Moon and Stars

by Cathy Cassidy

  ‘So, Jamie Finch, tell me,’ Ellie asked again, back at the start. ‘If things are so serious with Skye, how come you’re hanging out with me?’

  I had no answer for that. No answer at all.

  At least I can use my acting skills to pretend everything’s fine. I smile and laugh and joke around with my friends, and nobody knows what’s going through my mind. Nobody knows what a bad person I am, what a cheat, a loser. Not Mum, not Dad, definitely not Talia or Lara. My friends wouldn’t understand; they’d just tease me and tell me I’m a player when actually I am a lowlife worm.

  I am a better actor than Fitz thinks, though, because nobody watching Ellie and me together would ever imagine we were seeing each other. They might even think we hated each other, based on the way we act.

  I actually do hate Ellie a lot of the time, but not nearly as much as I hate myself.

  3

  On Sunday morning I check my SpiderWeb page to find that Alfie has posted a photo of a beach party at Tanglewood to my wall with the status, ‘Wish you were here.’ I look at the photo, at Skye’s laughing face beneath a wide-brimmed hat, at Summer and Alfie holding hands, at Coco and Honey and a bunch of tanned village kids toasting marshmallows in the firelight, and I do wish I was there because in that picture everything seems so simple, so easy, so cool.

  Downstairs, the house fills up with people. This often happens on a Sunday; Mum works hard right through the week, but on Sundays she loves to have friends over. Her Sunday lunch ‘open house’ afternoons are legendary.

  My sisters are here, along with their boyfriends, Tim and Kai. There’s one of Mum’s researcher friends from work, Peter, plus a presenter – Adele, a cameraman – Mozz, and Mum’s friend Della, a single mum from along the road with her two kids, Lola and Kenzie. The kids are at the kitchen table making Play-Doh monsters and everyone else is preparing food or reading newspapers, sipping white wine and talking about a million things. There seems to be an uprising in South America and a war in the Middle East; the government have done something else ridiculous and wicked, and my sisters are debating whether it is possible to make vegan tiramisu or whether Tim, the vegan boyfriend, will be OK with a dish of fruit salad instead.

  ‘There you are, Jamie,’ Mum says, ruffling my hair in a way that would infuriate me if anyone else dared to try it. From Mum, though, it’s OK, and I grin and chase the Play-Doh kids out for a quick ball game in the back garden so I can start setting the table for twelve people. A clean tablecloth, cutlery, glasses, mismatched vintage china, a few of jugs of iced water … I can negotiate the Sunday lunch rules in my sleep.

  Moments later, my sisters are setting out steaming dishes of stuffed peppers, risotto, some sort of baked fish and a vat of simple pasta and pesto all along the centre of the table. Everybody sits down and the process of serving the food begins. After an initial lull of contented silence, the chat begins again; happy chat, the kind that goes with good food and good friends and lazy Sunday afternoons with the French windows open and a gentle autumn breeze wafting in.

  I am half listening as Tim explains why a vegan diet is the way of the future when I hear Mum mention Charlotte Tanberry, Skye’s mother. I snap to attention.

  ‘They really would be perfect for the show, Peter,’ she says. ‘I’ll give Charlotte a call in the morning and see what she says, but I think she and Paddy would be totally up for it; they have a business to build and this could be just the boost they’re looking for. They really are the nicest people, and they have five gorgeous daughters between them. Add a big Victorian country house beside the sea into the mix and you’ve got TV gold …’

  ‘We’d need a bit of drama,’ Peter says. ‘A story with no ups and downs is no story at all.’

  Mum laughs. ‘Trust me, the Tanberry-Costello family have more ups and downs than a roller coaster,’ she says. ‘They’ve had a bit of a rough time of it, to be honest … One daughter has an eating disorder, and the eldest has a few behavioural issues … though I’m not sure they’d actually want any of that made public. Let’s just say that there’s never a dull moment at Tanglewood. The girls are lovely … four blonde beauties and one stunning half-Japanese girl. And their friends and boyfriends would be great to include too … there’s a boy called Shay, a singer-songwriter … we could work him into it somehow …’

  ‘Mum?’ I interrupt. ‘What are you talking about? What do Skye’s family have to do with anything?’

