CHAPTER TWO
Mari stood at the back of the empty auditorium watching a scene from a play being rehearsed on stage. A man, tall and fit, was wearing white fencing gear — white jacket, breeches, gloves and a protective mask that shielded his face. He wielded a foil sword and was play fighting two actors portraying medieval costumed dragons.
The man seemed proficient in fencing and appeared to be instructing the two actors, and several others dressed as villagers, on how to perform an action–packed scene. Mari assumed it was for a forthcoming stage play at the theatre.
Whipping his sword, he lunged across the stage, showing them how to perform the moves with energy and aplomb.
She pictured an audience would be engrossed in such a performance, and the theatre filled with excitement.
The interior of the theatre was larger than she’d anticipated. From the outside, she imagined it would be quite small, an intimate experience. But the auditorium’s capacity was probably well over three hundred, and then she saw that there was a balcony adding a substantial number of seats.
The structure seemed to stretch deeper into a niche in the cobbled street, extending to accommodate all the comfy seats and a fairly large stage.
Anyone sitting in the stalls, near the front of the stage, would have a thrilling time seeing the action up close. But the way the auditorium was designed, Mari felt that everyone from those sitting in the middle stalls and further back, to those in the slightly raised dress circle, and in the box seats at the sides of the stage, wouldn’t miss a moment of the performance.
The stage lighting, even for a rehearsal, created a forest setting with a sense of depth and highlighted the main characters against a backdrop of tree–painted scenery.
She was impressed by the theatre, liking the atmosphere of it. Impressed too, by the elusive fencer, wondering if perchance he was Niall.
Another tall man, early thirties, wearing expensive casuals, stood down at the front of the stage, holding a copy of the play, following along with the action, but making no comment. As if sensing he was being watched, he glanced round, and when he saw Mari standing there, he immediately came walking up the centre aisle to greet her. He had well–styled blond hair and an easy smile.
‘I’m looking for Niall,’ said Mari. ‘To discuss my play.’
‘Thanks for popping along at such short notice. I’m Niall.’ His eyes were a lovely pale grey with dark lashes, and he was certainly a looker.
But she wasn’t here to admire Niall, or anyone else. She wanted to discuss her play.
A clash of swords sounded again from the stage as the fighting continued.
‘We’re rehearsing an action scene,’ Niall explained, glancing back at the activity on the stage.
‘Is this for a forthcoming play at the theatre?’ She would’ve been interested to see it.
‘No, a drama group needed a proper stage to rehearse their show, and we offered to let them use ours this afternoon,’ Niall explained.
‘It looks exciting.’ The type of show she’d enjoy seeing. ‘Dragons and drama.’
Niall cast her a warm smile. ‘We’re currently planning our new schedule for the late autumn and winter. We’d scheduled a play for the autumn, but then we found out that it had been performed twice before, and we’re looking for completely original plays that have never been seen by audiences. That’s why we’re keen to find new material lickety–split.’
‘You mentioned in your message that you wanted to discuss my play,’ she prompted him, eager to know what he thought.
‘We read the first act, and were impressed by the quality of the writing and loved the elements of secrets and a little touch of magic from the shop owner and his cat. Huntly is particularly keen on the atmosphere of this mysterious shop that sells everything, and loved that it’s set in the past rather than the present.’
‘I thought it suited the theme,’ said Mari.
‘It does, and we have a wonderful selection of costumes that we could use, and actors we think would suit the leading roles. We’d done a lot of prep work for the show we had to cancel, and there’s plenty we can reuse and adapt.’
Mari’s hopes soared.
‘We’re thinking of a traditional type setting,’ Niall elaborated. ‘That whole atmosphere with a wintry feeling, dark nights by the fire, lanterns and cobblestones.’
The way he described it made Mari’s heart beat with excitement. ‘So you’re interested in my play.’
‘We are. I’m not sure how much you know about our theatre.’
‘Very little. I only came across it this morning, and saw the notice in the window.’
‘Huntly wrote the notice quickly as we’d decided we needed to hurry up and find another play.’
‘The writing was stylish.’
‘Everything Huntly does is stylish,’ he said with a friendly smile. ‘We’ve known each other since university. We were both studying the arts, drama, music, literature. And Huntly belonged to a fencing club. He’s the sporting type. Adept at everything he does.’ Niall glanced at his friend still slaying dragons on the stage.
