Among a Thousand Stars

by Jo Bartlett

  ‘Well, in a way, but actually Tom’s arrival made things more difficult in some respects.’ Isobel shook her head vigorously. ‘Not that he was in any way unwanted – I wouldn’t change his arrival for the world, not even to have Robert back. He truly was and is the best thing ever to happen to me. It just made things with Clive even more difficult; there were now two men in my heart who outranked him and he was jealous. Little did he know that I was finally plucking up the courage to leave him and find out if there might be more to life when I discovered I was pregnant.’ She sighed again. ‘Perhaps it would have been kinder to both of them to leave anyway, but it wasn’t the done thing in the circles we moved in and with the business and everything our lives were so intertwined, it was complicated.’

  ‘So Tom and Clive didn’t get on?’ Some of the comments he’d made in his vulnerable moments had hinted at that, but now it was starting to piece together,

  ‘Clive was jealous of Tom and I made it worse, I suppose, by releasing all of my pent up emotions and pouring all the love I had into this baby. He must have seen that I’d never had any of those feelings for him. Added to which, I insisted on calling him Thomas, which was Robert’s surname, as a link to him. Sometimes I’d fantasise that Tom really was his baby, ridiculous as that sounds.’

  ‘It’s not ridiculous at all. I think we all have those kinds of fantasies, a way of making our dreams come true.’ Ashleigh had imagined a hundred times what her father might say if they could have one last conversation. She’d have given anything to have that chance. He was the one person who would have understood how challenging being the object of Carol’s attention could be. Her brother Jamie could empathise, but, like Geoffrey, he had a way of letting it all go over his head – whereas she took it to heart.

  ‘Clive did love Tom in his own fashion. I didn’t realise how much until recently. I found a memory box he’d kept of Tom’s things and it made me so sad in a way, about how much missed opportunity there’d been for us all.’ The pain was etched on Isobel’s face.

  ‘I know what you mean. I wish my mum and dad had felt able to separate, they’d both have been happier and dad might still be here now.’

  ‘Thank you for understanding, somehow I knew you would.’ Isobel visibly relaxed. ‘I would never have said these things to Susie-Anne; I never have to any other girlfriend of Tom’s. When he told me she was pregnant and that he was planning to marry her, I was horrified.’ Another tear began a familiar path down her face. ‘Of course I was delighted that Tom would have a child. For so long I was afraid that Clive’s resentment and treatment of him, and the mistakes I’d made over the years, had put him off fatherhood and that he would never get close enough to someone to experience that joy. Yet, on the other hand, I could see history repeating itself: a loveless marriage where Tom would dote on the child but his relationship with its mother would be damaging to them all, just as Clive’s and mine was. I was scared, realising that he was probably doing it for me, much more than for himself. He sees how much I love my sister Maureen’s grandchildren and he wanted to give me that last gift, I know.’

  ‘I think you should go easier on yourself, he’s not turned out so bad.’ They exchanged a wry smile; in so many ways Tom’s life was an unprecedented success.

  ‘True, but he chooses to pretend that love doesn’t exist. It’s easier for him to think of relationships like they are business deals and he’s happy to work in partnership with someone for a while, but if they show any interest in a long term merger then the deal’s off.’ Isobel smiled again, pleased with the analogy she’d drawn.

  ‘Perhaps, but he’s always honest about that and I know exactly where I stand, I’m perfectly okay with that too.’ She smiled brightly in return, keen that Tom’s mother wouldn’t see her as desperate or sad, pining away the hours clinging to the unlikely scenario that he might one day declare his undying love for her.

  ‘I know and I’m glad of that, but I’d like to see him realise that love really does exist and leave this world knowing that at least he has the chance of finding it…’ Isobel hesitated, ‘…with someone like you.’

  ‘I think you can feel reassured.’ Flattering as it was to Ashleigh, the compliment was undoubtedly driven by the fact that time was running out for Isobel. ‘After all, he loves you and he should be capable of replicating that when the right girl comes along.’

