O' for the love of Shakespeare (6 page)

“So you finally achieved you and your husband’s
dream of buying this place?”

“And what a mistake it was, perhaps if Bill was
with me...”  She looks out of the window over the sink.  “We would have been
married forty years this year,” she says almost to herself.  “Yes if Bill could
have been here with me, helping me to run the place it would have been so different,
but it’s a disaster isn’t it?” 

“No no - it’s fine really.”  Even I can hear the
insincerity in my voice.  I have always been a rubbish liar.  She fires a look
at me that makes me return my gaze to my lap, wow she really is so
intimidating. 

“To be completely honest I didn’t know where to
start a couple of years ago when I moved here and it has just slipped a little
more every month.  I get a few lucky hits from the website but this place just
bleeds money.  If it’s not the electricity bills, it’s a burst pipe in one of
the bathrooms.  Within the first six months we had a nasty case of woodworm.  I
just don’t know how much longer I can keep throwing money into the abyss that
is The Verona Bed, Breakfast and Balcony.”

She looks so sad that out of instinct I put my
hand over hers and give it a small squeeze.  Although as I soon as I do it I
question whether it is a good idea given the person whom I am touching, so I snatch
my hand back almost instantly.  Watching her, I see her quickly put the mask
back on and regain her self-composure.

“So did you say your friend is getting
married?  That’s why you’re here all alone?”

There’s that word again.  Alone.

“Yes, she got engaged the day before we were
due to leave so they’re off telling parents and family the good news.”  I try to
sound as cheerful as possible.

“And you don’t have anyone?”

“No it’s just me at the moment but you never
know.”

“That’s the spirit.”  She pauses a few moments
thinking about something.   “Although having a man in your life is not all that
it’s cracked up to be.  Don’t get me wrong, I loved my Bill, he was a good man,
but did he get on my nerves at times.”  She chuckles softly.  “There is a lot
to be said for having your own independence and being able to make choices on
your own in life.”  She looks around at the worn kitchen and looks miserable
once again.  Maybe she is not so bad after all.  “Now, I have held you up
enough for the day, I’m sure you want to get out and start exploring?”  Honestly
no, I think I would be happier hiding here in her kitchen.

“Yes thank you Mrs McCree, for the cup of tea,
I mean.”

“You are more than welcome and please, call me Angela.” 
Well who would have thought?

Aware of how hastily I got ready this morning,
I decide to quickly run back up to my room.  It also allows me to procrastinate
a little longer before having to figure out what do with myself for the whole
day.  Staring at myself in the mirror, I am happy with how I look in Vic’s
dress but the pale blue colour makes me look even pastier than I usually am.  Scrutinising
the bag of make-up which is open on the side in the bathroom, I decide to go
against my usual routine of mascara only and add a little blush.  My make-up is
still minimal, but it at least makes me look as though I am not the Ghost of
Hamlet’s father.  In a last minute decision, I smear a little nude lip gloss
across my lips, smacking them together like a turbot.  OK let’s do this.

Waiting to cross the road, I see flashes of
myself in car windows as they go by.  I think I look quite glamorous, but I
feel like an imposter.  All I can compare it to is when I was little I would
sneak in to my mum’s room and would take out one of her dresses.  Always the
same one.  It was pale yellow with a little pink floral pattern.  I never saw
her wear it but I thought it was the most beautiful dress I had ever seen.  It
was of course far too big on me, the waist hit me somewhere around the knees
but I would pretend I was a beautiful woman getting ready to go out for
afternoon tea, most probably with The Queen.  At the age of almost thirty-five,
I still feel like I am playing make believe in someone else’s clothes.  Which
today of course is completely true.  I wonder what Vic would say if she saw me
wearing her dress.

Feeling guilty about my not-so-enthusiastic
congratulations yesterday, I rummage around in my bag for my phone and dial
Vic.  It rings for the longest time.  I wonder if she has decided to go in to
work.  I didn’t have many friends growing up, none that I was still in touch
with. Shocking I know but being the daughter of a Funeral Director did not make
me very popular as a child.  Instead my days were constantly filled with
questions like “do you make out with dead people?”  My peers were fascinated
with my father’s profession but they all seemed convinced that we kept the
deceased and coffins actually in our home.  They thought of me as some kind of
Wednesday Adams from the
Adams Family
.  So instead, the characters from
my childhood stories became my friends and I would talk to them as if they were
they were really there in my bedroom.  Sharing secrets, dreams and crushes with
Elizabeth and Jessica from the
Sweet Valley High
series, just one of my
favourite childhood reads.  Vic has really been the only friend who has really ever
stuck.

