Written in the Stars

by Ali Harris

  ‘I didn’t think you’d come. I thought your family would convince you I’m a bad influence and I’d never see you again.’

  ‘I’m a big girl, remember?’

  He looks at me then and I shiver and stand up, pulling him up with me. My skin burns as we clasp hands. I don’t know if it’s because of the cold, or the heat between us. ‘Besides,’ I add, ‘they didn’t stop me last time.’ Kieran takes a step closer and slips his arm around me. I look up at him. Our lips are inches apart. ‘I don’t need anyone to tell me what to do,’ I murmur.

  ‘Not even me?’

  ‘It depends what it is,’ I shoot back teasingly.

  ‘Take your clothes off.’ He eyes me challengingly, his eyebrows raised.

  I pause and bite my lip and then stick my chin out and fold my arms with a defiant smile. ‘I will if you will.’

  Kieran smiles lopsidedly and begins undoing his coat. I mirror his movements and without taking my eyes from his I start peeling off my clothes layer after layer before I can change my mind. His eyes are burning into mine, keeping me warm from the inside out. I throw my pieces of clothing at his feet one by one. Parka, jumper, jeans, top, T-shirt. Then when we are both in our underwear, he grabs my hand and we begin to run, laughing and yelling at the tops of our voices as we head for the sea.

  We dive into the water and I gasp with shock as I feel it suck me into its icy mouth, the roar in my ears drowning out the noise in my head. For a moment I give into it, feeling it encase me in its cold grip as my head disappears beneath the surface. Is this how Elliot felt?

  Seconds later I break the surface and come up for air blinking and spluttering. My lips chatter uncontrollably as I get my bearings in the darkness and see Kieran next to me, his face lit up by the pale moonlight. He stares at me solemnly, shivering as he treads water just inches from me. He is trying to speak, but it is so cold, he can’t catch his breath.

  ‘I – I wish I hadn’t stayed away for so long,’ he says at last. I nod. We don’t touch or kiss, we just stay like that for a moment, bodies submerged in the icy waves, our eyes locked. Two people forever linked by their past and now desperately trying to work out if they have a future together.

  Chapter 50

  When I get back to Loni’s, I slink in through the back door, avoiding any floorboards that I know will squeak. I notice there’s a ghostly, greenish light coming from the kitchen and I freeze to the spot and try to hide in the shadows as the door swings open.

  ‘You’re back, thank God!’ Loni cries. I turn and look at her. She is wrapped in a silk gown, her silvery hair coiled like Medusa’s around her head. ‘Where have you been? Oh darling, you’re blue with cold!’ She hurries forward and envelops me in her arms, my teeth chattering against her shoulder. She hustles me up the stairs.

  ‘Let’s get you in a hot shower, darling. I’ll get a towel warming on the Aga and make you a hot-water bottle.’

  Fifteen minutes later I arrive in the kitchen in my PJs and dressing gown, clutching the hot-water bottle she’s made me.

  The kitchen looks like a bomb’s hit it and Loni is standing in front of the Aga, hastily stirring some milk that is slopping all over the sides of the pan. ‘I’ve got some hot chocolate on. You look like you could do with one,’ she says shakily, turning her head and gazing directly into my eyes as she continues stirring. She always makes eye contact when she’s having a conversation because she believes it shows that you are giving the other person your ‘full engagement’. She says years of running her retreats has taught her that the worst thing you can do is not listen to someone properly. ‘It leaves them feeling desperate, alone, like even when they’re opening up about themselves, they’re not being heard.’

  ‘Th-thank you.’ Despite my hot shower and warm clothes I haven’t been able to stop shivering since I dried off in Kieran’s camper van before driving myself home. It didn’t scare me that he was drunk. What scared me was that I didn’t care. I hadn’t felt so reckless for a long time.

  ‘Cal told me who you’d be with . . .’ Loni keeps stirring fervently.

  ‘H-he had no right to,’ I reply.

  She swings round and I see she is crying. ‘Of course he did! He’s worried sick about you. We all are!’

