Written in the Stars

by Ali Harris

  ‘I know the doctors said it was the impact of his skull on the pier that killed him, but I as good as dragged him under those waves by encouraging our crazy lifestyle . . . and dragging you into it too.’

  ‘Kieran.’ I dart forward and clutch his arm. ‘Listen to me, please.’

  He turns to me again and I see that tears are streaming down his face, falling from his cheekbones like bodies from a cliff edge. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do without him, Bea . . .’ It’s like he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. He doesn’t want to face up to the fact that I’m the one who did this. I should have died that night on the pier. Not Elliot. I don’t deserve to be here.

  I sob as I gaze at him and then up at the dark, dark sky.

  He envelops me in his arms, comforting me when it should be the other way round. We cleave to each other as the wind swirls around us, as if we’re in the eye of a storm. Kieran pulls away at last and holds me by my shoulders.

  ‘I’m not going forever, you have to know that, OK? But I need to become a better man before I can be with you.’

  ‘No – no you don’t, Kieran . . .’

  He kisses my lips lightly to silence me, a gentle graze that steals my voice. ‘Just listen to me, please, Bea? It wasn’t your fault.’ I sob then because I know I can’t change his mind. He pulls out a ring and holds it in front of me before slipping it on the third finger of his right hand. ‘This is a promise to you that I’m yours, and as soon as I can – in a few months, a year, max, I’ll come back for you. Wait for me, please?’

  I gaze at him and he looks at my hand. I know what he wants me to do. I take off the wedding ring I have worn arond my neck since Loni tried to throw it in the sea and I slip it on the same finger on my right hand.

  ‘One year,’ he repeats. ‘One year and I’ll be back for you.’

  ‘Do you promise?’ I plead.

  He smiles wistfully and nods. ‘You’ll wait for me, won’t you? I need to know you’ll wait.’ I nod and he kisses me and then pulls away. ‘Until then promise me you’ll do everything to make the most of your life. Do it for me – but mostly do it for Elliot. Goodbye, Bea,’ he says. And then he walks away, striding across the beach, head bowed, into the wind.

  Chapter 34

  The following morning feels unbearably long and I mostly spend it watching Loni pack and repack her carpet bag of books and notes, a picnic blanket and yoga mat and wait anxiously for her to go out. She goes upstairs and gets changed three times. The first time she comes down in a long, plunging, crimson, crepe-effect maxi dress that doesn’t look at all yoga-friendly to me, then she changes into some more suitable leggings and a vest top. But one look in the mirror and she disappears upstairs and comes down twenty minutes later in a pair of patterned jersey trousers and a bright pink T-shirt with matching fuchsia lips and her hair piled up on top of her head. She leaves the house at this point only to come back thirty seconds later, pretending she’s forgotten some important notes. I watch as she grabs an enormous pair of beaded earrings and notice her hands are shaking a little as she puts them on in front of the hallway mirror.

  I make a note to look ‘the shakes’ up later as a possible symptom for something. Now I’m here I can understand why Cal is so worried. Loni might look amazing but she really isn’t herself.

  ‘You look . . . nice,’ I observe as I lean against the kitchen doorframe and munch on my toast. I am hoping to instigate a conversation about her health.

  ‘I could say the same about you,’ she replies, staring deliberately at the floaty embroidered top I’m wearing with some cut-offs. I’ve spent ages styling my hair and putting on make-up. It’s been so long since I’ve really bothered about my appearance – my wedding day, I realise – that I’d almost forgotten how.

  ‘What, me? Must be the Norfolk air!’ I reply, retreating into the kitchen to put more toast on the grill in the Aga – even though I can barely eat what I’ve already made, just so she doesn’t see me blushing.

  ‘So, what are you up to today, darling?’ she calls as she finally puts her bag on her shoulder and starts heading for the front door.

  ‘Oh, you know . . .’ I follow her just so I can check she actually leaves this time. ‘I’m just going to hang out here. Maybe potter around in the garden a bit. It needs some serious TLC.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Loni says distractedly, as if noticing the patchy grass and wilted, overgrown beds outside in the front garden for the first time. ‘I haven’t got out there much recently. Just haven’t had the time, or inclination . . .’ She trails off. It feels like she’s forgotten what she wanted to say.