  ‘Just promise me you’ll remember what he’s been through, what it is that has shaped his responses, if you are the right girl and he misses the chance to show you what’s really in his heart?’ Isobel’s eyes pleaded with her. It was a big gesture to make such a promise, but it was such an unlikely scenario that it barely mattered.

  ‘Okay, if that time ever comes, I promise I’ll remember.’

  ‘You don’t know how happy that makes me.’ She returned Ashleigh’s squeeze of the hand. ‘The chemotherapy tablets I’m taking have bought me a little more time, but before much longer they won’t be able to stop the inevitable.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ There was nothing Ashleigh could say that would make a difference.

  ‘Don’t be, I’m ready to see Robert again, I so hope I will.’ Isobel closed her eyes briefly, as though imagining the possibility and choosing not to consider that it might be her late husband, Clive, waiting for her when the time came. ‘I’ll miss Tom though and he’s all I worry about, but less so after today.’

  ****

  The beach was largely deserted, save for an elderly couple who were wearing pristine coats, which looked like they might just have been unwrapped. The wind whipped at Tom’s scarf, making him wish he’d worn a hat.

  ‘Come on Bertie, you must have had enough by now. It’s freezing!’ The Labrador was gambling amongst the icy waves, as though it was a warm August day, and they had nothing better to do. But Tom didn’t want to give his mum any longer than was necessary to fill Ashleigh’s head with the sort of nonsense she almost certainly would.

  Just as Bertie was about to comply and head in Tom’s general direction, a golden retriever came charging across the water’s edge and the two dogs began a merry game of chasing one another, making handbrake turns that sent them skidding across the sand.

  ‘Oh, bless them, aren’t they sweet together?’ The elegant blonde coming towards him on the beach caught Tom by surprise. ‘Suki so loves having a playmate, perhaps we could exchange numbers and arrange a date for them on a regular basis?’

  ‘He’s not actually my dog.’ Tom gave her the benefit of his ‘professional’ smile, her breath-taking forwardness a shock even to him. She was attractive, but he wasn’t interested in making pointless conversation; there was a disaster to avert.

  ‘I’m Helena by the way.’ She held out a gloved hand. ‘And I know who you are!’

  Right. So that’s why she’d been so keen to give out her number to a total stranger.

  ‘And who might that be?’ There was only one way out of this situation quickly and he’d used it many times before.

  ‘Tom Rushworth of course!’ Helena gushed and moved uncomfortably close to him.

  ‘Not another one!’ He used his equally well-practised ‘professional’ laugh, the sort he adopted to humour his clients. ‘I’m afraid you’re not the first person to mistake me for him.’ He shrugged his shoulders, as if apologising for her mistake.

  ‘You do look awfully like him.’ She looked him up and down, the disappointment as apparent on her face as it was in her voice.

  ‘Like I said, I’m sorry about that.’ He moved a step closer to Helena, who had begun to back away. ‘But I’d still love to take your number.’ He didn’t really want it, of course, but there was a theory to test.

  ‘Sorry, you’re an attractive guy and all that, but I don’t make a habit of giving out my number to strange men on the beach.’ Helena didn’t appear to sense the irony in her words, suddenly looking distinctly uncomfortable. ‘Come on S
uki, we’ve got to go.’

  Watching her disappear along the beach, Tom sighed. Had it always been like this? Grabbing Bertie before he could escape again, he clipped on the lead. He had to get back. If his mother said what was on her mind, everything with Ashleigh might change. He wasn’t ready for their friendship to end just yet, because, whatever else it might be, at least he knew it was real.

  ****

  Isobel’s sister Maureen arrived to collect her and the dog for the remainder of Christmas and New Year just as Tom got back with a wet, but considerably calmer Bertie. In a flurry of hugs and protestations from Auntie Maureen about the smell of wet dog in the back of her husband’s Nissan, Ashleigh and Tom headed off with promises to visit Isobel again soon.

  ‘I take it Mum told you about Robert?’ Tom kept his eyes on the road, as he drove away from his mother’s house and back to the flat. ‘I suppose you know now why all of our dogs have had such similar names?’

