‘I had some experience of this paper before,’ Kelsey said after a few moments. ‘Do you remember that hack-job they wrote about Jonathan and his co-star, Peony, in the summer, saying they were as good as engaged? It was all made up but I fell for it completely.’ The resentment still stung. If she’d had her wits about her she’d have questioned what she read, spoken to Jonathan, clarified everything, and then maybe they’d have got together sooner. Kelsey pouted, thinking of all the kisses she’d missed and how theExaminerhad been her only option for placing cheap business ads.
‘I’d take most of the stuff printed in this rag with a big pinch of salt,’ said Myrtle. ‘They’re notoriously slapdash. It’s kinda sad. Years ago, when I first moved to town it was famous as a theatre paper, covering all the arts news, but it’s gone downhill. Ninety per cent of it is advertising now… though it’s clearly improved drastically since they got you on board.’ Myrtle winked and bowed her closely pixie-cropped white head to read again.
Kelsey spotted the advertisement she’d shelled out for on the front page, smaller than she’d expected but a nice bold purple and there all the same.
Her mouth turned down as she scanned the article accompanying her pictures. ‘Hmm. That’s weird, this story’s pretty good. It’s so complimentary about Blythe,andit’s well researched. I didn’t think Mr Ferdinand had it in him, to be honest. He was so strange when I met him, half asleep and kind of disinterested in his paper. But look, the by-line says Clive Ferdinand wrote this.’
Myrtle read aloud, her accent drawling wonderfully.
‘During Stratford’s theatrical heyday Blythe Goode (72) drew crowds from across the country to see her starring roles as Shakespeare’s Ophelia, Juliet and Beatrice, as well as her ground-breaking and controversial Duchess of Malfi.
‘Goode’s career came abruptly to an end in nineteen sixty-eight following her double billing as Cleopatra and Queen Margaret in Stratford. She retired from the stage after a mysterious illness that winter, leaving British theatre sadly depleted in her absence.
‘Her modest Stratford-upon-Avon home is a treasure trove of theatre memorabilia. Goode is pictured wearing the black lace headdress she wore onstage as Webster’s Duchess of Malfi in nineteen sixty-seven, hailed as a landmark performance in the history of experimental British theatre, in spite of the production’s ill-fated cast. Local legend, actor John Wagstaff, playing the Duchess’ steward and lover Antonio, as well as Antony to her Cleopatra that same season, famously fell from the stage, breaking both legs…’
‘Woah, no way! I must ask her about that. She’s my neighbour you know? Lives in my building,’ interrupted Kelsey.
‘A celebrity neighbour, huh? You’d better take her a copy of this.’
‘I will. She’ll be thrilled… I think.’ Kelsey thought for a moment about smart, fierce, fabulous Blythe Goode rattling around her kitchen conducting her explosive gin experiments. ‘She must be lonely, hidden away from the world in that downstairs flat, especially after years in the spotlight. I didn’t even know she existed until last week. She clearly doesn’t get out much. I’ve never seen her leaving our building anyway.’
‘Well, now she has you. Lucky Blythe. You can talk Shakespeare together to your hearts’ content.’
‘True. I’m glad I got the commission from theExamineror I may never have met her. So it wasn’t a complete disaster.’ A frown formed as Kelsey spoke. ‘But I’d hoped Mr Ferdinand would have paid me by now. I sent my invoice for this job straight away. I could do with the money.’
‘Oh honey, that’s how things are these days. You could wait weeks to see that money.’
‘Mirren said the same thing when I talked to her last week.’ Kelsey registered with some alarm that she hadn’t heard from Mirren in days, not since her friend had got the good news about her weekend women’s pages feature and she was planning on visiting Mari to let her know. She set a mental reminder to ring her soon for a proper catch-up.
A waiter brought over a tray piled high with scones, little pots of strawberry jam and two dishes of clotted cream. As the women prepared to dive in, he reappeared with two tall stemmed glasses.
‘Well, here’s to your success, Kelsey. See, thereislife outside of tour-guiding,’ said Myrtle. ‘Cheers.’ They both sipped the prosecco.
‘Well, this is an unexpected treat, thank you,’ Kelsey said, letting herself relax. ‘So, what have you been up to since the agency closed? And how’s Valeria? I haven’t even asked yet, sorry.’
Valeria was Myrtle’s partner, another ex-tour guide. It had taken the unobservant Kelsey the whole summer to figure out they were together and she’d been embarrassed to hear they’d shared a life in their little terraced cottage in the old town for seven years by that point. She really had been very green and more than a little self-absorbed as she’d tried to figure out her new life over the summer months.
‘We’re good,’ Myrtle was nodding. ‘In fact it was Valeria who helped us out of our fix. You know it was kinda tough both of us being out of work after so long guiding for Norma.’
Kelsey slathered jam then cream on the split scone, still warm from the oven, occasionally looking up into Myrtle’s eyes. ‘Got you out of the fix? How?’
‘Valeria heard that the main theatres were having a costume sale and we used some of our savings to buy up as much stuff as we could. Five chests full. And not just costumes; there were stage swords, wigs, shoes, everything. We’re setting up a costume rental shop by the riverside; you know, fancy dress hire as well as theatrical rentals? I already sent out flyers to all the am-dram companies in the county. We’ll be opening our doors for the first time a week on Saturday.’
‘Wow, you’ve got it all figured out. Good for you two.’
‘I know, right? Let’s hope it pays off. We sank what was left of our money into the business rates for the year.’
‘Can I come visit?’
‘You better. Come to the grand opening, OK? We’re right between the Yorick pub and the Willow Studio Theatre. You know the little door nobody ever seems to use?’
Kelsey couldn’t picture it. Had she ever noticed a door there? She’d always been so focused on the Willow theatre and wondering if Jonathan was in there whenever she’d passed by that summer. He’d wowed the crowds there all season long as Oberon inA Midsummer Night’s Dream.
‘Another secret little place I’ve yet to discover in town.’ Kelsey shrugged happily. ‘Doesn’t surprise me; this place is full of magical nooks and crannies the tourists don’t see unless they’re really paying attention. I can close the studio for an hour and come along to the opening next Saturday. It’s not like I have many bookings.’Or any bookings.Kelsey gulped at her drink.
‘It’ll pick up. Just you wait.’ Myrtle was always reassuring. She was smart and steady and believed in Kelsey too; it showed in her face.
Kelsey wished she had Myrtle’s confidence in her. She had all the equipment, the perfect studio, and as of today she had her advert going out to every house in theExaminer’s circulation. The only thing she lacked was the clients and their money.
