‘What do you mean?’
‘You haven’t told me anything. You don’t keep in touch. You don’t return my phone calls. I’ve been worried about you.’
‘I’ve sent you postcards.’
‘Oh, yes, the informative postcards,’ Shelley said. ‘They really keep me up to date with what’s been happening.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Mia said. ‘I’ve been a crap friend.’
‘Yes, you have, but at least you’re admitting it, and at least you’re here now. That’s the main thing. We can do some serious catching up now, can’t we?’
Mia nodded. ‘But shouldn’t we get our costumes sorted out for tomorrow first?’
Shelley’s eyes widened, and a huge grin filled her face as she nodded manically. ‘Wait until you’ve seen the ribbon I bought. It’s the most amazing yellow you’ve ever seen. It’s like a little piece of sunshine.’
Shelley was up from the sofa and out of the room before you could say Northanger Abbey, and Mia followed her.
‘I hope you’ve still got that sewing machine, because I think my dress needs letting out a little.’
‘You haven’t put on weight, have you?’
‘Well, not much.’
‘Better bring your dress in, and we’ll see what the damage is.’
They met up a moment later in Shelley’s bedroom. It was the largest room upstairs and was wondrously light and airy, with a double bed on one side and a little workshop on the other. Shelley adored fiddling around with little bits of fabric and had made Mia’s dress and her own in perfect Regency style.
As Mia entered, she smiled at the scene before her. By the window was an old pine table on which sat an ancient sewing machine and little heaps of ribbon and swatches of fabric in every color imaginable. There was a rail against the wall from which dresses were hanging. Mia remembered Shelley’s obsession with rooting around charity shops and jumble sales when they’d been students.
‘You never know what you’re going to discover,’ she’d say with a jolly smile on her face.
Judging by how full the rail was, Shelley had discovered everything. There were dresses, skirts, shirts, and scarves in all the colors of the rainbow. Stripes jostled with dots, and cottons snuggled up next to velvets. It was a feast for the eyes, and Mia couldn’t help reaching out and stroking a gold brocade jacket.
‘This is lovely,’ she said.
Shelley turned around and nodded. ‘I think I’ll be able to make the most gorgeous Spencer jacket from that.’
‘Gosh, you’re so clever. I wish I had a skill like that. You could make a fortune.’
‘Well, it’s funny you should say that,’ Shelley began, picking up a length of scarlet ribbon, ‘because I have sold a few things recently.’
‘You have?’
Shelley nodded. ‘I made up a dress for someone I met at last year’s festival, and she told a friend, and then… well, it’s snowballed a bit.’
‘That’s brilliant!’
‘Yes, but it’s so time-consuming. I mean, I love sourcing the materials and picking out designs from all my old books and making the garments, but not all the other stuff, like fittings and posting them and chasing checks. It’s a bit too businesslike, you know?’
Mia nodded, knowing that her friend had always loved the practical side of drama school but had floundered miserably when it came to writing coursework.
‘You need an assistant,’ Mia said.
‘Are you offering?’
‘I can’t leave London.’
‘No? Are you sure? I mean, I have this spare room here just begging for a lovely tenant, and Bath is so much fun. Honestly, you wouldn’t miss London at all.’
‘But what about auditions?’ Mia said.
Shelley sighed. ‘You’re still hung up about that life, aren’t you?’
‘And you’re not?’
‘I guess I never was,’ Shelley said. ‘It was fun as a student, but I think I only went to drama school to annoy Dad. He wanted me to go into his business as some lowly paid tea bag tester or something.’
Mia giggled. ‘But you’re doing that now.’
‘I know,’ Shelley said, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. ‘I think I missed my true calling. I should’ve done something in fashion.’
Mia nodded. At drama school, Shelley had always been far more interested in the costumes than in the acting and could often be found backstage with a mouthful of pins.
‘Okay, then. Let’s be having you,’ Shelley said, and Mia began to disrobe. Shelley immediately leapt across the room to push the door closed.
