CHAPTER TWELVE
Mari sat up in bed reading the opening scenes to one of her plays on her laptop.
She knew she should be sensible and get some sleep. But she felt unsettled and eager to work on her writing. As she made her own hours and didn’t have any knitting class to teach the next day, she decided to make a cup of tea and sit up, snug in bed, working on the storyline.
She’d received a message from Scarlet’s director expressing his interest in her writing a Christmas play for him. At first, she thought he meant for the coming Christmas, but no, he was talking about next Christmas. He planned his theatre schedule seasons ahead, so she’d replied and agreed to meet with him if she wrote a festive play.
Huntly kept crossing her mind, but she tried to concentrate on her writing, adding to the dialogue of the main characters. A rich romantic thread ran through this particular play, and she was in the mood for writing romance.
This story was set in the past, a vintage piece, that she pictured with wonderful costumes from the era. She’d seen costumes hanging up in the theatre’s wardrobe collection. Vintage dresses and suits hanging on the rails. Not that she was sure Huntly would want to accept this play, but it helped fire up her imagination, creating a world that would look vibrant and atmospheric on stage.
She’d learned a lot recently from working with Huntly and the others in the theatre. Seeing how the sets were built, starry night skies created with the lighting, the props, and Heather’s dressmaking skills making the costumes, helped her to write with these things in mind. The play she’d written could be so much more than she’d originally planned.
Taking a sip of her tea, she started rewriting late into the night.
‘Put the lights all the way along the canopy,’ Huntly said, standing in front of the theatre the next morning. The sky was a pale blue with amber sunshine, and the colourful lights were due to further brighten the day.
Crew were bustling around, up ladders, putting the finishing touches to the lights around the theatre’s sign and dotted on the edges of the canopy, creating a welcoming glow.
The ticket banner was in the window and the new play advertised. Huntly felt the excitement building.
The other shows on their schedule were almost ready to run, and their dress rehearsals were imminent. He was confident these would be popular. But he had a feeling about Mari’s play being a huge success. And he wasn’t the only one. Jon sensed it too, as did Andy and others.
‘That looks great,’ Huntly called up to the crew. ‘A wonderful job.’
Huntly was admiring the colourful lights when Heather came hurrying out of the theatre.
‘Niall’s got the cat’s yarn in a fankle,’ said Heather. ‘I’m just running down to the craft shop to buy another ball.’
‘Let me go,’ Huntly insisted.
Looking mildly harassed, Heather was happy to take Huntly up on his offer. ‘Ivy knows what type of black yarn we need. She’ll keep you right.’ And off she ran back into the theatre.
Huntly strode down to the craft shop, picturing the chaos that Niall had caused. Peter had borrowed a set of knitting needles from Heather and wanted to try knitting the cat. Peter wasn’t a skilled knitter, but he’d learned to knit blanket squares when he was at school, and thought he could tackle the pattern with Heather’s help to cast on the stitches.
Niall remembered learning to knit squares at school too, though his recollections weren’t up to Peter’s prop–making standards. Chaos had been created when Niall wanted to knit a couple of rows of the pattern before Peter started to decrease the stitches to shape the cat’s head.
Nothing had gone right for Niall, and even Heather’s unpicking skills couldn’t get the tangled mess under control. It was easier to snip the knotted part out and rejoin the yarn. But now there was a lot less to work with. How Niall had wasted so much she couldn’t imagine.
Mari had popped out for Scottish morning rolls for her breakfast. She had a notion of a roll and butter and a nice cup of tea.
The early morning had been a flurry of activity dealing with a handful of customer orders, and organising her day so she could work on her writing and her knitting. Despite the late night, she was looking forward to a cosy day in her flat.
Wearing a colourful patterned knitted waistcoat over her blouse, and her cinnamon cords, she blended with the burnished bronze tones of the nearby trees and greenery. The scent of autumn filled the air as she picked up her rolls and walked back home.
Amber sunlight obscured her view of the craft shop as she walked towards it, heading for her close.
