‘You have witchcraft in your lips’
(Henry V)
It had gone five o’clock as Kelsey stuffed the newly acquired postcards and stamps into her satchel and bounded up the stone steps of the Yorick. The guides were already assembled inside the olde worlde pub. Will stood by the bar with Norma and Gianfranco, and Valeria and Myrtle were ensconced with another uniformed guide – Kelsey guessed he must be Lukas – inside the biggest fireplace Kelsey had ever seen. They were perched on stone seats cut deep into the huge chimneybreast like a cosy cavern. There obviously hadn’t been a lit fire in there for years and all the brickwork had been painted a gleaming white. Kelsey stooped her head underneath the high oak beam garlanded with dried hop flowers that served as a mantelpiece and lowered herself onto the empty spot beside Lukas. Valeria poured her out a large class of cider from a brown earthenware jug.
Lukas was only twenty-one and very easy to talk with. She discovered he was a student and spoke his native Russian, as well as German, French and, of course, perfect English. He told her he was now studying Latin.
‘I guess when you’re fluent in all the living languages, you have to move onto the dead ones, right?’ Kelsey joked, making Lukas chuckle.
The tourists had arrived and were checking in with Will for the pub crawl. He was putting everyone at ease as he chatted among the group, taking care to memorise their names – another one of his clever tour-guide techniques. Kelsey was struggling to remember the names of the other guides, let alone the group of thirty tourists who were now filling the bar ready for the long evening tour ahead.
‘So, what do I need to do tonight?’ Kelsey asked Lukas as she sipped the warm cider.
‘Just follow Will and Myrtle. They’ll do most of the talking. You must help Valeria and I to herd the drunk tourists, making sure we do not lose anyone,’ he said in his wonderful thick accent.
‘I can do that. How many pubs do we visit?’
‘Only six. One drink in each. Will and Myrtle recite some poetry at each one and tell a little history. Norma likes all her guides to work on the Crawl. Safe in the numbers, yes? We are allowed to enjoy a drink or two as well, so long as we don’t go overboard.’
‘I can imagine it gets a bit messy. There’ll be a few drunk stragglers, I guess?’
Across the crowded bar, a brassy chime rang out. A space cleared revealing Will holding a bell. He was preparing to make a speech, his chest swelling.
‘My friends, welcome aboard the Norma Arden Historic Tour Agency Bard Crawl.’
The whole gathering broke out into restrained applause.
‘My name is Will Greville. There will be much merry-making and ale-drinking tonight. You all have your route maps, but please keep me and my colleague, the wonderful Myrtle Hardcastle, in sight. I’ll be taking a headcount in and out of each pub, so fear not, we won’t let you lose yourselves. We’re all meeting as strangers this evening, but let us end the night as friends. My namesake, the great Will Shakespeare said that good company, good wine, and good welcome can make good people. So, without further ado, let’s put that theory to the test. Here’s to a very good night indeed with exceptionally good people.’
Will raised his glass in toast to the crowd who were very much enjoying his speech. Kelsey shook her head at Valeria and rolled her eyes.
‘He’s a bit hammy isn’t he?’
‘Will doesn’t do subtle,’ Valeria said with a chuckle as they all began to shuffle their way out into the warm summer evening, Will Greville’s peacock feather bobbing above his head at the front of the merry group.
By nine o’clock Kelsey had enjoyed two glasses of cider and switched to cola two pubs back, but she was still feeling giddy as she mingled with the red-cheeked tourists. Some of them asked her questions about Shakespeare and the town which, to her surprise, she found she could answer, and if she was unclear on any of the finer points, Lukas and Valeria were on hand to help her out.
Will was entertaining two very beautiful young women out in the beer garden at the back of the pub that had long ago, Kelsey was horrified to learn, been used for bear fighting. Kelsey could just make out the back of Will’s head through the garden doors. He was talking very loudly and acting out comic scenes from the plays, deeply enjoying his starring role in his one-man show. Kelsey didn’t mind; she’d enjoyed getting to know the other guides a little better, except for Gianfranco who had disappeared with Norma a couple of hours ago.
‘Aren’t we off the clock now, guys? The tour’s overrun a bit. When can we head home, I’m exhausted?’ Kelsey said, hopping off the bar stool.
‘You can’t leave yet. You haven’t seen Will’s grand finale,’ Valeria exclaimed.
Kelsey pulled a puzzled face, intrigued.
Valeria laughed. ‘You’ll see.’
Will was on the move again, like a posh Pied Piper, the peacock feather bending under the doorframe of the pub as he strode outside. The trail of tourists was now very long and slow, some of them having a little difficulty keeping up. Kelsey joined Will at the front of the group.
‘Are you enjoying the tour, Kelsey?’ he asked. She nodded in assent, gazing up into the cloudless sapphire sky. The stars were twinkling overhead, and the town was falling quiet as Will led the group to a spot on its very edges.
‘Where on earth are you taking us?’ Kelsey wondered aloud, as they came to the end of a very tall neatly clipped hedgerow.
He stopped suddenly, indicating an arched wooden door interrupting the hedge. Will swung the door open dramatically, allowing Kelsey to lead the way into a dark garden surrounded by high yew trees and the ivy-clad grey stone of a gothic-looking house. In the gloaming light, Kelsey could just make out long meandering flower beds all around and a shimmering pond in the middle distance. There were a few lanterns hanging on hooks here and there lighting their path across the neat lawn towards some trestle tables with two big plastic boxes filled with ice on top, the slender necks of green bottles just visible above the ice.
Smiling slyly and without saying anything, Will popped the corks one after another. Kelsey filled the tall flutes and handed them out. The group gathered around exclaiming in wonder and surprise at the moonlit garden and the golden liquid sparkling in the glasses – such an unexpected end to their evening.
