One Winter's Night (Kelsey Anderson)

by Kiley Dunbar

  The court case found he’d been siphoning money away from the paper’s parent company for years, paying himself an inflated salary and yearly bonus as well as stealing his staff’s bonuses too, but things had settled down again now that the paper was under the careful steerage of its new editor.

  ‘How are you pitching this story, Adrian?’ Kelsey shouted down.

  ‘You’ll need to ask the Examiner’s new senior staff reporter that,’ he called back.

  Mirren delightedly tapped her pencil on the notepad. ‘I’m thinking a simple who’s who of the acting companies taking part, illustrated beautifully with your photographs, of course.’

  ‘Don’t forget all the special guests and acting alumni in the procession as well.’ Adrian nudged her arm.

  ‘I hadn’t forgotten, boss.’ She smiled at him before kissing him softly on the lips.

  Kelsey grinned down at them from her perch. Her friend had grown in confidence and happiness these last few months, especially now she’d had her mum come to stay and Jeanie’s first meeting with Adrian had gone well. They’d even gone to the theatre together. Things were far from perfect and Jeanie Imrie had a long road of her own to walk, living with her addiction and her new sobriety, but they spoke on the phone every few days and she was going to join Mirren, Adrian and Blythe on their Spanish holiday at Valladolid this August.

  Mirren had blossomed under these new conditions, helped all the more by her new job writing features pages and special reports at the Examiner as well as freelancing too. Her last article had gone viral in a matter of hours: a scathing examination of institutional sexism and a culture of plagiarism in the newspaper industry in general and at the Edinburgh Broadsheet in particular.

  Mr Angus and Jamesey Wallace were currently enjoying gardening leave while the independent investigators considered the plentiful and damning evidence supplied by a surprisingly large number of the paper’s staff.

  In the coming weeks, now that Jonathan had made his move to England, Mirren was engaged to help him edit his Actors’ Manual of Shakespearean Stagecraft ready for its publication with Kelsey’s beautiful headshot of Jonathan on its jacket. Yes, Mirren and Kelsey weren’t the only ones using their talents to branch out.

  ‘I heard from Jonathan this morning,’ Kelsey called down to Mirren. ‘He’s nervous. Always is on opening night.’

  ‘You haven’t seen him in his costume yet?’ Adrian asked.

  ‘He flew in from LA late last night, went straight into a technical rehearsal and grabbed a couple of hours’ sleep at the theatre. This will be the first I’ve seen of him since Valentine’s weekend.’

  Kelsey sighed at the memory of that day and that tense first meeting between Jonathan and Wagstaff. It hurt to think of it now.

  After Adrian and Mirren had dashed out into the night in pursuit of Mr Ferdinand’s sneak paparazzo, father and son had been left, astounded and wordless, looking at one another. When Wagstaff had tried to shake Jonathan’s hand, he had shrugged him away. Matters only got worse when Wagstaff whispered the words, ‘my son,’ in a quiet voice so no one in the bar could hear but Jonathan.

  Jonathan, close to tears, had turned his back on the old man, helped his mother to gather her belongings and they had walked out of the pub, rapidly followed by the rest of Kelsey’s little party.

  Kelsey had kissed her own family and friends goodbye, thanking them all for coming, and they’d made their way to their homes and hotels for the night. It had been quite a day, and Kelsey had pushed Blythe in her wheelchair all the way back to St. Ninian’s Close, listening to Blythe’s long testimony about what a lovely grandson Adrian was and how she hoped Mirren would give him another chance.

  Jonathan had only stayed in town for two more nights after that and even though it was lovely to spend time with his parents and they’d managed to steal a few romantic moments alone together while Art and Olivia toured the sights, the events at the Yorick had put a dampener on their Valentine’s reunion. Added to that, Jonathan hadn’t mentioned the ring at all, not that weekend, and not any day since then, and Kelsey had made her peace with the fact he’d been spooked out of proposing.

