Wishes Under a Starlit Sky

by Lucy Knott

  I fold my cardigan into my travel case and check everything over. Work-appropriate clothes: some fitted pieces, tailored cream trousers, collared blouses. I throw in a long skirt and ruffled dress too in case I get the chance to explore on my own, something I’m trying to do more of. I love staying at Madi’s house and am beyond grateful to her for hosting me. It’s not like I feel like I’m overstaying my welcome or anything – we’re practically sisters and I know I would offend her if I thought such a thing – but I’m actually excited about escaping to the Cotswolds for the next three weeks. It will be the first time in a very long time that I am making a trip on my own.

  With competent snowboarder being added to my list of skills and it being something I had on my bucket list but had been too afraid to try and now could tick off, it’s safe to say that my experiences in Colorado have given me a new lease on life. In addition to a new outlook with work and my future goals, I want to enjoy each second of every opportunity I am given. I have been writing screenplays for as long as I can remember and I adore my work, but I want to push myself harder to get my work out there and challenge myself as a person and with new projects.

  It has taken me a minute to get there but waking up on my own in my own bed has become something I thoroughly relish. Stretching out like a starfish, being able to recite my morning affirmations and start the day on my own terms makes me feel amazing. I’m looking forward to the new surroundings of a cottage-like hotel and to fully embrace my aloneness without Madi, even though just thinking about being without her for the next few weeks makes me miss her.

  *

  I manage to find my way on to the film set. The film trucks, wires and people hustling about letting me know I had found the right place. My quaint bed and breakfast is just a short walk along the river away – Bourton-on-the-Water, the Venice of the Cotswolds – and it’s stunning. I almost didn’t want to leave its confines this morning. But it’s a glorious day, perfect for filming. The sun is high in the bright blue sky, no clouds casting shadows, and I’m looking forward to seeing my leading lady act out the scene where she bumps into a local farmer as she’s herding chickens off the road and into her truck. It has elements of your classic Pegasus movie but with a twist. In her escape to the countryside my heroine meets three different women, all with unique jobs, all with diverse pasts, all incredibly badass – a shepherdess, who escaped to the country to get away from her parents’ belief that she was nothing if she did not become a high-paid accountant. There’s a dog walker, who ended up in the Cotswolds after finding out her fiancé was cheating on her days before they were set to say their vows, and a vegan pastry chef who fled her country due to a troubled family past who now owns a small B and B and her own vegetable garden. In these women my leading lady finds strength and inspiration.

  OK, so maybe a little part of the friendships I had made in Colorado influenced my resurrected script, but it came from a new perspective of having taken a leap and my making the moments happen; choosing to open myself up, seeking out such incredible experiences like snowboarding and living the life I wanted to lead. In my time there, I didn’t just let life happen to me. I consciously made myself present and in turn it was really those feelings of empowerment and learning from every person I met that I couldn’t resist exploring in my writing.

  I introduce myself to as many people as I can, not wanting to interrupt those who look frazzled and busy until I find Lara. She’s usually around on the first day of shooting and then pops in and out for the remainder of the time. We exchange pleasantries before she offers me a seat behind one of the many large camera rigs.

  ‘This is a beautiful story, Harper. I’m eager to see it come to life,’ Lara says encouragingly. I smile, grateful, unable to stop my eyes from wandering around taking in all the action. The scenery is stunning, evergreen, with blossoming flowers and farm animals dotted about, it’s just how I pictured it in my head. Picturesque and idyllic, just the place my leading lady needs to be to escape her hectic city life. I hear a beep and a shout, which I know to mean ‘quiet’ followed by a loud ‘action’.

  I twist my head automatically in the direction of the director and instantly my blood runs cold. I feel it draining out of my head, away from my heart. My heart is crashing in my chest, trying to get the blood to pump back to it. It’s him. It’s my husband. Well my ex-husband, but technically still my husband because he hasn’t yet signed our divorce papers. I really can’t hyperventilate and have a panic attack right now.

  I jump out of my chair, not looking back to see if my boss has noticed me missing and I dash to the nearest trailer.