  ‘Yes.’ She didn’t know what else to say; any remark she made would sound flippant.

  ‘It’s just a fantasy that kept her sane in an unhappy marriage. If Robert had lived, I’m sure she’d eventually have realised that those feelings don’t last, except in films with saccharine sweet endings.’

  Ashleigh just nodded. It was pointless getting into a debate with Tom about love.

  ‘I’m glad she liked you as much as she did though.’ He grinned suddenly, the famous dimples making an appearance. ‘She told me I’d finally proved that I don’t waste all my good sense on making business decisions!’ He paused, glancing at her, as she struggled not to show any reaction to his mother’s words. ‘But don’t read too much into anything she says, she’s just desperate to see me settle down.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’ Ashleigh kept her voice even. Buying into Isobel’s theories could be very dangerous indeed.

  ****

  They spent the rest of the day just enjoying each other’s company, curled up on the sofa watching old movies and having a secret cry at It’s a Wonderful Life. They had a somewhat unconventional dinner of lobster and demolished most of a tin of chocolates, like millions of other couples on sofas in front of their TVs all over the country. They spent most of the afternoon in bed and watched the sky turn pink over the sea as Christmas day began to ebb away. If she’d wanted to buy into Isobel’s theory that Tom was secretly in love with her, then she could have done. It was such a perfect day, but, just as Tom had always so fervently insisted, perfection wasn’t meant to last.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Boxing Day was a milder, much greyer day than the one before. Mist hung in the air and the dampness made Ashleigh’s hair far curlier than she wanted.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Tom’s expression had changed almost as soon as he’d switched his phone back on.

  ‘It’s Susie-Anne.’ He widened his eyes. ‘Francine has sent me about a million messages, apparently it’s all over the Internet too.’

  ‘What is?’ Ashleigh shivered, Tom was still hesitating. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

  ‘Michael took to Twitter and he’s told the world that he can’t be sure he’s the father of Susie-Anne’s baby.’

  ‘Oh God, don’t tell me she pulled that trick again!’

  ‘No, she’s definitely pregnant, only it turns out that she also got friendly with at least one of Michael’s team mates.’

  ‘And we thought we were Jeremy Kyle material! So can she narrow it down to two, do you think?’

  ‘I wouldn’t put it past her to carry out a DNA test live on air if she thought it would raise her profile.’ He managed a rueful smile; it was a distinct possibility.

  ‘What happens now? Will you need to issue a statement or something?’ Even as she spoke, his phone started to ring.

  ‘Sorry, it’s Francine, I’m going to have to take it.’ Tom put the phone to his ear and walked through to the kitchen.

  Suddenly vulnerable and exposed, in just a vest top and a pair of lacy knickers, with the real world flooding in, Ashleigh wanted to turn back time. She put her clothes on like a suit of armour – if only it were that easy to protect herself.

  ‘Now what?’ Could there be anymore? It was like she’d been caught up in a soap opera storyline that she couldn’t escape from.

  ‘Susie-Anne’s in hospital. They think she might be having a miscarriage.’ Tom’s voice was emotionless, as though he didn’t know how to react. After all, Susie-Anne had lied to him and made no attempt to spare his feelings, but deep down there was a vulnerable side to almost everyone and, regardless of who the father turned out to be, there was a baby at the centre of all this. If Ashleigh was struggling with it all, it must be a hundred times worse for Tom.

  ‘You’ve got to go.’ The finality of Ashleigh’s words weren’t lost on her, but what he said next took her breath away.

  ‘Not without you.’ He searched her face, waiting for her to respond. She’d be well within her rights to tell him to get stuffed and she very nearly did.

  ‘I don’t think that would go down too well with Susie-Anne, me turning up at her bedside!’ She managed a half smile, her humour bleak. Everything about the world they’d be going back to was tarnishing things, as though the last two days had just been smoke and mirrors too.

  ‘Just come with me, please? She’s been taken into hospital in Brighton.’ He stood up, wrapping his arms around her waist. ‘Although knowing her it will be a false alarm for added drama.’