  She raises an eyebrow. ‘Peter and Adele want to pitch a new reality TV show – something upbeat and inspirational – about a family business. Peter was thinking a restaurant or a B&B might make good entertainment, but I thought of Charlotte and Paddy right away. Behind the scenes at the chocolate factory …’

  ‘I’d like to meet them,’ Adele says. ‘They sound amazing. The chocolate strand of the story combined with the whole dysfunctional family aspect …’

  My fork clatters down on to the tablecloth.

  ‘Skye’s family are not dysfunctional!’ I protest. ‘Mum!’

  ‘No, of course not!’ Mum agrees. ‘Adele didn’t mean that … they’re just … very modern. With all the issues and worries of a modern family, and of course, viewers will love that. They’d really empathize and connect. But don’t worry, Jamie, I would never ask Charlotte and Paddy to do something they’re not totally comfortable with!’

  Adele holds up her hands in surrender. ‘My fault,’ she says. ‘I didn’t choose the best words there, but your mum is right – we need a family who would be good value TV-wise. The plan is not to show them in a bad light, nor to exploit them in any way … we just want to chart their challenges and cheer them on in their triumphs. It would be an uplifting, feel-good series.’

  ‘You need a few bumps in the road with any story before you get to the happy ending,’ Peter chips in. ‘That’s how reality TV works.’

  I frown, uncertain. I’ve seen from my summer job at the TV studios that reality TV footage can be edited in any way you want. The same pieces of film can be chopped and changed, edited to look positive or negative, dramatic or serene. Still, I trust Mum’s judgement. I know she wouldn’t suggest Skye’s family for the show unless she thought it would help them in some way, or that at least they might enjoy it.

  ‘Do you think they’ll be interested?’Adele asks, a glint in her eye.

  Mum shrugs and starts to clear the table, bringing out the puddings.

  ‘Like I said, I’ll call in the morning,’ she says. ‘If they’re interested in hearing more, we can arrange a visit to Tanglewood so you can see what you all think, and answer any questions they might have.’

  ‘Somerset, didn’t you say?’ Peter muses. ‘Has to be worth a visit. It could be amazing, visually. And the family sound great … like you said, TV gold.’

  Mum laughs. ‘You researchers … always looking for a free trip! Well, we’ll see what they say. Although if they are interested in finding out more, I bet I know someone who’d be up for a weekend trip to Tanglewood – hey, Jamie?’

  I struggle to look careless and cool, but the two spots of colour that seep into my cheeks tell a very different story. A trip to Tanglewood? A chance to see Skye, to talk to her face to face? Isn’t that exactly what I’ve wanted all along?

  My half-baked plans to finish things with Ellie are shelved instantly. Better to see Skye and tell her everything. Long-distance romance is seriously hard work … Skye’s own texts and messages have tailed off lately, so surely she’ll understand? I might not even have to tell her about Ellie … perhaps I can just say things don’t seem to be working out, that we’re drifting apart?

  ‘Of course he’d like a weekend trip to Tanglewood,’ Talia tells the rest of the table. ‘To see the beautiful Skye! That’s his girlfriend, by the way. They met the last time Mum was down that way filming. Romantic, huh? Long-distance love still going strong over a year along the line … how’s that for your family interest story, Adele?’

  ‘Awww,’ Peter says. ‘No wonder you�
��re looking out for them! Sweet! But don’t worry, we’d make sure it was all handled with sensitivity …’

  ‘Right,’ Mozz agrees. ‘Any more of that tiramisu?’

  Adele narrows her eyes, watching me carefully over the top of her wine glass. ‘You know, Jamie, there might even be a cameo part in the series for you,’ she says. ‘Teen lovers reunited! Great story. What do you think?’

  I rest my head in my hands. ‘Perfect,’ I echo. ‘Just … perfect.’

  4

  Just as Mum predicted, Charlotte and Paddy say they’d like to hear more about the idea of a reality TV series based on their business. Who wouldn’t? Mum arranges that we’ll head down to Tanglewood next Saturday with Adele, Peter and Mozz and an armload of plans and proposals for the projected show.

  ‘It’s all at such an early stage, I’m sure Charlotte and Paddy can call the shots and tweak things to suit them,’ she says. ‘I’ll advise them to ask to be involved at every stage, to have the right to veto footage if they wish. It should be an amazing opportunity for the Chocolate Box business, Jamie.’

  ‘I guess,’ I say.

  ‘Are you nervous?’ Mum teases. ‘Seeing Skye again after all this time?’