‘Do either of you act in the plays?’ she said.
‘No, we’re not actors. Though I’m sure that Huntly would succeed if he ever decided to step into the thespian spotlight.’ The grey eyes looked at her. ‘Do you act?’
‘No, not at all.’ Except when she was pretending to be calm and confident when her stomach was filled with butterflies.
Niall paused, seeing the rehearsal draw to a close. He waved eagerly to the fencer. ‘Huntly! Marigold is here.’
‘Mari,’ she said lightly.
Niall took this in and nodded, but he gestured to Huntly again.
Discarding his gloves, Huntly unfastened the front of his white jacket. It flapped open, exposing his leanly muscled bare chest as he strode towards them, keeping a grip on the prop sword. A loop attached to the handle of the foil was around his wrist to prevent him from dropping it.
Mari couldn’t see his face because he was still wearing the mask.
As he got closer, he pulled the mask off.
If Huntly had wanted to make a dramatic first impression on Mari, he’d achieved it, with bells on. The handsome but unsmiling face, as pale as Niall’s, indeed belonged to a heartbreaker. Blue eyes, the colour of sapphires, appraised the pretty young woman standing beside Niall and probably came up short. At least, that was Mari’s assessment. Unlike her first impression of him, tall, handsome, fit, with thick dark hair tumbling in unruly curls over his forehead. The type of hair she felt the urge to run her fingers through and get up to all sorts of mischief.
Both men were well over six feet tall and towered above her, but Mari stood her ground, bolstered by the comments Niall had made about her play.
‘This is Marigold. Mari.’ Niall quickly corrected himself, introducing her to Huntly.
The sapphire eyes looked down at her, and he frowned.
‘The playwright,’ Niall reminded him.
Mari baulked at being called a playwright. It was flattering, but she felt it was misleading as she’d yet to have any play accepted.
Before she could clarify this, Huntly’s rich, deep, voice resonated in the theatre. ‘Has your play ever been performed before?’ This, more than anything, would decide whether the conversation ended right there or not.
‘No, I’ve never had any of my plays performed.’
This was news to Huntly and Niall.
Huntly glanced at him for an explanation. Niall didn’t have one.
‘We assumed from the quality of your writing, the structure of the acts, the dialogue and stage notes that you were experienced,’ said Niall, without accusation or disappointment.
‘The notice in the window didn’t state that as a requirement,’ Mari said in her defence.
This was true.
‘If I’d known, I wouldn’t have submitted my play,’ she added.
The glance Niall exchanged with Huntly was clear. It was their own fault.
‘Can you tell me a bit about your background,’ said Huntly.
‘I worked for two accountancy firms, several years at each, and recently gave up my job to take a chance on being self–employed, selling my knitting—’
‘I was referring to your background in writing plays ,’ Huntly cut–in.
Mari squirmed and a blush started to form across her cheeks. ‘I’ve written a few plays, and The Shop That Sells Everything is my latest. I wrote it during the summer when I moved to the city from the small town I belong to further up the east coast.’
‘To take a chance on finding success as a playwright,’ Huntly summarised.
Mari nodded. ‘I inherited a small amount of money, and decided to use it to help support myself while I wrote my plays. I’d intended writing while working in accounts, but...’ She shook her head. ‘The two didn’t mix well. It was hard to be creative after doing accountancy work all day. And often I had to work weekends, or attend financial business conferences.’
‘And the knitting?’ Huntly prompted her further.
‘I rent a tiny flat above the craft shop near here. I sell my knitting, jumpers, cardigans, various garments, and teach knitting classes in the shop too. It helps to keep my savings intact.’
She gestured to the jumper and cardigan jacket she was wearing as an example of her knitting skills.
‘They look shop bought,’ said Niall, impressed.
‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ she said.
Huntly looked thoughtful and summed up Mari’s skills. ‘So you’re a knitter with aspirations to be a playwright.’
She wasn’t sure if he intended to sound so blunt, or knock the wind out of her sails. His assessment of her was accurate, and yet...it turned her inside out.
Huntly wasn’t finished. ‘We’re certainly looking for a diamond of a play in the rough. But it has to be a sparkling gem. We won’t have time to polish it.’
A wave of tense emotion washed over her, and she felt the urge to run.
‘I’m sorry, I think I’ve made a mistake,’ she muttered. And then she headed out, walking briskly from the auditorium, following the arrows in the opposite direction to the foyer, past the front desk and pushed the doors open, feeling the need to escape from the theatre and the embarrassing situation she’d put herself in.
Inside, Niall glared at Huntly. ‘That was harsh.’
Huntly sighed heavily and agreed. Huffing at his own bluntness, he strode after her, out into the fading sunlight.
Proving that she could run in her boots, Mari was well ahead of him, not imagining either of them would chase after her. But rather the urge to flee taking hold of her common sense. Scarpering out the theatre and bolting down the cobbled street was the type of thing to attract attention, which was the last thing she wanted.
‘Marigold, wait!’ Huntly called after her.
She kept going. No glancing back. She recognised the haughty voice that had stung her to the core.
‘Marigold!’ he repeated, with no success.
Ignoring people’s startled reactions to him wearing his fencing whites, jacket flapping open revealing his chest, and carrying the prop sword that he didn’t have time to untie from his wrist, Huntly ran after her, closing the gap.
‘Mari!’ he shouted.
At the sound of her name, she jolted, paused and glanced round at the tall, determined man hurrying towards her.
‘Come back,’ he said, his deep voice filtering into the glow of the early evening.
Without a word, she shook her head. Her feelings were cast to the wind. She wasn’t the type to burst into tears, but for some reason, she was close to it. Mixed emotions bubbled up inside her.
Huntly stopped running. He stood there looking at her, his sword dangling forlornly at his side. ‘I’m sorry I was grumpy, Mari. But I’ve been slaying dragons all afternoon.’
Mari blinked. That was his excuse?
For some reason, this made her smile, and she gazed over at him as they stood there in a standoff.
She shook her head at him in dismay. ‘That’s the most ridiculous excuse, but actually true, that I’ve ever heard.’
Huntly looked hopeful. ‘Come back, so we can talk about your play.’
She wasn’t prepared to relent easily. Neither was she prepared for the tourists and others taking an inordinate interest in them, snapping pictures of them, particularly of Huntly.
‘You’re creating a scene,’ she scolded him. ‘People are looking at you with that outfit and the sword.’
‘It’s a prop,’ he argued, showing how it dangled from his wrist.
‘They don’t know that. It looks real. You’re causing a furore.’ And she was in the heart of it.
Huntly was about to argue again, but then he saw the number of people taking pictures of them.
‘Run,’ he urged her.
Mari hesitated.
Grabbing her hand, Huntly started to run towards the theatre to get away from the crowd’s interest, taking Mari with him.
‘Nooo,’ she shouted, feeling his strength pull her along at speed. Racing to keep up with him, they ran together towards the entrance of the theatre, but another part of the crowd of onlookers had closed in, blocking their way.
Huntly pivoted, whirling Mari around in another direction.
‘Run, Mari! Run!’ he urged her.
‘Where are we going?’ she shouted at him.
‘The old entrance to the theatre.’
A wrought iron gate was ahead of them at the side of the theatre, under an archway. They ran towards it.
It was only when they reached the gate that she realised something was missing. ‘There’s no key.’ Then she added. ‘There’s no lock either!’
Ignoring her last comment, Huntly let the sword dangle from his wrist, and stuck his hands through a gap between the iron bars of the gate that looked like it belonged to a bygone era.
She watched him twist and turn his hands and wrists around, virtually in thin air, or so it looked to her, and then the gate clicked open.
‘In you go,’ he said, sweeping her through, following close behind, and then shut the gate firmly. It locked again with a loud click.
‘No one can follow us now,’ he assured her. But he was concerned that people could snap pictures of them through the gate.
They continued hurrying along a narrow pathway.
‘How did you do that?’ she said. ‘There was no key, no lock.’
‘So you think.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘There’s a knack to it. I’ll show you another time so you can use it if you’re ever in this situation again.’
‘That’s hardly likely,’ she scoffed.
‘I have a tendency to attract drama.’
‘Appropriate for your line of work,’ she quipped.
