Among a Thousand Stars

by Jo Bartlett

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ‘Happy Christmas.’ Tom was propped up on one elbow watching her as she opened her eyes.

  ‘That’s a bit off putting you know.’ She smiled lazily; there really wasn’t much to complain about waking up next to his naked form. ‘A girl doesn’t like to be looked at too closely right after waking up.’ As long as she hadn’t been snoring or dribbling, or doing something else even more embarrassing, whilst he’d been watching her.

  ‘Well, waking up with you isn’t the worst start I’ve had to a Christmas.’ He stroked the back of her neck, making her shiver.

  ‘Not the worst start?’

  ‘Well there was that time when I was eight and I didn’t get the Scalectrix I had set my heart on…’ Ducking as she threw a pillow at him, he slipped an arm under her back and pulled her down on top of him.

  ‘No chance!’ She pinned his arms above his head and planted a quick kiss on his lips. ‘Sorry, not this morning, there’s no way I’m being late for breakfast with your mum.’ Leaping off the bed, before he could stop her, she switched on the shower in the ensuite. ‘Your present is in the other room.’

  ****

  Tom was waiting for her when she emerged, the painting still wrapped. On her side of the bed was a Christmas stocking, stuffed with a selection of small parcels.

  ‘I wanted us to open them together.’ He handed her a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and she leant back against the plumped up pillows. Every gift she took out of the stocking was fantastic and she felt more and more embarrassed about the £80 painting, although she stood no chance of being able to compete with Tom. There was designer perfume, gift cards for Harrods and Harvey Nicks and tickets to several of the top shows in the West End. They were exactly the sort of gifts she expected Rushworth Associates to buy for its clients and corporate partners, so putting together something like this was a lot less thoughtful than it looked. Not that she wasn’t grateful, but being with Tom was all she really wanted anyway. Well, that and the beautiful pair of silver and amber earrings he’d given her, somehow much more personal than the other gifts, the amber uncannily close in colour to her eyes. She’d like to think he’d chosen them for that very reason. As if, despite their no-strings label, she mattered enough to him to notice the little details.

  ‘Everything is fabulous, thank you.’ She kissed him slowly on the mouth, whatever he said and whatever her body was screaming at her to do, they definitely didn’t have time for sex before leaving for his mum’s. ‘You may as well open mine.’ She smiled shyly as she pulled away from him. ‘It’s not much in comparison, but I hope you like it.’

  For a long moment after he peeled back the paper he didn’t say anything, his face unreadable, and she was certain he was horrified by her gift.

  ‘I bought it at Sands in the High Street.’ Ashleigh couldn’t quite bring herself to admit that it had been a last minute purchase the day before; she didn’t want him to think she was thoughtless as well as lacking in taste, but then she hadn’t even known they’d be together again for Christmas.

  ‘It‘s fantastic.’ He laughed and she couldn’t tell if he was joking. Only he must have been because there’d been a horrible mix-up.

  ‘It’s okay, you don‘t have to pretend. You‘ve opened the wrong painting.’ She braced herself for more embarrassment. ‘I painted that. I was going to give it to your mum, as it’s meant to be the beach near her house and, frankly, I was desperate.’ There was that reliable old blush again, just as likely to turn up on Christmas Day as Santa Claus himself.

  ‘My God, you honestly don’t realise do you?’ Tom really was grinning like a kid. ‘It’s brilliant, can I keep it?’

  ‘Look it’s okay, you can stop messing about. I know I’m not the world’s greatest artist and you don’t have to pretend to spare my feelings.’ Ashleigh smiled weakly. Gary ‘the disappointing in bed’ art lecturer had made it clear that she should stick to photography.

  ‘You should know me well enough by now to realise that I never tell lies to spare someone’s feelings.’ He grinned again, as if reading her mind. ‘Although there’s no harm in a bit of spin if it puts a client in a good light.’

  ‘And there’s money to be made.’ It had crossed her mind that Tom might not be entirely delighted if Zac decided to bring his relationship with Stevie out in to the open. From a marketing point of view it would make no sense at all.