  As long as they were together, with no apprehensions and no secrets, that was all that mattered, she told herself, and most of the time she believed it, but she had often found herself snapping open the little ring box over the long weeks while Jonathan was teaching his drama students in LA, and dreaming about what it would be like if he’d held the ring out to her and said the words he’d so carefully planned to say.

  She sighed again and scanned the crowds. Somewhere in town – Kelsey hadn’t been able to locate them yet – Jonathan’s parents and his four younger sisters were waiting to watch him go by in the parade.

  Olivia had cried with gratitude and relief when she heard about Ferdinand’s exposé being thwarted. Mirren had handed over the memory stick with the pictures and stories Adrian had gathered for her and Jonathan. Kelsey wondered if she’d looked through its contents yet. It hardly mattered though; the memories were there if they ever wanted them.

  Kelsey knew that Jonathan had only taken a mild interest in Wagstaff after that day, but he had mentioned receiving a long letter from the old actor, sent via Jonathan’s theatre company, and whatever the letter contained it had certainly lifted Jonathan’s spirits after weeks in the doldrums. Perhaps there was hope for a better reunion yet.

  In the distance, across town, Kelsey heard the sound of bugles and drums and the combined company musicians starting up with a jaunty Renaissance song. She stood up on the platform and lifted her camera to her eye, her heart pounding hard. The actors were on their way, with Jonathan among their number.

  * * *

  First, Kelsey’s camera captured a celebrity actor dressed as William Shakespeare. Kelsey recognised him from Casualty as well as his lead roles at the Stratford theatres over the years. He was wielding a white quill pen like a baton and leading the whole parade.

  Following behind him were the main company players dressed in their Wars of the Roses and The Winter’s Tale costumes. Their musicians marched alongside them and the medieval melodies and the cheers from the crowds filled the air.

  At every leaded casement of every five-hundred-year-old building lining the route happy spectators threw handfuls of black and yellow confetti – the colours of the Shakespeare crest – into the air and they fluttered up in the spring breeze before floating down onto the people walking below.

  Kelsey captured every actor as they passed, glancing quickly at Mirren who was furiously scribbling names, aided by Adrian who had his hands clasped around her waist and his head nestled softly over her shoulder.

  ‘You getting all this?’ Kelsey called, and Mirren shouted back that she thought she was.

  The first of the floats went by and on its flatbed a pale Ophelia lay upon blue satin in place of the brook where in Hamlet she drowns offstage. The crowds cooed at the sight of her fantastic garlands of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purple dead man’s fingers. The sight was eerie and beautiful.

  The next floats passed by with scenes of King Lear raging against the storm, and Othello’s Desdemona sewing strawberries upon a linen handkerchief.

  Kelsey captured them all on film and SD card, switching between her two cameras. The Examiner would run her digital shots and the gallery would sell her analogue ones, and she already knew which she’d prefer.

  She wound her vintage camera on, pushing her thumb against the little lever, listening to the satisfying clunk of the film moving while the sun beamed down on the crowds at her feet. She spared the ghost of a thought for her dad as she always did when she worked his camera, and she smiled to herself.

  Bringing the viewfinder to her eye once more, she scanned the street behind the floats. The next band of musicians passed, playing flutes and mandolins. Click, fired the shutter button. Click, click, click.

  ‘Can you see who’s next?’ Mirren shouted up at her.

  ‘Not yet
, it’s another float I think,’ Kelsey called back.

  This time the figure on the float was shrouded in a high black gauze that was suspended on posts like the curtains of a four-poster bed and sitting beneath it there was a great golden throne. Kelsey could see that the figure all in black on the throne was waving to the crowds and they were cheering back, throwing their confetti and waving their flags. It wasn’t until the float was passing right in front of her that Kelsey made out the wording on the banner, painted in intricate red script against black board and suspended over the waving figure’s head. It was a line from a play by John Webster. It read, ‘I am Duchess of Malfi still,’ and beneath it sat Blythe Goode, reprising her greatest role just for today in an antique black lace headdress, smiling bold and bright with all eyes upon her.

  She met Kelsey’s astonished gaze and blew her a kiss as she passed and Kelsey documented the moment on film forever.