  She hesitated, it would be much easier to stay at home, let Tom go and text him later to say it had been fun, but they both knew things would run their course eventually and that now seemed as good a time as any. Only the thought twisted her insides even more than the prospect of pitching up at Susie-Anne’s bedside. Despite her best attempts, she hadn’t managed to keep her feelings for Tom in the friendship zone. Part of her was hoping that Isobel might be right and she hated herself for it.

  ‘Okay, if you really want me to, then I’ll come.’ They wouldn’t be far from Zac and Stevie if she needed to bolt, and that was what tipped the balance. ‘But I’ll borrow Mum’s car and follow you down in that, so if you need to hang around I can head off.’

  ****

  The drive down to Brighton was interminable, not helped much by the bone-shaking nature of the ancient Land Rover. Thankfully, Carol, who was still in the midst of a very merry Christmas, didn’t ask too many questions about why she wanted to borrow it. Tom was waiting in the car park outside the hospital’s maternity unit, pacing up and down much like any other expectant father.

  ‘I thought perhaps you’d changed your mind.’ He kissed her lightly on the lips. Was she just a PR pawn, there to make sure Tom didn’t look like a victim to the photographers who were bound to be hanging around?

  ‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’ He’d been right to worry about her turning up. Twice she’d almost taken the slip road off the motorway and headed straight back to Sandgate.

  ‘It’ll be fine.’ Tom was insistent.

  ‘I’ll come in for a bit.’ She didn’t want to carry on the conversation in the middle of a busy car park, whilst relatives laden with IT’S A BOY! balloons and bunches of flowers walked past, happily eavesdropping on their conversation.

  Tom didn’t respond but he took her hand, leading her into the foyer of the maternity unit where Francine was already waiting.

  ‘Tom, how are you?’ His uber efficient PA was just as deadly when it came to getting Tom’s undivided attention. Without even acknowledging Ashleigh’s presence, she literally swept her aside and embraced him with odd stiffness.

  ‘I’m fine.’ Tom stepped back and immediately glanced around, almost certainly checking whether any journalists had managed to get inside. The newspaper stand outside the hospital shop was laden with tabloids; the Susie-Anne and Michael Cox debacle front-page news. ‘I thought Susie-Anne was booked
to go to the Portland Hospital?’ Tom was irritated; it would obviously have been easier for him to control things there.

  ‘She was.’ The private hospital was the place to give birth for the good, the great and anyone with a high profile. ‘But she was taken ill at her cousin’s place in Brighton and so they brought her here, in case it was serious.’ Francine spoke as though the whole thing were an illness that needed to be ‘got over’.

  ‘And the press?’ Tom frowned, but there was no sign of anyone hanging around in the foyer as far as Ashleigh could tell.

  ‘Seems like they haven’t got anyone inside the building.’ Francine smiled briefly, but it definitely wasn’t the kind that lit up her whole face. ‘Although I suspect it’s only a matter of time. Especially as you’ve decided to bring… outsiders.’

  ‘Right, well, we’ll go through then, whilst the going’s good.’ Tom appeared to let Francine’s comments drift over his head, no doubt her abrasive personality often came in useful; she was bound to be excellent at dealing with unwanted press interest for a start.

  ‘You’re both going in?’ Francine raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, her mouth twisting into a sneer.

  ‘Yes. Have you seen her yet?’ He didn’t acknowledge her comment and Ashleigh could only imagine Francine’s bedside manner. Somehow she doubted it had brought Susie-Anne much comfort.

  ‘Briefly. Apparently the doctors are trying to…’ Francine appeared to be grasping for the right words; the term ‘miscarriage’ with all of its gory connotations not something she was willing to say ‘…stop things until it’s the proper time.’

  ‘Thanks. Are you okay to hang around?’ Tom’s tone was expectant. As if it were perfectly reasonable to ask someone to give up their time on a day that, for most people, was devoted to spending time with loved ones. Taking in Francine’s sharp business-suit, Ashleigh suspected she was only too happy to work rather than make merry.