One Thousand Stars and You

by Isabelle Broom

  High above them, a vast, golden statue of Buddha sat cross-legged on the roof, a stern and noble expression on his face and a tiny monkey scampering across one of his shoulders. Alice lifted up her large, expensive camera to capture an image. It still didn’t feel real that she was here, in Sri Lanka, surrounded by all this incredible history, nature, and colour. She didn’t know whether it was something to do with the perpetual sunshine, but the country seemed to virtually vibrate with the very brightest and boldest hues from the spectrum. Yellows didn’t just shine, they throbbed; reds weren’t just powerful, they were passionate; and the endless blue of the sky above Alice’s head hummed with an infinite beauty.

  They had only been in Sri Lanka for a couple 0f days, but Alice already knew that she was storing memories she would revisit time and again, not just for their aesthetic value, but also because of the associated emotions. As she had admitted to Max on the summit of Sigiriya Rock earlier that day, being in Sri Lanka was making her feel different, in the best possible way. It was as if she’d been asleep inside herself for a very long time, and now she was waking up. Of course, Max probably thought she’d been babbling a load of old nonsense, but it had still felt nice to tell someone how she was feeling. Sri Lanka was too special to keep to yourself, she thought. The very nature of the place and its people seemed to Alice to be about openness, kindness and good humour.

  ‘Wow, look at this ugly little fella,’ exclaimed Maureen, coming to a stop at the base of a long flight of stone steps.

  Alice blinked and looked away from the wise eyes of the golden Buddha and into the far less enigmatic face of a scrawny monkey. It was crouched on the bottom step, clutching a small banana and glaring at them with open malice.

  ‘It looks like Donald Trump,’ she said, causing Steph and Maureen to shriek with mirth.

  ‘Oh my God – it really does!’ Steph laughed, bending down to take a photo. ‘It’s got the same weird flat hair and everything.’

  ‘Poor Trump-key,’ Maureen lamented, peering up the hillside. ‘And poor us, having more bloody stairs to climb.’

  ‘Think of your glutes,’ Steph told her, stepping warily past the grumpy monkey. ‘You’ll have buns of steel by the time we get back to Suffolk.’

  The heat of the afternoon pressed down on them as they made their steady way up towards the caves, stopping every few yards to take photos of yet more monkeys in all shapes and sizes. Alice was enchanted to spot a mother with a tiny baby clinging to her front high up in one of the trees, its dark eyes shining with mischief and its soft hair a fluffy halo around her head. She marvelled at how quickly you could become accustomed to new things, realising that she felt quite happily at home amidst this platoon of monkeys.

  It took them around twenty minutes to reach the very top of the steps, where the entrance to the cave temples was marked by a series of cluttered wooden shoe racks. Alice, who had a bag with her, slipped off her flip-flops and stowed them, while Steph and Maureen shoved their sandals on a middle shelf. The air felt fresher up here, the marble covering the ground pleasantly cool despite the heat, and Alice flicked through her guidebook to find out how long ago it had been laid.

  Once inside the caves, they could smell the past. It was the same musty scent that Alice associated with churches and museums, as if the very particles in the air were steeped in the remnants of years gone by. Inside the first cave was an enormous statue of a reclining Buddha, which the sign informed them was fourteen feet in length and carved from solid rock. Walking down its length, they found themselves dwarfed by two huge feet, the soles of which had been decorated with colourful swirls.

  ‘Reminds me of the Spirograph I had as a kid,’ Steph said, coming to a halt beside Alice. ‘Back in the days before computer games were a thing.’

  ‘Urgh,’ Alice groaned. ‘Bloody computer games. I swear Richard has an addiction to Call of Duty.’

  ‘You know who would be great at Call of Duty,’ Maureen said. ‘Max.’

  ‘I guess he probably would,’ Alice agreed, feigning nonchalance.

  ‘Did he tell you?’ Maureen asked.

  ‘You mean about his leg?’ Alice guessed, and Maureen nodded.

  ‘He did, yes. It happened in Afghanistan eight years ago – a roadside bomb.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ breathed Steph. ‘The poor thing.’