  ‘Are you all right, Loni?’ I ask in a more confrontational tone than I intended.

  ‘Fine, darling! Fine fine fine! Just, you know, busy as ever. And you know the garden has always been your forte. It’s never really looked the same since you left here. I try, you know I do, but I just don’t have green fingers like you do . . .’ She trails off again but this time I know exactly what she wanted to say. Dad is the elephant in the room here. Loni has always told me I’m just like him. I sometimes think he is what always comes between us, that he’s the reason I don’t have the easy relationship with Loni that Cal does. I can’t forget that she made him leave us and I feel like I’m a constant reminder of the man she’s always wanted to forget.

  She turns and kisses me on the cheek and I rub it petulantly, knowing she’s left a bright pink lipstick impression there. ‘I’d better go. Are you sure you’ll be OK on your own?’ Her blue eyes widen with worry.

  ‘I’m your daughter, remember?’ I say wryly. ‘We both love being on our own.’ She doesn’t look satisfied. ‘I’ll be fine, Loni. Stop worrying.’

  She opens her mouth but then closes it as if she’s had second thoughts about what she wanted to say. I glance at my watch anxiously as she wafts another kiss in my direction, before heading out into the bright sunshine.

  I only exhale when I close the door behind her. 10.50 a.m. Ten minutes before he’s due to arrive.

  I dash through the hall and back into the kitchen and throw my breakfast plate and mug in the sink that is already piled high with washing-up. Then I run upstairs, grab a brush and some lip balm, spritz some perfume and rebrush my teeth. For the third time. My heart is pounding as I thunder back downstairs.

  I hear a car pull up and I dart into the lounge as if there are hot coals under my feet. I slide along the wall and stand there for a moment with my eyes closed as I hear the crunch of gravel beneath his feet and then a short, sharp knock at the door.

  Oh my God. He’s here. He’s actually here.

  After all this time.

  Chapter 35

  He’s standing in the doorway as if he’s never been away, smiling lopsidedly, causing lines to appear around his mouth. Oh God, his mouth. I daren’t look at it and in fact I can’t because I can’t drag my eyes away from his eyes, the dark murky memories reflected back at me in the green pools of his irises. In one glance I am lost again. I blink and force myself to look down and I see he is holding out a bunch of hand-picked wildflowers.

  We don’t speak for what feels like an eternity, both of us clearly lost in the same moment. Remembering not the day we last saw each other on the beach at Holkham after the non-wedding – but the day we left each other behind. I can’t help it. I’m being carried back on a tidal wave of memories from eight years ago and I have to fight my way back, to stay afloat in this moment, not drown in the past.

  ‘Hi, Bea,’ Kieran says now. His voice is deeper than I remember.

  ‘Hi.’ It comes out as a whisper. We stare at each other again as if trying to convince ourselves that this is really happening.

  ‘So,’ he says. ‘Shall I come in?’

  I shake my head and his face drops.

  ‘Just in case Loni comes back . . .’

  He smiles. ‘Ah, I’m still your dirty little secret, am I? Some things never change.’

  I blush and feel my skin prickle with – what – emba
rrassment? Lust? Shame? I don’t know. ‘Where, then?’ he says and I shut the door behind me and lead him through the house and out into the back garden and towards my caravan, where we spent many nights together.

  ‘This brings back memories,’ he says. I don’t reply. I feel like I’m walking the line between two completely different times.

  As we step inside it feels like we’re stepping into the past and suddenly I question my decision to come here. The space feels too small, too intimate. I move back from Kieran, who feels too close. He seems to take up more space than he used to.

  ‘Tea?’ I ask as I turn and grab the kettle, trying to silence the pounding of my heart.

  ‘If you spike it with some sort of relaxant.’ He laughs and rubs his hand over his head bashfully. ‘This is really weird,’ he observes.

  I smile, in spite of myself. ‘It’s kind of like, where do we start . . .?’

  He goes and sits down on the sofa by the window. He folds his hands on the table and stretches his legs out. I avert my gaze, busying myself with tea-making.

