CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Huntly’s house had a sense of drama to it, Mari thought on first impression when he led them inside the hallway and turned on the lights.
Lantern lights illuminated the hallway, sparkling like pendants from silvery fittings. The ceiling lanterns, in white and silver castings, were the main theme throughout the house as far as she could see. Varying in modern vintage styles.
Framed posters of past plays and shows from his theatre hung on the walls, and she wondered if her play would ever be hung there too.
A burgundy carpeted staircase led to the first floor, and the same carpet acted as a runner from the hallway off to the spacious rooms on either side of the hall, and deeper into the property where she followed him through to the kitchen.
The traditional house had that silence she so appreciated in her flat.
‘Make yourself at home,’ Huntly said, unpacking the groceries.
Excited to be there, she did feel at home in this welcoming house.
The kitchen felt like the hub of the house, beautifully kitted out with pale blue units that matched the walls, creating an airy atmosphere. A traditional dresser with plates, cups and ceramic teapots, and a sturdy wooden table and chairs, added to the homely quality.
But it had an extra element, a glass extension along one wall with a view of the back garden. The lawn and flower beds were lit with little solar lights, and the trees around the edges created a niche that she wanted to step out into.
Huntly fired up the professional level stove. ‘Fish and chips sound okay to you?’
Mari smiled at him. ‘Perfect.’
The impromptu dinner invitation made him opt for one of his tasty favourites.
‘Have a wander around,’ he encouraged her, gesturing through to the other rooms and the garden. ‘There’s a collection of plays and other books about the theatre in the living room that might interest you while I rustle up dinner.’
Huntly started to work efficiently, preparing everything with practised ease. He washed and peeled the potatoes, cut them into chips and parboiled them, then prepared the white fillets of fish and mixed the batter.
Mari wandered through to the living room and saw a bookshelf filled with a selection of titles. She picked one up and flicked through it, then put it back carefully. It looked like an original copy of a treasured classic. Eyeing another one that interested her, she read through part of it and then replaced it.
The room itself had a theatrical quality with an oil painting above the fireplace depicting Edinburgh at night from yesteryear. This traditional painting was offset with a light watercolour of his theatre’s exterior awash with vibrancy. Perhaps he’d have a new painting added now that the lights adorned the theatre.
A scattering of framed character pen and wash artwork completed the theatrical theme of the decor.
After the busy day she’d had, the comfortable cream couch looked inviting to flop down on. She noted that the cushion covers were quilted, reminiscent of some that Ivy sold. A cosy throw was folded on the back of the couch, and she pictured snuggling down for a relaxing evening watching the wall–mounted television, selecting a film from Huntly’s substantial collection.
A classic baby grand piano faced outward from one of the far corners, and in her mind she rewound the song she’d heard him play for her at the theatre. She imagined the room with its high ceiling would help the sound to resonate.
Sheet music was set up on the piano and she went over to take a peek at what he’d last been playing, intrigued to see that it was a romantic rhapsody.
The large lid of the piano was closed to prevent dust from accumulating inside it, as was the key lid.
Patio doors opened out on to the front garden. She clicked them open and peered out. The scent of the roses and gardenia from the garden mingled with the heady fragrance of the greenery and trees. Stepping outside, she meandered around feeling as if she was in a magical garden, and gazed up at the vast night sky arching above her, bright with twinkling stars.
One of her plays had a garden scene like this, and she pictured how the scenery would be portrayed if her romantic drama was performed on stage.
Blinking out of her deep thoughts, she went back inside the living room.
Full, plush creamy gold coloured carpeting added to the quietude, and it was only when she stepped on to the polished wooden floor leading through to another room that she heard her heels make a sound.
The second room was clearly Huntly’s study where an antique desk and chair were set near the window. His computer and other items sat on the clutter–free desk.
The decor was darker in tone, creating a depth to his business world, as opposed to the lightness of the kitchen and bright tones of the theatrical style living room. The only nod to entertainment was the turntable set up to play his collection of vinyl records.
