Under a Starry Sky: A perfectly feel-good and uplifting story of second chances to escape with this summer 2020!

by Laura Kemp

  The door, towards the left of the large oblong building, was ajar, so he pushed it open and pulled back a dusty opaque industrial plastic curtain.

  ‘Fantastic!’ Annie gawped at the transformation – he was right about it being a tidy job! Open plan in design, with arched windows, there was a simple kitchen of gleaming steel, a long distressed wooden table with benches and a lounge area with a wood-burning stove. The stairs led up to a bathroom, two double rooms and a dormitory, so the place could sleep up to fourteen.

  ‘At the back, there’s another loo, a drying room for boots,’ he said, leading her round the corner, ‘and this is me …’

  A squat stone extension sat back against the building but afforded him the most amazing bird’s-eye view: she’d thought it was good from where they’d been standing before but here, the ground seemed to fall away from their feet. The lake was below, like a teardrop of glass, mirroring the clouds and the undulations of the hills, nestled in the curve of the land as if the earth had been scooped out by a spoon. Beyond Gobaith with its Monopoly-sized houses, the distance went on and on, dotted by sheep, weaving hedgerows and patchwork fields, a picture of isolation and peace. Above, the jagged top of the mountain seemed right there, but that was just an illusion, of course; the ridge ran like a fork of lightning for an hour’s walk at least until you could see the trig point and claim it conquered.

  ‘This is incredible. I must have seen this view a thousand times but …’ It still took your breath away. In fact, it was more affecting now because life experience gave you context.

  ‘I know,’ Lew said quietly, in awe. ‘It’s part of us, all of this. Sometimes you forget … to take it all in.’

  Annie understood. ‘We’re so busy keeping our heads down that we forget to look up.’

  He turned to her and nodded slowly, smiling wistfully.

  ‘Come inside,’ he said, excusing the drop in standards from The Bunkhouse. ‘The priority has been getting the barn ready for rental. I can sleep anywhere.’

  Or not, Annie thought, as they stepped out of the light and into the dimness which threw the bags under his eyes into sharp relief. A lump formed in her throat at the bumpy rug spread on the cold concrete floor, the electric heater, stove and camp bed topped with a neatly laid out tapered downy sleeping bag and folded Welsh knitted blanket. Lining the bare brick walls were stuffed holdalls, boxes marked ‘books’, ‘saucepans’ and ‘paperwork’ and bundles of equipment including a red safety helmet, orange padded life jackets, canoe paddles, ropes, waterproof jackets and trousers, walking boots, maps, torches, a drone and harnesses. A couple of open doors led to empty rooms and the space echoed with their footsteps. Was this the sum of Lewis Jones’s years? Yet she could hardly judge: if it weren’t for Blod, she’d have less than this. And actually, he seemed content, like it was a blank canvas of opportunity. And if he was, then she was, because here she was with her old mate.

  ‘Take a seat,’ he said, pointing at a camping chair while he unfolded another and then switched on the gas and boiled a pan of water from the makeshift kitchen area of sink and still-packaged units.

  ‘Isn’t this weird, the timing of us both being here.’ There was Wanda, too, but she needed to tread carefully with that one.

  He gave a non-committal shrug. ‘I just needed to get away. Had nowhere else to go. I didn’t want to crash at Mam and Dad’s, they’ve retired down west … my sisters are all busy with work and kids.’ He saw her nod and he laughed. ‘Which you’d know, obviously.’

  ‘Ha! Blod tells me everything!’

  ‘So I saw this and thought, why not? I’m not sure how long I’m going to stay; it’s kind of a project to keep me going, an investment too. I’ll see how things go.’

  When he saw her face drop, he added, ‘But I’m around for a bit. We can hang out, smoke fags, chuck stones at hikers, just like the old days.’

  ‘I’m forty now. I’m into gardening and herbal remedies.’

  ‘You? The original wild child?’