Was that Huntly hurrying into the shop?
Squinting against the glow, the tall, manly figure had gone. Shrugging away her surprise, she put it down to the effect of the sunlight, and headed into the close and up to her flat to make breakfast.
Ivy wasn’t surprised as Huntly rushed in, looking dashing in the Aran jumper Mari had knitted for him and expensive dark trousers. She’d seen knitwear models like him, though she made no comment.
‘Here’s the black yarn you need,’ Ivy said as he approached the counter. Off his surprised look, she explained, ‘Heather phoned to say you were on your way due to an emergency fankle caused by Niall.’
That about summed it up, so he didn’t bother with the details, and accepted the bag that had three balls of black yarn.
‘Three?’ he said, peeking in the bag.
‘Just in case anyone else takes a notion to knit a cat.’
‘Thank you, Ivy.’ He put more than enough money down to pay for it.
‘Before you go, I made up another sample bag for you to take with you.’
Huntly grabbed that too and went to add to the payment.
‘You’ve more than covered the cost,’ Ivy told him. And then she took a breath and spoke up. ‘I took the liberty of costing the cat pattern package.’ Slipping a piece of paper with the numbers she’d calculated for a bulk order of the kits, she waited to see if his reaction was favourable or if she’d overstepped.
Huntly lifted the sheet of paper that was neatly typed and itemised with a breakdown on the options. ‘This is so helpful, Ivy.’ He ran his finger along the items and nodded. ‘Fair, economical, practical but profitable for both of us.’
‘I don’t mean to be pushy, but it seems as if you’re interested in the kit, so I’m used to pricing these for my shop and—’
‘I’m delighted,’ Huntly cut–in. ‘I’ll take this with me, confirm it with Niall and call you later today.’
‘I’ve given two options,’ Ivy explained, pointing to the paper. ‘One doesn’t include knitting needles, and one does but costs a wee bit more.’
‘Given that Peter and Niall had to wangle a pair from Heather, I’d say the latter is our best bet.’
‘That’s what I would advise,’ Ivy agreed. ‘The needles are the type I buy in for beginners. They’re shorter and great to get you started, and they’ll knit up the cat perfectly. It doesn’t take many stitches on each row. Experienced knitters will have their own needles, and Mari designed it with a standard, popular size. But I find that my customers love these sets of knitting needles and like to buy them to add to their collections.’
‘Let’s go with the kit that includes a set of the knitting needles,’ said Huntly.
Ivy was waving Huntly off when Bob came bustling in. ‘Morning there, Huntly. I’m Bob, Ivy’s husband. I baked your celebration cake recently.’
Huntly went to shake his hand, but Bob was carrying a white cardboard cake box with a selection of sticky buns, tattie scones and an oatmeal loaf for Ivy. Bob balanced the box anyway and shook hands.
‘Your cakes are delicious,’ said Huntly.
‘I hear you’re a bit of a baker yourself.’ Bob winked knowingly.
‘I dabble,’ Huntly said, then eyed the large sticky buns, glistening with an icing glaze, raisins, sugared fruits and glacé cherries.
‘Help yourself.’ Bob offered up the box and Huntly accepted one. He hadn’t had breakfast, just a slurp of tea, before his hectic day had started.
I see you’re putting up a show of lights on your theatre,’ said Bob. ‘They’re looking grand.’
‘Lights on the theatre,’ Ivy exclaimed. ‘That’ll catch people’s attention.’
‘That’s the plan,’ said Huntly, eager to head back to the theatre, and to take a bite of the sticky bun.
Bob stepped aside. ‘I won’t hold you up, Huntly. Enjoy your bun.’
‘Thanks again,’ Huntly called to Ivy, smiled at Bob, and then dashed back up the street to the theatre.
There was nothing left except sticky fingers by the time he arrived outside the theatre. The crew had finished the lighting task, the ladders were gone, and everything looked aglow with the pretty lights. It wasn’t too gaudy or ostentatious, and reminded him of theatre lights he’d seen from bygone days.