  Alice unscrewed the bottle of water she was carrying and took a sip. ‘I know.’

  Maureen was looking thoughtful.

  ‘I think I still would. You know, with Max,’ she said. ‘At first it freaked me out a bit, the idea of it, but he’s so fit.’

  Alice stared at the patterned feet of the reclining Buddha, unsure of how to respond.

  ‘Did you find out if he was single?’ Maureen went on.

  ‘No,’ said Alice mildly, shaking her head. ‘But he didn’t mention a girlfriend to me, and he’s not wearing a wedding ring. That doesn’t mean he’s not spoken for, though.’

  ‘It must be hard,’ Steph said. ‘I mean, he’s obviously been through a lot. Dating is probably the last thing on his mind.’

  ‘Pah!’ Maureen laughed. ‘He’s still a man, and all men are lusty monsters deep down.’

  Alice hated how clichéd they were all being, standing here like a flock of gossipy old hens and proclaiming that all men were the same, motivated by pure libido. Max didn’t strike her as a man desperate to pull anything that looked in his direction; he was far less of a lad than Maureen was giving him credit for. Then again, Alice thought guiltily, she had rather been hogging him all morning. Perhaps if Maureen spent some more time with Max, then she, too, would notice the subtleties.

  ‘I can find out from Jamal, if you like,’ Steph offered, blushing prettily as she mentioned his name. ‘But I can’t promise he won’t blab about it to Max.’

  ‘I don’t mind if he does,’ Maureen said dreamily. ‘I always find it’s best to be upfront when you fancy a man – especially when time is of the essence.’

  ‘Come on,’ Alice told them, firmly changing the subject. ‘No more man talk, if you please. There are one hundred and fifty-three statues of Buddha in these caves, and we’ve only seen one.’

  Before Steph and Maureen could reply, she had headed past them and back outside into the sunshine.

  14

  Max

  If I should die,

  Don’t say I was brave,

  Duty was my armour,

  And life was all I gave

  Max woke to the sound of his phone vibrating. Rubbing his eyes, he picked it up and squinted at the message on the screen. It was from his brother, Anthony, no doubt some terrible round-Robin joke that he’d picked up from the lads. Ant was not long back from leading a training exercise over in Gibraltar, and he always returned home with a full arsenal of dreadful humour after spending time with the young recruits.

  Pressing his finger to the button, Max was pleasantly surprised to find instead a photo of Ant, his wife Tina and their five-year-old daughter Poppy, all beaming with joy at the apparent newest addition to their family – a floppy-eared springer spaniel puppy.

  I finally gave in, said the accompanying message, and Max chuckled to himself. Ant Davis might be an army captain who could reduce a grown man to tears with a withering stare, but he was a total pushover when it came to the ladies in his life – both the older and the younger. Like Max, Ant also allowed himself to be bullied by the other woman in both their lives, too, because the next message that came through read:

  Mum says, are you looking after yourself?

  Ant had added an emoji of a monkey with its hands over its eyes, which was a standard choice. The fret levels of their mother were something he and Ant had joked about together since they were teenagers, and Max’s injury had only exacerbated things. His mum would literally wrap him up in cotton wool if she could get away with it, and not a day had passed since he woke up in the hospital in Birmingham, his mum sobbing by his bed, when he didn’t feel guilty for what he had put her thro
ugh. Her need to check up on him and fuss around him had been one of the reasons that Max had been so determined to come to Sri Lanka – he needed to get away just as much as she needed a break from worrying about him.

  Tell her my other leg’s fallen off, he typed back, punctuating it with a laughing-face emoji. Then, noticing the time, added, Why the hell are you awake this late?

  Bloody puppy doesn’t sleep, Ant replied. I’m in the garden now, waiting for him to do his business and freezing my nads off in the process. You OK?

  Max smiled as he pictured the scene. He loved going to his brother’s place down in south-east London, with its long, chaotic garden and narrow Victorian hallways. Poppy was still young enough to be adorably frank with her uncle, and asked him endless questions about his leg. When she was only three, Max had woken to find that she’d snuck into the spare room and stolen Mister Tee while he slept, dragging it off to her bedroom where she’d wrapped one of her mum’s pashminas around it and renamed it Cynthia, before pretending to serve it tea along with the rest of her cuddly toys. Tina had been appalled and apologetic, but Max and Ant had laughed uproariously until tears ran down their cheeks.

