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

by Laura Kemp

  ‘The Two Ronnies sketch! You know, Ronnie Barker goes in to the hardware shop and asks Ronnie Corbett for four candles, but what he really means is fork handles! Classic comedy, one of my favourites.’

  ‘Oh yes! My dad loved that! How didn’t I realise!’

  As she left, she caught sight of Arthur’s face at the top of the landing, the way she and Carys used to eavesdrop when Mam and Dad had people over. He was in a onesie with wet hair and looked so very young. She hoped she’d got it right with what she’d said about his mam. Tentatively, she waved and he nodded, which was a breakthrough of sorts.

  The path home was lit up by a swathe of stars in the Milky Way. Like God had sprinkled some diamonds from heaven, Dad would say, to give us something to look up at when times are dark. Her feet took her past the back door to the old shepherd’s hut, her father’s beloved sanctuary. Other dads had sheds and garages to retreat to; he’d had this. With a nip of whisky on a cold day, he’d sit for five minutes on the wooden steps. He called it communing with the elders – the hut had belonged to his great-grandfather, who would roam the vast lonely acres of farmland, and he’d always wanted to restore it. He’d do it in his retirement, but he’d never got the chance … In the years that followed, it had become even more decrepit.

  Taller and longer than a camper van, twice as wide, with two tiny windows and a domed roof, it was made almost entirely of corrugated sheet iron, shaped like a shed with a padlocked door at one end. It had four cast-iron wheels, but they hadn’t ever worked, not in her lifetime anyway, and it sat on sleepers. Inside, she remembered, there had been a wooden ledge for sleeping, a stove, small table, a rocking chair and a cage for poorly lambs. Dad had kept bits and pieces in there, nothing valuable, just a few spanners, a book of crosswords, a pack of cards. He’d make it cosy with hay and sometimes he’d let Carys and Wanda sleep out there until the dark and the barking of foxes and what-if-they’re-wolves? would send them in hysterical. She touched the rusty metal and even though it was cold, she could feel her father’s beating heart and it gave her a shot of strength.

  She didn’t have much to moan about, she knew that. Not when she compared herself to Spike bringing up a lost little kid. Her funny turn about the grass fire, it was a one-off blip.

  This latest episode in her life, it wasn’t the end point.

  Instead, beneath the blanket of the night sky, she realised this was just a detour.

  9

  With Teg trotting alongside her, Annie was holding her head up high on Gobaith’s main street.

  It was the first time since she could remember that she felt able to meet people’s eyes and face the world.

  To go out on a busy Saturday had once been to run the gauntlet of judgement, earning daggers as if she’d been a witch. Someone had even compared her to Gwen Ellis, from the sixteenth century, Wales’s first woman to be hanged for witchcraft, because they’d both had healing potions in common. It didn’t help that Annie was going through her adolescent goth phase at the time.

  But today, the first warm and sunny weekend of the year, felt different. A few, of course, still dropped their eyes to the pavement – including former Travellers’ Rest barmaid Rita Griffiths, who’d never been repaid the tenner she’d lent Mam for Ryan’s tea, which had ended up down his dad’s throat in liquid form in 1994. But in the main her little smile was returned, no doubt helped by Teg’s waggy tail and grin. Blod, though, would have spread the word that Annie had helped lead the campsite clean-up. As a respected member of the town, her support was priceless. It meant everything to belong. And it paved the way to reconnect with Wanda. But she’d only do that when Wanda was ready. They hadn’t spoken during the renovations – there were too many jobs to do and lots of people around – but Wanda had accepted the community efforts with grace. It was a start, and Annie would take that.

  Gobaith hadn’t changed much since she was tiny. The indie shops were still thriving; this town was too far out of the way for chains. Not many kids around, though, she noticed: probably inside on Xboxes. In her bag, Annie had a warm granary loaf, parsnip soup and a good strong cheese from the bakery deli Bread and Butter. Next, she would pop into Fork Handles for a new pair of secateurs. She had a spare and hadn’t intended on replacing her missing ones, but it was a chance to say hello to Spike, whom she’d met at the campsite call to arms.

  ‘’Ello, Annie!’ he said, immediately coming over to her. Muscle memory kicked in and she waited for Teg to duck behind her, afraid of this man. But Spike knelt down, held his knuckles out for her to sniff and, incredibly, Teg stayed put.

  ‘Who’s this then?’ he said softly, ruffling Teg’s ears before getting up.

  ‘Teg. It means beautiful in Welsh. My baby girl!’ she said.

  ‘She is beautiful! I love dogs.’ What a gentle giant Spike was! ‘I’ve got some treats be’ind the counter if you’re stopping?’

  She nodded as Teg’s ears pricked up at the mention of food.

  ‘What can I do you for, then?’ His blue eyes were the colour of cornflowers and she felt herself glow in his presence.

  ‘I’m after secateurs.’

  ‘Follow me!’ he beamed. ‘What about these? They look your size, ergonomic, a lightweight aluminium chassis, they’re nice and snappy.’