“Jane, is everything OK?”  Vic finally answers.

“Yes I’m fine, I’m fine, honest.  Just thought
I would call to see how it went with the folks last night?”

“Mum and Dad are completely thrilled, I think Mum
is out looking at hats as we speak, and Oliver’s parents…” her voice
disappears.

“What about Oliver’s parents?”

“Well they are just a bit weird to be honest,
we told them we were engaged and they just sat there stony-faced.  They said
they were happy but they could have told their faces that.”  I barely have any experience
of dealing with boyfriend’s families and that is extremely small but I have no
idea about in-laws.  But it is Vic and I want to try to be helpful.

“Maybe you could ask his mum out for lunch just
the two of you, or ask your mum to go along too?”

“I think that lunch may end up with me eating
my own face.”  She sounds so serious that it makes me laugh out loud.  “Oh
Janey I miss your laugh, I miss you.  Is it completely horrible being there all
on your own, tell me honestly?”

“Stratford-upon-Avon is more than I could
possibly have imagined.  I’m standing on a bridge right now over the River Avon
and it is just completely stunning, Vic.  I had a real lazy day yesterday but
heading out to explore the town today.”  Feeling as though I should confess
about today’s wardrobe choice I add, “Vic I hope you don’t mind but I pinched
that blue dress that you had left at mine, I’m actually wearing it right now.”

“You are funny Janey, of course I don’t mind
but you really should go shopping, get yourself some new nice clothes to wear. 
Could be your birthday treat?”  That’s not a bad idea, I did see that high street
when I drove through town in the taxi.

“Yes maybe and thank you for letting me borrow
the dress.  What do you have planned for the day?”

“I’m just waiting for Oliver to get up and then
we are going to Hatton Garden, ring shopping, then a stop off for a late lunch
somewhere.”  Vic is trying to sound nonchalant but I know she must be in her
element heading out engagement ring shopping and I’m sure she will persuade Oliver
to get her the biggest, sparkliest ring he can’t afford.  For a fleeting moment
I actually feel sorry for Oliver for what he is about to endure.  I also can’t
help but think that maybe he does know her better than I have given him credit
for.  Most women would want the ring all picked out ready before the proposal,
so that the whole thing is a surprise, but I know if Vic is going to wear
anything, she has to pick it out for herself.  Especially a ring that she will hopefully
wear for the rest of her life.

“Well that just sounds like a horrible day.”  I
know I have a cheesy grin on my face as I imagine the joy and excitement my
best friend must be feeling this morning.  Her bailing on me at the last minute
is now all forgotten knowing the elation she must be feeling.  Well.  Almost
forgotten.

“I nearly forgot to say your mum has called me
like a hundred times regarding flower arrangements.  Apparently your dad has
some really good contacts from the funeral business?”  Ooops.

“Yes sorry about that, I thought I better let
her know before she found out through word of mouth from someone else.  You
don’t mind do you?”

“No of course not, if I hadn’t heard from her I
was going to call her today anyway to let her know.  It’s just she’s just a
little,” she pauses, I know she is trying to find the right word to describe mum,
“much.”

“I’ll talk to her, tell her to calm down a
little.”

“Thank you, speaking of wedding bells, I’ve
been speaking to Oliver about men that he knows.”  We are back to Vic acting as
pimp for me.  “There is someone who from the sound of it would be perfect for you,
he’s a little younger than us, by a couple of years, but he loves the theatre,
reading and going out for nice dinners.  Oliver says he is a really good guy
and ended a serious relationship a couple of months back, so is starting to
look to date again.”

“When you say he loves the theatre do you mean
panto?”  Vic laughs.

“No no silly, proper boring stuff like you
like.”  Wow thanks Vic.  “Well what do you think?”  I don’t have any better
offers and you never know - maybe he won’t be so bad.

“OK sure, but just to meet up for a drink?  I
don’t want to have to sit through a whole meal if I get there and he’s… you
know.”

“Sure whatever you say.  I’ll ask Oliver to get
his number for you.  Oh it’s all so exciting!”

“Yes you can say that because you are all smug,
happy and engaged.  When you say exciting I just think awkward and
embarrassing.”