  ‘True, but this is my personal life and I’m always honest about that. You’re really talented, in lots of ways.’ A brief smile played around his mouth. ‘I just wish you’d realise it.’

  ‘Well, thanks. If you’re sure you want to keep it then you’re more than welcome.’ Ashleigh found compliments difficult to handle, but tried to be gracious. ‘Only there’s no changing your mind later when your mum opens the one from Sands and you realise you’ve missed out.’

  ‘I rarely change my mind.’ He held the painting at arm’s length again. ‘Anyway, I really do love it. It reminds me of days at the beach with my mum when I was a child and Dad was away somewhere. They were always the best days.’ There was that touch of vulnerability, the hint that there was more to Tom than met the eye, and then he shut down again. ‘Right, well I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.’

  ****

  As Ashleigh expected, Isobel Rushworth’s home was a grand Edwardian double-fronted house with a sweeping in and out driveway. It was as far removed from Carol’s cliff top cottage, complete with hippy style décor, as it was possible to be. The old lady herself – and she was old, having had her only child late in life – was surprisingly tiny, given Tom’s stature, and incredibly elegant. Her hair was perfectly coiffured and her make-up immaculate. She wore a suit, silk blouse and an unexpectedly towering pair of high-heels. Ashleigh, who was in her usual winter uniform of Levis, knee high boots and, as it was Christmas, a red silk shirt, felt alarmingly under-dressed.

  ‘Happy Christmas my darlings.’ Isobel embraced Tom and smiled warmly at Ashleigh. ‘I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.’ She winked with all the ease of a seasoned entertainer and Ashleigh began to relax.

  ‘I hope Tom hasn’t been using his famous spin and I disappoint!’ Much to her surprise, she was comfortable enough to gang up with his mother to tease Tom.

  ‘Hmm, well he has been known to exaggerate.’ There was that casual wink again. ‘But since the last girl he brought home had the personality and IQ of a fridge magnet, I think we’ll give him the benefit of the doubt this time!’ Isobel peeled into infectious laughter. There was no hint that she was unwell; if Ashleigh hadn’t heard it from Tom himself it would have been very difficult to believe.

  ‘Alright, alright, enough you two I think!’ Tom was smiling, pleased that the two women liked each other.

  ‘Okay darling, if you must spoil our fun.’ Isobel pinched his cheek affectionately, just as she might have done when he was a toddler. ‘Present time I think.’

  They moved through to the drawing room and the elegant sash windows allowed the winter sunlight to give the room a pale glow. The furniture, as expected, was made up of elegant period pieces. The room was homely though, rather than a museum piece, like it had seen life.

  ‘I brought you a little something, it’s not much but I hope you like it.’ Ashleigh handed Tom’s mother the parcel and she carefully pulled out the painting that had originally been intended for her son.

  ‘Where did you get this?’ Isobel traced the signature in the corner of the painting with her fingers and, when she looked up, there were tears in her eyes.

  Horrified for the second time that day at the reaction to a present, Ashleigh stumbled over her words. ‘A gallery… in Sandgate… I’m sorry, I can take it back.’ The blush was back with a vengeance; paintings were far too personal to give as presents to people you barely knew.

  ‘Oh no, I love it.’ It was almost a carbon copy o
f Tom’s reaction and suddenly Isobel’s small hand was over hers. ‘It’s just it was painted by an old friend of mine and I’ve wanted to try to track down one of his pictures for years. I honestly can’t believe you’ve found one. It’s like a one in a million coincidence.’ Glancing briefly at Tom, who was busy pouring Bucks Fizz into glasses on the other side of the room, she leant conspiratorially towards Ashleigh and whispered. ‘The girl in the painting might even be me!’

  Regaining her composure and beaming as if the painting really was the best present she’d ever had, Isobel handed out her gifts. There were diamond cufflinks for Tom and a beautiful silk scarf for Ashleigh. She was thrilled with the cruise tickets that Tom gave her for a trip to Alaska with her sister Maureen and she insisted on seeing the photograph, which Tom had taken on his iPhone, of Ashleigh’s painting of the beach at Hythe.