Every piece of his home told her something about Huntly, and as if creating the facets of a character from her plays, she was assembling the different traits that made him all the more intriguing to her.
The aroma of dinner cooking wafted through, enticing her back to the kitchen, but as she turned to leave, she noticed something that made her pause. A copy of her play, printed out like those she’d seen passed around in the theatre, sat on a table.
Seeing the title and her name on the play caused a wave of excitement to wash over her.
‘Do you want wine or tea with your fish and chips?’ Huntly called through from the kitchen.
She stepped up her pace and walked through to find that he was cooking the battered fish in a deep pan of hot oil and that the chips he’d made were keeping warm in the glass–fronted oven.
‘Tea, and can I help to make it?’ The kettle sounded as if it was nearly boiled.
Huntly took her up on her offer, but it was clear that he didn’t need any assistance. Like a professional chef, he had everything sizzling, set and ready to serve as soon as the fish was cooked.
At the side of the sink was the dish he’d used to mix the batter. A plate retained a dusting of the flour mix he’d dipped the two pieces of fish in before coating them in batter.
White dinner plates and silverware like those in his turret were set on the table.
The scent of freshly cut wedges of lemon and minted garden peas mingled with the delicious aroma of the fish and chips.
Finding her way easily around his kitchen, she washed her hands and started to make the tea, filling one of the teapots and placing it on the table so they could top up their cups.
‘Could you put the bread out,’ he said, serving up the fish and chips that were cooked to a crisp and golden perfection.
Mari put slices of fresh bread on a plate and set it on the table along with the butter dish.
‘This is a feast,’ she said.
Huntly smiled. ‘It’s a tasty dinner to rustle up.’ He added vinegar and a sprinkling of salt. Then he held up a jar. ‘Pickled onions?’
‘Yes, please.’ She sat down at the table as he placed their plates down.
Fish, chips, peas and pickles along with a scoop of tomato sauce, tempted her taste buds.
Huntly buttered a slice of bread. ‘Did you have a peek at the garden?’
‘Yes, it’s lovely and the scent from the flowers is gorgeous. And you have a beautiful house.’
‘I’m fortunate to have a home like this. I really do need to find more time to relax here.’
‘By the sounds of your schedule, your life is going to become even busier at the theatre with the new shows,’ she said, wondering how he would manage this.
He sighed heavily. ‘I’m hoping that once the dress rehearsals are done and the shows, including your play, are up and running, I’ll have more time to myself, to potter around the garden, even in the colder months. I love the winter flowers, camellia, hellebore, daphne, clematis, pansies and jasmine.’
‘A winter flowering garden sounds magical.’
‘It is. As is the garden in the autumn. Though I’m so busy with the theatre.’
‘When do the dress rehearsals start?’
‘Tomorrow morning, for one of the other shows that we’re launching after your play. Then it’s the dress rehearsal the following day for our other drama.’
‘Not much time for pottering in your garden,’ she mumbled, eating one of the chips.
Huntly cut into the crisp batter on his fish. ‘Not much time for anything.’ Including nights like this with Mari he thought.
Mari helped herself to a slice of bread and butter. ‘I’m excited to see the other new shows.’
‘I think you’ll enjoy them and you’ll have the best seats in the house of course,’ he said, smiling at her.
‘Will you be there?’
He nodded. ‘Me, Niall, our various directors, and others involved in the shows. I like to see how the audiences react, and there’s nothing better than to be part of the audience.’
She tucked into her dinner as Huntly talked about the opening nights.
‘There are the after show parties at the theatre. They’re great fun. We usually celebrate backstage, and sometimes head out to a dance venue. You’ll be invited to all of these. So be prepared to have your glad rags ready to party.’
‘I will.’
‘Sometimes we have a theme, and everyone dresses to impress in whatever style we select. It’s not fancy dress, more thematic. I’ve heard Art Deco being mentioned this year.’
‘I saw a gorgeous gold Art Deco style dress hanging up on one of the rails in wardrobe. I’m not hinting that I want to borrow it.’
