Callie suppressed a smile. It was a surprising statement from one so young.
‘Yes, I like how Lear goes mad. It’s a theme, you know,’ Merryn continued.
‘Is it? I’m afraid I don’t knowKing Learvery well.’
‘And the theme ofTwelfth Nightis love.’ Merryn said it scornfully. ‘Far too slushy in my opinion. I don’t want a boyfriend. Me and my best friend Holly agree boys are stupid. Holly says she’d rather have her pony and her dogs. She’s got dachshunds. They’re little with long bodies. Ever so cute. Sausage dogs – although Holly hates them being called that. We’ve got Ivy. She’s a spaniel. We rescued her. And I’ve got guinea pigs too. Have you got a boyfriend, Callie?’
Callie shook her head in response, blinking at this barrage of information.
‘Mum hasn’t either. AndTwelfth Nightshould be put on in January not in the middle of the summer. It’s meant to be performed after Christmas. And of course, in Shakespeare’s time, the girls’ parts were played by boys. So, you got a boy playing a girl like Viola who was pretending to be a man. Confusing.’ Merryn pulled a face. ‘Don’t you think it was unfair not to let girls be actors?’
‘Extremely unfair.’ Callie was bemused. ‘And, actually, I often find Shakespeare confusing.’
Lucie broke off her conversation with Johnny to accept the pint of cider Jamie had brought out. ‘Is that my favourite Shakespeare expert?’ she called over. ‘Come round here and tell me what you thought of tonight’s performance.’
‘Lucie!’ Merryn scampered round the table to her and hugged her around the neck. Squeezing onto the woman’s lap they began an animated critique about the play.
Avril took her wine off the tray Jamie held. ‘Thanks, my lovely. Oh, and here’s one for you, Brenda.’ Twisting to Callie, she added, ‘I’m so sorry. Merryn can get intense.’
‘She’s obviously very clever.’
‘Too sharp for a box of knives, as my mother would say. She gets obsessed with things, but this Shakespeare craze has lasted a couple of years now.’
‘Is that what she wants to do? Act?’
Brenda leaned in from her position perched on the edge of the bench and giggled. ‘We all say Merryn can and will do anything she takes a fancy to.’ Pausing to sip wine, she added, ‘Avril tells me you’re on holiday, Callie?’
‘I am. And it’s going by so fast.’
‘Make sure you get to the food festival tomorrow. Lots of local produce on offer plus crafty stuff.’ Brenda swung her impressive earrings. ‘I always get a few more pairs of these. Made by a local jeweller.’ She eased one off. ‘Have a closer look. They’re silver and glass.’
Callie took it. She dangled the exquisite object into the light from the white lights strung along the beer garden wall. Glimmering swirling blue and green it was a miniature work of art. ‘It’s beautiful. I’d love some.’
‘Made by Dipti,’ Avril supplied. ‘She’s a friend of Jago’s. Has the next studio along from him in the art studio. She’ll no doubt have a stall at the market tomorrow. Do come along. As my son is off enjoying himself on the Isle of Skye, I’m doing him a favourand manning his stall in his absence. And I know August is far too early to mention the C-Word but Jago’s light-catchers make fabulous presents.’
Callie laughed. ‘Then I will. I could do with getting a few souvenirs and I’m definitely coveting these earrings.’
‘And you’ll be supporting local craft makers at the same time.’ Brenda lifted her glass. ‘Cheers!’
As Callie lifted hers in a return toast, she watched Lucie nodding at something Merryn said. Johnny leaned in, listening intently to the little girl. With her teacher’s eye, she could see Merryn might be considered a little challenging by some, but Lucie, Jamie, Brenda and now Johnny accepted her without question. And with love.
Perhaps, if Frida had had a wider found family around her like this she would have blossomed in the same way? Not for the first time, Callie felt her single mother status keenly. She’d tried to do as good a job as she could but had had to do it alone. No parents, no grandparents. She was lucky to have Donna and Graham but they had their own family and were often busy.
The guilt returned and lay heavy. Had she done the right thing by going non-contact with her parents? Taking a glug of wine she tried to shake some common sense into herself. Of course it had been better with just her and Frida and one or two carefully chosen people in their lives rather than her parents with their poisonous philosophy. Her parents’ racism alone was enough reason to go non-contact. How could she have exposed Frida to that?
Soaking up the easy chatter, listening to Avril and Brenda tell a gossipy story about someone called Marion and watching Lucie with Merryn, a great wave of something like love engulfed. Maybe it was contentment? There was something about this little town by the sea that soothed her.
Johnny lifted his head up and laughed uproariously at Merryn and the girl giggled back. Or maybe the feeling was growing love for the man sitting opposite?
Eighteen
FRIDAY MORNING 16TH AUGUST
Pieter Bruegel the Elder 1525–1569
Significant painter of Flemish Renaissance. Painter of landscapes and peasant scenes: weddings, dances, feasts. Teaching point: art as a record of history.
(Taken from Calliope Thorne’s teaching notes.)