Heading inside the foyer, he almost bumped into a couple of people on their way out. Several others were queuing at the box office to buy tickets for the shows, especially for Mari’s play.
A member of staff was busy attending to the ticket sales for the advance bookings, and smiled over at Huntly as he went by into the office.
‘Ticket sales have soared,’ Niall said as Huntly walked in. ‘For the new play, and our other shows. Word is getting around. And that’s before we light the theatre up like a beacon tonight.’
‘Wonderful!’ said Huntly.
‘I’m sorry about the kerfuffle I caused with the knitting,’ Niall apologised.
Huntly put the replacement yarn down on the desk. ‘Ivy to the rescue with replenishments.’ He showed Niall her suggestion for costing the kit.
Niall read it over and nodded. ‘This seems fair to me.’
‘I’ll call Ivy and confirm that she should order in the materials we need,’ said Huntly.
Peter interrupted, popping into the office. ‘Heather says Ivy gave you more of the black wool so I can finish the cat.’
‘Here you go.’ Huntly handed him the spare bag of yarn, leaving the new sample bag on the desk.
‘Do you want to help me stuff the cat when I’ve finished knitting it?’ Peter offered to Niall.
‘I’ll forgo that pleasure,’ Niall told him.
‘Okay,’ said Peter, and then headed away happily with the replacement yarn.
‘I contacted the composer,’ Huntly told Niall. ‘He’s booking a session at a recording studio, but he wants to know whether to add harp accents to the song. He says it’ll work well with the violin, guitar and piano.’
‘Harp sounds lovely to me,’ said Niall.
Huntly sent a message to the composer confirming that they liked the idea of the harp. ‘There, that’ll let him plan what he needs for the recording. And he’s excited about the song being played during our radio interview.’
Niall rubbed his hands together. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m famished. I skipped breakfast. Will I grab something tasty for us from the cafe?’
‘Phone Bob, he’s out doing his bakery rounds. I can recommend the sticky buns.’
‘Sounds tasty. Bob bakes our celebration cakes doesn’t he? I should have his number here.’ He flicked through the list of contacts on his phone.
Leaving Niall to phone Bob, Huntly called Ivy giving her the go ahead to order what they needed for a batch of the kits.
‘I’m on it,’ said Ivy. ‘Leave it with me. I’ll sort out all the kits you’ll need. For round one anyway. If they sell like hotcakes, I’ll make up some more.’
‘Thanks, Ivy, you’re such a great help. Bill me for everything,’ Huntly told her. ‘And would you please make sure that Mari’s name and logo are included as the pattern designer, and your name and craft shop’s logo as the materials supplier.’
‘Oh, yes, I’ll do that.’ Ivy was delighted. She hadn’t expected her shop to be included.
Mari drank her tea and ate her tasty buttered roll for breakfast while reading through the play she’d been rewriting the previous night. She sat cosy in the quietude of her living room with her laptop set up on her work table.
Steeped in her story, she read up to the part where she’d finished rewriting, and then continued reading while picking up a vest she’d been knitting. The pattern was a mix of soft neutral colours with hints of rich burgundy. She knitted while reading through the second act of the play, barely making any changes to the writing.
Working on two things at the one time wasn’t what she planned to do on a regular basis, but it allowed her to catch up on her knitting while making progress with the play. Often she’d watch a film or read something on her laptop while she was knitting, so she was quite used to the duality of her current working method. But she knew there would come a point where she had to choose one as her priority, and with the interest building in her plays it seemed apparent that her dream of being a playwright would win the day.
Huntly hadn’t interrupted her with any messages, so she assumed his morning had run smoothly, and she was looking forward to seeing the new lights up on the theatre.
A drama–free day was what they both needed. Life didn’t always have to imitate art, even though she was reading through a dramatic second act of her play.
Bob delivered their bakery order of sticky buns, tattie scones, Scottish pancakes and cheese pastries, bringing it on a tray to the theatre’s office.
‘Here you go, lads,’ Bob said cheerily, setting the items down on their desk.