  He shuffled up on his elbows and arranged the pillow comfortably under his head, yawning widely as he sent a few more messages to Ant, assuring him that yes, he was fine, and that Sri Lanka was every bit as frenetic and beautiful as he’d hoped it would be. He almost added a final text about Alice, but decided against it. What would he say? That he had met a girl he liked and she had a boyfriend, but that didn’t matter anyway because Max just wanted to be her friend? It sounded totally bizarre, and Ant would rib him about it for sure. His brother was all too aware of the issues that Max had when it came to relationships. It had taken him two years to get over the collapse of his marriage to Faye, and then another year had passed before he could face dating.

  Max’s main problem now seemed to be the type of girls he attracted. They were either morbidly curious about his leg and lost interest once they’d had a good look, or they were mothering types who saw him as some sort of injured puppy that must be mollycoddled. Max did not want a girlfriend who championed his missing limb or pitied him for losing it – he wanted to find a partner in crime, someone who would challenge him, make him laugh, tell him off if he complained too much and love him for the man he was. It was the simplest dream, but one that he was starting to think would never happen.

  No, it was better that he focus on the real reason he’d come to Sri Lanka. This trip was never about meeting girls; it was supposed to be about Max proving something – to himself and to his family. Anything else would only muddy the waters. Yes, he had to admit that Alice was intriguing, and seemed to be neither overly curious nor cloyingly sympathetic – but she was spoken for, and Max respected that. He would not, and could not, be the reason that someone else’s heart got broken. And that, he thought, lifting aside the sheet and reaching for his crutches, was simply that.

  Once up, he made his way into the bathroom and carefully washed and dried his stump. The tall man who ran the place hadn’t commented on Max’s leg when he’d first shown him and Jamal to their room, but Max had been touched to discover that he’d moved a small plastic stool into the bathroom for him while they were eating dinner. It was far easier for Max to wash, shave and clean his teeth when he had something to sit on, even if he did pride himself on his ability to balance. It had been Jamal who insisted they bring the collapsible crutches with them on the trip, waving away Max’s protestations that he didn’t really need them.

  There was no arguing with Jamal when it came to health – Max had learned that on his first day at Headley Court – and he reluctantly admired his physio friend for being so steadfast when it came to recovery. Jamal had seen Max at his lowest ebb, curled into himself on the floor having fallen yet again, howling tears of rage, pain and frustration, and he had taken it all in his faultlessly cheerful stride. ‘I’ll have you back up and running by Bonfire Night,’ he had promised on that first June afternoon, his eyes meeting Max’s as they both stood facing the large, wall-mounted mirror. Back then, it had felt like an impossibility, but Jamal hadn’t been wrong. Max owed so much to his friend, and was so indebted, that on occasion he imagined that he could feel the sheer weight of it pressing down on him. He owed it to everyone who had patched him up and put him back together since that explosion to make the most of his future. Max was hungry for truth, for happiness and for an escape from the perpetual guilt that had spread like a stain across his life – and this trip was a big step towards achieving those goals.

  By the time he had finished getting ready, Jamal was showered and dressed, too, his normal buoyancy subdued somewhat by the seven or so bottles of Lion Lager he’d sunk the previous evening. The five of them had headed to a nearby restaurant, but barely made it in one piece. After stumbling along the dark road leading away from the cabins in search of tuk-tuks, they had found themselves face-to-face with a cow that had presumably escaped from a field. Maureen had shrieked in fright, Jamal had screamed even louder, and the cow had fled in alarm, almost knocking Steph and Alice into a ditch of putrid water as it stampeded past. Max, who was a few feet behind them all having stopped to consult his compass, got away unscathed, and had very much enjoyed taking the piss out of Jamal all through dinner for yelping like a woman.

  ‘Ready to go and visit an ancient city?’ Max asked his friend now, as they locked up the room behind them.

