O' for the love of Shakespeare (12 page)

As I reach the dining room, I pause, hearing
two men’s voices talking animatedly.  The soft feminine giggle of Helen is easy
to recognise but who could the other man’s voice be.  I slowly push the door
open and step over the threshold.

“What are you still doing here?”  I say
sounding a little more enraged than I mean to.

“Ah Lady Disdain, you are still here then?”  Ben
says in the most unattractive way.  I scowl at him in response.  Instead of
answering my original question he turns back to Helen and Chris and I think
must make some kind of face at them as they both let out an uncontrolled snort
of laughter before stopping themselves.  Well blow this!  I turn and walk to my
little table and sit down on my own.  Trying to ignore the three of them
chatting and laughing, I take out my phone and pretend I am a very popular
person with lots of messages to look through.  The reality is that I am doing
random internet searches of anything that pops into my mind.  I am just typing
in ‘witty come backs’ into the browser when Angela walks in.  She is back
wearing her camouflage of beiges.  I frown wondering why she has stepped back
in to her old armour again.  I bet it is because of Ben being here.  I scowl
again looking at him, trying to send bad karma at the back of his head.

Angela looks from the merry group then over at
me.  Making a loud tutting noise she takes over three large full English
breakfasts to them.  They all give muffled thanks as they start to scoop food,
greedily into their mouths. 

Not moving from their table Angela calls over
to me, “what would you like this morning sweetheart?”  Ben turns to look at his
mother raising one eyebrow.  He quickly checks himself realising I am watching
and goes back to his breakfast.

“Cereal please Angela, whatever you have I’m
not picky.  Thank you.  Oh sorry a glass of orange juice too please.”  I go
back home tomorrow and all these big breakfasts, dinners and cakes, I am
slightly concerned my work clothes are going to be too tight.  I must be good
with food and drink today.  Angela gives me a warm smile and disappears back
out to the kitchen.    Before I know it she brings me my cereal and orange
juice but without a word she goes back to the kitchen again.  I can’t help but
feel disappointed as once again I am sat alone eating, while all the cool kids
laugh and have fun at a different table.  It’s school all over again.

I am just about to put a spoonful of cornflakes
into my mouth when the chair next to me scrapes out from the table.  In one
swift movement Angela sits at the chair and places a cup of tea in front of her
on the table.  Lifting the cup to her lower lip she blows making little ripples
across the surface of the milky brown tea.  I smile thinking how thankful I am
to have had her friendship whilst I have been here.  If it was not for Angela,
I would have been a million times lonelier on this trip.

Ben appears not to have noticed that his mum
has come to sit with me and instead leans back in his chair.  Regaling Chris
and Helen with what seems to be a humorous story about a fancy dress party he
has recently been too where he was dressed, from what I can understand, as Henry
VIII.  It is a good parallel actually, here he sits sprawled in his chair
keeping court.  Although I think a jester would be a better fit for him.  I let
out a very unattractive snort at my own joke but luckily no one seems to
notice.  Although as I look around Angela is sat watching me with a strange
smile.  Not wanting to know the direction of her thoughts I quickly continue
eating my cereal.

“So what are you doing today?”

“I’m going to meet Malcolm in a bit, then I’m
not sure.  Hopefully I will get to look around some more of the beautiful old
buildings in town.”

“By Malcolm you mean Ryan right?”

“Erm yes same person.”  I don’t want Ben to
hear about this strange set up, he will only make fun of me.  I want to change
the subject.  “What about you?  What are you doing with yourself today?”

“Ben is - I hope - going to stay for a bit
because I need his help on a few things.  I have my war clothes on today to do
battle with the house.”  She looks down at her baggy cream t-shirt and pulls a
face.

“Yes I did notice; I was worried when I saw you
this morning.”

“No don’t you worry it is just for this
morning, I know I’m going to get dirty.”  She leans in closely to me to ensure
that only I can hear her, “I’m going to talk to Ben today about selling this
place.”  She sits back in her chair again.