  ‘Oh goodness, Harper,’ I mumble to myself; I check the coast is clear once inside the trailer and close the door behind me. I steady myself by holding on to the small kitchenette counter. ‘You are the sun, the moon and the stars,’ I say airily, trying to lighten my own mood in this silly situation. I am a grown woman. I fan myself with my hand; my face feels flushed and rosy. ‘Please don’t do this now, you’re better than this,’ I say to myself as I pace up and down the tiny living area. Involuntary shakes have decided to take over my limbs.

  ‘Scott’s here and that’s OK. I can just stay clear of him. I don’t need to go anywhere near him.’ I shake my hands to try and wriggle off the nerves, feeling slightly claustrophobic in the confines of the cosy trailer.

  ‘And if I do bump into him, it will be fine. I can just say hi, hello. I hope life is treating you and your girlfriend well or maybe, maybe I can just get it all out, shout and get angry and tell him how mean he is.’ Uh, I wish Madi were here. ‘No, I can do this on my own.’ I turn my back to the living area and look out of the window over the sink.

  ‘Why didn’t Lara tell me that Scott would be here? Probably because it’s no big deal to anyone. Come on, Harper, his affair is last year’s news. Everyone has moved on and so have you,’ I say, shaking my head, watching the busy crew members fight with a tangled cable through the plastic window. I brush a wobbly hand through my hair.

  ‘Maybe I’m the only idiot who believes in true love and the sanctity of marriage and I’ve been a fool all along. Maybe affairs are as common as proposals these days.’ I tug at the collar of my chiffon blouse, feeling flustered and thrown by my contradicting emotions.

  ‘Oh, really, Harper, don’t do this; think of all you have learnt. You still believe in love and you’re happy now. He’s happy now. Life is good; you’re in a better place. You’ve got this, I’ve got this, I can do this,’ I say more forcefully to myself. I don’t want to be this person. I’m not this person. This has all just been a knee-jerk reaction, a bit of a shock to the system that’s all. I’ll go back out there and I will be fine. I nod.

  ‘Scott sounds like an incredibly shitty human being, if I can be so bold as to give my two cents. If it’s any consolation I think you’ve got this too.’ I snap around and am greeted by a warm smile and empathetic eyes. I don’t know how long I stand and stare before I inhale deeply and finally smile in return, but it feels like an age. But the man doesn’t rush me. Before I know it, a light laugh escapes my lips. I raise my hand to my forehead.

  ‘I’m so sorry for barging into your trailer. I had a moment of panic seeing Scott and …’ I pause, annoyed at myself for talking about Scott. I really don’t want to think about him; today has just thrown me off guard.

  ‘You needed a place to hide?’ The man finishes my sentence, raising an eyebrow to see if he got it correct, but his words are gentle.

  ‘Yes. But that just seems ridiculous now. I sincerely apologize for bursting in here and please understand I have no intention of bad-mouthing my husband. I didn’t mean for you to hear that,’ I say, edging closer to the door.

  ‘I don’t believe for a second you are bad-mouthing your husband, but I couldn’t say that if you were, I could blame you. I apologize for overhearing. Please, if you need a moment longer, sit down and make yourself at home,’ he replies, gesturing to the small couch. My heart is still palpitating rath
er erratically, so I smile and take him up on his offer.

  ‘I won’t be too much longer,’ I say confidently, the air finding its way into my lungs more normally now.

  ‘There’s no rush. Can I get you anything? Would you like some tea?’ the man asks, filling up the kettle. He’s tall with chestnut brown hair and piercing grey eyes nestled behind black-rimmed glasses. He has a kind way about him and I feel comfortable in his presence. I don’t feel like he is just being polite, I genuinely feel as though I don’t need to rush. I appreciate him greatly in this moment; biding my time before I face the inevitability of seeing Scott again.

  ‘That would be lovely, but I’ll have to pass. I mustn’t be too long in case they need me. Thank you for the offer though,’ I say softly. Patting under my eyes to ensure no stray tears have ruined my make-up. I tug at my oversized faint mustard cardigan before my eyes drift around the room. They land on the kind man once more, who I notice is looking at me. He seems at ease in his plain white T-shirt and blue jeans. Trying to rack my brain over my script and who this man must be cast as has gotten me stumped, which makes me laugh and distracts me from thoughts of Scott.