  ‘Gran wanted to surprise you, made me promise not to say anything,’ Adrian was shouting up at Kelsey who had by now dissolved into happy tears for her friend and her neighbour, the woman who had brought her so much happiness and given her so much good advice but who in the end had learned a lesson herself from her young photographer friend about seizing life in the here and now.

  Kelsey barely had time to compose herself before she saw him at the back of the crowd, walking in costume with the rest of the cast of Love’s Labour’s Lost with his co-star Peony on his arm, and the devoted Will Greville close by Peony’s side. The Oklahoma Renaissance Players were looking out at the crowds and smiling and waving but Jonathan had his eyes trained on Kelsey.

  ‘Make sure you get some digital images of Jonathan and the cast, Kelse,’ shouted Mirren, rousing Kelsey from what felt like a lovely waking dream. ‘Knowing you, you’ll want to snap nothing but dreamy shots on film for your gallery but we need digital images if he’s going to make the front page.’

  Kelsey set to work photographing his approach, her heart jumping in time with the drumbeat. The closer he got, the more handsome he appeared, dressed all in blue velvet, with a lace ruff in the Spanish Renaissance style and a pleated jerkin falling in tight lines down to his slim waist, accentuating his broad shoulders. Kelsey had never seen him in Elizabethan breeches before and she found they rather suited him – even the white hose looked good on his muscled calves which he was flashing cheekily at her with a broad grin on his face as he drew close.

  She lowered the camera to laugh and to take him in. He was really here in the flesh once more, and this time there wasn’t a flight waiting to take him away to America and there was a visa promising that he was staying for good.

  She blew him a kiss as he passed her little platform and she watched his willpower give way. He jumped up to catch the kiss in his hand, making her laugh once more, before he broke free from the company and raced towards her, his blue cape flapping and his silver stage sword jutting out behind him. He had scaled her ladder and they were face to face and breathless in an instant. There was time for only one kiss – which made the assembled crowds ‘aww’ in unison – before he lowered himself to the street again and walked out of her sight.

  After that Kelsey wasn’t sure what she was photographing but she kept clicking shot after shot of the passing blur until the crowds had dispersed, all following the actors down to the theatres. When they were gone, she bolted down the ladder.

  ‘You going to be OK with this?’ She pointed to the scaffold.

  ‘No worries, I’ll carry it back to the offices,’ Adrian assured her. ‘See you at the Willow Studio Theatre in five minutes.’

  Mirren was watching Adrian collapsing the ladders with a look that told Kelsey she wouldn’t be seeing either of them for quite a lot longer than that, and sure enough, Mirren followed Adrian, helping to hold one end of the ladder and saying something to him that Kelsey didn’t catch but which made Adrian turn to his girlfriend and smile wolfishly.

  Kelsey ran through the busy streets, searching in her camera bag for the ticket she’d stuffed in there; a front row seat for Jonathan’s premiere performance of Love’s Labour’s Lost.

  * * *

  As she settled herself in the busy auditorium, now so familiar to her after her eleven months in town, she grinned to see Art and Olivia sitting a few rows behind her, ready to watch their son on stage, and there, beside Art, another face Kelsey recognised.

  John Wagstaff was there, by Jonathan’s invitation, to watch his boy tread the boards. The look on the old man’s face told of his bewilderment and pride, and his sadness too. Kelsey watched as Olivia Hathaway leaned closer to him, offering him one of her tissues which he accepted with a modest laugh and nod of the head. Yes, he was going to weep too tonight. He would need it.

  Kelsey found herself wishing her mum was there too, but Mari and Rory were somewhere in the middle of the Mediterranean on a romantic couples’ cruise, leaving Grandad and Calum at home where, her little brother assured her, Grandad was really getting into mastering retro console games with his grandson.

  A commotion at the back of the auditorium drew Kelsey’s attention away from Jonathan’s family towards a handsome, tanned man and his wife helping Blythe take her seat, still in her full Duchess of Malfi costume, headdress and all. Blythe spotted Kelsey turning round in the front row and called out across the stalls, ‘It’s my boy, my Lorcan, look!’