“You just need to get back out there, you’re
just a bit rusty where you haven’t seen anyone for a bit.  Send me a text later
to let me know what you have ended up doing today.  Oh actually I have an idea,
your task for today is to pluck up the courage to do something you have never
done before.  I don’t care what it is, just so long as you haven’t done it
before.  Deal?”  I love Vic always trying to push my boundaries.

“OK deal and send me a photo of the iceberg
when you have it.  Love you.”

“Love you too, oh and Janey I know I don’t even
need to tell you this but you are the Maid of Honour.  Now go do something
exciting, bye.”  Maid of Honour.  Where have the years gone that Vic is now
getting married and I am Maid of Honour?  It feels like five minutes ago we
were fresh faced Graduates.

In serious need of a coffee, I decide to walk
back across the park to the café at the theatre again.  I really should venture
further than just the theatre.  Waiting in the queue for my caffeine fix, I
hear a man asking for a caramel cappuccino and I try to work out why his voice
sounds so familiar.  From behind he doesn’t look like anyone I know, although
he looks like someone I would like to know.   I must be getting him mixed up
with someone from my buried subconscious but as he pays he turns slightly so I
can see the side of his face.  It is Cassio.  Sexy, gorgeous Cassio from last
night’s performance of
Othello
.

Act II Scene I

‘Romeo Romeo wherefore
art thou Romeo?’  Romeo and Juliet

Why am I blushing?  This must be what normal
people feel like when they meet a Hollywood actor.  For me though being in the
presence of a Shakespearean actor, a real Shakespearean actor, is just birthdays,
Christmases, best sex ever all rolled in to one. 

He takes his coffee and walks over to a table
in the corner of the café.  I’m up next so order a skinny Latte but the whole
time that I’m waiting for my order I watch him.  He opens a newspaper on the
table, he leans across looking down at an article running his hand through his
slightly too long blonde hair.  His forehead is creased in concentration at
what he is reading.  I bet it is something highly academic and interesting.

“Do you want the Latte to go?”  The woman
behind the counter offers.  No of course I do not want to go I want to stare
unashamedly at the actor sat in the corner of the café.  Do they not know who
that is?

“No to drink in please.”  I’m passed a tray
with my Latte which may as well be a bowl for how large the mug is.  Looking
around for a table I realise everywhere is full in the morning rush for
caffeine.  I stand for what feels like an eternity awkwardly looking at people
hoping they will answer my silent plea and vacate their table.  Mainly I focus
on the tables in the immediate vicinity of Cassio in the hope that I can sit
close to him.  I look over just to check he is still there; he still looks deep
in thought at the papers he is reading.

Aware of a slight queue now forming behind me
for a table, I do the unthinkable.  Before I know it I am standing at his table
gawking at him like a complete imbecile.  To make it worse I also seem to have
lost the ability to speak.  He glances up at me from the papers and looks at me
confused. Say something Jane, anything, just make some words preferably some
that do not make this situation any worse. 

“Tables full.”  No I sound like a complete
Neanderthal not even able to string together sentences, let’s try that again.  “Sorry
I mean all the tables are full, do you mind?”  I glance at the available chair
at his table hoping that he does not notice that my whole body is turning
beetroot in embarrassment.  As Lady Macbeth would say ‘screw your courage to
the sticking place’ and you shall not fail Jane.  He smiles a panties dropping
smile at me that just floors me, if I was beetroot before I must now be the
shade of a letterbox.  If he doesn’t let me sit down I am likely to fall over,
my legs are so unsteady.

“No problem.”  He gestures at the empty chair
and folds away his papers to make room for my tray.

With my hands shaking my Latte makes a furtive
lurch over the side of the mug sending a fairly sizable puddle to flood my
tray.  Trying to look like I haven’t noticed that I have just spilt a good
quarter of my coffee, I sit down hoping I portray an easy grace.  I know this
is in fact though an epic fail. 

He leans down to put the papers he was reading
in to a satchel next to his chair.  His legs stretch out next to the table but
he moves in one easy movement crossing his legs so that he is sat more
upright.   Looking at me.  Realising that I have been staring I quickly look
down at my very sorry looking Latte.  I can feel his eyes watching me as I take
a tentative slurp of my coffee.  Keeping my head tilted downwards I quickly
peek up through my eye lashes to check what he is doing.  His head is tilted
slightly to one side; his smile touches the corners of his eyes lighting his
whole face.  He’s watching me intently.