  ‘Beautiful and talented too. About time Tom picked himself a good one.’ As Isobel leant forward to kiss her cheek, the paper-thin fragility of her skin was a shock to Ashleigh.

  ‘Now come on son,’ Isobel gestured to Tom insistently. ‘Let’s treat this lovely young lady in the way she should be. Help me bring breakfast through. She deserves to be waited on.’

  A moment or so after they disappeared into the kitchen, Ashleigh’s mobile beeped. As there was no one around to witness her checking it, or to think she was rude for doing so in company, so she took a quick look. Maybe it would be Stevie filling her in on how ostentatious Christmas with Zac was turning out to be, but the text was from her mum.

  * Mum

  Happy Christmas darling. Hope U & Tom R having fun, wink, wink! As requested Geoffrey has bought me a voucher 4 the tattoo & piercing parlour in Canterbury for Christmas & so I’m going 2 get my nipples pierced next week! xx

  Unlike Ashleigh, Isobel had served up a breakfast in the dining room that any TV chef would really have been proud of. Mid-way through, and just as Ashleigh had put slightly too much bacon in her mouth, there was a violent battering on the door. Seconds later her chair was vigorously pushed from behind, almost causing an unintentional Heimlich manoeuvre.

  ‘Bertie, no!’ Isobel shouted at the chocolate Labrador, who by now had his head on Ashleigh’s knee and was gazing up at her with soulful eyes, just begging for the tiniest scrap of her breakfast. ‘You’re supposed to be in the kitchen, you naughty boy.’ Even as she chastised him, the affection in Isobel’s voice was as tangible as it had been when she’d greeted Tom.

  ‘I don’t mind. He’s lovely and he certainly seems pleased to see us.’ Ashleigh sneaked a piece of bacon rind beneath the table and fed it to the delighted Labrador, who rewarded her with a trail of saliva across one leg of her Levis.

  ‘Oh, I’m so glad you like dogs too! Susie-Anne seemed to be horrified by Bertie, that’s why I left him in the kitchen.’ Isobel clapped her hands with delight. ‘Such a mark of a person, if you ask me, liking dogs that is. We’ve always had them, even before Tom was born. Let’s see there was Robbie, Bert, RoRo and first of them all was plain old Robert, the light of my life just like his namesake.’

  ‘I sense a theme!’ Ashleigh returned her smile. ‘Was that your husband’s name?’

  ‘Oh no!’ The older woman shook her head with conviction. ‘He was Clive, such a dull name, nothing you can do with that at all.’

  Tom, who appeared unsurprised to discover that another man had been the one to light up Isobel’s life, said nothing. The heat of a blush swept up Ashleigh’s neck and across her cheeks, she’d really put her foot in it.

  The rest of the breakfast passed in easy conversation, with the odd nudge from Bertie checking whether there was any more bacon rind going begging. Isobel had been a delight. She was easy-going and loved to recount tales of Tom’s childhood, including the time he’d swallowed three hotels from his Monopoly game to stop his cousin snatching a late victory, and had ended up in Accident and Emergency as a result.

  ‘I should have realised then that nothing would stop him from being a success!’ Isobel’s laugh really was infectious, she was an attractive woman even in her late seventies and Ashleigh had no doubt she’d been stunning in her youth. Meeting her was an unexpected pleasure. The buttoned-up side of Tom indicated that his upbringing had lacked warmth, or been terribly formal, but there was no trace of that with Isobel.

  After she’d insisted on clearing the breakfast plates herself, resolutely spritely, Isobel played the card that was surely guaranteed to ensure Tom’s compliance.

  ‘Tom, darling, I’m feeling the effects of my tablets a bit this morning, you wouldn’t be an angel and walk Bertie for me before you go would you?’ Isobel leant against the back of her armchair with a weak smile. ‘I know your Auntie Maureen won’t want to do it later; she’ll be too busy fussing about the security of the turkey. Just because Bertie licked it a bit last year when it was still frozen. Honestly, there was no harm done at all!’

  ‘We’d love to, wouldn’t we? Ashleigh can show me the part of the beach in my painting.’ Tom, obviously suspecting exactly what his mother was up to, attempted to head her off at the pass.