  ‘Course not,’ I lie. ‘It’s no big deal.’

  ‘Charlotte says we can stay all weekend,’ she says, ‘It’ll give Peter and Mozz some time to check out the locations, and Adele can get to know everybody properly. You and Skye will have plenty of time to hang out. I know what you teenagers are like!’

  ‘Mum!’ I protest. ‘Don’t, OK?’

  She just smiles as if she knows much better than me, as if she’s given me the perfect weekend on a platter instead of the biggest headache ever. I want time with Skye, sure, but I can’t help wondering how to finish things without wrecking the weekend for everyone. I punch out a brief text message to Skye, light and chirpy and cheery, but hinting that we must have a big catch-up chat.

  Cool, she texts back. A catch-up sounds good … I have so much to tell you … you’ve been sooooo quiet over the summer!

  Guilt floods though me and I wonder all over again just how I’ve managed to get myself into this mess. I think of the photo Alfie posted on SpiderWeb, of everyone having fun on the beach without me, and the guilt turns to anger.

  I tap out another text message, this time to Ellie, and the answer comes back almost at once.

  See you in ten minutes!

  I grab my jacket and head for the park.

  I’m sitting on the kids’ roundabout in the playground when Ellie comes along the path. There is something magical about a children’s playground at night; by day, we’d be chased away from swings and slide and roundabout by tired parents and sticky-faced toddlers, but after dark we get to reclaim those things. I don’t think you can ever be too old for swings and slides and roundabouts, seriously.

  Ellie pulls at a fringy scarf wrapped around her against the cold. It’s October now, and although the days are bright and sunny, the evenings are chilly. October … four months since I first met Ellie. Four months of deception and lies.

  ‘This has to stop,’ I say, the minute she is within earshot. ‘We can’t keep seeing each other, OK?’

  ‘OK,’ Ellie says, as if she doesn’t care at all. ‘Bit of a relief, actually. You’re the most bad-tempered boy I have ever met. No idea what I see in you.’

  ‘Works both ways,’ I snap. ‘You’re the most annoying girl in the entire universe. You argue about everything. Apart from this … so, you’re OK with us breaking up?’

  To be honest, I feel a little let down that after four months of torturing myself and feeling like a heel every single day, Ellie actually doesn’t care if she sees me or not. Typical.

  ‘Totally OK with it,’ Ellie confirms. ‘We’re not a good match at all. We clash all the time. You’re not my type … you’re way too vain and self-absorbed, and you can’t take criticism. Face it, we are polar opposites …’

  ‘I can take criticism!’ I argue. ‘Just not total character assassination …’

  Ellie rolls her eyes. ‘I hate your style, too,’ she goes on. ‘That jacket … yuk! It looks like somebody died in it!’

  ‘It’s vintage!’ I howl, outraged. ‘A genuine army jacket from World War Two! It cost fifty quid at Camden Market!’

  ‘They saw you coming,’ Ellie says. ‘Sorry, Jamie, I think we are better off apart. Stick with your country girlfriend … she’s perfect for you.’

  ‘Maybe she is,’ I growl. ‘Maybe all this … with us … is just one massive mistake.’

  Ellie just shrugs and pushes against the ground with the tip of one toe, stirring the roundabout into creaky action. We spin slowly for a while as the light fades, not talking.

  ‘I suppose I can’t help wondering why you’re still trying to be loyal to a girl you haven’t seen since February,’ Ellie says at last. ‘Not that you’re doing a good job with the whole loyalty thing, clearly, but … is she really that special, your Skye?’

  I sigh. ‘She’s great,’ I say. ‘You’d like her.’

  ‘I doubt that,’ Ellie corrects me. ‘I’ve hated her ever since you told me she existed. She sounds too good to be true. How can I compete with that? I may not be perfect but I do have feelings, y’know.’

  I reach out a hand to hold hers, but Ellie snatches her fingers away.

  ‘So, anyway, you decided,’ she says. ‘Skye wins, I lose. Too bad.’

  Her voice has lost the careless tone it had before; the fierce anger has faded, leaving nothing but sadness. I bite my lip.

  ‘It’s just that we’re going down to Tanglewood this weekend,’ I explain. ‘I have to make a decision. I was pretty sure that the right thing was to finish things with Skye, and then I saw you and I got muddled and angry and guilty all over again …’

  ‘… so you finished with me instead.’