  Her heart jumped a little when his hands touched hers. His warmth and, yes, good looks, had found a small chink in her armour. In fact, he’d found a soft spot inside of her, and while she had no romantic illusions, it had been so long since a man made her feel like a person, she couldn’t deny this simple pleasure. But even though he seemed genuine, was he? Dean had started off a gent, with gifts and kindness, then as soon as she’d fallen in love, he’d treated her like an object, a thing to paw if he desired or as a verbal punchbag. She still felt the echoes of that now.

  ‘You goin’ to the community hall for the Big Smoke-Out later?’ he said, taking payment and giving Teg a biscuit or three. ‘I’ve got some chops you can ’elp me polish off, if you fancy?’

  Surprise, surprise, she had always avoided the fire service’s annual spring barbecue. Could she make an exception? She found herself wanting to so she could get to know him. But who was she kidding? Her past would come out – he’d run a mile when he saw she had more baggage than an aeroplane.

  ‘Maybe,’ she lied. ‘I’ve got a few things I need to do.’

  It’s better that way, she thought, waving goodbye, you won’t be disappointed then when he backs off. Annie drove Teg back to the kennel, showering her in kisses and burying her nose in her neck, then stopped on the way home to pick some splendid-looking dandelions. People were sniffy about them but they were like little rays of sunshine to Annie – and useful. She’d let the flowers wilt, stick them in a jar, top with olive oil, rest them on the windowsill for two weeks when she’d strain them out and the ointment would be good to go for Blod’s joints.

  Once she’d made lunch, she called to Blod, who left her Saturday girl at the till to hold the fort.

  ‘Ooh, parsnip! I do love a sweet vegetable!’ Blod said, slurping away at her soup and dunking hunks of bread into her bowl. ‘Fancy the do at the hall later? I’m going to close early today. No point being your own boss if you can’t mitch off every now and again, is there?’

  Annie gave her a stare which said ‘as if!’

  ‘Well, tough,’ Blod replied. ‘I need your help to take some burgers, fizzy pop, baps and trestle tables down. I promised the fire service I’d contribute.’

  It was an obvious ruse to get Annie there. But she agreed because she couldn’t say no to her. ‘I won’t stay, though.’

  ‘But there’s a nice young man going,’ Blod winked. ‘My second cousin, her great-nephew is the new fire service education officer. He’s the one who’s moved into Wanda’s flat.’

  ‘Oh, great. I can definitely see me and a fireman getting together!’ Annie tutted and Blod w
ent innocent-eyed.

  ‘Just to give him a crowd, that’s all I mean.’

  Blod was transparent – the barbecue was always popular, but it would be especially so today, after the spate of grass fires in Gobaith. No one wanted a repeat of fifteen years ago.

  ‘And you have every right to be there.’ Blod’s faith in her couldn’t be argued with.

  So, a few hours later, she found herself nervously taking in the car park outside the hall, where a fire engine was being clambered on by kids, young and old. There was a tombola, hook a duck, a bouncy castle and a giant dressed-up Fireman Sam whose foam hands were being tugged by toddlers. The poor bugger inside took off his cartoon head and puffed out his ruddy cheeks and waddled to the little stage.

  Wholesome and innocent-looking as a little lamb, he cleared his throat and almost jumped out of his skin when the engine gave a Whoop! of its siren to call everyone’s attention.

  ‘Welcome, everyone, to the Big Smoke-Out! I’m the new education co-ordinator for the fire service.

  ‘As we all know, this is the time of year when our mountains are ablaze. Lighter evenings, dry grassland and kids, whether they’re bored, they’ve been brought up to see it as fun or they’re simply fascinated with fire – it’s a dangerous combination.

  ‘Wales has eight times as many deliberate grass fires as England. Nowhere is safe, not even Gobaith, where we’ve seen rising call-outs.’

  The crowd muttered their disgust.

  ‘Our colleagues over at Mountain Rescue …’ Lew stepped forward at this point and held aloft a drone, ‘… have footage of a fire that was started recently. It was small this time and no one was hurt. But we have to nip this in the bud. We don’t want what happened fifteen years ago to happen again.’

  Annie took a self-conscious step back and wished she hadn’t come.

  ‘Of course, you here today understand that arson is not thrilling or harmless. You know it’s criminal, devastating for wildlife and could not just injure a firefighter but take them away from a genuine call …’

  Was it her imagination or were people shrinking back from her? She didn’t wait to check, but quietly melted away, looking for a hole to climb into. But instead she bumped into Spike and Arthur.

  ‘This whole place deserves to be torched,’ the boy said. ‘It’s so boring.’

  ‘Arthur!’ Spike hissed, giving Annie an apologetic look.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she whispered. ‘Some kids don’t know how to respect the land. They used to roam free round here, but now with their screens on the one hand and protective parents on the other, they’re kind of hemmed in.’

  Arthur rolled his eyes.