  ‘You don’t have to be, Loni,’ I say evenly. ‘I know what I’m doing.’

  ‘Do you, darling? Do you really?’ She turns away and pours milk into two mugs and stirs them. I see her take a deep breath before she brings the steaming cups over to the table. She gazes down at me and I see that her hands are shaking uncontrollably. Is this all because of me? Have I worried her this much? I didn’t mean to.

  ‘I know you don’t want to hear this. I know you think you’re old enough to handle it yourself, but as your mother I have to say this. Be careful, darling. I know how fragile you are.’ She pauses and blinks as if to gather herself. ‘I – I just don’t think seeing him can be good for you right now . . .’

  ‘I understand why you feel like that, Loni, I do.’ We often talk like this to each other in ‘counsellor chat’ as we call it. Lots of starting sentences with ‘I feel’ and ‘I understand’ and ‘I know’. It’s partly to do with her job, partly to do with my illness. ‘He’s making me face up to things. Things I’ve run away from for years.’

  ‘Like what?’ Loni tries and fails to keep the disbelief out of her voice. I know only too well how she felt about Kieran.

  ‘Like Dad.’ The words drop like rocks from a cliff edge.

  She stares at me for a moment, a kaleidoscope of emotions flickering through her eyes.

  Then she rubs her hand over her eyes, exhaustion evident on her face. ‘That’s why you wanted the address.’ I nod. ‘You really want to find him after all these years?’

  ‘I’ve never stopped wanting to find him, Loni!’ The words burst from my lips, like a fountain of frustration. ‘I need to know what happened to Dad after he left. It’s my right; I deserve to know.’

  ‘If that’s how you feel then I’ll support you, you know I’ll always support you.’ She pushes out her chair and stands up, turning away from me. ‘One question. If you find your dad, will that be it for you and Kieran?’

  I don’t say anything for a moment. ‘He isn’t what you think he is, you know. You’ve got him all wrong. Everyone has.’ I want her to understand. I feel like she might be the only person who will. ‘He knows me better than anyone. I don’t have to pretend with him. I can just be me, the version of me I don’t think anyone else wants to accept. Including you . . ..’

  She turns around suddenly and grasps my hands. ‘I know you have history together, darling, but trust me, you can’t build a relationship on memories, no matter how hard you try. A relationship has to keep evolving, through the good times and the bad, or there is nothing. Noth-ing.’

  ‘What can you tell me about making relationships work, Loni? As far as I can see you’ve run away from them your whole life. Clearly I’m my mother’s daughter . . .’ It’s a low blow. She doesn’t respond. She just looks at me sadly.

  ‘Do you know where Dad went?’ I ask challengingly.

  ‘I promise I don’t, Bea!’ she adds.

  I wish I believed her, but I’m starting to feel like my whole life has been a lie.

  November

  Dear Bea,

  So the days are shortening, the colours of autumn fading and the last of the late flowers dying, which means a long, cold winter is about to be born.

  I’m already tired of the endless darkness of the days. I long for light. I know it is the cycle of nature; this is a season that brings excitement and joy to many (Fireworks! Crackling fires! Christmas coming! Snow!) but even so, I find I have no desire to witness the bare trees, shivering in the cold. I don’t want to feel the icy grip of winter’s fingers clinging to my skin, nor watch as it relentlessly kills off everything that is bright and beautiful in the world.

  So instead I’m drawn to warmer climes where I can always feel the welcome breath of the s
un on my skin, wake up to hot, bright mornings and languish in the long, lonely days that won’t allow me to retreat inside or to hibernate from my life choices. Sometimes, I fear I will have run from so many winters that I’ll no longer enjoy the summer. I won’t get the lows, but nor will I experience the highs. For how do you compare the radiance of a sunflower, when you no longer see the snow? How can you enjoy sunshine, when there is no rain? How can you truly live life when you have turned your back on it? But I have no other choice. I hope you will understand and be able to forgive me one day.

  Love, Dad x

  Chapter 51

  Bea Hudson is petrified. I feel like I’m about to throw myself off a cliff without a parachute.

