CHAPTER THREE
After her meeting with Huntly and Niall, Mari left the theatre and walked home down the cobbled street. She breathed in the heady scent of the autumn air. It was one of those lovely mild evenings, and the cafes and eateries were busy with people enjoying themselves. The windows were aglow with lights and activity, but she longed for the cosy calm of her flat, to unwind after the whirlwind of the day.
Music and chatter from the lively social life buzzed in the back of her thoughts as she replayed Huntly’s blunt parting remark.
‘We’ll read the complete play and contact you tomorrow,’ said Huntly, and then added, ‘And it’s our policy now not to become romantically involved with anyone we work with. It complicates everything.’
Huntly’s bluntness was going to be an acquired taste, but this policy suited her. There would be no misinterpreting friendly banter for flirting, or any romantic involvements being jeopardised when the inevitable clashes of artistic differences emerged.
Mari had smiled, nodded, and then left.
The aroma from the cafes and eateries reminded her that she’d missed dinner. Butterflies of excitement had filled her stomach, but now she felt ready to have something to eat. She planned to make an easy dinner when she got home.
The craft shop was closed for the night, but as she approached, she saw the lights were on inside. Ivy’s husband was helping her restock the shelves with bolts of fabric. She couldn’t hear their laughter, but she could see it through the window of the craft shop. Mari hoped one day to have a happy marriage like that.
Ivy’s husband, Bob, worked as a baker, so there was no shortage of doughnuts, yum yums and cupcakes at the knitting classes. Ivy told Mari that her biggest success was accepting his proposal. They’d married young, and were clearly still happy together.
They were so engrossed in each other that they didn’t notice Mari walk past.
Mari headed through the close and up to her flat.
Flicking a lamp on to cast a warm glow in the living room, she went through to the kitchen, and after rummaging around, decided to make herself a tasty snack of cheese on toast and a mug of tea.
Carrying it through to the living room, she sat in the comfy chair near the window, gazing out at her favourite view. This evening, it reminded her of the starry night backdrop Huntly had shown her. To think that her play might come to life at the theatre was amazing. But she’d had her dreams crushed too many times before, so until they’d contacted her in the morning and said whether they wanted her play or not, she decided to fill the remainder of her evening with the one thing guaranteed to help her unwind — knitting.
‘Mari’s nice, isn’t she?’ Niall said to Huntly, shrugging his jacket on and getting ready to leave the theatre for the night.
Huntly eased the tension from his shoulders. He’d changed out of his fencing whites into a white shirt, waistcoat and dark trousers. They’d both been sitting in the office reading through Mari’s play and discussing how they’d produce it. ‘She is.’
‘Don’t break her heart,’ Niall told him.
Huntly scoffed at the remark. ‘I’ve no intention of breaking anyone’s heart.’ Then he threw the comment back at Niall. ‘Don’t you mess with her heart either.’
‘I won’t. You’re the one with a reputation as a heartbreaker,’ Niall reminded him.
Huntly didn’t need to be reminded. He still bore the scorch marks from his last fiery break–up with his ex–girlfriend.
‘Remember, Scarlet is bound to hear about the new play and want a lead role.’
This was another reminder Huntly didn’t need. He’d never dated Scarlet and had no romantic interest in her, but she’d tried several times to become his new girlfriend, without success.
‘There’s no role to suit her,’ said Huntly. ‘Besides, she’s a disruptive element, and we don’t want that for the rest of the cast or others involved in the production.’
Satisfied that he’d warned his friend of any forthcoming furore, Niall left. ‘See you in the morning.’
‘Goodnight.’
Sighing wearily, the thought of driving home didn’t appeal to Huntly, so he turned the lights off, secured the theatre, peeled his handwritten notice off the window, and then headed upstairs to his turret to cook dinner.