  ‘We had nothing else, Arthur,’ she said. ‘We’d have to make dens, set up assault courses, go swimming in the lake, play hide-and-seek, we’d use whatever nature had blessed us with.’

  Arthur sized it up. ‘That sounds—’

  ‘Watch your mouth!’ Spike growled.

  ‘I wasn’t going to say crap,’ Arthur said, enjoying the chance to say it anyway. ‘I was going to say better than being here or at school. Although, if I did go and do all that stuff no one would do it with me anyway. They hate me.’

  Spike put an arm around his boy and Annie knew she’d inspired something when he didn’t shrug it off. ‘They don’t, son. They’ve just seen you acting out. If you lash out at them, no one will want to go near you.’

  Poor kid. It was horrible being the odd one out. ‘That used to be me,’ she said, daring to reveal a bit of who she was to Spike – better it came from her than someone else. But before she could say anything more, the siren signalled the speech was finished and the giant barbie was to be lit.

  It was all that was needed to kick off the party. Annie’s attempts to leave were halted by drinks and plates appearing under her nose and, in the collective hug of Lew, Blod and Spike, she began to feel part of things. As the evening rolled in, they took to a table in the Victorian hall, where she was included in the chit-chat of people coming to say hello to Lew and Blod. ‘He who steals an egg steals more’ might have legs as a saying round here, but no one treated her as one of the Hugheses or mentioned Ryan: Blod had been right, Annie had earned her right to be here.

  Soon she relaxed into it, helped by the booze – although she’d declined the rounds of shots which had sent Blod weepy about missing Lyn, which was so sweet. Annie was enjoying Spike’s attention too. If he wasn’t the real thing, he was a very good actor. Lew liked him too – they both knew the Brecon Beacons, Spike from his army training and Lew from his wild camping exploits back in the day. They were guffawing about wild toilets when Wanda appeared in a yellow firefighting helmet a few feet away. Bump-first, Carys was guiding her through the hall because her sister was weaving in the style of a few too many sherbets. It was slow progress because she stopped to talk to everyone, receiving hugs as she went, particularly a long one from Phil the Pill. When she saw Annie and Lew, she halted, swaying on the spot. With her inhibitions down, it was easy to see her uncertainty as to what she did next. Annie was willing her over because now was as good a time as any – in fact, it was probably the best way to start again because everyone was merry and the ice had been broken by the booze. Carys said something to Wanda and she hesitated before giving an enthusiastic jab of the air with her finger.

  ‘Hi,’ she sang to the group. But her confidence a split second ago had turned to apprehension and she wasn’t yet sure if she was doing the right thing.

  ‘Hi, Wanda! Carys, you want a seat?’ Spike said, ever the gent, rising before he was waved back down.

  ‘I’ll not be long,’ Carys said, rubbing her tummy and yawning. ‘We’ve just come over to say thank you.’

  ‘Yes, we have!’ Wanda said as if she’d been reminded of why she was here. ‘Thank you sho mush,’ she said, slurring.

  ‘We couldn’t have done it without your help, could we, Wanda?’

  ‘Nope.’ Wanda’s glassy eyes went round the table, probably unaware how long they lingered on Lew.

  His smile had gone behind a cloud. Annie had assumed he’d parked the past by helping Wanda last weekend. Clearly not. He was looking everywhere but at Wanda and the atmosphere felt chilly. Annie had to do something.

  ‘Did it all go off okay, this week, for you?’ Annie was nervous too because this would be their first interaction since their showdown.

  ‘Yes!’ Wanda cried. Then her face dropped. ‘Well, sort of … you know. No campers at all actually since the bikers.’

  Spike got up; he was off to take Arthur home. Annie’s stomach dropped in disappointment. And when he went round giving everyone a farewell cwtch, she realised she was holding her breath, hoping, waiting for her turn. When it came, she savoured his strong arms around her and returned it with feeling before she thought better of it, she wouldn’t let him go otherwise. She made a note to self to put it down to a drunken crush: it was just because he was the opposite of Dean, with his open face rather than an angry brow, a doer rather than a taker.

  ‘I think we should go too,’ Carys said, draining her J20. They’d always been inseparable. Even when they were kids, when the older-younger sibling dynamic had been played out, they were a unit. Losing their father would’ve consolidated that and with their Mam in hospital and Carys a single mum-to-be, their bond would be even tighter. Annie and Ryan hadn’t had that, partly because they lived in different houses but also because he seemed so vulnerable. The closest thing she’d had to a sister had been Wanda.

  ‘Go? I’m not going anywhere!’ Wanda said with horror and then defiance. ‘Ha! I’m really not going anywhere, am I? I can’t seem to get out of Gobaith!’

  It was a joke, but an awkward one.

  ‘Right, well, I’m taking Rock and Roll home,’ Carys said with a sober sigh.

  Oh Christ, that’d leave just Annie, Lew and Wanda. It was hard to believe they’d o
nce been a gang: relying on each other, sharing stuff. