Could I help Seren’s side win?
It’s a long shot, but I have to try. A win for the opposition will make things easier for Ness, too. Less chance of her being singled out by her classmates. Everyone wins. I hope . . .
There’s still time to pull back, albeit not much. With Brotherson’s assurance of work beyond the St Ives decision, I can start influencing the vote Seren’s way.
Seren MacArthur. How has she got under my skin so quickly? That’s the real reason for the uncertainty I’ve felt recently. I’ve been so angry with myself for lashing out at her because, the truth is, I like her. I’ve wanted to pretend it isn’t happening, but there’s no mistake. I’m falling for her. It started the first time we met – and that’s never happened to me before. Even with Tash, who I’d wanted so much to be the love of my life, I hovered around the decision for months before I finally let her in.
It’s crazy. But the more I think of how things are working out, the more I wonder if it might be possible. With the vote decided, we will no longer be on opposing sides. There will be nothing in the way of us being friends – and maybe more.
I’ll get Brotherson to firm up his offer of work first, so I know I’m covered. And then I’ll start talking to people . . .
Chapter Fifty-One
Seren
I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to help Jack win.
It isn’t being disrespectful to Dad – it’s making the most of the opportunity we have. It isn’t backing down on honouring Elinor Carne, either – we don’t need the actual site of her observatory to make sure she is remembered. We can campaign for a new observatory, buy a piece of land in the hills nearby eventually and establish a centre for astronomy. We could partner with a university for further study, publish Elinor’s journals online, maybe put together project days we can take around local schools. Start small, build up. In that way it’s exactly what Dad would have done. He started his shop as a stall at a craft fair, bringing together his favourite artists to share with the town. From that humble beginning, MacArthur’s was founded. And even though that part of the story is coming to an end, it doesn’t erase anything he achieved.
I’m moving on, too. Taking the decision to sell has shifted the weight off my shoulders. I’m even daring to think about what I want my life to look like. Maybe a new campaign to have a permanent centre in Elinor’s name might be part of that.
Could Jack be part of it, too?
I could be mistaken, or reading too much into our fledgling friendship, but I wonder if it could develop if the barrier of the Rectory Fields vote isn’t there. He doesn’t know I make the stars with him – would that be the final piece to bring us together?
I’m going to do everything I can to find out. I’m going to try to convince people to vote for Rectory Fields – and show them that saving the parsonage isn’t the only way to honour Elinor. Then I’ll tell Jack I’m the starmaker, when he wins. It’s a risk, and it puts everything I thought I cared about on the line; but I’ve risked more indirectly with Jack on Gwithian Beach than I have with anyone else. I have to know.
I have less than a week to swing the vote. So I set to work.
When I pick up bread for home I talk to the guys in Warren’s Bakery about the cost of renovating the parsonage, letting the smallest hint of doubt into my voice. As I leave, I see them deep in conversation.
Maggie in the Post Office tells me her niece enjoyed my talk at Cerrie’s school, so I mention how the children responded to Elinor Carne’s story – and that maybe we don’t need a physical site to spread the word about her. Her parting words are, ‘Well, if we lose the vote maybe you, Lou and the committee can put your energy into doing school visits. Start with the next generation and build from there. I know several teachers who would sign up like a shot . . .’
I don’t say anything to Kieran, Aggie or Lou. They would rumble me in an instant: I would rather we work together after losing the vote than me try to persuade them to ditch the campaign. But there is one person on the Save the Parsonage committee who I think might be a sympathetic ear.
If I’m going to convince anyone, I should start with Sharon. She’s been a fantastic supporter of everything we’ve done, but she is also the voice of reason on the committee. People listen to her. So I make an excuse to visit her at her gorgeous candle shop, to make my play.
After the usual catch-up on town gossip, I casually make my opening gambit. ‘You know, I’ve been thinking about what we do if we win the vote.’
‘About time someone did. I’ve kept saying this to Lou and Aggie, but they can’t see past beating Bill Brotherson.’
