!’
‘Really?’ Florence smiled. That would be something to rib Sam about, the next time she saw him. Relations had improved between the neighbours in the past few weeks, and she regularly saw Sam leaving for his shifts and said a cheery hello.
‘Oh, I’m almost certain Tom’s gay,’ Josie replied. ‘But, either way, the two of you are creating a great chemistry on stage.’
‘I’m glad that my restraint in not braining Tom is paying off,’ Florence replied.
‘Try not to do that until the play’s over, please,’ Josie said briskly. ‘I’m not sure we’ll get another Benedick in at such short notice. Although…’ she grinned mischievously.
‘Don’t even go there,’ Florence muttered, knowing immediately that Josie was drifting back to Sam in her mind. ‘Besides, I don’t think he’d be remotely interested in me,’ she added, half to herself and forgetting Josie’s incredible antenna for inner musings.
‘Why ever not? You’re a good-looking girl, you know. And you’re also pretty good company.’ Josie raised an eyebrow. ‘And neither of you would exactly have to walk far to do the walk of shame!’
Florence laughed. ‘That’s not what I was getting at, Josie. I, er, met the man he lives with recently.’
‘Really?’ Josie took a hefty swallow of her wine. ‘You could have fooled me – the chemistry that was crackling off you two when he dropped off those leaflets.’
‘You have a very vivid imagination,’ Florence said. ‘But, believe me, I’m definitely not his type.’
‘Ah well,’ Josie replied. ‘Looks like you’ll just have to pretend with Tom, then!’
‘Ugh!’ Florence snorted. ‘Believe me, the thought of snogging Tom in the final scenes of this blessed play is enough to make me start wondering if lesbianism is a better choice.’
‘And, on that note, I’d best get home,’ Josie said, finishing the rest of her wine. ‘I’ll see you at school tomorrow.’
‘Sure thing,’ Florence replied. She vowed to return home to an afternoon of simpler pleasures, like finally making a decision on those blasted kitchen cabinets.
15
Florence busied herself over the coming weeks with schoolwork, redecoration and learning her lines for the play. Before she knew it, it was late November and the play mere weeks away. She and Tom and the rest of the cast had made good progress, though, and even Sam, with Aidan in tow, had managed to make a few rehearsals. Before they knew it, they had been co-opted by Josie into the non-speaking roles of Don John’s men, which suited them both as all they had to do was turn up, dress up and stand there at various points, unless something terrible happened to Tom, of course.
Thankfully, Tom’s tendency to try to impose his views on interpretation on everyone from Florence to the priory’s feral cat, who kept curling up in the corner of the room during rehearsals, had waned since Sam and Aidan had been popping in. Whether it was the desire not to appear like a massive show-off in front of the other two, or he’d just given up trying to turn the Willowbury Dramatical Spectacular into some West End production with himself headlining, Florence wasn’t sure, but she was grateful. It meant that she and Tom could more sincerely act the tender moments of the Beatrice and Benedick scenes, at least.
In fact, the cast was getting on so well that they had been adjourning to either The Cosy Coffee Shop if it was too early for a drink or The Travellers’ Rest pub if it was later in the day. Florence felt that she was starting to settle into Willowbury, and she couldn’t help noticing that Sam and Aidan, despite their non-speaking roles, would hang around for the post-rehearsal drinks as often as they could. Florence found herself walking home with them after the drinks, too, and she decided she quite liked getting to know her neighbours. Aidan was naturally gregarious, whereas Sam was a little quieter, a little more reserved and seemed content, often, to let Aidan lead the conversation.
Florence still wasn’t entirely sure what the relationship between them was, but they accepted her into their world easily. She was sure she wasn’t imagining Sam shooting her the odd surreptitious glance when he thought no one was looking, though. Perhaps she’d got her assumptions wrong? Perhaps they were just housemates, after all. She found a part of herself sort of hoping that was the case.
‘Peace! It’s time to stop talking,’ Tom interjected into Florence’s thoughts as she found her attention wandering offstage and to the audience space where Sam and Aidan were chatting to other cast members. ‘Er… Florence…?’
‘Sorry,’ Florence’s attention snapped back to the lines she was meant to be delivering before realising that Tom was leaning in for the stage kiss that was demanded by the script at the culmination of the play, when both couples are, in Shakespeare’s version, due to marry. Josie had seen fit to ensure that Hero and Claudio’s reunion did not end immediately in a marriage, as it does in the original play, but instead had them tentatively reunited at the end, hoping for a reconciliation, but it was wedding bells for Beatrice and Benedick, and Tom seemed more than keen to channel his inner Branagh for that moment. They’d not got around to actively rehearsing this scene before, and Florence had been absolutely dreading it.
‘OK, everyone, let’s leave it there,’ Josie said. She raised a hand as Tom started to interject, and instead she drew the whole cast together. ‘That was a really good run-through. I reckon we’ll be word-perfect by next week, if we can all keep our attention focused,’ she gave Florence the side-eye, and Florence blushed, knowing that Josie knew exactly why she’d got distracted.
&nb
sp; ‘Anyone coming for coffee?’ Florence asked, keen to get attention off herself.
‘I’ve got to get home, sadly,’ Josie sighed. ‘I’m on childcare duty since Nick’s going off to watch the rugby this afternoon.’
As the rest of the cast said their goodbyes and left, Florence found herself wandering towards The Cosy Coffee Shop with Aidan and Sam. As they were nearing the café, Aidan made his excuses, too, leaving just her and Sam to themselves. With a flutter of nerves, Florence took a deep breath.
‘Looks like it’s just you and me, then,’ Sam smiled. ‘If you want to hang out with only me, of course.’
Florence found herself smiling back. ‘Sounds good. I really need the caffeine after a hard morning’s rehearsal.’
‘But you seem like a natural,’ Sam said as they drew closer to the cafe. ‘Even allowing for a prat like Tom.’
‘Oh, he’s not so bad once you get past the bluster,’ Florence said. ‘He’s just really invested in this play. It might as well be at the Old Vic; the effort he’s putting into it!’
‘I thought you’d appreciate that kind of attention to detail,’ Sam teased. ‘Being a teacher, shouldn’t you encourage that in all your students?’
‘Well, yes,’ Florence admitted, adding rather sheepishly, ‘but the problem is that the longer I teach, the more subversive I get about my own behaviour. I guess it’s a consequence of having to follow rules, and getting the students to do the same, all day. I get a bit rebellious when I’m out of the classroom.’
‘Really?’ Sam raised an eyebrow. ‘I can’t imagine you being the rebellious type, somehow. You seem too… too…’
‘Too what?’ Florence replied. ‘Too much like a boring teacher?’
‘No, no, not at all,’ Sam stammered. ‘Just that, well, you seem quite, er… Oh God, I’ve got myself into a hole, haven’t I?’