‘Everything smells delicious,’ said Huntly, grabbing two plates from beside their tea making table.
‘I’ve brought some wee extras to tempt your taste buds.’ Bob then added a slice of apple bread, a buttermilk scone and a raspberry muffin. He’d included little pats of butter and jam.
Niall felt his stomach rumble hungrily just looking at the array of bakery treats. ‘This will keep us going all day. Thanks, Bob.’
Happy that they were delighted, Bob glanced around at the show posters and pictures of the theatre on the office walls. ‘So this is what your theatre looks like inside. I’ve never been to any of your shows, but I’m certainly going to be frequenting it now. It’s a lot bigger and grander than the impression I had from outside.’
By now, Huntly had flicked the kettle on to boil and was setting up the tea cups.
‘Have a donner around if you want,’ Huntly said to Bob, gesturing that he was free to have a look around.
‘I’ll just have a wee peek to see the stage and the seating. Is that a balcony you have too?’ Bob said, studying one of the pictures.
‘It is,’ Niall told him.
Heather popped into the office. ‘Thanks for getting the extra yarn. Peter was eager to finish knitting the pattern and then stuff the cat.’
‘No need to explain, lads,’ Bob said to Huntly and Niall, seeing their reaction to Heather’s remark. ‘I’m up to speed on the fankle fiasco. Ivy told me.’
‘If you’re not too busy, Heather, would you like to show Bob around the theatre,’ said Huntly.
Heather knew Bob well and linked her arm through his. ‘Leave your baking board in the foyer and come with me. I’ll give you a tour of wardrobe and backstage.’
Being whisked away by Heather, Bob called back to them. ‘If I’m not back by teatime, send out a search party.’
‘He has no idea how close he is to that being true,’ Niall muttered, biting into a cheese pastry.
Huntly grinned, and was pouring their tea when Jon wandered in looking ruffled rather than his usual suave self.
‘You look like you’ve been wrestling monsters in your sleep,’ Huntly remarked, pouring a third cup of tea.
Jon flopped down on the nearest chair, didn’t blink at the array of bakery goods on the desk, helped himself to a sticky bun and bit into it.
‘Like that, is it?’ Huntly said to him.
Jon nodded and munched on the bun, seemingly oblivious to what it was. ‘I skipped breakfast and lunch,’ he muttered, enjoying the sweet, sticky sustenance.
‘It’s still morning, Jon,’ Huntly enlightened him.
Jon threw a couldn’t care less gesture at him, still gripping what was left of the bun.
‘What did Scarlet do to you?’ Niall said to Jon.
‘Nothing, yet .’ Jon’s emphasis on the time scale indicated part of his problem.
Huntly put a cup of tea down in front of him.
The three of them sat down around the desk drinking their tea and tucking into the buns, pastries, scones and pancakes. Huntly and Niall added butter and jam to some of theirs.
Jon was still looking distraught and dishevelled. He took another bite of the bun, washed it down with a swig of tea, and then reeled off his concerns of stepping into the jaws of the dating game with Scarlet.
‘I live in a world of fiction, of plays, of characters and drama,’ Jon began. ‘But as the director, I’m in control of that.’ He shook his head and took another slurp of tea. ‘Romance, dating past girlfriends, never goes well or ends well in my real life.’
‘You haven’t even had dinner with Scarlet yet,’ said Huntly.
‘And that’s the problem.’ Jon sounded perturbed. ‘I didn’t think that a gorgeous woman like Scarlet would be interested in dating me. It’s thrown me for a loop. I’m running round in circles trying to think where to take her for dinner so I can impress her. Or at least, not mess it up by booking a table in a restaurant she doesn’t like.’
‘Ask her where she’d like to have dinner.’ This seemed like the easy solution to Niall.
‘I did.’ Jon’s tone was heavy. ‘She said she wants me to surprise her with somewhere wonderful. But we all know how fussy Scarlet is.’
Huntly and Niall nodded.
‘Tricky,’ Niall assessed.