  13 likes, 4 comments.

  I pick up my pace as I walk through Soho towards the office of Hudson, Grey & Friedman. It’s a cold, rainy November day and I’m desperately trying to hurry in my heels towards Adam’s agency on Dean Street. It’s the day of the pitch and I’m meeting James here. Adam sent me a good-luck text from New York this morning. He’s been there for the past few days, but luckily I’ve had my own work to keep me busy since James told me he wanted me to present with him at the pitch. I stand in front of the modern glass façade and glance up at the neon H&G sign in the window that is lit up in light bulbs while I wait for him to arrive.

  I can’t believe I’m about to do this, I’m excited but terrified about presenting to Adam’s peers. Adam’s reassured me that he’s talked to the partners and everyone knows and is fine with the fact that James employed me to work on this project without knowing who I was, and that I took the job not knowing who the project was for.

  The last few weeks at work have carried me through a tricky time at home. Adam is hardly around, and while I do feel that we’ve reached an understanding about where our lives are right now, I can’t help but feel like we’re always on opposite sides. Winning this project is my only chance of crossing the line. Surely it’ll bring us closer if I’m working for the agency? We’ll have common ground at last.

  As for today, I feel like I’m in a dream and this isn’t really happening. I mean, I’m a temp. I should be back at the office, filing, taking phone calls, doing the admin. But my role has grown in the weeks since I shared my ideas at the team creative meeting. James was really impressed. He said I had a natural flair and innate understanding of concept and design that he hasn’t seen in anyone for a long time. He’s been giving me more and more to do, managing the budget and ensuring we stay true to the design objectives. Last week he brought me into his office and told me how pleased he’d been with my work and how pivotal my ideas had been in locking down our creative concept.

  ‘I’d like you to present with me next Monday,’ he said as I stared at him open-mouthed. ‘You have become a key part of this project and obviously you have a remarkably instinctive understanding of what the client wants.’ He winked. ‘Not that that is anything other than a happy coincidence but we may as well utilise it, right?’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Ah-ah, let me finish,’ James said, holding his finger up. ‘So, I thought we could play this presentation as a two-hander. I will cover the more technical aspects after you’ve talked about the creative concept – particularly the central design feature which was, of course, entirely your idea. And a brilliant one at that,’ he adds.

  ‘But I can’t, I have no exper—’

  ‘I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you were more than capable. Bea,’ he said earnestly. ‘I honestly think you’re the best person for the job. You’ve become more than an assistant on this, Bea; you’ve fundamentally shaped the whole design. I know you’re worried about what people think but the truth is, I need you. Right now, I’m thanking my lucky stars that you crossed paths with me and, nepotism or not, you’ve more than proved yourself.’

  I see James approaching and I wave, finally feeling ready to show everyone what I can do.

  ‘Are you ready?’ James smiles, brushing down his navy blazer and picking fluff from his trousers as we stand in the meeting room, waiting for the agency members to come in.

  I nod, glancing down at my notes then around nervously to check everything is in place. The big meeting table has been pushed to the back of the room and four empty chairs sit in front of a small podium and a big white screen.

  The door swings open suddenly and Robert Grey, George’s partner, strides in, his PA following behind him. He’s in his late fifties and looks movie-star good for his age. He has silvery-grey hair and a deep tan and the easy air of someone who has always been at the top of his game. I take a sharp breath but he is too busy tapping out an email on his phone to acknowledge us. Given Eliza’s history with Adam, I’m pretty sure I’m not Robert’s favourite person in the world. I’ve only met him a couple of times, but he came to our wedding, so he’s bound to recognise me. I feel like running out of the room already.

  The door opens again and a tall, thin, dark-haired man strides in, grinning broadly and showing off a set of gleaming white teeth.

  He introduces himself as Maxwell Friedman and I realise he’s the head of the American company Friedman Media that Hudson & Grey have acquired. That leaves one empty chair. I feel my stomach tighten as the door opens and a woman walks in.