‘Don’t want Pie copping an eyeful, do we?’ she said. ‘He doesn’t seem to care if I see him naked. He’s always walking around with no clothes on. I really must say something.’
‘Aren’t you a bit—well, anxious, living with a total stranger?’ Mia asked.
Shelley looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘No,’ she said at last. ‘I feel wonderfully safe around him. Isn’t that funny?’
Standing in her underwear, Mia picked up the sweet muslin dress that hadn’t been worn for more than three years and pulled it on over her head.
‘Oh, my goodness!’ Shelley said at once. ‘You have put on weight! This dress will never do up. I’ll have to get to work on it right away.’
Mia’s face flushed scarlet. ‘Sorry, Shelley. I guess I eat when I’m unhappy.’
‘Oh, I’m lucky. I starve.’
Mia smiled. Her friend had always had a full figure, and Mia had never seen her off her food ever. She always had an appetite.
‘Look at me, I’m skin and bone,’ she said.
Mia admired her comely figure. ‘Yes, like Marilyn Monroe,’ she said.
‘Well, not to worry. I can soon fix this,’ Shelley said, taking a seat at her trusty sewing machine. ‘And I’ve got the perfect piece of ribbon to finish it off. You’ll look just perfect tomorrow. Why don’t you go and make yourself a cup of tea? I’ve left the 1995 copy of Persuasion in the DVD player. You can watch that, if you want. I’ll give you a call when I’m ready for you.’
Mia nodded. She knew Shelley preferred to work without an audience, and she couldn’t resist the pull of Persuasion. Amanda Root and Ciarán Hinds would be just the thing to get her in the mood for the promenade the next day. It was one of Mia’s favorite film adaptations, and she loved trying to recognize the locations used in Bath, imagining herself walking in those same locations in her own Regency costume. That was one of the privileges of the Jane Austen Festival—one could make believe that one was in the very heart of an Austen novel or, at the very least, a film adaptation. The streets of Bath were among the most beautiful in the world and were certainly the most romantic to walk around in costume.
There was something very special about wearing a costume. It made you feel as if you were somebody else entirely. It was like armor against reality, and you could make believe that you were quite another person, which was a very seductive feeling.
Going through to the kitchen at the back of the house, Mia made herself a cup of tea in one of the I Love Darcy mugs, smiling at her friend’s collection of Austen paraphernalia. There was a Jane Austen tea towel hanging over the cooker door, a film-locations calendar on the wall, from which a handsome Henry Tilney was staring down, and a shopping bag with the words ‘Obstinate, headstrong girl!’ hanging on the back of the door.
Stirring a spoonful of sugar into her mug, Mia left the Austen-infested kitchen and walked through to the sitting room, stopping abruptly at the door. Shelley’s lodger, Pie, was slouched in a chair in the corner of the sitting room, his head in the racing pages of a newspaper. He didn’t look up as Mia took a seat but made some sort of a grunt, perhaps in recognition of her presence; she couldn’t really be sure. For a moment, she looked at his shock of brown hair and his stubbly chin. He was rather striking, she thought, in a very rough sort of way.
Deciding not to grunt back in response, she placed her mug on a little table and sat on the sofa.
A grunt came from behind the racing pages, and Mia took it as a form of consent. She picked up the remote controls, switched on the TV, and then pressed play on the DVD player. The bright image of the Cobb at Lyme Regis filled the screen. Shelley had obviously started watching it yet again, and Mia decided not to rewind it. The Lyme Regis scenes were among her favorite.
She was just reaching the famous moment, when Louisa Musgrove flings herself from the Cobb steps, when Pie mumbled something incomprehensible and left the room.
‘I guess he’s not an Austen fan,’ Mia said with a little smile. Either that or he’d already overdosed on Austen since sharing a house with Shelley. She did, after all, have just about every single Jane Austen adaptation that had ever been made. There were two Persuasions in her collection, and wasn’t there a new version to look forward to? Mia had read on one of the Austen forums that Oli Wade Owen and Gemma Reilly had been filming in Bath in May and June. If only she could have seen that! She was a big Oli Wade Owen fan, but perhaps the sight of him dressed as Captain Wentworth would have been more then she could have borne. She would have been sure to have swooned in the streets, which would never do.