  She hadn’t been that bad. Nicking a sausage roll from Blod’s Shop for Ryan’s tea and necking Bacardi Breezers – flogged by one of her cousins off the back of a van – was as mad as it got round here. And she could see why the younger kids would think she’d been proper crazy. They’d probably seen her trying to look ‘hard’ while she tried not to choke on the fizz. That was how it was: with not much to do and siblings to be looked after, kids from seven or eight would hang out with teenagers, maybe not in the same group but in the same street, the same park or on the mountain. They all knew each other through their families anyway; back then, children would run errands or go from house to house, the doors of which were left unlocked. While six years separated Annie from Lew and Wanda, this was how they’d become friends.

  ‘And I go to bed early. Well, as soon as Blod goes up and I can stick my sleeping bag on the sofa.’

  ‘But … why? What happened with Dean?’

  ‘I left him.’ She had only ever told people about the split on a need-to-know basis.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, full of sympathy.

  ‘I’m not!’

  ‘I should’ve asked earlier, there’s me banging on and—’

  She waved his apology away. ‘As they say, he was a charmer to outsiders but a devil in the home. So tight with money he kept a hedgehog in his pocket. I could go on …’

  ‘But you’re okay?’

  ‘Yes. Completely. He doesn’t know I’m here. I feel safe.’

  ‘Hey, what’s that?’ she said, seeing an angry sore on his wrist.

  ‘A burn. I was escorting a climber down yesterday, and on the way there was an abandoned fire smoking – kids, probably – and I put it out but got this in the process. It’ll be fine.’ He didn’t look fine, though. He looked troubled. No wonder; the fire of fifteen years ago had left all of them scarred.

  ‘You need some aloe vera. I can make you a pot tonight. My faithful aloe vera plant, I call him Alan, came with me to Blod’s.’

  ‘Cheers, you’re a star! Here’s to Alan,’ he said, raising two mugs of coffee before handing hers over. ‘And Ryan.’

  ‘To Ryan,’ she whispered. ‘He wouldn’t believe what you’ve done here. Probably rob it, though, if he saw it.’

  In private, she could say this about him to Lew.

  ‘He wasn’t so bad. He’d have changed, you know, I bet you.’

  She appreciated this so much but didn’t believe it. ‘I doubt it.’ Annie blinked the pain away. ‘God, what a pair we are, ending back here.’ She paused, knowing she had to address the elephant in the room. ‘And what about Wanda still being in the village? I never thought she’d stick around long-term.’

  Lew’s jaw clenched. ‘Bit of a shock to see her yesterday, to be honest.’

  ‘Same for me. Although I did ask for it, cutting back the campsite hedges uninvited. I was only trying to help out. The place is a wreck.’ Lew shrugged with indifference. ‘It must be a difficult time for her. About to finally leave and then she can’t.’

  ‘Yeah, I s’pose. But you know, she can’t ask people she turned her back on, can she? She never contacted me after the fire. I tried to get through to her but she wouldn’t talk to me.’

  ‘She was grieving.’

  ‘I know. But then why didn’t she get in touch later?’

  ‘I don’t know, Lew, only she knows. But it felt good to help her. I’d like to do more.’

  ‘Why, though?’ he pressed her.

  It was a good question: Wanda hated Annie’s guts. ‘Because I’m in the same position as she is. I’m here, back to square one, same as her.’

  ‘She welcomed you back with open arms then?’ he said, cynically.

  ‘No. Obviously not. But that’s not the point. I just want to stop all this nonsense about the past, heal the rift, because so much time has passed and if we’re going
to be neighbours then we should try to get on.’

  ‘It’s a nice idea, but … too much has happened. Building bridges is all very well—’

  ‘Actually, it’s more about mending fences, clearing the rubbish and bringing back some joy to that bedraggled old site.’

  ‘How are you okay with all of this?’ he said, looking into his coffee.

  ‘Because Blod let me back in, that’s why. She could’ve turned her back on me like everyone else. I want to pass that forward. I’m not after forgiveness or anything, I just want acceptance. Plus, like Blod says, life’s too short.’

  ‘Sometimes it feels very long.’

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Breaking up isn’t just the actual break-up, is it? It’s the months leading up to it, when you know it’s wrong but you stay because you don’t want to hurt them and you try to convince yourself this is just a blip. It drags along and it’s so painful and then, boom, it all explodes and you think you were hurting before … It all boiled down to the question of kids. I didn’t want them. I couldn’t imagine them, not with her. And that’s such a horrible thing to admit to.’