He glanced at her. ‘Be flippant all you want, but fair warning, if you become involved with me, the drama on stage may not be all you experience.’
The assuredness of his warning made her rethink his offer to teach her how to open the gate that had no key or lock.
By now they were running down a few stone steps, then immediately heading up another set, until they reached a level that Mari wasn’t sure was up or down.
‘Where are we?’ she called to him as he bounded ahead.
‘Almost there.’
‘Where?’
‘Here.’ He opened a door that led into the back of the theatre.
Before following him inside, she glanced at the depth of the building that confirmed how deep the structure was. And high. Craning to look up, she saw that the front part rose up three levels. The top resembled a castle turret.
‘I live up there,’ Huntly told her.
‘In the turret?’
‘It’s a sort of castellated structure. I stay overnight when I’ve been working late at the theatre. I have a house in another area of Edinburgh, but this is a handy bolthole with a wonderful view of the city, especially in the evenings.’
‘I live in one of those above the craft shop. Not a turret, but a cosy bolthole with a great view.’
‘Something else we have in common,’ he said.
She wondered what else they shared.
‘Apart from a love of the theatre,’ he added.
‘I do love going to see plays in the city. There’s so much here to entertain. I used to travel from the town I lived in to enjoy nights out at the theatres in Edinburgh.’ She told him the name of the town.
‘I’ve never been to the town, but a friend of mine lives there. Wil opened a dance studio in the town recently. Perhaps you’re acquainted with him. Wil’s quite a well–known dancer.’
‘I heard about the new dance studio, and I’m familiar with Wil’s name. He’s a wonderful dancer. I saw him perform last year in Edinburgh. But I’d left the town before his studio was up and running.’
‘You’ll have a chance to meet him, if you become involved with the theatre. I’m letting him use the stage for his new dance show rehearsals.’
‘Will the dance show be part of the theatre’s autumn or winter line–up?’
‘We’re not sure yet. The schedules have to be decided, and Wil’s still designing the new choreography. He’s able to practice in his studio, but needs to see how the show would work on stage.’
‘How many plays are you planning to schedule for the theatre for the coming seasons?’ she said.
‘A few, including yours, if we can chat and come to some agreement about how to make it work. I didn’t mean to sound snippy when I said there won’t be time to polish your play.’
‘I understand if it’s for such a tight schedule.’
‘But I think it won’t need a lot of polishing. If the second and third acts are as engaging as the first, then it’ll be fine.’
Her heart picked up hope. She thought that those acts were stronger than the opening.
He took a deep breath. ‘There’s a feeling to nights like this that I’d like us to try and capture in your play. The mysterious shop sounds intriguing, and I was impressed with your notes on stage settings. I can picture how we’d create the shop so that audiences would be fascinated with it.’
And in that moment, Mari sensed that Huntly had read the opening act of her play and understood what she was trying to portray.
‘I apologise again, Mari, for being grumpy.’ His handsome face was highlighted in the evening’s amber glow as he looked at her.
‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘You’d been slaying dragons all afternoon.’
He smiled at her, causing her heart to react.
Before they went inside the theatre, Mari glanced around at the early evening glow in the sky arching above them. She breathed in the scent of the mild autumn air. And the sense of excitement she often felt living in the city. Though tonight, there was an extra edge of excitement, being here with Huntly the heartbreaker and a magnet for drama.
Dipping his head slightly under the lintel of the door, he led them into the theatre.
A light glowed along the far end of a corridor. Huntly flicked other lights on to illuminate various nooks and crannies that darted off in different directions.
Huntly gestured to the areas as they walked along. ‘The dressing rooms for the actors are over there. And across from them is wardrobe.’
The dressing rooms were in darkness, but Mari pictured the dressing table mirrors edged with lights, and an array of makeup and pent up tension before a performance.
Rows and rows of rails were filled with all sorts of costumes hanging neatly, and organised into sections, rather like a department store’s clothing. Red jackets trimmed with gold braid hung alongside tailcoats and a classic mackintosh that she imagined a detective character might wear. A thick wool trench coat was beside a long, black wool cape teamed with a top hat.
Trousers, breeches, jeans and pantaloons were next.
