Christopher rose. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way. Good news about your son, Miriam.” And to Pru, “Remember, Simon is here to do the garden work. I’ll see you at home.”
“I told him about Alec,” Pru said after Christopher left. “I hope that’s all right. Listen, does he need a place to stay? We have room for him at Greenoak.”
“That’s a lovely offer,” Miriam said, “but he can stay with us, there’s plenty of room.” She caught herself. “I mean, that is, you’ve been so kind to have me stay with you, but if it’s all right, I’ve made other arrangements—”
“I’ll just bet you have,” Pru replied, and Penelope snorted. “You don’t need to explain. Although, you know, later, I might want to hear a few details.”
Miriam smiled, looked at Penelope, and nodded toward Pru—then went over to the racks of costumes and began perusing her stock.
Penelope cleared her throat. “Right, well now, Pru, here’s the thing. Max has made a tiny miscalculation in the cast.”
Miscalculation?
“That is, I mean, in the number of fairies.”
Pru thought the number of fairies in A Midsummer Night’s Dream swelled and shrank according to the director—didn’t that film from the ’30s have a legion of them?
“And we find ourselves one short.”
Miriam threw them a look over her shoulder.
“It isn’t the first fairy with the long speech,” Penelope hurried to say, “but rather the second fairy. She has only the one line—Hence, away! Now all is well; One aloof stand sentinel!”
Hence, away! Now all is well, Pru repeated to herself, One aloof stand sentinel!
“You know the play so well,” the stage manager continued, “and it would be such a relief to have another adult onstage with the little fairies. It would be a special favor to Max—he’s the one who thought of it, although we all agree it’s a smashing idea.”
“Yes,” the costumer said as she took something off a hanger. “Here it is.”
“Miriam had a few leftover fairy outfits for adults, and thought one of them might suit you.” Penelope, apparently finished stating her case, got to the point. “And so, will you do it, Pru—will you be Second Fairy?”
Pru wondered if her brain with its mild concussion had decided to play tricks on her. But then Miriam held out the costume—a frothy blue dress—and suddenly the stables faded and Pru was onstage, the lights up and the full house on the theater lawn a blur of happy faces.
“Shall we see if it fits?”
No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse.
5.1.346
Chapter 38
“I can’t do it,” Pru whispered. “I just can’t.”
She wiped a trickle of sweat from her forehead, and her hand came away smeared with stage makeup. Opening night, and they were all out in the audience—every friend and family member she had in England. And here she was, immobilized by fear.
Pru heard Puck’s line—Fear not, my lord—the fairies’ cue to enter.
“You’ll be all right,” Peaseblossom Two promised, taking Pru’s hand. “Stage fright goes away once you’re actually out there. You just wait and see.”
Mustardseed Three took her other hand. “Pretend they aren’t wearing any clothes.”
The littlest Cobweb put both her hands on the frothy blue skirt and looked up into Pru’s face. “And try not to be sick on your own shoes.”
To Leighton, with love always
Acknowledgments
In college, a few eons ago, I missed getting the part of Titania in A Midsummer Night’s Dream by this much (just how much that was, I leave up to your imagination). These things stay with an author, and so it was great fun to go back to my theater roots and play all the parts, and weave it into a tale of gardens, England, and Pru. But, of course, I had help.
I’m grateful to Kate Miciak, for being a wise editor and, at the same time, enthusiastic cheerleader; to Colleen Mohyde, who guided me through my first few years of publishing fiction; and to my new agent, Christina Hogrebe from the Jane Rotrosen Agency, who has taken me into her capable hands. Of course, I wouldn’t be here without the group: Kara Pomeroy, Louise Creighton, and Joan Shott.
In 2002, I visited Hazelbury Manor, not far from the village of Box in Wiltshire. There, I heard tell of a theater company that performed in the garden every summer. Last year, I was able to spend the day with that company—Shakespeare Live—as they rehearsed their 2017 summer production, which just happened to be A Midsummer Night’s Dream (at their new home of Cleeve House, near Seend). I’m grateful to director Rod Moor-Bardell and the cast and crew for taking the time to talk with me that day. And, needless to say (but I will anyway), Shakespeare au Naturel—my fictitious company in Midsummer Mayhem—is inspired by, but in no way based upon Shakespeare Live.
BY MARTY WINGATE
The Potting Shed Mysteries
The Garden Plot
The Red Book of Primrose House
Between a Rock and a Hard Place
The Skeleton Garden
The Bluebonnet Betrayal
Best-Laid Plants
Midsummer Mayhem
The Birds of a Feather Mysteries
The Rhyme of the Magpie
Empty Nest
Every Trick in the Rook
Farewell, My Cuckoo
PHOTO: MARY M. PALMER
In addition to the Potting Shed Mysteries, MARTY WINGATE is also the author of the Birds of a Feather Mystery series. A well-known speaker on gardens and travel, she has written numerous nonfiction books on gardening, including Landscaping for Privacy. Marty’s garden articles have appeared in a variety of publications, including The American Gardener, and Country Gardens. She is hard at work on her next novel.
martywingate.com
Facebook.com/MartyWingateAuthor
Twitter: @martywingate
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Midsummer Mayhem Page 28