‘I just think we need to consider what lies ahead. How much it’s going to cost; the best use of our money and time.’
Sharon leans against one end of a display bench. ‘And?’
I shrug, suddenly self-conscious. ‘Maybe the parsonage site isn’t the best place, I don’t know.’
She blinks. ‘You’re not serious?’
Too obvious. I try a different approach. ‘I mean, it’s a bit out of the way if we wanted a centre that visitors could easily find. And there really isn’t enough of the existing building left to renovate. We would have to build something new, whether it was there or somewhere else. So I’m wondering if it might be better to find a more central location – to bring Elinor’s story to as many people as possible.’
‘In town?’
‘Maybe. Think of the thousands of visitors that flock here every year. If only a fraction of them caught the magic of Elinor’s story and took what they learned home, wouldn’t that have an amazing impact? When I talked to Cerrie’s class about Elinor every single one of them was excited. They all wanted to do something to make sure she was remembered. If thirty excited seven-year-olds in a rural school classroom can have that reaction, imagine what we could achieve with countless visitors from all over the world.’
As I lay out the reasons to support this plan, I feel my own resolve strengthening. It absolutely makes sense – and not only because Jack and Nessie’s lives will be better for a yes to Rectory Fields.
‘I suppose so. I hadn’t thought of it that way.’ Her scrutiny of me is discomfiting. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine.’ I smile as easily as I can. ‘Bit tired, you know.’
‘Aren’t we all? I’m regretting not taking a month off in February now. Next chance I’ll have for a holiday is the week after October half-term.’ She reaches up to a shelf and hands me a silver tin. ‘There you go, on the house.’
‘You don’t have to do that,’ I say, but Sharon’s having none of it. I lift the lid. The candle is beautiful – a swirl of sea-green, white and Cornish blue with a sprinkling of iridescent glitter set into the wax. Its scent reminds me of summer cliff-top walks with the smell of salt and lush sea plants. ‘That’s so lovely.’
‘It’s one of my new candles – “Desire Path” – sea breeze, rain and sage. Light it whenever you need inspiration. Or just to help you relax.’
‘Thank you. You’re very kind.’
She puts her arm around my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. ‘And you’re doing a great job. You just follow your heart, Seren. Don’t worry about what anyone else thinks. You have a right to vote with your heart as much as anyone else in this town.’
Does she suspect what I’m doing? The moment passes, and nothing in the rest of our conversation suggests Sharon has rumbled my plan. I make a mental note to be more careful next time . . .
Chapter Fifty-Two
Jack
The town vote is tonight. I am surprisingly nervous – and not because I’m scared we won’t win. I’m worried we will.
All week, I’ve been sowing seeds of doubt when I’ve spoken to people I think might be voting for me. It’s actually been quite a freeing experience. Now I know mine and Nessie’s future doesn’t rest on Rectory Fields, it’s been fun to talk about it. I’ve mentioned how strong I think the Save the Parsonage campaign is, how much support I’m seeing fo
r them. I’ve even not flinched when parents at the school gate have questioned Brotherson’s plans for the development. A shrug and a pair of crossed fingers have spoken more in reply than any heartfelt defence I might have launched before.
Is it enough? There’s no way to tell. But with each new conversation I’m more convinced I’m doing the right thing. Nessie is still obsessed with Elinor Carne and using the telescope in our back garden. She’s started a ‘stargazing book’ and is faithfully recording her sightings every evening – even if at the moment most of them read, ‘Lots of cloud’. I plan to take her to a real observatory if I can find one in the holidays. If Seren wins and the Elinor Carne Foundation reconstructs her observatory, it will quickly become my daughter’s favourite place.
I remember what Seren said about Ness last week. I’m still shocked she could see so much in my daughter during one meeting. Perhaps I should give Ness more credit. Her growing passion for stargazing has endeared her to her schoolmates, making her the least likely to be picked on for the time being. Kids are notoriously fickle, but she’s won her class over for now. She’s done that by herself and I’m proud of her. All I ever want for my girl is for her to be able to be herself with no fear of anyone else’s opinion.