“Great.”  I say brightly, it is sad that she is
having to sell but I am convinced it is the right decision for her.

“I will also be cooking a big Sunday roast
dinner today, everyone is invited.”  Angela says loudly so that everyone can
hear her.  Helen, Chris and Ben seem to be just finishing off their coffees.

“Count us in.”  Helen calls melodiously, “what
time would you like us?”

“Say four o’clock?”  Angela turns pointedly at
me, “you don’t have a choice I expect you here by four.”  The smile that she
gives me makes me once again sad that today is my last day. 

“I wouldn’t miss it.”  I say back and I mean it
wholeheartedly. 

Act III Scene III

‘To be or not to be
that is the question.’  Hamlet

I check the time and realise I am going to be
late meeting Malcolm and, although I am still not one hundred percent sure what
I am going to say, I do really want to see him again.  I rush out and do a strange
half walk half run to the theatre.  More exercise must be on the top of my to-do
list when I get home.

I stand for a moment at the door of the theatre
trying to drag oxygen back in to my lungs.  Fluttering my top against my skin I
try to dry the slight dampness of sweat.  At first I cannot find him as I walk
through the theatre and then I spot him standing in the café waiting for a
coffee order.  When he sees me he gives me his megawatt smile.  Collecting two
take-away coffee cups he saunters towards me.  As he reaches me he slightly
bits his bottom lip. 

“Morning beautiful.”  He hands me one of the
coffees and gives me a brief kiss.  “Fancy going for a walk?”

“Yes OK, oh and thanks for the coffee.”

“No problem, Latte, right?” 

“Yes that’s right.  Good memory.”  He really is
sweet.

He places his hand on the small of my back and
although it feels nice I am horrified at the thought he is going to feel the
sweat slowly seeping through my vest from my unenergetic running to get here.  Once
again I think I really should join a gym when I get home.  Twisting to make a
gap between my sweaty back and his hand I step forward.  Malcolm looks a little
crest fallen as he drops his hand back to his side.  Not wanting to upset him I
hold out my hand which he takes with a smile. 

We walk through the park; small fluffy clouds
are starting to materialise in the sky.  We are both quiet but I just can’t
figure out what to say.  Malcolm pulls me over to an empty bench opposite the
Swan Fountain.  The sun shimmers off the two birds rising in flight.  I look
down at my coffee cup suddenly feeling unsure and nervous.

“Hey you OK?” 

“Erm yes I think so.  I mean it just feels a
little awkward, I guess because of yesterday.”  I look up through my eye lashes
not wanting to make eye contact with him.

“Can I ask what happened?  I know I was having
a good time and I thought you were too.”  I can’t tell him it was because of
his awful, awful choice in underwear and the fact that he wants to be a Kung Fu
star rather than the Shakespearean thespian that I thought he was.

“I was, I was.  It just made me jump when
Angela, Mrs McCree, walked in to the room and caught us.”  I giggle nervously. 
“And to be honest the interruption made me realise that things were going a
little too fast for me.  Sorry I should have explained before you left.”

“Look I just want to get to know you better, I
am incredibly attracted to you Jane and I do think that there is something
there between us.  Don’t you?” 

Do I?  He’s right we barely know each other.  The
moving too fast reasoning was a moment of genius on my part.  He puts his
coffee down next to him on the bench and takes mine from my hands depositing it
next to his.  Looking around the park it is still fairly quiet, everyone must
be enjoying a Sunday lie in.  Leaning across me he gently touches my neck
rubbing his thumb across my jaw bone.   His lips touch mine so softly.  The act
is loving, gentle and romantic but all that I can see when I close my eyes are
Malcolm’s yellow pants flashing away, no pun intended. 

Malvolio from
Twelfth Night
in all his
yellow stocking cross gartered glory makes a little wave to me from the corner
of my eye.  Oh no this will never do.

That glorious rush, the wave of unsteadiness
that you feel when really want someone, the feeling that I had when Ryan had kissed
me in the park yesterday has gone.  Malcolm is lovely, he just doesn’t float my
boat like Ryan did.  And so I know.