  Eventually I sit opposite him, slide his tea across the table and instantly take a sip of mine to give my lips something to do other than talk. ‘Hot!’

  ‘Just what I was thinking,’ he grins cheekily. ‘Not being married really suits you.’

  ‘I was talking about the tea!’ I blush but I feel a flood of pleasure anyway – quickly followed by one of guilt.

  ‘So . . .’ He smiles. ‘How have you been?’ he asks. ‘You know, since . . .’

  ‘The wedding? Fine,’ I answer quickly. ‘Really good, actually! Just trying to work out what happens next, I guess.’

  ‘And have you?’ he asks meaningfully, gazing at me intently. I shrug and look down. ‘Worked it out?’

  ‘What about you?’ I ask shakily. I’m trying not to look at the ring that is still on his finger. I’m not wearing mine. I didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. This meeting is just my way of answering some questions, getting some closure. That’s what I keep telling myself anyway. ‘What have you been up to . . . for the last eight years?’ I work hard to keep my voice even. I don’t want to sound accusing.

  Kieran gazes across at me. His lips lift into a lilting smile. ‘I guess you could say I’ve been all at sea since I left you.’ I don’t reply. ‘I joined the Navy, Bea.’

  I try to fashion a look of complete surprise to cover up the fact that I want to reply ‘I know’. I realise I’ve known it ever since I saw his Facebook picture, I just hadn’t properly acknowledged it as I’d been too busy trying not to think about him. But it makes sense. Kieran, the uniform, the sea, being close to Elliot . . . Of course he joined the Navy.

  He smiles at me and nudges my foot with his. ‘You thought I’d been bumming around for years, didn’t you?’

  I nod. It feels easier than telling him the truth. That I knew. I’ve always known, really. Just like I’ve always known that he didn’t come back because, no matter what he told me at the time, he blamed me for Elliot’s death and couldn’t bear to be with me after that.

  ‘I did for a while,’ he grins. ‘After I left I travelled around the coast, you know, working at campsites and in bars, catching up with old friends, kipping on people’s floors, heading my way south down to Dorset and then Devon and Cornwall. Everything I used to do with Elliot. It was hard without him. Nothing felt the same even though I wasn’t doing anything differently. By winter I’d saved up enough money to head abroad so I went to Thailand. Elliot and I had always said we’d go there together and I needed to have experiences to take me away from the memories but keep me connected to him. I backpacked for about three months then went on to Bali and got some bar work before going to Australia.’

  ‘Sounds fun,’ I say with a forced smile.

  ‘It wasn’t,’ Keiran says wryly. ‘The further away I got, the worse I felt. Nothing had changed and yet everything had. It was coming up to a year since I’d left and I had my ticket booked to come home.’

  I swallow. ‘So you had planned to come back, then?’ He nods. ‘So what changed?’ I am trying to keep my voice even, my tone interested, but not eager. Or desperate.

  ‘I flew back into Heathrow all ready to come back to Norfolk, to come back to you.’ He glances up at me and his green eyes bore into mine. ‘You have to understand what a mess I was, Bea. The year away hadn’t helped me at all. I felt like I’d done nothing, learned nothing from Elliot’s death, I was in a state – mentally and physically. I was ashamed of myself. I wanted to see you so badly but I knew I’d let everyone down – me, you, most of all Elliot. I didn’t know what else to do though, it hurt too much to be away from you . . .’

  I blink and look away, I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience, listening to him fill in all the gaps.

  He rubs his hand over his head again and suddenly I long to do the same. To touch him, feel the realness of him. I force myself to focus on what he’s saying.

  ‘I got off the plane with my rucksack on my back not knowing who I was any more, or what I could possibly offer to anyone. But then, as I was walking down the corridor, heading for customs, I saw this advert in the airport for Royal Navy recruitment and it just hit me. That was what I had to do. I went straight into the internet café at the airport, filled out a form online and then bought a ticket and got on a bus to Portsmouth to sign up. I didn’t even unpack or think about coming home. I was determined that this was the only way that I could make sense of my life and Elliot’s death.’