An excellent cook, he considered what to make in his beautifully kitted out kitchen. Chef level saucepans and other professional accoutrements hung on the walls. Lifting up a skillet, he whipped up the ingredients to make a soufflé omelette, and then cooked it on the stove, adding a sprinkling of grated cheese and herbs.
Serving it up with a crisp green salad, he sat down to dinner for one at the kitchen table. Every room in the turret offered a panoramic view of Edinburgh at night, sparkling all around him. The views stretched across the cityscape, and he found his thoughts drifting to Mari, wondering if she was enjoying the views from her bolthole.
Mari always had a few knitting projects on the go, and picked up the rich, cream Aran knit jumper she’d been working on. One sleeve to knit and it would be finished. Another garment she’d sell in the craft shop. She’d had her own cotton fabric labels printed with her name and a flower logo, and stitched these into everything she knitted.
All her garments were well finished, and she put the Aran jumper pieces aside ready to be stitched together. She had similar jumpers in stock in her flat. The classic colours were always popular.
Checking her website, she noticed several orders for the knitted hats and scarves she’d listed for sale, and packed these up ready for posting in the morning, before continuing to finish the sleeve.
Gazing out at the view, she wondered if Huntly had gone home to his house, or if he was up in his turret admiring his own view of the city.
Clearing away the dishes and tidying up his kitchen, Huntly couldn’t shake off the feeling of restlessness. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him. Usually, after a busy day, he’d unwind and sleep like a log until the dawn. But tonight...
Looking out at the calm night, he decided to head out and take an evening stroll down the street to have a peek at the shop Mari had mentioned.
Stepping outside the theatre, he breathed in the night air, and headed down to the old–fashioned shop. He didn’t intend being out long, and hadn’t bothered to put a jacket on over his shirt and waistcoat. But despite it being autumn, there wasn’t a chill in the air, and he started to feel refreshed and less restless.
The craft shop was lit up and he saw a mature couple inside having fun, whatever they were up to.
Glancing up, he saw a light shining from the flat upstairs. Mari’s bolthole. She’d given them her full address during their meeting. He thought he saw her near the window. Maybe she was writing another play. Or knitting. She seemed to love to do that.
During their conversation, she’d mentioned that she’d split up with her last boyfriend before she’d given up her accountancy work, and wasn’t dating anyone, preferring to concentrate on making a life for herself in the city.
With no boyfriend on the scene, he pictured her working on something upstairs in her flat. Or maybe she was relaxing, unlike him, and watching a film.
She seemed a straightforward, no nonsense person, but she intrigued him. He wasn’t sure why.
Shrugging away these thoughts, he walked over to peer in the window of the mysterious little shop. It was, as she’d described, and as he’d imagined. No lights on inside, so when he tried to see what it sold, there was nothing but shapes and shadows.
Feeling he’d seen all he was going to for one night, he glanced up at Mari’s flat and then started to walk back up the street to the theatre.
There was a handy entrance up to his turret without having to reopen the theatre. He took this route, climbing the stairs that twisted upwards to his bolthole. On nights like this, the air felt wonderful and the view glittered with lights.
At the top of the stairs, the sky arched like a deep blue watercolour and looked close enough to reach up and touch. It was just an illusion, but he enjoyed the sense of it.
On rainy nights, and these were frequent enough, he kept a waterproof cape on hand to save himself from getting soaked. But even on windswept evenings when it was hosing down, he loved the feeling of the elements and stormy nights.
Mari finished knitting the jumper late into the night, but it had helped her unwind after the excitement of the day. The pattern had been an intricate one with cables on the front and back. A man’s classic jumper. These always sold well.
She tidied her knitting away in one of the craft boxes she used to store her work. Over the years, she’d acquired a selection of pretty storage boxes, and these were arranged neatly in the living room. Her sewing basket was on the table she used as a desk where her laptop was set up, and where she wrapped her knitting parcels ready for delivery. In the basket she kept the large eye sewing needles she used to stitch the seams of the garments with yarn. It stored her pom pom maker and mending mushroom too.