I place my hand over his heart and push myself
back away from him.  I can’t do this.  He looks at me confused.

“Sorry can we start over, maybe try being
friends first.  As I said, yesterday everything just went so fast.”  I’m
talking too quickly.  His face says it all, I’ve hurt him.  Malcolm pulls
himself upright and shuffles in his seat so that he moves ever so slightly away
from me.

“Oh erm yes of course, too quick got it.”  He
tries his megawatt smile but the power is on the fritz.  I nudge my shoulder
against his arm and smile up at him.

“Come on, let’s go for that walk.”  I try to
say brightly.  I really do hope he will still spend the morning with me.  I do like
Malcolm; he might be one of the nicest people I have met in a long time.  It
doesn’t hurt that he is so easy on the eye either.  The future is full of possibilities;
you never know this time next year I might be an action junkie watching combat
film after combat film.  OK probably unlikely but we may find we have more in
common and maybe that spark will come back.  

“Yes OK.”  Great he’s sulking.

Trying to ignore his grump I pull him up from
the bench and we head towards the river.  Swans and ducks bob up and down on
the water.  We walk along holding hands in silence.  Looking across the park
and down the river it really is so pretty here, before I know it I am smiling
again, enjoying where I am. 

“I wonder what this landscape looked like when
William Shakespeare was here.  I mean I wonder if he walked this way when he
was going to Church.”

“You’re really in to all this Shakespeare stuff
aren’t you?”  He looks at me one eyebrow slightly raised.

“Yes I suppose I am; he was writing over four
hundred years ago but what he wrote transcends time.  Whether it be about love,
jealousy, revenge or war everything can be applied to any time in history even
to today.  His words are timeless.  I do not think anyone describes being human
as beautifully as he did.  So much of what we say today we say because of what
he wrote all that time ago.”  Wow that was a bit of a speech.

“Like what?”

“Sorry?”

“What do we say today?  The bits in the play I
read are all hath and” he changes his stance and bellows drunkenly as he did in
Othello “’Let me go, sir, or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard.’  What is that
all about?”  The way he suddenly transforms in to the character of Cassio makes
me laugh out loud, especially combined with his look of utter confusion after.

“That was impressive.”  I say still laughing.
“There are lots, err let me think.  There is ‘dog will have his day’, ‘pound of
flesh’, ‘in a pickle’, ‘love is blind’, ‘bedazzled’.”  He looks at me
confused.  “OK well this one should work for you, how about ‘it was Greek to me’?” 
I look at deadpan as possible at him - but before I know it we are both
laughing hard.

“Yes you are right that does resonate a little
better with me.”  He continues to laugh, shaking his head and holds out his
hand for me to hold again.   We continue walking in the direction of the Church
of the Holy Trinity.

There is more cloud than blue sky now as we
reach the graveyard of the Church.  There has been a Church on these grounds
since the ninth century, although this would have been a wooden structure then. 
The current stone building was begun in the early thirteenth century.  I know I
am a geek for knowing that.  Walking up the avenue towards the entrance to the Church
I look up at the lime trees which stand to attention on either side of the
path. 

Being a Sunday the congregation are still
milling around the Church.  We work our way through the main doors and walk
hand in hand down the aisle.  Malcolm starts to hum the ‘Wedding March’ close
to my ear.

“Stop it.”  I giggle giving him a quick dig in
the side with my other hand.  Wow his stomach really is toned, it’s solid.

“Ouch.”  He rubs his side in mock injury.

“Over acting.”

“Why break a habit eh?”  We both laugh again.

We join the queue to go through to visit
Shakespeare’s grave.  Releasing Malcolm’s hand I grab a few pounds from my
purse ready to make the contribution.  Malcolm pulls a few pounds from his jeans
pocket and hands them to me.