Brotherson has been making noises about his latest acquisition on a site a few miles from the parsonage, and I’ve been out to see it at his request. He’s serious about keeping me on and that means so much. Regardless of what happens at the vote tonight, Ness and I are sorted. I like stability. I’ve missed it.
I arrive in St Ives an hour early and meet the caretaker opening up the Guildhall for the meeting.
‘You all ready for tonight?’ he asks, swinging open the old doors and securing them with a cast-iron wedge.
‘I think so.’
‘It’s been a good battle, I reckon.’ Eric Losely grins, revealing several missing teeth. ‘You did good, boy. Have to say, I’m probably votin’ for Seren’s lot, though. No offence to you. Gotta protect our heritage, ain’t we?’
‘That’s why it’s so important the people of St Ives have a say,’ I reply, encouraged that I’ve witnessed one definite vote for Seren. ‘You know what’s best for the town.’
‘A sportin’ response, sir,’ Eric says, offering his crinkled-skin hand for me to shake. ‘Let’s just hope your employer is as benevolent.’
People begin arriving twenty minutes later and I stand at the back of the hall watching the seats filling up. Nobody is going to miss this tonight. Nerves worry my stomach as I try to guess who will vote for Seren, and who will vote for me. I give up after a few minutes: it’s impossible to call.
And then I see her, walking into the hall. She’s looking for someone, scanning the room over the tops of heads. Man, she’s beautiful. Her hair is loose this evening, a slightly wavy chestnut cascade that rests between her shoulder blades. She’s wearing a sea-green tunic over dark blue jeans, a jade scarf around her neck. If Nessie saw her, she might think a mermaid had just wandered into the Guildhall.
I’m probably staring. I don’t care. Until our eyes meet and she offers a shy wave.
I want her to win. I want to give her this gift. But there’s nothing more I can do. What happens next is down to the crowd filling the room, washing in like a rapid tide.
All I can do now is make my closing arguments. And wait.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Seren
‘You’ve heard from both sides of this debate, but now the future of the site is in your hands. Regardless of who wins, we are honourin’ a one-hundred-and-eighty-year-old moral covenant, which entrusted Bethel Parsonage to the people of St Ives. We have been trusted as guardians of this land. Let’s take that responsibility seriously. Thank you to both speakers – to Seren and to Jack – for a respectful, intelligent debate, and to all of you for comin’ each week to hear the arguments.’
A wave of warm applause washes around the hall.
I watch Lou and try to stop my hands from shaking. Everything I’ve secretly worked for this week is about to be put on the line. I glance across at Jack, who offers me a smile. It’s so different from the last look he gave me after our argument, and I wonder if the days since have given us both time to reconsider our words.
‘All that remains is for me to invite our two speakers to make any closin’ statements they wish to offer.’
He offers the microphone to Jack, who invites me to speak first. This is my last chance to influence the vote and I’m suddenly nervous. I haven’t prepared anything but I need to say the right thing. Taking a deep breath, I start speaking and hope my heart provides the words.
‘My dad believed in small beginnings leading to mighty change. This campaign began with a few local stories passed down through generations and a bundle of old journals. And now, look how many people know about Elinor Carne as a result. As a town we’ve achieved so much over the past six weeks. I think all I want to say now is that we have options, no matter which way the vote goes tonight. Think of the future you want to see and the people you can affect with your decision. Then vote with your heart. Thank you.’
I take my seat shakily as applause thunders around the room. I’ve done all I can do – now it’s out of my hands.
Jack takes centre stage and the hall becomes silent.
‘I know much has been said on this stage and the debate has carried out into the town, too. I’d just like to thank you all for being open to hear both sides. I’ll echo what Seren said –’ He glances at me. My heart jumps. ‘You know what you most want to happen. This town was built on people’s hopes, from fishermen to artists, builders to shopkeepers. There’s a proud history of looking to the future while protecting the past. Vote for what you think is right for this site. Thanks.’