Knitting needles galore were kept in a separate storage box, and she had two handy zipped holdalls for carrying her knitting with her when she was going out.
Overall, the living room retained a quietude due to the thickness of the original walls, and a historic quality, but there was no mistaking that it was occupied by a knitter. Soon to be a playwright too, hopefully.
Trying not to think how her life could change overnight if her play was accepted, she got ready for bed.
Snuggled under the covers and the patchwork quilt, she lay in bed and gazed out at the night sky, rewinding the day, even though she’d gone over it while she’d been knitting.
Telling herself that she had to get some sleep so she’d be fresh and rested for the morning, she finally drifted off.
Sunlight streamed through the windows of her flat as she sipped a cup of tea and got ready for the day. It was around ten–thirty, and she’d already got a lot done after sleeping in slightly from the late night.
Wearing a soft white jumper, again one of her own designs, she teamed it with black trousers, pumps and a neat–fitting vintage tweed jacket.
Her freshly washed and dried hair hung silkily around her shoulders and her makeup was subtle but flattering.
Planning to take the parcels downstairs to Ivy, she’d piled them up on her desk. Instead of having to take them to the post office, she had an arrangement with Ivy to add her orders to the craft shop’s parcels that were picked up by courier.
As she checked her orders, a message came through on her phone from Niall.
Her heart raced as she read it:
We want to produce your play, Mari. Hope you can pop up to the theatre for elevenses .
Dancing around the little living room, bursting with joy, she took a few moments to celebrate. Finally taking a calming breath, she smoothed her hair back, grabbed her bag and laptop, gathered the parcels, along with her hopes and dreams, and hurried downstairs to the craft shop.
Having promised her customers a speedy next day delivery service, she didn’t want to let them down, but the urge to leave everything and set a speed record for running up the cobbled street to the theatre was overwhelming.
Fighting against the tide of her enthusiasm, she burst into the shop, relieved to see that Ivy was busy serving a customer, thinking she could drop the parcels off and scarper without stopping to chat.
But Ivy smiled and beckoned her over. ‘Oh, here’s Mari, our expert knitter,’ she told the customer. ‘She’ll know what pom pom maker is best for your pattern.’
Smiling tightly, Mari hurried over to look at the pattern the customer was eagerly showing her for a pom pom edged shawl.
Scanning the pattern, Mari knew exactly what one of the three that Ivy sold was best. ‘This one is ideal.’ She pointed to it on the carousel where a selection of haberdashery items were hanging.
Ivy unhooked it and put it on the counter. ‘This one is on sale.’
There were smiles all round.
Thinking she could now leave, Mari went to bolt, but then she hesitated and added a tip for the customer. ‘I’d recommend using a pair of small, pointed scissors to trim the wee pom poms. It’ll give you a neat finish. And remember to leave a long tail on your pom poms so you can use it to secure them to your shawl.’
‘I appreciate the tip,’ said the customer.
Ivy smiled. ‘Thanks, Mari.’
Now intent on leaving, Mari made her way to the door, but one of the members of the knitting class had walked in.
‘I finished my scarf. What do you think, Mari?’ The woman wore the scarf and displayed it as if posing for a photo shoot. ‘I used your knitting method for keeping the edges flat. And I made a fringe like you taught me.’
‘You’ve made a wonderful job of it,’ Mari told her, genuinely pleased. ‘The warm autumn colours suit you.’
Happy to have been able to show Mari her handiwork, the woman headed over to the counter to buy more yarn to knit another scarf.
Mari made her escape from the craft shop, but got waylaid by Ivy’s husband as he got out of his van.
‘Ah, Mari, just the lass I want to talk to.’
She tried not to let her heart sink. She liked Bob, but she was starting to panic that she’d be late for her meeting.