  ‘I’m Harper,’ I say with another chuckle and hold out my hand. ‘I wrote the script, so I’m just on hand in case they need anything changing if it doesn’t sound quite right.’

  ‘I’m Dean, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Harper.’ He smiles genuinely, reminding me of Madi when she looks at me and really sees me. It momentarily takes my breath, that I’m struggling to steady, away. I miss Madi and I’ve only been away from her a few hours. I could do with a friend after today’s unexpected turn of events. I want to be strong but seeing Scott for the first time in months has knocked me for six. I’ll be OK in a few minutes, I tell myself. Under Dean’s watchful gaze I find my breath and feel it returning to it’s more regular rhythm and my mind clearing.

  ‘And what do you do, Dean? Forgive me but I’m trying to place you in my cast of characters. There are no male heroes involved and I’m having a hard time picturing you as the local dairy farmer.’ I look him up and down.

  He copies me, looking himself up and down and stating, ‘If I was an actor I would be offended.’ He laughs. ‘You really don’t think I could play a dairy farmer?’ He smirks playfully and my eyes crinkle with laughter. It’s a nice release and eases the tight tension in my abs as the laughter barrels out of my belly.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m sure you could play a dairy farmer – you’d be the best one,’ I tease. He raises his eyebrows and purses his lips in a mock-cocky fashion.

  ‘Why, thank you. But, no I’m not an actor. I’m kind of hiding out here too. My sister is playing your wonderful pastry chef. She had me tag along. We’re making a trip out of her crossing the Atlantic for the first time for a movie, but I’m not inclined to get in the way today,’ Dean says. Before I can ask where in America he and his bold accent are from, there is a knock at the door. I jump up, worried that I’ve been unprofessional disappearing from set like this when a beautiful brunette who I saw earlier in front of the camera barrels in with a beaming smile on her sun-kissed face.

  ‘There you are. Are you not coming to watch me?’ she says mock exasperated at Dean, her smile not faltering.

  Dean holds up his mug, bearing coffee not tea. ‘I need some caffeine in me if I’m to watch you perform all day,’ he says slyly through a wicked grin. ‘This is Harper,’ he adds, gesturing towards me. The woman shakes her head.

  ‘I’m so sorry, where are my manners? I didn’t mean to ignore you. I just wanted to grab this one before my next take. I’m Sophie. Wait are you Harper Hayes, the woman who wrote this script?’ she enquires, her voice coming out high-pitched and excitable. It’s hard not to smile in this woman’s presence. She has a positive aura to match her strikingly pretty face.

  ‘That would be me,’ I say, with a modest shrug, feeling my cheeks flush. ‘It’s wonderful to meet you, Sophie. I best get back to set. I’m looking forward to watching you work,’ I say as I head to the door. I hesitate for a second wondering if I will be able to avoid bumping into Scott but somehow feeling that I’m strong enough to get through it if I do, thanks to my brief encounter with Dean and his kindness. A stranger has reminded me that there is love and beauty in the world. (I sound like my mother.) ‘It was great to meet you too, Dean. I hope you both enjoy our side of the Atlantic.’

  ‘It was great to meet you too and for the record I don’t believe you’re the only idiot left,’ he replies raising his mug and tipping his head. As I walk away my lips curve into a smile, then I hear Sophie tell Dean off for calling me an idiot and another crack of laughter bursts out of me.

  I make it over to the tent where I see Lara hanging out with other staff, cameramen, assistants, actors, while I’m trying to compose my giggles. With Sophie’s arrival in the trailer I take it that they’ve called for a break to set up the next scenes. Before I can check in with Lara to see how things are going, I’m intercepted by the man I was hoping to stay clear of. I feel Scott’s grip on my elbow as he guides me to the side of the tent by the catering table full of fruit plates. My blood runs icy. I close my eyes. When I open them, I register that this is no longer the man I loved, and I no longer feel weak in his presence. I hold my head high and imagine myself on the slopes with Hayley, wind in my face, adrenaline coursing through my veins, gliding along the snow, looking fear in the face. I zone in to how I felt then, how powerful nature ensured me that I am.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Scott asks abruptly. It comes out in a hiss; I’m not accustomed to this harsh tone from him. ‘Could you just give me a break, Harper? There’s no need to come to my work. I thought you would be more civil than that,’ he adds, his voice low. He doesn’t want to make a scene apparently, which comes as a bit of a shock considering how much he and his girlfriend have enjoyed splashing their relationship across social media – or so my ‘friends’ have told me.