  Her long, poker-straight, perfectly blow-dried hair billows out behind her as if there is an invisible wind machine following her as she greets the two men, laughing and joking before seamlessly moving into some business chat. She takes a seat and looks directly at me.

  It’s Eliza Grey.

  At that moment George ambles in. Eliza immediately goes and kisses him on both cheeks. She whispers something in his ear and George’s eyes flicker up at me and his mouth slides into a giant smile.

  ‘Bea!’ he exclaims. ‘Wonderful to see you here. Looking forward to hearing all the plans!’

  Eliza carries on whispering. I wish I could hear what she is saying. Then she smiles imperiously and folds her arms, leaning back in her chair as if to say, ‘This is going to be fun.’

  I gulp and step forward onto the podium next to James who has already begun his spiel.

  ‘Good morning, my name is James Fischer of JF Design and this is Bea Hudson’ – at the mention of my name Eliza leans over to Robert and murmurs something – ‘who is part of the design team.’ If she’s trying to unsettle me, it’s working. ‘As you know, we are here to talk you through the design concept for this exciting, innovative urban roof space for the new London office of Hudson, Grey & Friedman. Bea is going to talk you through our creative vision, showing you the design layout and planting plans. We’ve also made a scaled-down mock-up to show you at the end. Then I’ll talk about the more technical elements – the lighting plan, the hardscape features, in other words the walls, fences, safety, irrigation issues, and our planned budget and timescales. I do want to say that this concept has been inspired entirely by your vision, your business. We want to create somewhere that will best exemplify the outstanding creative output of the agency as well as continue to inspire everyone who works here. Take it away, Bea!’ He smiles and steps back off the podium, to some encouraging applause. Eliza’s is more of a slow handclap.

  ‘H-hello, everyone,’ I say, my voice shaking with nerves as I click the first slide in my presentation. ‘As you know, I have a personal link to this incredible company, one that I believe has helped us to shape this design into a true representation of your vision. I hope you will see how hard we’ve worked to that end and how inspired we’ve been by you as a company . . .’ I smile confidently as I prepare to continue, suddenly feeling for the first time since I met Adam that I really belong in his world.

  Chapter 52

  There’s applause from the handful of people in the room when I finish my part of the presentation and I feel excitement course through my body. I did it! And not only that, I did it well! I remembered everything I wanted to say, added a few good ad libs and kept everyone engaged throughout. I step down off the podium so James can tak
e over. The loudest applause is coming from George. I smile at him gratefully and James gives me an encouraging squeeze on the arm. I’m still shaking as he steps up to the podium.

  ‘Thank you, Bea. Does anyone have any questions before I go into some of the more boring technical detail, the structural considerations for such a project and so on?’

  ‘I have one,’ Eliza says silkily and we all turn and look at her. ‘Firstly, thank you for your ideas. I think I speak for all of us when I say they are very impressive and completely on brief for this company. Now, as the Account Director from the New York office, I’ve flown over to ensure that the design we choose can be rolled out internationally, because we are also hoping, in the next three or four years, to expand into Asia and Europe. Obviously with such an important project, we’ve been seeing other design companies too. Can I ask what credentials you have that would make us give you this project?’

  James smiles winningly and launches easily into a sales pitch about the extensive merits and awards he’s won and the outstanding profile of JF Design. I smile shyly as George gives me a thumbs-up and I turn and focus my attention on James.

  When he’s finished Eliza looks pointedly at me. ‘And what about you?’

  ‘Well, I really think our design fundamentally gets to the heart of your company’s core vision,’ I begin. ‘And I believe that . . .’

  Eliza holds her hand up. ‘I don’t want company principles now. I mean what is your background?’

  ‘Oh, er, JF Design is an award-winning garden design company renowned for its work with corporate companies. We have a client list that includes—’

  ‘Yes, yes, so James said,’ she interrupts sweetly. ‘But I mean yours, specifically. You.’

  ‘Bea’s a design consultant,’ James says, stepping forward. ‘I employed her to work on the project because of her obvious creative talent.’