But it was the dresses that made her pause. A classic tea dress with a rose print caught her eye, and a beaded little twenties flapper dress. Then there was the glamorous glint from a gold Art Deco number, but it was the fairytale ballgown that she gazed at. Layers of pale blue chiffon sparkled under the lighting as if sprinkled with stars. It was sequins and beads sew on, but what a dress to make an entrance with on stage.
Huntly glanced back at her.
‘Sorry, I was admiring the dresses,’ she said, hurrying along to catch up with him.
‘We were fortunate to inherit a lot of the costumes from the original stock in the theatre when we took it over,’ he explained. ‘And we’ve scoured continually for any costumes we can get our hands on. Some bought in job lots. So we’re quite well–stocked. And I’m planning to buy more that I’ve been offered. A real bargain, and there are probably a few that would suit your play.’
Feelings of excitement charged through her. ‘I’d love to take a peek.’
‘I’ll show you the email when we get to the office. It included plenty of pictures. We hire wardrobe staff and they’re skilled in altering the costumes too. We don’t have an expert knitter like you though,’ he said, casting a smile back at her.
Mari smiled, and then tried to keep up. His long legs strode along the corridor with ease, but she had to put a spurt on so she wasn’t left behind.
His sword clattered off the wall as he gestured to another area. ‘Props are kept over there, and we have extra stored upstairs.’ Taming his sword, he continued. ‘Scenery is backstage and we have a wonderful set director in charge of that and the lighting.’
The route they’d taken led past the rear of the stage where she saw scenery backgrounds stacked up, some like a pack of cards, layers of different types of greenery, painted shop fronts, a fake street scene and a seascape with little yachts and a cloudless blue sky.
Huntly paused at a large section of a night cityscape. ‘I call this our starry night sky. It could work well for your play, creating the dark, cosy evening atmosphere I pictured when I read the opening scenes in the first act.’
Mari’s eyes scanned the inky blue skyline. It looked almost black at the top and faded to lighter midnight tones towards the bottom where the outlines of the city’s spires and buildings were beautiful silhouettes. Stars painted in dazzling white and golden yellow gave the impression that they were sparkling in the night sky.
‘Is this Edinburgh at night?’ she said.
‘An artistic impression of it. I think it’s better to have a feeling of the skyline rather than an exact replica.’
Mari agreed. ‘The shop and the city I’ve featured in my play is like that. It’s not real, just what my imagination portrays.’
‘Is the shop somewhere you’ve been? Or seen? It felt like you knew it well.’
‘There’s a shop across from the craft shop. I can see it from the window of my flat upstairs. It sells curiosities and second–hand treasures, whatever they are.’
‘You’ve not been inside it?’
‘No, it’s always closed. Though nowadays people can run their businesses online, from their websites, like I do. So it doesn’t mean that the shop is abandoned. It certainly doesn’t look any different from the way it was when I first saw it. It’s been kept clean and tidy, so someone must be tending to it in the midnight hours when we’re all fast asleep. Or whenever.’
‘An interesting shop by the sounds of it. I must pop down and have a look.’
‘My play really is only based on the feeling of it, not the actual shop,’ she insisted.
He nodded. ‘I understand. And it’s the atmosphere we want to create for the audience to become engrossed in the fantastical story. Your shop has elements of mystery and a touch of magic. Where else would a shop that sold everything exist. Where customers can go in and ask for anything from an ancient map to a specific Victorian teapot, and the exact first edition of a vintage book.’
She was impressed. Huntly had obviously read the opening of her play.
‘Or a modern item, like an electric guitar or a baby grand piano,’ he said.
‘I can easily adapt the instruments to suit your props. I noticed a violin back there among the props. That would be fine instead of a piano.’
Huntly frowned at her. ‘Didn’t you notice our piano sitting at the side of the stage? It was there when I was fighting the dragons.’
‘No, I didn’t. I was too busy watching you.’ The comment was out before she could stifle it, making it sound as if she’d been so enamoured with Huntly that something as large as the piano had escaped her notice. But it was true. She had admired Huntly and clearly missed the piano.
She blushed and wished they could move on because she felt in the spotlight of the overhead lamp.
Huntly smiled. ‘And I’ll take that as a compliment.’
‘I didn’t mean—’ She went to object but he started to walk on.