Mia forwarded the 1995 film to the Bath scenes and recognized the house in Sydney Place. She’d once taken a walk there and regretted wearing her little ballet pumps instead of a sensible pair of trainers, because it was a good walk from the center of Bath, but it had been worth it. She had felt like she entered one of the scenes from the film and could just imagine Anne Elliot emerging from the front door. That was part of the magic of Bath; it was like one big, glorious film set, and one could happily imagine that an Austen character would materialize from a shop or a side street at any moment.
***
It was getting dark by the time Shelley finished Mia’s dress. Mia had watched to the end of Persuasion and then returned upstairs.
‘There you go, sweetie,’ Shelley said as Mia entered the room. ‘Try that on for size.’
Mia did as she was told, and Shelley helped her do the dress up at the back.
‘That certainly feels a lot better,’ Mia said.
‘It looks gorgeous,’ Shelley said, peering at Mia’s reflection in the mirror from behind her shoulder.
Mia nodded.
‘What is it?’ Shelley asked with a frown.
‘Nothing,’ Mia said.
‘Don’t you like it?’
‘I love it. It looks great.’
‘Then what is it? What’s wrong, Mia?’ Shelley asked. ‘I wish you’d tell me. All the energy seems to have drained out of you.’
Mia moved away from her and tried to get out of the dress, which was, of course, impossible without Shelley’s help.
‘You used to tell me everything,’ Shelley said, following her and unbuttoning the back of the dress.
‘There’s nothing to tell. Why do you think I have something to tell you?’
‘Because I know you. Or at least I used to know you.’
‘What could I possibly have to tell you?’
‘Well, I don’t know,’ Shelley said, exasperation filling her voice. ‘I was kind of hoping you’d fill me in on that one.’
Mia sighed. ‘If I had something to tell you, I’d tell you; believe me.’
With that, Mia left the room, and it was Shelley’s turn to sigh.
‘I wish I believed you,’ Shelley whispered to herself, ‘but I don’t. I really don’t.’
Chapter 9
In her hotel just off Great Pulteney Street, Sarah had unpacked and hung up all her clothes, frowning at the barely noticeable wrinkles that her journey had produced.
Her promenade dress in cream muslin with burgundy trim was laid out across the bed, and she was trying to remember the last time she’d worn it. It would have been the September before they visited Barton Cottage.
‘Because we certainly didn’t come here the September after,’ she said quietly to herself, sitting on the edge of the bed and stroking the dress. She remembered the day that she and Mia had their dresses made by Shelley. It had been a wonderful day, and Sarah smiled as she remembered it. Their love of Jane Austen had certainly led to some fabulous adventures over the years, but it had cost them their friendship, too.
Sarah stood and walked to the window, which looked out over Great Pulteney Street. Just a few years before, Bath had been their special place, and they’d looked forward to the Jane Austen Festival each year, taking time out from their busy lives to spend some high-quality Austen time together. The last few years had meant no trip to Bath, though, and Sarah had missed it so much that it hurt.
What had brought her here now? she wondered. It didn’t seem right for her to be here without her sister. For a moment, she thought about the weeks that had led up to her making her decision. She’d been working hard—harder than usual, which was saying something, because she was a renowned workaholic—but even she had realized that she couldn’t keep up the pace. When she realized the festival was fast approaching, she booked her tickets for the events, telling herself that it was a well-deserved treat.
There was just one fear that hovered in the back of her mind. Would Mia be there? She must have asked the question a hundred times, but there was no way of knowing the answer. Even if she was there, they might not even see each other. Bath was a large place, there were many events to attend, and it was quite possible that they might just keep missing each other. But what if they didn’t? What if Mia was there and they ran right into each other at the very first opportunity? What would happen then?
