‘I shall the effect of this good lesson keep as watchman to my heart’
(Hamlet)
Later, with speech slurred and cheeks rosy-pink, after they’d covered all the important topics like Mirren finally getting in line for a chance at promotion in the newspaper office and Preston’s band getting signed to an indie label who were going to help them organise a mini-tour across Scotland, Mirren wickedly found her way back to her most pressing concern: Stratford’s male population. She had squeezed her fulsome body into the tiny shower cubicle that stood at the foot of Kelsey’s bed and was washing the conditioner from her hair. Kelsey, on the other hand, was already getting a headache from all the sunshine and booze, not to mention the Stratford Examiner’s sensational cover story. She slouched cross-legged at the head of the bed with a cold, damp flannel pressed to her eyes.
Mirren shouted over the sound of the water. ‘Are you expecting me to believe you haven’t so much as bumped into anyone you fancy in the entire town, Kelse? This building might look like a nunnery with all the pristine white and the lace, but really? There hasn’t been the slightest hint of a snog? Tell your auntie Mirr.’ She switched the shower off and squeezed her head around the door, reaching for a towel. ‘Who installs a shower with a clear door right at the foot of a bed? A bloody pervert, that’s who. Anyway, come on, you didn’t answer me.’ Mirren laughed, thoroughly enjoying teasing her friend and not ready to give up on the interrogation.
Kelsey groaned, knowing Mirren wouldn’t stop until she’d had some details. ‘All right, there was one guy, Will Greville. He’s a tour guide – my mentor, as it happens – and I thought he was gorgeous at first. I mean, he is gorgeous. He’s got dark reddish-brown hair and green eyes like you’ve never seen. You’d like him. And he’s all posh and well-travelled… and rich, I’m guessing. His family are loaded, anyway. He makes me feel like I was raised in a cave by Neanderthals half the time.’ Kelsey was laughing now. ‘But he loves himself way more than he could love anybody else. It’s a shame really, because he’s always trying it on.’
Mirren had slipped a black strappy dress on over her head, and was now brushing out her wet hair. She stopped dead, looking straight at Kelsey.
‘Are you telling me that a certified hottie is throwing himself at you and you aren’t even slightly interested? Kelsey, you need to get straight back on the horse.’
Shaking her head dismissively, Kelsey lifted the flannel off her face long enough to roll her eyes at Mirren, before lowering it again.
‘No, no, hear me out,’ her friend persevered. ‘You don’t have to keep the horse. You don’t even have to ride it every day. Just throw it a few sugar lumps and take it once or twice over the jumps.’
‘Well, thanks for that great advice, Mirren,’ Kelsey groaned, before throwing the flannel straight into the kitchen sink, just feet away. ‘I’m just not… a very horsey person.’
‘You do know I’m not talking about horses, right, Kelse? Anyway, you’re leaving at the end of the summer. It’s not like anyone’s expecting a lifelong romance, is it? Have a summer fling then move on. You’ll be back in Scotland before you know it.’ Mirren nodded decisively as she spoke.
There it was again: that same urgent feeling Kelsey had experienced at the Yorick the night before when Jonathan had asked about her plans for the end of the summer. It was even stronger now.
‘Actually, I might stay on after the summer,’ said Kelsey, tentatively at first, as though she were testing out the idea. ‘If I were to stay, I wouldn’t want to make a fool of myself by burning any bridges here, and it wouldn’t stay secret for long if I did do anything with Will.’
‘Burn that bridge. Who cares? It’s just a sex bridge, Kelse, just get on it and then get over it. Live a little.’ Mirren was now waving her mascara wand across her thick black lashes.
‘Bloody hell, Mirr! Sex bridges? Horses? You should write for Cosmo.’
They were still laughing when Kelsey, suddenly startled by a glimpse at the time on her phone, leapt up from the bed.
‘We’re going to be late. Can you do my make-up, Mirr? Ugh, and can you pass me some paracetamol, my head is killing me. Why did I think gin for lunch was a good idea?’
Mirren patted a spot at the end of the bed and Kelsey shuffled down ready for her makeover. As Mirren expertly set to work with the contents of her bulging make-up bag Kelsey mulled over her advice.
Maybe a fling wouldn’t hurt, just this once. I am completely single now but if I did sleep with Will, I really would just be using him, not that I think he’d mind. It wouldn’t have to be some great love affair and he is lovely to look at, and his body is definitely… intriguing. That tan and those muscles… and he’d probably know what he was doing…
Mirren sat back appraising her work and handed Kelsey her hand mirror to examine her shimmering silvery eyes, dewy cheeks, and fair sculpted brows. Kelsey snapped back to reality, banishing Will to her subconscious again.
‘Ooh, it’s very Midsummer Night’s Dreamy. You really are very talented, Mirr. Thank you.’
‘Just a little mascara and lip gloss and you’re good to go.’ Mirren slipped black strappy heels – never flats, not ever – onto perfectly pedicured feet.
Kelsey reached for a silvery maxi dress that hung on the bathroom door. Its thin cotton underskirt had a light chiffon layer over the top, giving the whole thing a diaphanous, barely-there look: another new purchase in the summer sales from the lovely shopping arcade in town.
I won’t be able to speak to Jonathan up on stage tonight, but I can at least show him what he’s missing out on. And if we happen to bump into Will Greville at the pub afterwards, I might just arrange to meet him one day after work. Why the hell not? Mirren’s pep talk had left her feeling reckless and ready for some excitement.
As she slipped the stunning dress on over her glowing brown shoulders, Mirren gasped. Kelsey didn’t know it, but her sunny summer, living alone and enjoying the freedom that her pretty little flat and her busy new job afforded her, had changed her. It wasn’t just the new clothes, or the sun-bleached streaks in her wild hair, or the healthy shimmer on her skin: she was holding her head up higher and walking taller, in spite of all the offstage drama that had stolen so much of her sleep this summer.
Smiling in admiration, Mirren quickly held up her phone and took a picture of Kelsey who, grinning, raised one hand to her flowing hair, striking a pose. Mirren posted it to Instagram before Kelsey could even begin to protest:
Minutes later they were rushing out of Number One, St Ninian’s Close, the heavy door slamming behind them, Kelsey clutching the tickets tightly in her fist.
They were almost late, tiptoeing into the packed auditorium of the Willow Studio and taking their seats just as the house lights dimmed and a tremulous, expectant hush fell over the audience.