Jack takes the seat next to me as Lou rises to start the voting process and I’m surprised when he leans over, his voice low.
‘Not sure I can watch this bit. Shall we await our fate outside?’
I don’t even have to think about it. ‘Let’s go.’
Groups of volunteers are handing out ballot papers and pens to the crowd, while Lou places a large black metal box on the stage with great ceremony. Jack and I skirt around the perimeter of the Guildhall and duck out through the entrance doors. I glance at my friends, but they are all too busy to notice. Good.
My heart is hammering as we sit on the steps in front of the Guildhall. Jack gives a nervous cough and I look up to see a few stars peeking through ghostly grey clouds over us.
‘Well, that was intense,’ Jack says.
‘It was. It is.’ I look at the warm light spilling from the entrance across the flagstone path. ‘How do you think it’ll go?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine. Look, Seren, I owe you an apology for what I said last time . . .’
I look back at him, noticing how the light catches the contours of his face. ‘Don’t. I shouldn’t have said anything about your daughter.’
‘Yes, you should. And I was an idiot. You were right, anyway. Ness has been holding her own at school and there haven’t been any problems. I was just—’
‘Scared,’ I finish for him. ‘I know. This whole thing is scary.’
‘Tell me about it. This has been the longest and most demanding job interview of my life.’
‘It’s felt like that at times, hasn’t it?’ I breathe out slowly to calm my nerves. ‘I’ll be glad when it’s over.’
‘Will you? I thought this was the first step on a long journey for you?’
I feel the full force of his stare and wish I hadn’t been so candid. ‘It is – not just for me, but the committee too. Lou’s established the Elinor Carne Foundation, so after the vote the fundraising can begin.’
‘I reckon it will be easy to get people involved. Hearing you speak about your old astronomer was inspirational. If it helps, my daughter is still buzzing after your visit to her class.’
‘Is she?’ This makes me inexplicably happy. The experience of talking to the chi
ldren was the first time I’d dared to believe that we could tell Elinor’s story anywhere. Being on a windswept hilltop might add some romanticism to the story, but Elinor’s struggle is impressive without it. ‘That’s great to hear.’
‘She’s relentless. Made me research Elinor Carne, and we even have a telescope set up in our back garden now.’
‘Brilliant.’ Cerrie will be delighted to hear that: her master plan bearing fruit. We share smiles. ‘I started stargazing because of my dad. He built a little observatory in our back garden.’
‘Wow – I didn’t know that.’
‘It’s a big shed, really. With a hatch that opens in the roof. It’s very rough and ready but it’s where I learned to love stars.’ I stop myself, the mention of stars too scarily close to what I know about Jack and Nessie and Gwithian Beach. ‘Does your daughter have a star wheel?’
‘A what?’
‘It shows you which stars are above your head at any time in the year. You can get one for a couple of quid or . . .’ I remember the app on my phone and pull it out of my back pocket. ‘Hang on, I’ll show you.’
‘Ah now, phone stuff I understand.’
As I launch the app, Jack shuffles along the step, so that our shoulders are almost touching. The night around us stills.
I raise my phone and tilt the screen over our heads so he can see. ‘It’s cloudy tonight so it would be difficult to know where the stars are in relation to us. But with this you can find out exactly where they sit in the sky. You see?’
The screen fills with constellations that pivot as I move the phone across the sky.
Beside me, Jack takes a breath. ‘Wow.’
I think of sitting next to Dad holding the star wheel over our heads like this, and my growing wonder as he pointed out each of the constellations. It was the most magical discovery, like seeing my first rainbow or swirling frost patterns on windows – only better, because the stars moved through the sky instead of being fixed, so the magic renewed each time. There was always something new to see, no matter when in the year you gazed up. ‘So that’s the Plough, then look up from the top star on the side without the handle and that’s Polaris, or the Pole Star . . . That star doesn’t appear to move but the others do around it, so from there you can work out where every other constellation is. That’s Orion, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Leo and then Virgo is over there. And that brighter star is actually Jupiter.’
Somewhere Beyond the Sea Page 24