  The words are not forming in my brain quick enough to respond, so I stand stock still, once more looking like a goldfish in front of my husband. Did he just ask me to give him a break? To cut him some slack? I tug my arm fiercely out of his grasp. I don’t want him touching me.

  ‘Look I’ve seen the papers, I’ve seen the emails, I’ve just been busy with work. If a divorce is what you want, then we can get a divorce.’ He tries a gentler approach, trying to soften my stone jaw with what he must think to be a kind gesture – that he will give me what I want. He wants sympathy for working hard and he wants to be the gentleman and give me what I want, because it’s me who wanted a divorce?

  I can actually feel my blood boiling; it bubbles under my skin. I’m uncomfortable. Being this angry terrifies me. It’s not in my nature. You are the sun, the stars, the moon, I think to myself, picturing my mother’s calming face.

  ‘Just don’t make a scene,’ Scott then says glancing around the tent. I don’t follow his gaze. Right now, I’m not interested in how this looks to anyone else. I’m not worried about making a scene. All the hurt, the anger, the confusion and frustration of the last year reaches its peak. I have given Scott a break, sat back over the last year and a half waiting for his response about the divorce and the house, an apology even, but it’s my turn to let go now. It’s my turn to move on. How dare he say he’s busy, too busy to sign divorce papers, too busy with his new life, his new girlfriend, to allow me to move on. I’m not waiting any longer for him to move his pawn on the chessboard. I have a life to live. I’m done with taking one step forward and two steps back.

  I smile a shaky smile at first but then it grows bolder as I breathe in the fresh country air and feel the sun kissing my cheeks. I bloody love the outdoors and need to spend more time in it.

  ‘Scott. I think it’s perfect that we ended up being on this movie set together.’ I’m about to say more when Scott interrupts me.

  ‘Well, I don’t. This is ridiculous. There’s no need for you to be here, just go, Harper. I’ll deal with the papers soon.’ O
f course, Scott wouldn’t think I have any reason to be here. If how he has treated me this last year is anything to go by, I’m anything but a person of importance. He looks around anxiously, a pleading look in his eyes like he’s dismissing me and urging me to drop it with so many people inside the tent in close proximity. At that moment Lara calls out to me, giving me reason to turn away from Scott’s callous glare.

  ‘Harper, we need you, hon. We have a question about this next scene in your script.’ She nods in my direction and waves me over to where she needs me. I wave back, grateful for the distraction and breather from Scott’s aggravating words. I turn back to Scott with more determination and confidence and the desire to do what I should have done a long time ago: stand up for myself.

  ‘Scott, I have every right to be here. You see, it’s my script. I wrote this movie. My first original movie and I’m so damn proud of it. Maybe you can learn something from it if you pay close attention.’ My voice is stern, a little shaky around the edges, but confident. I don’t look away from Scott’s eyes. ‘You have the divorce papers, which is great, now I’m here you can get them signed and hand them over to me tomorrow morning. The solicitors are sorting the house so if you need to speak to anyone you can go through them. I am done here. I am so finally done.’ I squint my eyes as I think whether I have anything more to say to Scott, any other important information that needs to be addressed, but I think that should cover it. I’m aware that all eyes are now on us. I didn’t mean for my words to come out so loud but they sure felt good to say; like a weight has been lifted from my chest.

  I go to step away, but hesitate, giving myself a moment to take in Scott’s features: the blonde hair I used to love running my hands through, his bright eyes that used to light up when they saw me, those lips that made my stomach flutter. My confidence wavers when I go to step away. This is it. I’m putting it all behind me. The man speaking just now, the man standing in front of me, is not my Scott and I have to acknowledge that. There’s no warmth in his eyes, no consideration of how I’m doing or what this has all been like for me. It’s all about him. We’re not in this together anymore. That stopped the minute he built a relationship with another woman behind my back. Though I know my emotions are the least of his worries, I go to speak them anyway, for myself.