“Hi, I’m Ryan.”  Oh my god oh my god he’s
talking to me.  Why have I turned into a fourteen-year-old girl?

“Hello,” I let out a random giggle but quickly
correct myself and stop.  “I’m Jane.”

“So do you come from round here Jane?”

“No I’m just here on holiday.  I live in London
actually. You?” I feel like I need to ask this question so that I do not look
like a complete stalker as I know exactly why he is here.

“No I come from Southampton, I’m just working
here for a bit.”  He glances around quickly at the other people in the café. 
Maybe he is not keen on people knowing who he is.   If I was a player in a
Shakespeare performance I would be shouting it from the tower of this theatre
but he must be shy, I think.  He is painfully good looking though.  Too good
looking for me.  Even sitting down I can tell that he is tall.  Last night he
was wearing a military style black jacket and trousers.  Today he looks yummy
in casual pale denim jeans with a white shirt unbuttoned at the top.  He has
rolled up his sleeves showing off his tanned muscular arms.   I wonder what his
skin feels like, to run my fingers across his naked chest…

“Are you on holiday on your own?”  He frowns
slightly.  How do I answer this without sounding like a complete loser?

“Yes, er my girlfriend was supposed to come
with me but she bailed on me at the last minute.  By girlfriend I mean my best
friend not partner.  She’s getting married and everything.  To a man, getting
married to her boyfriend.”  I am an idiot.  I hear the smallest laugh erupt
from him but he ends up just smirking at me.  I know, I know, I’m hilarious.

“Well I think you are incredibly brave Jane coming
away on your own anyway.  It can be exciting to travel alone but it can also be
daunting.  I have to travel quite often on my own for work so I suppose I’m starting
to get used to it now but I still find it hard sometimes.  This is my first time
in Stratford-upon-Avon and I haven’t been here for long so I don’t really know
anyone.  I like it though, here I mean.”  I can feel my face warm at his
complement, he thinks I’m brave.  I feel myself sit a little straighter and I
pull my head up to smile at him. “Are you staying in town?”

“Just in a little Bed and Breakfast over the
bridge.  It’s not great to be honest but it’s close to the centre which is the
main thing.  Are you staying close by?”

“Yes not far from here but I’m sharing a room
with someone.”  Maybe he’s seeing someone?  “I’m sharing with someone from work
but it means I can’t really just sit and relax so I tend to come here when I
have time off to read.” He clarifies.  Phew.

 “So what do you do?  What brought you here?” 
I of course know the answer to this but I want to keep the conversation going for
as long as possible and for him to continue to think I’m brave.

“I’m working at a theatre for a bit but I’ve
got this morning off.”  His eyes search my face for a moment and then he adds,
“I don’t suppose you would like to look around the sites with me for a bit this
morning, us being two people alone in this beautiful part of the world?”  He
leans forward ever so slightly awaiting my decision.  He bites his bottom lip
for the briefest of moments.  Stop staring at his mouth Jane.  Could I suggest
my bedroom at the Bed and Breakfast as being one of the main scenic attractions? 
No probably not.

“Are you sure, with me?  I mean yes that would
be lovely Ryan thank you I’ll just quickly finish my Latte.”  We finish our
coffees in slightly awkward silence.

“OK shall we?”  I still cannot believe he is
talking to me.

“Yes I’m good to go.”  Don’t giggle Jane.  Be
mysterious, enigmatic, alluring.  Be anything but yourself.  People turn to
watch us as we leave the café and I can only think they are trying to work out
why such a beautiful man is leaving with plain Jane.  The day is warming up
fast, it looks as though it is going to be another glorious summer’s day.  And
I get to spend at least some of it with Ryan!

“Where shall we go first?”  He turns to look at
me.

“I don’t mind.”  You can take me anywhere.

“Well where have you been so far and I will try
to think of somewhere different?”

“I’ve been to the café at this theatre.”  I
point back over my shoulder with my thumb.  Ground swallow me up now.

“When did you get here?”

“Yesterday lunch time.”  Come on ground I’m
waiting, anytime now any size of a hole for me to disappear in to would be
great.  I did go to the theatre to see a play too which makes me feel a little
better but I of course cannot admit this to Cassio I mean Ryan.