  I stare at Keiran and he looks back at me meaningfully. All that time he’d been trying to find himself, make sense of everything that had happened and make a better life for himself.

  ‘I’ve been in the Navy for five years now,’ he says proudly. ‘I’m a CPO – a chief petty officer – which means I basically do a bit of everything. I’m a jack of all trades, but I have a team of guys – about sixty or so – who report to me.’ He laughs because my mouth is agape.

  ‘I love it. I get to mould the younger officers coming in and really guide them. It’s given me a purpose, you know?’

  ‘Saving lives,’ I add and he looks at me meaningfully.

  ‘I knew you’d understand,’ he says softly and reaches over and squeezes my hand.

  ‘But what about you?’ he says, shifting in his seat.

  I don’t know how to follow Kieran’s story. ‘The usual,’ I mumble. ‘I moved to London, got a job as a temp, met Adam – my hus— My boyfriend— My . . . ex . . .’

  As I stumble over my words I fold my arms and pull my mouth wide into a smile. I don’t want him to know how nervous he makes me. ‘Kept temping, had fun, got engaged and then . . . well, you know the rest.’ I blink quickly and go on, ‘But since that day I’ve left my temp job and got a job in a flower shop!’ Kieran nods slowly, he looks surprised and I suddenly realise that, even though this is a big deal to me, it must sound completely pitiful to anyone else. My life seems so small. But it’s all I can cope with.

  Kieran frowns and in that moment he looks so grown-up, so mature and responsible I barely recognise him. ‘You’re not a garden designer? But I thought that was your big dream?’ He looks around the caravan, then. My drawings, notes and designs still line the wall. Loni has never taken them down. This caravan is like a shrine to my ambition. Suddenly it feels incredibly suffocating in here. Like I’m locked in the past and I can’t get out.

  I drain my tea and stand up. ‘Shall we go somewhere?’

  Kieran nods as he stands up too. ‘You always did hate being cooped up inside.’

  We walk around to the front of the house and I see his bright yellow VW camper van parked in the road.

  ‘I can’t believe you still have this ancient heap of crap!’ I exclaim, laughing as I look at him and then running my fingers along the side. I close my eyes, feeling the summer at my fingertips. We did everything in this thing. And I mean, everything. I blush at the memories and turn my back on him.

  ‘Shhh!’ he ch
astises and then rests his hands over the passenger-seat window and leans his lips into it. ‘Don’t listen to her.’ He turns to me and grins. ‘She’s very sensitive about her age, you know.’ He strides round the other side of the camper van and slides into the driver’s seat before flinging open the passenger door.

  He starts the engine and after a few hiccups she purrs into life. ‘That’s my girl!’ he murmurs, stroking the steering wheel. ‘She does it for me every time,’ he says and he winks at me. I cross my legs and fold my hands in my lap. I hope I’m not drawing attention to the shiver of longing I just felt down there. I uncross them and sit on my hands.

  The sun is beating down on the van as we pull out onto the road, and casts a gilded glow on the fields and trees we pass, making everything look like it has been woven with gold. I feel I’ve been transported back to that summer when we’d drive along the coast, me squeezed between Elliot and Kieran, off on our adrenalin-fuelled adventures. Sometimes I’d drive as they slept, preparing themselves for the next base or cliff jump or caving expedition or set of waves to surf. Then there were the nights spent curled up in the back with Kieran as Elliot slept in a tent, or under the stars, or somewhere else entirely. Often we didn’t know where. It felt like we were having the time of our lives.

  I shiver and Kieran brushes my knee with his hand. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Yes,’ I squeak. ‘I’m fine. This just . . . brings back some memories.’

  He nods. ‘I know. It’s why I couldn’t get rid of the van. It’s everything I loved about that summer. When I’m in it I can access all the happy times . . . instead of the . . . Well, you know.’

  I nod. ‘We had a lot of fun, didn’t we?’ It comes out more of a question than the statement I intended it to be. I realise Kieran’s hand is back on my knee and he squeezes it. I inhale and move my leg slightly. He takes his hand away, but his touch is still burning my skin. ‘Where are we going?’ I ask, my voice sounding unusually raspy. Suddenly it feels like a much bigger question than I intended.