Authors: Beth Trissel
“True
enough
.
I better
go
and
check on her.”
Lyle leered
at Will
from where he’d perched
on one of the stools Charlotte had provided for that purpose
.
“Op
helia gone walk about as well?
Not surprising after this morning
’
s high drama
.
”
“What’s it to you?” Will
asked.
The mountain of a man shrugged.
“
Take any
of those
girls skinny-dipping
with you,
Wentworth
?
”
If Grandmother Nora weren’t seated expectantly
on her throne
-chair
, W
ill
would’
ve crammed his fist
into Lyle’s jeering
mouth.
The old lady tapped her
infernal cane
in signal to begin.
She fixed them all brightly from beneath her
navy
pill-box hat
, dressed
in blue silk and
the ever-present
pearls
.
Wi
ll had thrown on jeans and a blue polo
after his solitary swim.
“L
et’s jump right into
A
ct five,
the
scene in the graveyard where Hamlet is speaking with the gr
avedigger, a
real jokester,” she
smiled
, as if everyone shared her humor
.
“Dave, Horatio’s in this too,” she reminded the much put upon gardener.
Will stalked
to the center of the f
loor
where Ron
had been prompted to dig an
imaginary
hole in
the
imaginary
earth
.
The q
uiet
brick mason
was an
unlikely choice
for the
role of
clowning gravedigger
, but
Nora pressed everyo
ne into service
whether suited or not
; her only qualification be
ing that they still drew breath
.
Will had to admit it was amazing the talent, or lack of it, that she
’d
tapped.
Shifting
nervous eye
s, Ron
grasped
his solitary prop
, a shovel
.
He slanted a silent appeal at Will.
“Just improvise.
She won’t notice,
”
Will
whispered
.
Grandmother
Nora
intruded
on his encouragement
.
“
R
emember
folks
, Hamlet
has just
returned from
England
where he averted an assassination
by Rosencrantz and Guildenstern
,
traitorous friends
acting on the orders of his evil uncle.
He and
his
true
friend
Horatio don’t
realize Ophelia
has drowned.
”
The mention
of
de
ath in association with the character
attached
so closely
to Julia
spurred near
dread
in Will.
Nothing
had
felt right
ever
since he’d parted from her this morning.
Brooding
had
solved nothing.
Whatever was happening
to him
, he couldn’t figure it out alone.
Concealing
his
anxiety, he
raised his
hand in a greeting
to Ron
. “‘Ho, fellow.
W
hose grave is this?
’”
“‘
Mine
sir,
’
” Ron answ
ered,
screwing up his face in an unsettling
attempt at mirth.
Will summoned
a
n amicable
smile
, though he couldn’t imagine from where
.
“‘
I
ndeed
, for thou
li
est
in it.
What man dost thou dig it fo
r
?
’
”
Ron
shoveled
the pretend earth
.
“‘
For n
o man, sir.
’
”
“‘
What woman
,
then.
’
”
“‘
For none, neither,
’
”
Ron
grunted as if toiling hard.
Will had to give him
credit for these touches.
“‘
Who is to be buried in it?
’
”
he asked patiently.
Ron cro
ssed himself with overt piety
.
“‘
One that was a woman, sir.
But rest her soul, she’s dead.
’
”
“‘
How absolute the knave is,
’
” Will said to Hora
tio, and then to Ron,
“‘
How long hast thou been gravedigger?
’
”
He
scooped another
shovel of
invisible
earth.
“‘
Since that very
day young Hamlet was born.
Him tha
t was mad and sent into England
.
’
”
Ron paused
, with a
puzzled
frown
.
“Doesn’t
he recognize Hamlet?”
“
Apparently not.”
Will attacked his l
ine to get it out of the way.
“‘
Ay
, marry.
W
hy was he sent into England?
’
”
“‘
Why, because he was mad.
He shall recover his wits th
ere.
Or if h
e do not ‘tis no great matter.
‘Twill not be seen in him there
.
T
here t
he
men are as mad as he,’”
Ron
, the clown,
added
as though all English were balmy.
Will
’s thoughts
dwelt on one
Brit
in particular.
Whether
or not
Julia was sane,
he had to be with her, and was
so distracted
he
scarcely heard himself speak
.
He
came to the part where Hamlet
pick
ed up the
skull
, plastic in t
his instance
.
“‘
Alas! Poo
r
Yorick
.
I knew him, Horatio.
A fellow of infinite jest.
’
”
Will
didn’t get far
into Hamlet’s discourse
on the fleeting nature of life before h
is
grandmother
found it tedious.
She
arrived with
the funeral procession
made up
of her
queenly
self and
his evil uncle,
alias the sweaty Dougla
s.
T
he parish priest
whom she’d bullied into conducting the service was
also
present, a bespectacled, gray-haired man in a black c
lerical suit and white collar.
Lyle,
as Laertes, was
in the group,
incensed with Ha
mlet for his part in Ophelia’s
death
and not much happier with Will
.
Paul
slouched
among
the
extra
mourners
.
O
ne
vital player
was missing.
Grandmother Nora
gestured at the empty stretcher that would be decorated with fresh flowers the night of the play
.
“
Well, sir.
W
e have a funeral bower and no
corpse
.
Where is Miss Morrow?
”
Will
cringed to hear Julia spok
en of that way.
“Resting,” he said lamely
.
“Now?
”
Nora’s
silver
brows lifted in marked disapproval.
“
She’s to be
lying
here drowned
.”
Charlotte flew
into the hall, heading
straight fo
r Will.
His stomach sank at the
anxiety
creasing
her face
.
“Julia’s not in her room.
I can’t find h
er anywhere!
”
Will had one glaring thought.
He
flew at the Aussie. S
eizing
him by the shoulders
, he gave
him a furious shake
.
“What
in God’s name
have you done to her
!
”
Lyle
goggled his
eyes at him
.
“What
the hell are you talking about?
”
“You tell me, you bastard!”
Will drew back his fist
and let it fly in
a crunch of bone against bone.
Lyle’s jaw would be even more bruised now.
The big guy sta
ggered back, shaking his head.
“
Wentworth
, I swear I’m gonna kill you!”
“After I’m finished
pounding your lying mouth
!”
Father Set
h held up a conciliatory hand.
“Please
,
please
,
gentlemen.”
Ron rushed at Will and
grabbed
his wrist
with callused fingers
.
“Lyle was with m
e today
! We never
saw her again after she went off.”
Will faltered
in Ron’s iron hold
.
“When was that?”
“Late morning,” Ron
said.
Grandmother Nora
glanced from one to the other in arched astonishment
.
“W
ith whom
did the young lady leave
?”
“Why
,
with
herself, I assumed
,
”
Will
said.
She
looked down her nose at him
.
“Never
assume
.
Know.
”
Blast it all, s
he was right.
S
ick desperation drove into
his gut
, sped by the
hammer
ing
in his heart.
“Who saw her last?”
Lyle
seemed to have
lost
his crude
humor
.
He was in dead earnest.
“
Those girls she
ticked off wouldn’t really harm her, would they?”
“What girls?” Grandmother Nora pressed.
“Your grandson’s jealous fans.”