‘The cat intrigues me, but we obviously can’t have a real cat in the play,’ he said, heading through to the auditorium and walking up the centre aisle and through to where the corridor lead to the foyer.
‘No, I thought a stuffed toy black cat would suffice.’
Huntly grinned at her. Such a sexy smile as he walked through to the office behind the front desk. ‘Perhaps I’ll find one in that curious shop when I pop down to have a nosy at it.’
‘Find what in what shop?’ Niall said as they walked in. He was sitting at the office desk that had a chair on either side, and appeared to be reading Mari’s play.
Earlier, he’d been working on their accounts. The computer screen showed a spreadsheet of figures, just a mass of numbers to most people, but to a maths magpie like Mari, she read it like a book. And reacted, then tried to hide her reaction from them. But Huntly noticed. Niall was none the wiser.
‘A stuffed fake cat in a curious shop further down the street,’ Huntly summarised.
Niall didn’t balk. ‘Okay.’
Huntly changed the subject. ‘Mari has decided to forgive me for being a prat.’
‘Thank goodness, because you caused such a commotion running amok with your silly sword,’ Niall told him. ‘People came scurrying in, warning me and wanting to know if I knew what was going on.’
‘What did you tell them?’ said Huntly.
‘I crossed my fingers, leaned at an angle, and told a little white fib, a slanted version of the truth.’ Niall made the gestures as he explained. ‘I told them it was part of the theatre’s promotion for a new and exciting play we’re planning for the autumn. Everyone left happy. A few gave me their names for us to tell them when the opening night is so they can buy tickets.’
‘Wonderful.’ Huntly went over to a table in the corner where tea things were set up and flicked the kettle on. Then he glanced round at Mari, and joked. ‘This means you’ll have to give us your play so that Niall isn’t caught out on telling porky pies.’
‘There isn’t a man dressed in white fencing gear wielding a sword in the play,’ Mari told them playfully.
Huntly brushed such a triviality aside and finally untied the sword from his wrist. ‘It’s the shop that sells everything. Even annoying men like me.’
Mari laughed, but her eyes kept glancing at the accounts on the computer screen.
They both noticed her looking this time.
‘Sorry, I don’t mean to pry.’ She raised her hand to shield the screen to show that she wasn’t deliberately poking her nose into their business.
Huntly sighed heavily. ‘Okay, is there something wrong with our accounts?’
‘I’m one of those people that can look at a load of numbers and see if they add up or not,’ she explained. But she didn’t want to tell them in case she was wrong.
‘Spit it out,’ Huntly urged her.
Mari took a deep breath. ‘I think you’ve got a leaky ship.’
Huntly and Niall frowned.
‘You’re losing money, inadvertently, and it’s leaking out of your main revenue figures. There’s a mistake in your calculations, and I think you’ve been carrying it forward month by month. I’ve seen errors like this a few times with clients.’
‘Could you throw us a lifeline to save the ship going down?’ said Huntly.
‘It’s an easy adjustment,’ she said confidently. ‘What I call a tea break task.’
Huntly brightened as the kettle clicked off. ‘Tea coming right up.’
Niall gestured to the chair he’d been sitting in getting their accounts wrong. ‘It’s all yours, Mari.’
While they drank their tea, she tackled the accounts. It was an easy task for someone with her experience.
‘There you go. Sorted.’ She leaned back and let them see the screen.
They got up from their chairs and came round to look at the figures.
‘That was fast,’ Niall muttered. ‘I’ve barely dunked my biscuit.’
‘We’re definitely keeping Mari,’ Huntly said to Niall.
‘Oh, yes,’ Niall agreed.
‘So, let’s talk money,’ Huntly said to Mari, sitting down again at the desk, while Niall pulled up his chair to join them.
Huntly’s bluntness jolted her.
‘We’ll obviously have to read the other two acts of your play before we make a firm offer,’ Huntly added.
Mari nodded. ‘I understand.’
‘But provided they’re as well–written and entertaining as your opening act, I think we’ve got our next production on our hands,’ said Huntly.
‘While you two were running around outside, I’ve been reading through the second act and it’s even more exciting,’ said Niall.
Mari took a sip of her tea to wash down the urge to cheer with glee.