  ‘Not really. Look, Ellie, it’s such a mess,’ I say. ‘I don’t know what to do. I wish I’d broken things off with Skye ages ago, only it’s complicated …’

  She laughs out loud. ‘Don’t give me that! Complicated? How complicated can a relationship between two fourteen-year-olds be? Finch, you are such a coward!’

  I hear the accusation and swallow it down. Ellie’s right – I am a coward.

  ‘It is complicated, though,’ I insist. ‘Before we met, Skye had these dreams about a boy … and there was a bird, a kind of finch, in the dreams. Then we came to the village because Mum was producing a TV movie there, and I met Skye, and it was … well, we liked each other. We had a holiday romance, I suppose, but Skye thought it was something more, because of the dreams … she thought we were meant to be together.’

  ‘True love,’ Ellie says.

  ‘Not exactly,’ I admit. ‘It was a summer thing, that’s all, but we tried to keep it going over the winter and it seemed to work for Skye, but I guess the magic just kind of fizzled for me. And then I met you.’

  ‘Unlucky,’ Ellie quips.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ I say, and I realize that I genuinely don’t. Meeting Ellie has been one of the most amazing things that has happened to me, even though I haven’t handled it so well. The truth is, she’s good for me; her straight-talking honesty cuts right through the layers of arrogance and charm I sometimes hide behind. Skye never calls me out on that, never challenges me, but Ellie does. She sees the real me, not a rose-tinted dream version; and while it was nice to be somebody’s dream boy for a while, it has never quite felt real.

  Ellie sits on the roundabout, her long legs curled beneath her, green eyes unreadable. I can’t believe I have been such an idiot. Skye and Ellie are both awesome, but Skye isn’t right for me; I’ve known that for a while. I have to tell her, because unless I do I’ll lose Ellie too … and that can’t happen.

  I reach for her hand again, but she slides out of my grasp, jumping down from the roundabout and heading for the slide.

  ‘I got it wrong, again,’ I call to Ellie as she climbs the steps of the slide. �
�A spooky dream doesn’t seem like such a good reason to keep a relationship going. I’ve been kidding myself … things with Skye are over. I just need to find the guts to tell her that.’

  ‘Call me when you’re single,’ Ellie yells back at me. ‘I’m fed up with all this messing around. Finish with Skye, then maybe we have a chance of making something together. Maybe.’

  ‘Don’t be like that,’ I say, walking over to the slide. Ellie sits at the top ready to let go, her face a pale slice of beauty in the dusk.

  ‘Like what?’ she challenges. ‘You just told me we should break up, Jamie Finch, and I agreed. It’s the smartest thing you’ve said in all the time I’ve known you. Makes perfect sense to me …’

  ‘Not to me,’ I protest. ‘I was wrong. I need to finish with Skye. I will finish with Skye. This weekend.’

  ‘Like I said: call me when you’re single and maybe we can work something out,’ Ellie says. ‘I’m sick of being second best.’

  ‘You’re not!’ I argue, but she’s sliding down towards me, her hair ruffled in the breeze, her fringy scarf flying out behind her.

  I open my arms to catch her but she’s gone before I get the chance, running away from me across the grass towards the orange streetlight glow of civilization.

  ‘Ellie!’ I yell, but she doesn’t look back.

  5

  Going back to Tanglewood is like going back in time. We drive down on Saturday morning; three cars heading west for inspiration and research and, in my case, certain doom. I’m determined, though. I’ve been rehearsing my break-up speech for days, picking out the perfect combination of words for minimum pain and awkwardness. And yes, OK, I’m still dreading it.

  We reach Tanglewood just after lunch; the house is still beautiful, chaotic, welcoming. Fred the dog runs around the cars as we pull up, barking a greeting, and a freckle-faced Coco appears from the stables with Humbug the sheep and Caramel the pony trailing after her.

  ‘They’re here!’ she shouts, and Paddy comes out of the chocolate workshop, his white apron streaked with chocolate, while Charlotte, Cherry, Summer and Honey pile out of the house, laughing, shaking hands, hugging, talking all at once, pulling Mum’s TV friends inside, making everyone welcome. Skye waits quietly, a little behind everyone else, looking very cool in a black minidress, white tights and op art pixie boots. Her fair hair is parted in the middle, sixties style, so that it falls in loose ringlets around her shoulders and her eyes are rimmed with black eyeliner.