‘Winter’s not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way’
(King Lear)
January got off to a busy start in Stratford. Kelsey staved off the ache in her heart, reminding herself of Blythe’s words of encouragement about not give up hope that Jonathan would come round.
In her determination not to mope, she had thrown herself into getting the exhibition invitations printed and sent out. She’d invited all the local papers to the grand opening too – except theExaminer, of course. She’d even invited the Mayor and a few other important local dignitaries. With Valentine’s Day falling on a Sunday this year, she couldn’t be sure any of them would want to commit to trudging through wintry weather to look at an exhibition on an old boat, but she tried to think positively.
The cava was already on order from the Yorick, as was the loan of fifty champagne flutes thanks to Kenneth – an ambitious number since only her family and friends had actually RSVP’d so far.
She hadn’t heard if Jonathan’s invite made it safely to LA and she fought hard to stifle the sickening fear that kept threatening to overwhelm her; the fear that Jonathan wouldn’t be coming back to Stratford for Valentine’s Day at all. After all, the only reason he’d planned his flying visit was to see her. Kelsey didn’t even know if he’d booked his flights before Christmas, back when all their plans for their shared future seemed so simple and certain.
One consolation was that Blythe hadn’t flatly refused to attend the gallery opening. Kelsey had asked if she’d be the guest of honour and cut the great big cake which she’d ordered in a fit of what-the-hell-you-only-launch-a-business-venture-once recklessness and Blythe had looked sorely tempted, even if she did rub her hip and grit her teeth at the thought of leaving the house.
‘I’ll think about it, dear, I really will,’ she’d said with a glint in her eye that made Kelsey buzz with excitement, even though her heart still hung heavy in her chest for Jonathan. Blythe had read her mind and told her never to give up. She may even have quoted Winston Churchill, actually. Kelsey couldn’t quite remember now as they were steadily nearing the bottom of one of Blythe’s homemade gin bottles at the time and what had started as a New Year snifter had ended in Kelsey ordering them both a Deliveroo of fish and chips which they devoured while watching re-runs ofMurder, She Wrote– Blythe telling her dated gossip about the actors on screen who she used to rub shoulders with.
With Blythe’s friendship and the hard work of bringing the exhibition to fruition Kelsey somehow made it through those first long days of the New Year where the lustre of Christmas has already faded, the decorations are being packed away and everyone’s tired, broke and overfed.
Just as she was thinking her fortitude was stretched to its very limits, her mobile rang one day while she was at the outdoor market paying for a long roll of red ribbon for the Mayor to cut – if she showed up at the launch. She lifted the phone to her ear without even checking the caller ID, sure it would be Mirren or Mari asking her if she’d remembered to eat that morning and fussing again about her being pale and tired looking. ‘Hello?’
‘Kelsey?’ a tentative, deep voice asked, and her heart leapt at the sound.
‘Jonathan!’
‘Listen… I… I’m sorry I didn’t return your calls for so long.’
‘That’s OK, I’m just glad you’re doing it now.’ Kelsey was already prepared to make any concession, grovel any apology, make every promise that she’d shape up in the future, just so long as he gave her another chance, but Jonathan cut her off.
‘I was a mess for a while. I couldn’t take it all in, and I felt betrayed and lost and…’
‘I know and I’m sorry,’ she said with a plea in her voice.
‘Don’t say sorry. I’msorry. You were trying to help me, I know that. I just wasn’t ready for it, at least I didn’t think I was, and all I could think about was Mom and what she would think.’
He paused at the sound of Kelsey weeping, as she made her way from the busy marketplace and tried to hide behind the clock tower – the one everybody calls the American fountain – where the shoppers couldn’t see her tears.
‘Mom was horrified the media might rake up her private life, in fact, I’d say she still is, but I think it turned out to be a blessing in disguise, in a way,’ he said softly.
‘How could it be?’
‘Well, knowing that there might be an article coming out in the press Ihadto talk with Mom and Art, and actually… it was OK. We spoke about all the stuff I shoulda let Mom say years ago. I think it really helped us. It certainly helped me. Mom was upset, real upset, talking about it after all this time, and she’s still nervous about what the press will say, if it ever comes out, but maybe I should be thanking you and Mirren for helping us talk as a family, getting it all out in the open.’
‘Jonathan, I’m so glad for you all.’
‘It was Peony that put me up to it at first. She was kinda pissed at me for taking so long to wake up to the fact I needed to just talk with Mom about it. She gave me one of her famous lectures. It was fearsome! And she kept threatening to call you on my behalf to tell you I was being a… how did she put it? Oh, yeah, “a complete tool”.’
They both laughed at this and a pigeon on the fountain took flight in surprise.
Kelsey took the opportunity to ask the question she was dying to know the answer to. ‘So what about Wagstaff?’
‘Nothing.’ The word was hard and blunt.
‘Nothing?’
‘He doesn’t interest me right now. I have a long way to go before I know what to feel about him, OK? And seeing Mom so cut up about him all over again, it was tough.’
‘OK. I won’t say anything else about it.’
‘I shouldn’t have said what I did about your dad either, that wasn’t fair. I’m sorry for that too. I know you wanted me to meet with that old actor, but that’s a step too far.’
