Page 16 of A Year at Appleyard Farm
‘It certainly is. Romeo, Romeo, where for art thou, Romeo,’ he squeaked in a high-pitched falsetto. ‘Oh, no, sorry that’s your line.’ He cleared his throat, lowering his tone to a gruff deep voice instead. ‘But Soft! What light through yonder window breaks.’
He reached back into the box, pulling out an elaborate headdress. ‘Here you go, Juliet, try that on for size.’
She leaned over to take the feathered monstrosity, plonking it on top of her head. ‘I can’t believe we never made it to Broadway. I mean, we were good, weren’t we; really good?’
‘Well, your dad said so, and he never told a lie,’ replied Sam, with a twinkle in his eye. ‘The summer holidays had a lot to answer for.’
‘Oh I think this was one of our slightly better schemes. Although I’m not sure taking our three-man plays on a nationwide tour was ever going to truly catch on. I think, as performers, we were much misunderstood.’
‘How old were we then?’ He grinned.
Freya narrowed her eyes, looking at Sam intently. ‘It was 1992, and we were twelve.’
He was surprised. ‘You can remember the year?’
‘Don’t you? That’s why there were only three of us. It was the year Merry got glandular fever and spent practically the whole summer in bed. It was the year after we went up to secondary school.’
‘Oh God…yes, you’re right…and Stephen spent two days in a huff because I got to play Romeo and not him. We had to let him play every other part in the whole play, and the only way he could do it was to wear all the costumes at once.’
‘I’d forgotten that bit,’ hooted Freya. ‘And then, in the one of the rehearsals he couldn’t get his tights off and spent the whole of the next scene with them around his ankles. He got so mad at us because we couldn’t stop laughing.’
Sam shook his head, smiling as he remembered the hilarity that had engulfed them as children. ‘It could have been yesterday, couldn’t it?’
‘Twenty-three years ago, Sam, that’s what it was,’ said Freya softly. ‘Half a lifetime ago.’
He looked up at her, noticing the change in the tone of her voice. ‘Still, good times, Freya.’
She swallowed. ‘Yes, they were.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered, brushing at her eyes. ‘It’s just that—’
Sam was there, by her side, holding her hand. ‘I know,’ he said gently. ‘I feel it too.’
She shivered all of a sudden. ‘I don’t think I need to keep the costumes,’ she said in a quiet voice, slowly withdrawing her hand.
He held her look for just a second before pulling the hat from her head and stuffing it back into the box with the tunic. He gave a quick glance at his watch.
‘Another hour or so, and then we’ll think about stopping for some lunch. Is that okay?’
Freya nodded. ‘I think these boxes are full of old toys and stuff. They can pretty much all go, I think.’
* * *
Amos placed a teapot on the table as Freya lowered herself gingerly onto a chair. He took one look at her and fetched the painkillers from the dresser. Sam was only seconds behind with a plate of beans on toast.
‘Sorry, we should have stopped before now.’
Freya gave a wan smile. ‘It’s fine really, I’ll be okay in a bit once I’ve taken some of these. It’s only just crept up on me, now we’ve stopped. Besides, it was good to get that last bit finished.’
‘It was, we’ve done well this morning.’ He handed her a fork. ‘Go on, eat up before it gets cold,’ he said, taking a seat too. ‘I’ve cut it up for you.’
‘Thanks, Sam.’ Freya smiled. ‘This looks good enough to eat.’
Sam glanced at Amos and rolled his eyes.
‘I can’t believe you got so much done this morning, Amos,’ added Freya, looking at the pile of greenery and ribbon which they had pushed to one end of the table. ‘I think I’ll be able to get quite a few wreaths made up with that lot.’
‘Well, I was on a bit of a roll,’ admitted Amos. ‘I enjoyed it actually; it’s quite soothing once you get into the rhythm of it. Good thinking time.’
‘Oh – and what were you thinking about?’ asked Freya, being nosey.
