Mirren released Kelsey’s hand, allowing her to tear into the white envelope. She read aloud in a shrill English accent which made Mirren – who had met Norma twice and would never forget her – smile at the likeness.
Kelsey, dear,
I hope you’re not wasting away longing for that American of yours, not when there’s work to be done and pictures to take.
Thank you for the email with the lovely images of the studio, you’ve made it your own and I’m simplythrilledfor you. Gianfranco wants me to tell you he’s delighted for you too! We’ve just returned fromquitethe honeymoon on the Veneto and we’re settled into Gianfranco’s mother’s Amalfi pension. Well, it isa dream, dearie, and I’ll expect you to come and visit once you’ve given Diane Arbus a run for her money and made your fortune. Until then, do you remember I mentioned the barge?
‘Oh no.’ Kelsey’s comedy accent faltered. Shedidremember Norma saying something about letting her rent out what had been the tour agency’s ticket sales boat on the marina but she hadn’t thought of it again, not when she had the studio to manage and everything that came with starting a new business to attend to. She read on quickly and in quieter tones now.
I’ve instructed my solicitors to prepare the papers and hand over the keys. They’ll be with you in a few days. You’ll need a second premises, something more accessible and in amongst the tourist biz – as I expect you’re already learning? Same agreement as the studio: peppercorn rent for six months starting this week until you’re established. Let me know when the grand opening is, we’ll pop over and smash some Bolly on her hull.
I’d say good luck, but as my mother told me when I was your age, luck is nothing compared to grit, and I know a gritty woman when I see one. That doesn’t sound quite as encouraging now I see it written down.
Must go, Gianfranco’s loading up the yacht for a sail to Capri, and I’ve cocktails to mix before we haul anchor,
Pip pip, Norma, x
‘She’s still absolutely barking then?’ said Mirren, reaching for the fridge door and the prosecco inside while Kelsey gaped in shock at Norma’s astounding generosity and her world-leading meddling skills. And justwhatwas Norma expecting her to do with a barge?
The cork popping brought her focus back and the two friends set about finding glasses and preparing their meal which they ate cross-legged on what was now their shared bed, shaking their heads and marvelling at the strange twists and turns their lives seemed to be taking.
Chapter Fifteen
‘I am as constant as the Northern Star’
(Julius Caesar)
Sunday morning dawned misty and cool. Kelsey and Mirren, both in shades to help with their prosecco hangovers, strolled into town wrapped in coats and scarves on the hunt for early morning espressos and intending to take a look at the barge Kelsey was somehow now in possession of.
Holding her head as still as she could while walking along gingerly, each footstep resounded like gunshots in Kelsey’s head. ‘I’m done with prosecco, Mirr.’
‘Me too.’
‘New life, new rules.’
They made slow fist bumps at their resolve just as Mirren’s phone sounded a loud pinging notification that made them wince. Mirren squinted at her phone before turning it towards Kelsey so she could read the one-word message she’d been sent.
‘Pics?’ read Kelsey, confused.
‘It’s some random geezer on this dating app. I get lots of these,’ Mirren said dryly, just as another message appeared from the same guy, who if you believed his profile picture was a dead ringer for Ryan Reynolds.
‘Knockers!’ the message read.
Mirren let Kelsey read it while saying, ‘Who says romance is dead, eh?’
‘I think you should send him what he wants.’
‘Eh? Not likely.’
Kelsey had stopped outside the front of the rambling Tudor house where the theatrical gala had been held in the summer. With her lips quirking wickedly, she took the phone from Mirren, snapping a close-up image of the pendulous brass knockers on the property’s ornate front door. She’d clicked ‘send’ before Mirren had time to register what was going on. ‘Aaandblock,’ Kelsey said with a nod of finality and still grinning before handing Mirren’s phone back. The pair fell into as raucous a fit of laughter as their headaches would allow before strolling off down towards the theatre gardens on the riverside.
One of the coffee chains was open and they were soon making short work of their take-away pastries and double shots. As they approached the marina with its colourful narrowboats moored beside the little bridges and locks in the lush, dewy green public gardens, flanked on one side by the main road into the town centre and on the other by the grand cluster of theatres, Kelsey kept an eye on Mirren, waiting for her friend’s reaction to the beauty of the town at this time of day.
The river Avon, wide and smooth, swollen with yesterday’s rain and dotted here and there with elegant swans, glittered in the misty morning light. Only locals got to see the town like this; dog walkers and joggers, up with the chirruping robins and hungry cygnets.
Kelsey always woke up early, even on Sunday mornings, and even after a night’s laughter and drinking with her best friend. She was glad to see the look of awe spreading across Mirren’s face as she took in the view from left to right from the shuttered canal boats inside the lock gates all the way downriver past the theatres to the mists hugging the spire of Holy Trinity church in the distance. They only briefly let their exclamations about how pretty it was interrupt Mirren’s tales of her recent encounters with dating apps back home in Scotland.
‘I should have known when this one guy suggested we meet at the petrol station at four in the afternoon that it wasn’t going to be a dream date,’ Mirren was saying between sinking her coffee and twirling between her fingers a rusty-orange leaf she’d lifted from the grass. ‘The first thing I noticed, after the car door opened, was his Crocs. I mean, who wears Crocs on a date? With socks? Then there were the sweatpants, the mullet, and the bag for life.’