  Kelsey stood up and waved to the handsome stranger who looked so like Adrian she couldn’t quite stop herself from laughing while big, ridiculous, happy tears streamed down her face in full view of the swelling audience.

  The house lights dimming told her it was time for the performance to begin and she took her seat again, sniffing and smiling.

  The music filtered through the hushed crowd and everyone sat in rapt anticipation as the unique magic that only theatre holds spread over them.

  The play was a triumph. Jonathan and Peony were wonderful in their roles, so witty and bright, their voices so clear as they spoke their lines as though they were coming to them naturally as the action unfolded, and not as though they’d spent weeks in intense rehearsals the previous autumn in Canada.

  Kelsey laughed as the silly scholars made their vow of chastity and sighed as they each broke their word because love, when it came, was undeniable in its force.

  Soon the audience were on their feet clapping heartily and the cast took their bows. Jonathan bit his wavering bottom lip at the sight of his two fathers standing before him weeping and clapping for him. He made a low bow just for them.

  When the curtains swished closed and the house lights went up, Kelsey noticed Jonathan was still standing centre stage. For a moment she thought he’d made a blunder and somehow become trapped in front of the curtain, until she saw the faces of the rest of the cast peeking out at him, grinning and waiting for something to happen.

  Jonathan wasted no time in walking to the front of the stage and kneeling before Kelsey. The spotlight followed him and the microphone in his hairline caught the sound of him nervously clearing his throat.

  ‘Kelsey, I wanted to do this a long time ago but I blew it, I’m sorry. Would you believe I even lost the ring I had made for you? But I figured we don’t need snow, or roses, or golden bands, or anything else. All I need is to ask the question.’ His voice shook and Kelsey found she was on her feet and stepping towards him as everyone in the auditorium held their breath at once.

  ‘Kelsey Anderson, will you marry me?’ Jonathan’s face was so sincere and his eyes so wet with tears Kelsey knew his whole heart was in his asking.

  ‘Of course I will, yes.’ She laughed and wept at the same time and Jonathan leapt from the stage to kiss her while the crowd applauded and whooped in standing ovation once more.

  Mirren rushed through the auditorium doors with Adrian following behind her just in time to see their friends’ lips meeting. ‘Hold the front page, Adrian,’ she said with a grin. ‘We’ve got a new headline.’

  Acknowledgements

 
; It takes a lot of encouragement and understanding to get a book written; fortunately, I had my darling Nic, Iris, Robin, Mouse, Liz, the Dream Team, and Amos to will me on. Victoria and Lisa were a constant source of support and friendship too. Thank you all so much, I really needed it.

  I take lots of inspiration and encouragement from you, my fabulous readers, and I’m so grateful to everyone who contacted me to say nice things about my writing, chatted with me on Twitter, entered my reader giveaways, subscribed to my author newsletter, and generally cheered me on. Thank you all so, so much!

  If any of you would like to talk books, I’m (far too) often to be found @KileyDunbar on Twitter or at the ‘Kiley Dunbar Author Book Page’ on Facebook, so pop over and say hello. And don’t forget to check out my lovely new website (www.kileydunbar.co.uk) where you can find all my latest offers and giveaways as well as news about forthcoming books.

  Lots of wonderful book bloggers helped me spread the word about my writing this year too, and I’m hugely appreciative of all your efforts in spreading the book love. I’d be nowhere without you. Thank you especially to Rachel Gilbey (blog tour organiser extraordinaire) and everyone who took part in the Summer at the Highland Coral Beach blog tour in March 2020 or who signed up for the One Winter’s Night tour this September. Thank you all times one million!

  If you’re holding this book in your hands, I’m thanking you too. Have a big hug from me! I’m thrilled you want to read my sequel to One Summer’s Night. It’s been wonderful revisiting Kelsey Anderson’s Stratford and I am so sad to have to leave these characters who I’ve grown to know very well and love so much, but I’m glad they all found their Happy Ever Afters – or their just deserts – in the end.