‘Borrow whatever you want, unless it’s part of the show’s actual costumes,’ he said.
‘I don’t know that I’m the glitzy gold dress type. In my mind it sounds wonderful. But I think you need a certain pizzazz to carry off something like that.’
‘You’ve got pizzazz galore. Wear it. Talk to Heather. She’ll tell you if it’s earmarked as a costume or up for grabs.’
‘I might at least try it on the next time I’m at the theatre.’
‘Make sure to take a picture for your archives,’ he reminded her.
‘I’ve started taking more photos of my knitting, and my flat, and I’m eager to see the pictures in the newspaper tomorrow of us all outside the theatre.’
‘You saw the lights during the day, but when I left the theatre this evening, it was aglow. You’ll probably see it tomorrow evening, or soon. When I’m not tempting you away with my homemade fish and chips.’
She pointed her cutlery at her dinner. ‘I was going to give this a perfect ten out of ten, but...’
Huntly looked over at her. ‘What does it score?’
‘Eleven.’
He laughed, and they continued to enjoy their meal and each other’s company.
She declined his offer of pudding. He hadn’t made any, but he offered her ice cream or a slice of fruit cake.
‘No, I couldn’t manage anything else,’ she said.
‘Not even a chocolate mint?’ He had a box of luxury chocolate mints to tempt her with.
‘I could probably manage a chocolate mint or two.’ She helped herself to two and ate them while finishing her tea.
Huntly joined her.
When they’d finished their dinner, he opened the door of the glass extension and invited her outside.
‘It’s quite a mild evening,’ he said, breathing in the calm night air. ‘Would you like a brief tour?’
‘Yes.’ She followed him out to the garden.
Huntly turned on the patio twinkle lights and showed her around the back garden. ‘I’d like to extend the lawn down to the trees. I’ll tackle that in the spring, along with adding more roses and a herb garden. I’ve got a few potted herbs, but I’d like more for my cooking.’
‘Is that a summerhouse?’ She walked towards the structure that was in partial shadow.
‘It’s actually a winterhouse. Built to be a cosy haven during the colder months. There’s insulation and a heater. I added that last year and it was lovely at Christmastime and especially when it was snowing. But I used it in the summer too.’
He turned a lantern on outside the front door of the sturdily build wooden structure, like a large shed. She went to peer in one of the windows, but he opened the door and lit a lantern inside.
Mari stepped in. It had two comfy wooden chairs with cushions, a table that could double as a desk, and a rug on the floor.
‘This feels like it would be cosy on cold days,’ said Mari.
‘It is, and days when it rains.’
Huntly went to turn the lantern off as Mari stepped outside, and their bodies clashed in the close proximity of the winterhouse.
His handsome face was lit by the glow of the lantern, and his apology was swift. ‘Sorry, my fault.’ He stepped aside and let her leave.
Although she’d felt her heart react to him during dinner, she’d enjoyed their meal and their light chatter, and it sort of took the edge off the depths of the attraction she felt for him.
She knew she was playing with fire accepting his offer of dinner at his house, but like a moth to the flame, she hadn’t resisted.
Walking back up to the house she was grateful for the pockets of light and shade in the garden as it shielded the rosy blush that had formed across her cheeks.
Huntly gestured to the front garden, and instead of going back into the kitchen, she let him lead her to the front of the house where she admired the profusion of roses and other florals.
‘We can go back in through the living room,’ he said, opening the glass doors.
They went into the living room.
‘I noticed you have a piano like the one in the theatre,’ she said.
Huntly nodded. ‘I can’t remember the last time I played it or what I played.’
‘I had a nosy at the sheet of music,’ she confessed. ‘It was a rhapsody.’
‘Oh, yes, a favourite of mine,’ he said, remembering it now. ‘It was a warm summer evening, so that was almost a season ago.’
Mari gave him an encouraging look.
Huntly smiled. ‘Is that a will you play something look?’
‘It is,’ she said.