‘Don’t think about it,’ Sarah said to herself as she began to pleat the bottom of her sweater between her fingers; it was an action she took whenever she was anxious.
That evening she took a walk, making her way toward Pulteney Bridge, where she listened to the River Avon wending its way through the city from under the three fine stone arches. She then made her way to the abbey, which was lit up like a magical lantern, and although she felt more peace than she had in a long time, she couldn’t help looking out for Mia, imagining she might emerge from behind one of the Bath stone colonnades at any moment.
The streets were still busy with people out in search of an evening meal, and Sarah smiled as she saw a couple of young women dressed in Regency costume. They obviously couldn’t wait for the official beginning of the festival the next day.
For a moment, Sarah felt a little lonely. Everybody seemed to be in pairs, walking and laughing with a companion and sharing their delight in the evening, but Sarah had nobody to share her evening with. Not anymore.
It’s your own fault, a little voice said. You have only yourself to blame.
She took a deep breath. There was nothing she could do about that now.
Ever practical, she looked at her watch and decided it was high time she had something to eat. On her own. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the only option available to her, so she had to get on with it.
Eating out was fraught with worries when one suffered from OCD, and Sarah was always a bag of nerves. She managed to survive by returning over and over again to places she knew, and she did so now, wending her way through the streets to a little bistro with not so much as a napkin out of place.
Luckily for her, her favorite table in the corner was available. Sarah didn’t like window tables, because people would stare in and look at you eating, which was most unnerving. Nor did she like tables in thoroughfares where waiters would brush by you or fellow eaters could bump into you, so that left very few choices available to her when she ate out. Tonight, though, she had her favorite table, and it made her happy, even though she was dining alone.
She was halfway through her main course, when somebody caught her eye. It was a man sitting in the opposite corner of the restaurant reading a book. He had short, dark hair that was cut exceptionally neatly and closely to his head, and he was wearing an immaculate navy jacket. He was ha
ndsome but didn’t look aware of the fact, even though he obviously took pride in how he presented himself. It seemed to Sarah that he wasn’t out to impress other people, and he was totally unaware of her staring at him. But it wasn’t his face Sarah was trying to get a good look at, but rather the cover of his book. She was always fascinated by what people were reading and couldn’t help wanting to know what appealed to the handsome stranger. Would it be a historical biography or the latest bestselling thriller? Sarah wondered.
She didn’t get to find out until she finished her meal. It was then that the gentleman stood up, and Sarah’s eyes widened in surprise when she saw that the book he’d been reading was the collected letters of Jane Austen. He didn’t look like a Janeite, but one could never tell. Jane Austen’s appeal went far beyond romantic females.
She watched as he paid for his meal and placed his book very carefully inside a neat leather briefcase that fastened with a satisfying snap. He then walked toward her, and before leaving the restaurant, he gave her a small smile. Sarah instantly felt her face flush. She’d been caught staring. She never stared—it was so rude. Still, if she hadn’t been staring, she’d never have seen his smile, and it had been a very cute smile indeed.
***
Later that night, Mia lay awake in the guest bedroom at Southville Terrace, staring at the ceiling. She’d felt awful at having been so mean to Shelley. After all, she’d only wanted to help. But she couldn’t. That was the truth of the matter, and Mia knew it was probably best that Shelley knew as little as possible about her life in London.
How she missed her dear friend! Not long before, they would have confided in each other about everything. No event in their daily lives was too small or insignificant to muse over and dissect, along with a bottle of cheap wine and a box of chocolates. Mia missed those conversations. She remembered how the two women would sit on the carpet in their scruffy rented flat in London, their backs up against the sofa as they made themselves a little picnic on the carpet, Jane Austen adaptation playing on the TV before them. How many evenings they passed that way, bemoaning failed relationships, stressing about the scripts they had to learn for drama school, and musing about the future, which would invariably feature a tall, dark hero striding into their lives and making everything perfect.
Mr. Darcy Forever Page 5