‘I was thinking of changing the cake order for the craft classes,’ he began. ‘I’m going to keep the yum yums, but do you think folk would prefer jam doughnuts or do they really love the iced ones? Ivy says the iced ones go down a treat.’
‘The iced doughnuts,’ Mari said decisively.
‘And should I add sprinkles to the icing?’
‘Yes, sprinkles sound nice.’
‘Vanilla or chocolate sprinkles?’ He looked at her for her opinion.
‘Chocolate sprinkles. You can’t go wrong with chocolate,’ said Mari.
He nodded firmly. ‘You’re right. Thanks, Mari. I’m glad I ran into you.’
And with a cheery smile, he went into the craft shop, leaving Mari a clear run up the street.
She didn’t exactly run, more like a speed walk. Her flat black pumps were handy for navigating the cobbles.
Calm down, she told herself as she approached the front entrance of the theatre.
Taking a deep breath of the fresh morning air, filling her lungs, she went in, glancing at the window as she went by and seeing that the submissions notice was gone.
Niall came out of the office to greet her, and whispered quickly. ‘An actor has turned up. He’s in the office and is interested in the lead role in your play. Come and meet him. He’s an excellent actor and played a supporting role in one of our recent plays. We’d like you to sit in on the audition.’
Mari nodded and followed Niall through to the office where Huntly was chatting to the actor.
‘Mari, this is Andrew, he’s going to read for us today,’ Niall said, introducing them.
‘Andy,’ the actor said, moving like quicksilver to shake hands with her. He was so fast that she pictured sparks nearly ignited from the soles of his shoes as he skimmed across the carpet.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said, liking his open and friendly smile. He didn’t have the classic handsomeness of Huntly and Niall, but his blue–green eyes had a mercurial quality that made him appear alight with energy.
Not quite as tall as them, he was around the same age, and lean and fit. His sandy blond hair was ruffled on top, he was clean–shaven, and casually dressed in jeans and a cream grandad top.
‘I’m excited to talk to you about your fascinating character, Oglesby and his cat,’ Andy told her.
Being thrown in at the deep end wasn’t a new experience for Mari, and she adapted well to the surprise visit from the actor.
‘Shall we go through to the stage so Andy can read from one of the opening scenes.’ Huntly stood up and gestured through to the auditorium. He wore another clean white shirt with his waistcoat and dark trousers.
Mari noticed that a tea trolley had been set up in the office with cups, plates, napkins and a large celebratory style cake. For elevenses, she assumed, though now they’d be nearer twelve.
Huntly caught her glance. ‘We always have a cake to celebrate the signing of a new play. We’ll sort out all the paperwork with you later, after tea and cake. I’d have baked it myself, but I’ve had such a busy morning.’
Mari laughed, thinking he was joking.
‘Huntly is a first class cook,’ said Niall.
‘So you really are adept at everything,’ she remarked.
The sensual look Huntly gave her caused her heart to flutter wildly. Was he deliberately trying to make her blush?
Heading into the auditorium, such thoughts were cast aside as she saw the stage all lit up.
She was happy to be involved in the audition process, especially as this was for the leading male role of her fictitious character, Oglesby.
On stage was a mature man with a wiry build, shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal whipcord arms.
Mari frowned. Was that a stuffed toy cat he was holding?
‘Peter is our prop expert,’ Huntly said, introducing him to Mari. They smiled and acknowledged each other.
‘I dug out Fluffy,’ Peter announced to them from the stage, shaking the cat’s black fur free of dust. ‘He’s a wee bit stoorie, and not half as fluffy as he once was, but we can brush him up until we get a better one.’
Fluffy’s eyes had a glassy glint that seemed to take umbrage at being shook by the tail.
Biting her lip, Mari tried not to laugh, but was relieved when Niall guffawed.
‘Poor wee kitty,’ Andy sympathised, jokingly.
Then everyone laughed, and the atmosphere lifted ready for the actor’s portrayal of the play’s elusive Oglesby, owner of the shop that sold everything.