He lifted up the large lid of the piano so that the sound could filter out, and then sat down on the stool, opened the key lid and began to play the rhapsody.
Mari sat down on the couch listening to the rich tones of the music fill the room and resonate as she’d imagined. The sound was far more concentrated, confined to the smaller room rather than the theatre, but there was a grandeur to the classical piece of music that stirred her to the core.
When he finished she applauded. ‘That was marvellous, even better than when I heard you play the new song in the theatre.’
‘The rhapsody is a piece I’ve played for years, so I’m familiar with it. The composer’s song is new to me. I can read music, but I’m more sure of the rhapsody.’
She understood, but was still enamoured by his playing.
Huntly updated her on the composer’s progress of recording the new song. ‘He’s probably still working in the recording studio. We’re paying for the session, the hire of the studio, so he can record the song. He’s playing each instrument himself and recording each piece separately. Then the tracks will be mixed to become the finished song.’
Mari was fascinated to hear how the song was created in the recording studio. ‘He must be talented to play several instruments.’
Huntly agreed. ‘Piano, violin, harp and guitar are the main instruments.’
Mari frowned. ‘Does that mean the composer can’t perform the song live in the theatre.’
‘That’s right. I suppose he could play it on the piano with his own backing tracks as accompaniment. Niall mentioned this because he wondered if we should have a special recital one afternoon at the theatre of the play’s theme song.’
‘You could play piano and Niall could play guitar. The composer could then play the harp or violin, and get one other musician to play whatever was left.’
Huntly took a moment to consider Mari’s suggestion. ‘That’s a great idea, and it would be a one–off performance. It would promote the play and the song.’
‘Win–win,’ said Mari.
‘I’ll run this idea by them tomorrow,’ he said, smiling at her.
He stood up and closed the lids again on the piano and put the sheet music away.
‘Would you like another cup of tea?’ he offered, extending their evening.
It was getting late, but Mari was in no hurry to go. ‘Yes, thanks.’
She followed him through to the kitchen, and while he made the tea they chatted about the play, the publicity and about the forthcoming story in the next day’s newspaper.
‘Be prepared for more interest in you,’ he said. ‘Expect calls from other directors, people in the theatre business, and news journalists wanting to interview you for their publications.’
‘Should I accept the interviews?’
‘Yes.’
‘Would you and Niall be part of them?’
He nodded as he poured their tea. ‘But some of them will just want to talk to you.’
Mari tried to look calm, but whenever being in the limelight cropped up, she felt anxious. And yet she knew she needed to be part of the publicity process.
Huntly handed her a cup of tea and they sat again in the kitchen, chatting, unaware of the time and how late it was when Mari finally decided she should go home.
‘We’ve let the time get away from us again,’ he admitted, flicking some of the lights off in the kitchen until there was only the soft glow from a couple of spotlights.
Mari had hung her bag on the back of a kitchen chair, and as she went to unhook it, Huntly stepped over to pick it up for her, and he found himself pressed against her for a moment.
It was a moment that lingered, as neither of them immediately stepped back.
She gazed up at him, seeing his lips barely a breath away, those firm, sensual lips that made her heartbeat soar.
And in the cosy closeness of the kitchen, so late at night, he leaned down to kiss her, and then stopped a fraction from pressing his lips on hers.
‘I’m sorry, Mari.’ He stepped back and ran a hand through the front of his hair, as if to clear his senses. ‘I didn’t invite you to have dinner tonight to...well, put you in a compromising situation.’
She believed him. ‘It’s okay,’ she said, hearing the tension in her voice. ‘We’re both just...’ What? She didn’t have the words to describe the truth without letting him know how deeply he affected her.
Huntly picked up his car keys. ‘I’ll drive you home.’ He tried to sound gentle and calm, but she could sense the tension in him.
As he led her out to the car, he felt disappointed in himself. And yet, Mari hadn’t challenged him for almost overstepping the boundaries of friendship. Her attitude helped smooth things over.
Driving away from the house, Mari glanced in the mirror, wondering if she’d ever be there with Huntly again.