Will announced dramatically, ‘There’s just enough time for one last toast, my friends. Please take a glass of Warwickshire pear perry, in my opinion more delicious than even the finest champagne. Here’s to new friends and to safe travels and to very brief hangovers. Cheers!’
The crowd were still clinking glasses and sipping the light amber nectar as Will took Kelsey by the elbow. ‘Come this way, I have something to show you.’
She let him lead her into the shadows of an orchard of strange gnarled trees at the darkest end of the garden. Suddenly Will’s teasing voice was very near Kelsey’s ear.
‘Right, close your eyes, Kelsey Anderson.’
‘What?’ she laughed in alarm.
‘Just trust me. Have you got them closed?’ he said from a little further off.
Kelsey stood in the near darkness, her eyes tightly shut and her arms hanging by her sides, listening for Will’s return. What the hell is he doing?
‘I’m here,’ he said softly, taking her hand in his. ‘OK? Now open your mouth.’
‘Will, what are you up to? This is a bit weird.’ Nervy laughter rippled her voice.
‘Just open up,’ he instructed suggestively. Kelsey felt Will’s fingertips at her parting lips as he gently pushed a soft ripe berry into her mouth. It was perfumed and bursting with juice that tasted sweet and musty at the same time. It was delicious. ‘It’s a mulberry. This garden is full of four-hundred-year-old mulberry trees. They were planted when Shakespeare was alive for silkworms to live on. Well, that was the idea anyway, it didn’t quite work. Wrong kind of mulberries.’ He was murmuring deeply, close enough for Kelsey to feel his breath raising goosebumps on her neck.
She gasped, shocked at the strange spiced taste of the fruit and a sudden chill in the air that made her shiver. As she opened her eyes, Will’s handsome face was just inches from her own. He slowly placed a berry into his mouth, its purple juice running down his fingers. He was dazzling in the blue starlight and he was looking at her hungrily, tracing his fingertips from her wrist up towards her shoulder, making her skin tingle. It would be so easy to tip her head upwards to meet his mouth, letting the sweet potion in the berries take hold of them both. For a second, she almost allowed herself to take the step forward into his arms, and she would have done if she hadn’t heard a voice from deep within herself whispering, be careful.
She drew back sharply with a startled sense of sudden awakening. ‘I should go.’
Will, catching her around the waist with a strong arm, spoke again, a note of impatience in his voice. ‘Wait! Please. Do you have a boyfriend back home or something?’
‘Hah! I have literally no idea,’ she replied with a faraway bemusement.
Will freed her and watched her walk back up the lawn towards the opening in the hedge where they had all spilled into the green world of the secret mulberry-scented garden.
Kelsey walked all the way home with her head raised to the silver constellations, feeling more sober with every step. Not Will, not now. You only just got here and you’re thinking about messing around with the guy who’s supposed to be mentoring you? What about poor Fran? Just get it together, Kelsey.
Unlocking the door of Number One, St Ninian’s Close, and without switching on the hall lights, she tiptoed quietly upstairs to her little sanctuary. As she climbed, she caught sight of herself in the landing mirror. Stopping, she steadied herself in front of it, peering closely at her reflection. She could just make out her wide, piercing eyes framed by the wild waves of her hair and a dark mulberry juice stain spreading across her lips like a bruise.
Before Kelsey fell asleep that night, she hurriedly wrote her postcards, telling her mum and grandad what a great time she was having, how hot the weather had been, and how tomorrow she’d guide her very first tour group under Will’s supervision, making no mention of the strange, strained feelings she now had about her colleague. He intrigued and overwhelmed her with his acerbic aristocratic manner, his beautiful face, his sudden flashes of disarming humour, and the way he obviously revelled in the challenge of seducing the new girl.
She saved Fran’s postcard until last. What would she write? Suddenly, feeling all the heightened emotions of the intoxicating evening coming to a head, sobs shook her as she rehearsed aloud, ‘I’m sorry we weren’t happier. I really did love you. I do love you. I think we just grew apart.’
But the pen would not move in her hand. Instead, she let it fall onto the bed and she glanced around for her phone. She was ashamed to admit to herself that relief flooded her body as she found no new messages. Maybe Fran’s given up trying to contact me? Maybe he’ll never message again? Or maybe he’s still coming to terms with the shock of finding himself abandoned by his so-called girlfriend for an entire summer and he’ll be in touch in his own good time? He did say at the station he’d see me in September, didn’t he? Maybe he’s taking some time out and hoping we’ll reconnect in the autumn?
‘What a mess,’ she sniffed with a hopeless shrug, but nothing could persuade her fingers to scroll for Fran’s name and ring him.
She couldn’t shake the lonely realisation that she’d lost him somewhere long before she’d even heard of the Norma Arden Tour Agency. The dark feelings crowded in, stifling her in the warm, airless bedsit; the heaviness of her solitude and friendlessness so far from all that was familiar, the sadness of having no one special of her own to confide in, to share in all of life’s mountainous challenges and little victories. Had she ever done that with Fran? Maybe in the beginning.
Something had needed to change, she knew. But Fran was right, running off to Stratford was just forestalling the inevitable: her return to Scotland, jobless and broke with no plans for her future, and maybe now she wouldn’t even have a boyfriend waiting for her.
What am I doing? I could have stayed at home and let Fran support me like he wanted to until I found a proper job. Or I could have gone to college and trained to do something else? Bugger it, I should have taken that internship! Talk about looking a gift horse in the mouth. Some lucky girl’s got that job now and in a few months she’ll be trained up for the job market and I’ll be nowhere at all.
Fran’s postcard lay unwritten on the bed as Kelsey lay awake until the sun rose again, glad she had no neighbours to waken with her sobbing.