Here I am standing looking down at Shakespeare’s resting
place.  His wife Ann, daughter Susanna and son in law Dr John Hall and Thomas
Nash, who was the first husband of Shakespeare’s granddaughter, are buried in the
chancel alongside him.  Not long after Shakespeare died a memorial was erected
and so it is believed this is a fairly good likeness of the Bard. 

I lean my head against Malcolm’s arm and spend a few moments
just looking at Shakespeare’s gravestone.  It reads;

‘Good
frend for Jesus sake forebeare,

To digg
the dust encloased heare;

Bleste be
the man that spares thes stones,

And curst
be he that moves my bones’

Shakespeare had this curse engraved on his
gravestone as exhuming graves was common at this time.  Previously buried
people would often be moved for either research or to make room for more
graves. 

There is so much that I want to say right now
standing at Shakespeare’s graveside.  How much his words have meant to me.  How
they have instructed and guided me.  How I dream of being able to feel the
emotions he so beautifully described in his writing.  Instead all that I can
think of to say at this moment is “it is an ever fixed mark.”

Malcolm looks at me puzzled.  People behind us
are eagerly waiting for us to move so that they can get in closer to look at
the monument, so we make our way out of the Church. 

“What was that all about?”  Malcolm looks at me
curiously.

“What was what all about?”

“The fixing mark back there?”

“It is pronounced fix-ed, it is an ever fix-ed
mark.  It’s from Sonnet 116.  My favourite of all of Shakespeare’s Sonnets.

Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.”

Malcolm is looking at me as if to say ‘wow what
a geek’.

“That’s only part of it.”  That doesn’t make it any better
Jane, you just recited part of a Sonnet word for word to a man.  “It means true
love is constant, it never dies or diminishes but endures until death.”  I
stare down at my feet.  This is a tad awkward.  Malcolm stands staring at me
for what feels like an hour.

“OK I think I understand that.  Very flowery.”  He doesn’t
understand but I smile at him as at least he didn’t make fun of me.  We walk
back out through the line of lime trees out to the road.  “Shall we grab a
quick drink?”

“Yes OK sounds good to me.”

“I’ll have to head off soon got some things to do before
work.”  He’s blowing me off pretending he has to go to work so he can leave.  I
know there are no performances today.

“Oh OK, sure no problem, you can head off now if you’ve got
things to do?”

“No I want to.  Have a drink with you I mean.”  I give him a
quick smile and we walk a short way to a pub that overlooks the river.  We walk
up a few steps up to the entrance.  The few tables that are outside are already
almost completely full.

“Try and grab us a table outside.  What do you fancy?”

“Just a lemonade please, it is a bit early for me to drink.” 
Malcolm disappears in to the pub and I go in search of a table.  There are a
large group of couples all sat at a table close to me.  They are talking
animatedly to each other, from the snippets of conversation that I hear they
are discussing a modern adaptation of
The Taming of the Shrew
.   They
are arguing as to who really had the upper hand in the play, do the men control
the women or vice versa.  I wish I could join their table.  Luckily I spot an
empty table just on the other side to theirs.  Sitting down I pull out my
sketch book from my bag and quickly start to sketch Katherine, the Shrew, and
Petruchio both holding a rope.  Challenging each other to tug of war.

I’m suddenly aware of a shadow cast across the table.  I look
up from my drawing to see Malcolm who is stood watching me.  He’s holding my
lemonade in one hand and a pint of beer in the other.  Now that I have stopped
drawing he walks around to the other side of the table and puts the drinks
down.

“Can I see?”  I never let anyone see my drawings but I think
it would be rude to point blank say no.

“Oh it’s just doodles - really it’s nothing.”

“Please, it looked good from what I could see.”

“OK but really it’s just silly scribbles.”  I slide the book
across the table to Malcolm and he starts to flick back through the pages. 
Occasionally he pauses slightly longer on some pages.

“These are good - really good - some are a bit random but
there is no denying you are talented Jane.”  He hands the book back across to
me.

“It’s just a hobby but thanks.”  I snatch the book back and
stow it into my bag.  I’ll finish the drawing later.