  ‘Oh no, you’re not taking Ashleigh with you.’ Out manoeuvring Tom with a verbal checkmate, she added. ‘After all, you wouldn’t want to deny a dying old woman a bit of company on Christmas morning would you?’

  Within a few minutes, and after Bertie had leapt about attempting to catch his own tail, whilst Tom struggled to attach his lead, the two males of the household were on their way to the beach, Tom striding out purposefully beside the eternally bouncy Bertie.

  ‘He really likes you, you know?’ There was no beating around the bush with Isobel, who, in so many ways, had no time to waste. ‘The fact that he brought you here and was interested enough to meet your family tells me that. Only he doesn’t even know how much himself.’

  ‘We enjoy each other’s company.’ Ashleigh shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She could hardly tell Tom’s mother that they would never be any more than friends who were currently enjoying the best sex of her life.

  ‘I know he’s not good at showing his emotions when it comes to girls.’ Isobel sighed, genuine sadness in her voice. ‘It’s entirely mine and Clive’s fault we completely messed up, setting him the worst possible example of what a relationship should be like.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s not true.’ Ashleigh wanted to reassure her, to tell her she’d wished more than once over breakfast that her own mother was a bit more like Isobel, but she struggled for what to say. ‘Tom adores you, anyone can see that.’

  ‘True, we do adore one another.’ Isobel was smiling. ‘Only I could barely stand his father and I shouldn’t have put Tom through that.’

  ‘I think Tom and I get on because we both realise how complicated families can be.’ Ashleigh took a deep breath. ‘My parents only stayed together for me and my mother was always, how can I put this, a free spirit. It wasn’t the most harmonious of households.’

  ‘Ah, but if they rowed at least there was passion. Here it was like stone.’ Taking Ashleigh’s hand in her own, she went on, as though desperate for her to understand. ‘I never really loved Clive, it was sad for him, always in the shadow of Robert. Robert and I were teenage sweethearts, went everywhere together for almost five years. He was an artist, the painting you bought was one of his.’ She smiled warmly at Ashleigh. ‘I feel it was fate that you bought the painting and I knew the moment I opened it that I had to tell you the story I’ve shared with so few.’ Pausing she took a sip of her drink. ‘Robert and I had a passionate relationship like you’ve never known, huge rows and oh, such wonderful times making up… We had one row, the biggest we’d ever had and I told him I wouldn’t make up with him this time and that I would marry Clive. Clive worked for my father in his import and export company and was busy climbing the ladder to success, desperate to date the boss’ daughter as the cherry on the cake. I thought he was boring and a stuffed shirt, b
ut I knew that saying it would really hurt Robert, as he so wanted us to marry, but we both knew my family would never approve.’ A single tear snaked its way down her cheek. ‘I didn’t mean it of course, I would have made up with him in a heartbeat, only he went roaring off along the coast road on his bike, took the bend too fast and…’

  ‘Oh, my God, please don’t tell me he died.’ Ashleigh clasped a hand over her mouth, there were echoes of her father’s accident and so many tragedies in the name of love. It was beginning to make sense why Tom so fervently rejected it.

  ‘Instantly.’ Swallowing the emotion even nearly sixty years later seemed difficult. ‘I think that was the hardest part, not getting the chance to say goodbye. For three years afterwards I spent nearly all my time crying and in the end I settled for Clive, thinking it was better than being alone.’

  ‘But it wasn’t?’ Ashleigh squeezed the other woman’s hand

  ‘No, my darling, you’re right it wasn’t. Clive was always less than second best. It really wasn’t his fault.’ She appeared to be struggling to think of something positive to say. ‘He was a good provider, grew my father’s business four-fold and he loved me, I really believe that, only his love was like cold ash compared to the fire I’d had with Robert.’

  ‘But you had Tom and that’s what kept you together?’ Ashleigh was beginning to understand him, just as his mother had planned. Her reaction was to search for the love that her parents had never had, but Tom’s had been more clinical – deciding to dismiss even the possibility that it might exist.