  ‘I know that feeling,’ Annie said, not to punish him but to give him an insight into her situation. ‘Dean already had two girls, he was ten years older than me, remember? Already had a family. He didn’t want to do it again. Maybe if he’d let me be their second mam then I’d have been okay. But I was never allowed to get close to them. He made it impossible, he was so horrible to his ex that she saw me as the wicked stepmother, the girls were always going to take her side. I don’t blame them. I should’ve stayed well clear – he claimed he’d left her before I realised … But then I was broken, coming from the Hugheses, I thought no one else would have me.’

  Lew lifted his face and listened with his ears and eyes, his mask slipping as she spoke.

  ‘I was okay for years, I just got on with it, bottled it up. The trouble came when I realised I needed an outlet. If I couldn’t have babies, I’d have to make myself useful, give myself a purpose. Dean didn’t like it, he saw my “gardening thing” as a way to meet new men. I wanted to do up the patch of garden too but he decked it, which was like a coffin lid slamming shut. Then along came Teg. My rescue dog, my “baby”. But Dean was jealous. And when he lost his job, he exploded …’ She wasn’t going to revisit that scene. ‘… And that was that. Now I’m happier than I’ve ever been.’

  ‘In a funny way, I am too. Kirstine, my fiancée, she just wasn’t the right one. I tried to feel it …’

  ‘That’s brave that you tried, but it’s braver to admit it.’

  ‘Yeah. I started to feel physically sick whenever she brought up the wedding; it would’ve been next spring. I was in the wrong place. The kids thing on top, it was too much, she wanted a honeymoon baby. I wasn’t sure if I wanted one at all. Kirstine was, is, lovely. Mad angry at me when I told her I couldn’t go through with it, rightly so; we had a house, worked at the same outdoor pursuits centre, both of us instructors. It blew up her entire life. It was kinder to leave, make it clear there was no going back. I should’ve manned up sooner; we had five years together. Luckily she’s just thirty, she’s got bags of time. And,’ he said, raising his eyebrows, ‘so have I. Hours of it, every bloody day. I work my arse off with the building, I’m volunteering, I’m setting up a few courses here for hikers, I’m ordering bunk beds, sofas, all the bits and pieces to get it ready, and still I’m twiddling my thumbs, unable to sleep, up with the lark.’

  ‘Well … and don’t give me a row about it,’ Annie said, carefully. This was as close to the right moment as she’d get. ‘Maybe you need to use that time to help Wanda.’

  They stared at each other: Annie challenging him, Lew with disbelief.

  ‘Are you off your rocker?’

  ‘Have you listened to anything I’ve just said?’ Annie asked him.

  ‘I’ve got too much on.’

  ‘Just an hour or two?’

  ‘What’s the point? It’s not going to make us all best buddies again, is it?’

  ‘We won’t know unless we try. And it’d help Lyn, it’d be nice to do it in Wanda’s father’s memory too.’ He had been such a can-do man, one of those people who’d dig cars out of the snow or help bring the sheep in from the mountain. ‘Good for Gobaith too.’

  ‘I just can’t. You know what she’s like, we’d do the work then she’d ditch us again. Then she’d bugger off round the world and forget us.’

  ‘Well, that’d be a result then, wouldn’t it? The sooner we help, the sooner she’ll be gone,’ Annie said, trying to call his bluff on how he really felt about making up with her. Because while he’d been dismissive about Wanda, the fact was he’d come back here. It was irrelevant that Wanda may or may not be around – there was clearly the same need in him to reconcile himself with the past.

  ‘I’m sorry, Annie. But it’s a no,’ he said, taking her mug and getting to his feet. ‘And you should think twice about getting back involved with her. Nothing good will come of it.’

  The conversation was clearly over.

  6

  A lovely spot although the satnav had no idea where you were! Perhaps register it on GPS as a POI? Or give it a name that’s identifiable rather than The Campsite?