  Jamal grinned. ‘You know me, mate, always ready for anything.’

  ‘Except cows,’ put in Max, ducking to avoid Jamal’s friendly punch. ‘You’re not going to start crying if we see any, are you?’ he teased, hurrying away towards where the girls were already sitting, each of them staring in abject horror at the full plates of papaya on the table in front of them.

  ‘Very funny,’ Jamal responded, bending over to kiss Steph in greeting. The two of them had finally had a goodnight kiss the previous evening, and now seemed unable to put each other down. Max pretended to his mate that his slushiness was revolting, but in truth he thought Jamal and Steph were adorable together. It was nice to see both of them looking so happy.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Maureen wanted to know, and Max glanced over to where she was sitting, her endless legs on show as always, smiling up at him. Her hair was down today and snaking around her shoulders like a glossy curtain. Alice had her walking shoes on again, as well as denim shorts and an oversized T-shirt with a gangster panda printed on the front. Max liked her tomboyish style – it suited her. It was rare to meet a girl whose clothes you could imagine borrowing, as opposed to vice versa. When he and Faye had got together in their teens, she’d raided his wardrobe to such a degree that he’d been forced to rely on Ant’s oversized hand-me-downs.

  ‘Just reliving Jamal’s manly encounter with the cow,’ Max told them, taking a seat and pushing his plate of papaya firmly to one side. ‘I wish someone had filmed it.’

  Jamal scoffed. ‘Whatever, He-Man, your time will come. I hear there’s some really big lizards down in the south.’

  ‘You’ll fit right in then,’ chuckled Max, not missing a beat, as Jamal picked up a bread roll and aimed it at his head.

  ‘Now, now!’ Maur scolded. ‘Stop messing around, and eat up all my papaya like good boys.’

  Laughing, Max pretended to stick two fingers down his throat in mock horror, only for Maureen to respond by blowing him a leisurely kiss.

  Rather than returning the gesture in kind, Max glanced quickly at Alice. She was looking in the opposite direction, towards where Jamal, the soppy git, was feeding pieces of banana to Steph, so she could not have seen anything. Max was aware of the rush of relief that washed over him, and he knew what it meant, too. It shouldn’t matter that Alice saw him and Maureen flirting with each other, but it did. The realisation made him feel guilty, with its implication that he was developing feelings he shouldn’t for this girl, who was very much spoken for. Or perhaps he was simply overthinking it all, he
decided, easing himself gently off the metaphorical hook. It had been a very long time since he had met a girl who felt instantly like a friend, so that had confused his feelings. But a friend was all she ever could be.

  15

  The bus to Kandy was scheduled to leave at eleven a.m., and despite giving themselves over half an hour to make the ten-minute tuk-tuk journey from the homestay in Habarana to the nearest stop, Alice, Steph and Maureen still only just made it. Their departure was initially delayed by Steph and Jamal’s private farewell, which took place in the boys’ room and went on for far longer than was comfortable for anyone left waiting. It reminded Alice of her heady first days with Richard, when the two of them would hole up in the bedroom of his shared house at university for days at a time, only emerging to make rounds of toast or use the bathroom. It had felt to her then as if every second with him should be treasured, and she would panic at the thought of leaving him – even for the short time it took her to venture back to halls for a shower and a change of clothes. That feeling had long since worn off, and nowadays it seemed to Alice that they both actively sought time away from each other, Richard with his fishing and Alice on her long runs. Not that it worried her all that much – the relationship they had now was much healthier, and she appreciated Rich more this way.

  When Steph finally emerged, red in the face and with her shirt buttoned up all wrong, Maureen then insisted on saving her number into Max and Jamal’s phones, and vice versa, even though they had already arranged a meeting place in Kandy.

  ‘Just in case,’ she told them, although Alice knew that what she was really doing was making sure she could contact Max at her leisure. They would only be separated from the two men for one night, but Maureen must have a seduction strategy formulating in her mind. The polite distance Max had been maintaining would only act like a bunch of bananas might to a hungry monkey – Maureen wanted her feast, and she would do whatever it took to get it.