‘A complete conundrum,’ said Jon. ‘Andy says I should cook her a candlelit dinner at my house. But I can’t cook for toffee. And it’s too intimate a setting for our first date.’
‘True,’ Huntly agreed, thinking about this same issue now that he’d invited Mari to dinner at his house.
‘I’m working myself up into a lather over nothing,’ said Jon. ‘Though it’s everything. Scarlet and me becoming a couple...’ He shook his head. ‘I’d never have thought it. But what if it worked out? We’re in the same business.’
Niall suggested a restaurant.
Jon sighed heavily. ‘Fully booked for tonight. As are several others I thought she’d love.’
‘What about that restaurant we all went to in the summer to celebrate one of our opening nights.’ Huntly named the venue.
Jon’s interest perked up. ‘Yes! The food was fabulous, and it was such a romantic setting.’ Grabbing his phone he called the restaurant. ‘Fingers, toes and anything else crossed for me,’ he said urgently to Huntly and Niall.
They gave him bolstering looks as he spoke to the restaurant. And then they heard him book a table for two, a window seat with a view of Edinburgh.
Jon clicked his phone off and punched the air. ‘Nailed it! Thank you,’ he said to them.
Huntly patted him on the back. ‘Scarlet will love it.’
Niall nodded. ‘Now all you have to do is be dashing, daring and her dream come true.’
Jon’s usual suave self started to shine through his previous reticence. ‘No problem.’ Then he looked at what he’d been munching. ‘What are we celebrating?’
‘Stuff,’ said Huntly with a casual shrug. ‘And the lights are up outside the theatre.’
Jon blinked. ‘Are they? I didn’t notice them. Are they lit?’
‘A blaze of vibrant colours,’ said Huntly.
And then they all laughed.
‘If this is what dating Scarlet has done to you before you’ve even had your first dinner together, I think you may have found the woman for you,’ Huntly told Jon.
Jon nodded and buttered himself a pancake, then they discussed their busy day ahead over another round of tea.
‘How did your dinner go last night with Mari?’ Niall said to Huntly.
‘Fine, we enjoyed our meal and chatted about her playwriting, the theatre, and I played the new song for her on the piano.’
Niall and Jon exchanged a glance.
‘You serenaded her,’ said Niall.
‘No, she wanted to hear the new song, so I played it.’
‘Are we including the song in the play?’ Jon wanted to know.
‘Yes, the composer is recording it for us,’ said Huntly. ‘It’ll be ideal as part of the radio interview.’
‘The second part of the magazine feature is online now,’ Niall told them.
‘Is it?’ Huntly checked it on his phone. ‘What does it say?’
‘There are more details about the play,’ said Niall. ‘More pictures of all of us, and a bit about Wil performing at the theatre.’
Jon read it on his phone too. ‘This is excellent publicity. And that’s a lovely picture of you smiling at Mari.’
Huntly looked at the picture and his heart melted a little seeing her smiling at him too.
‘I’ve inadvertently invited Mari to have dinner one night at my house,’ Huntly told them.
Jon smirked. ‘You fox.’
‘No, just as friends,’ Huntly clarified. ‘It was late last night and I was walking her home and I sort of invited her to dinner.’
Niall and Jon exchanged a knowing look.
‘I think you may have found the woman for you too,’ Jon said to Huntly.
Huntly shook his head. ‘No, romance would complicate everything.’
Peter popped into the office and held up the knitted cat he’d made. ‘He’s finished, and I’ve added a pipe cleaner into his tail.’ Peter showed them the different angles the tail could be set to. ‘Nifty, isn’t it.’
‘Great job,’ said Huntly.
The others were equally enthusiastic.
Peter propped the cat up on a shelf and adjusted the tail to an upright position. Nodding that he was pleased with his handiwork, he hurried away again.
‘I can’t knit a stitch, but even I have a notion to knit a woolly cat,’ Jon admitted. Then he looked at Niall. ‘Didn’t you say that you could knit?’
Niall looked awkward.
Huntly took a deep breath and smiled. ‘Well...’