  Derek and Barbara McDonald, Bristol

  Campsite Visitors’ Book

  ‘What the surgeons did, with all those screws, it’s remarkable,’ Mam said, trying to cover up a wince of pain as she reached across her hospital bed to the table to pour a beaker of water.

  ‘Mam! I’ll do it!’ Wanda said, leaping up to take over.

  ‘I’m not an invalid, you know.’ She flapped the neck of her favourite Marksies floral nightie with indignation. ‘I’m iron woman! More metal in me than AC/DC. I’m scared I’ll set off the shoplifter alarm at the big supermarket, mind.’

  Two days after her hip fracture operation and she was clearly back to her usual self. Or at least she was attempting to be. That was a relief, because since coming round from surgery on Tuesday night she had been flat on her back, wan and groggy. Today, her brown eyes were less frightened; she had managed to put some make-up on and style her short grey hair as if she was off to Blod’s for supplies. But it was still a shock to see her with an oxygen nose pipe and a morphine pump.

  ‘Stop fussing!’ she said as Wanda plumped her pillows. ‘Go and make yourself useful and get me a paper, will you?’

  ‘But the physio is due any minute.’

  ‘I’m the patient, not you!’ she tutted, through a quick spray of perfume, ready for battle.

  Wanda suspected Mam wanted to hear the extent of her rehab programme alone so as not to worry anyone. It was going to be a gruelling return to health. That’s if she didn’t have any complications in the hospital such as bed sores or blood clots or …

  ‘I’ve got my notebook, somewhere,’ Mam said, patting the sheet around her to locate it. ‘I’ll write it all down so you two can supervise me, as you like to do.’

  ‘I’ve googled it already,’ Wanda said. ‘You’ll be home within a week or so, mobility needs assessed, we’ll get you walking and swimming. You can get hip protectors, they’re much better than they used to be, less bulky, apparently. I’ll ring Age UK—’

  ‘You won’t, young lady! Age UK! I ask you!’

  ‘Mam, you haven’t just had a cold,’ Wanda implored. ‘You’ll need looking after.’

  ‘I don’t think she wants to hear that,’ Carys mumbled to Wanda. ‘Mam, I’ll go to the shop and see Wanda off.’

  Then, with a ‘Give Mam a peck on the cheek’ to Wanda, she frogmarched her out of the ward.

  ‘You’re not about to accuse me of overdramatising, surely? I was just saying the facts, Caz!’ Wanda said, pink with exasperation.

  ‘I know, but just go at her pace, yeah? She knows she’s had it bad. She doesn’t
need reminding.’

  Wanda took it on the chin. Carys did know better in this instance: she was the one sitting with her all hours. And actually it was the best scenario, because Wanda didn’t want Carys anywhere near the temptation of physical graft back at the campsite.

  ‘How’s it been going at home?’ Carys asked as they walked down the corridor.

  Wanda’s sister only came back to the farmhouse to sleep – when she wasn’t with Mam, her mind was elsewhere; her hands on her thickening waist indicated that. Wanda really didn’t want to add the woes of having just four days left until opening day. Carys had enough going on. Wanda felt bad, too, that she’d been oblivious to the campsite’s decline in the off-season.

  ‘I mean, I know it’s a bit of a mess,’ Carys said. Understatement of the year, Wanda thought. But there she went again, molehills and mountains and all that. ‘I feel terrible it’s all down to you. You having to clear up after us. I kind of got distracted … I should’ve done something. I should’ve been watching Mam more closely. I thought I’d have time to get it ready. But then everything happened, didn’t it?’

  There was a tremor in Carys’s voice – it was most unlike her, she was always one to keep her cool and trust in the universe.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Wanda slid her arm through Carys’s, in solidarity.

  ‘Hormones, I think,’ said Carys, sounding ever so small, her heart-shaped face so childlike. ‘I always heard pregnant women talking about them but I never thought I’d feel so … weepy.’

  Wanda pulled her closer. ‘Really, don’t worry.’

  ‘But we’ve got a group booked in for Monday.’

  A roar of bikers had been promised twelve ready-erected tents. Twelve tents they didn’t have.

  ‘It’s fine!’ Wanda cried. ‘It’s under control. I’m dealing with it. I’ve got loads of people helping out.’