“Erm right, OK.”  He laughs a deep sexy laugh. 
“Well that gives us lots of possibilities anyway.”  Possibilities, oh I like
the sound of that.  “Well you can’t come to Stratford-upon-Avon without seeing
the Bard’s birthplace right?”  I nod enthusiastically back at him.  So we set
off together across the park and I cannot wipe the enormous grin off my face.   We
make polite conversation as we walk; about the wonderful weather, how pretty
the park is, how I think he is the most gorgeous man I have ever met.  No
strike that last bit that was just in my head.

Seeing more and more large groups of tourists I
feel sure that we are getting close.  There are lovely antique and tea shops
all along the road.  Music gently seeps in to the hum of people, a man standing
on the pavement begins to sing ‘A Heart Full of Love’ from
Les Miserables
.
  We stop for a moment to listen, the music colours the whole road with
romance.  He sings it beautifully and there is soon a large crowd standing
listening.  With so many people gathering I feel Ryan move closer to me, his
arm brushing against mine.  Even in the warmth my skin goose pimples from his
touch.  I look up at him but he like everyone else is transfixed on the music
and so I turn to enjoy the rest of the performance.  When the song finishes
everyone is silent for a few moments before we all join in rapturous applause. 
Digging around in my bag I find a couple of loose coins and follow a few others
to put money in the open bag at the singer’s feet.  When I turn around Ryan is
standing with his arms crossed over his chest smiling at me and I feel about
ten feet tall in that moment.

We continue up the road walking past an amazing
old town house that has been converted in to a library.  I want to go to take a
closer look but Ryan walks quickly past not appearing interested.  I quick
march to catch up but suddenly stop quickly in my tracks.  Looking around
everyone is either posing or taking photos.  I turn around and look up.  My
mouth drops open this is what I have been so desperate to see for so many
years, Shakespeare’s birthplace.  Ryan comes to stand next to me and smiles
down at me.

“Do you know much about Shakespeare?”

Right how do I make myself sound intelligent
but not like an Elizabethan super fan? 

“A little, I have seen some plays at the Globe
in London.  I think he was a genius.”  Not too bad Jane, not too bad.

“Do you fancy going in to have a look round?”

“Yes, yes please.”  I try but completely fail
at keeping the excitement from my voice.  Ryan smiles shaking his head
slightly.  We walk in and Ryan purchases two tickets.

“Please let me give you the money for that?”  I
hate people paying for me.

“No no I tell you what you can buy me a cup of
tea after we have looked around, I could do with a cup before I have to go to
work?”  Hmmm more time with Ryan how can I refuse that offer?

“Yes OK, I think I can manage that.  Thank
you.”  We start our walk around the museum first before going in to the house. 

William Shakespeare’s father John lived and
worked at the house as a glove maker.  He and Mary Arden had eight children
together one of which of course was William.  The house had fallen in to
disrepair during the eighteenth century but stars of the age such as Charles
Dickens and Sir Walter Scott had come here on pilgrimages.  With help from
Dickens the Shakespeare Birthday Committee raised the money to buy the
birthplace which then allowed the restoration work to begin.

One of the rooms has been restored as a tannery
as it would have been when John Shakespeare had worked here as a glove maker. 
Ryan and I walk around the house pointing out things of interest to each
other.  The rooms are small and Ryan has to dip his head to go through the
doorways.  Although the rooms seem very small in comparison to many of today’s
homes, I am sure when William had lived here this would have been considered a
substantial house.  John Shakespeare had been Mayor of Stratford-upon-Avon and
because of this William had been able to attend a local grammar school.  We
come out in to the walled garden of the house and it is the epitome of the
British summer garden.   The sun trap glows with the summer’s day warmth.

“This is breath-taking.”  I feel like my eyes
are out on stalks trying to take everything in.  There are so many incredible
floral scents but overriding everything is lavender.

“It is pretty special.”  He seems as in awe as
I am of being in this magical place.  We sit on a bench facing the building.

“Thank you for this.” 

“You’re very welcome.  To be honest for the
past couple of weeks I have just been wondering around here on my own so it’s
nice to have some company.  So why did you pick to come to Stratford-upon-Avon
for your holiday?”  

“It’s just somewhere I have always wanted to
come, there is so much history here.  My friend and I always go on beach
holidays every year but I fancied a change this time and as it is my birthday
tomorrow she let me have my own way.”  I smile thinking of the arguments that
Vic and I have had leading up to my booking to come here, even after I booked
it she was still sending me links to different destinations trying to get me to
change my mind.  After all that she never came anyway, she hasn’t been able to
see just why I had wanted to come here so much.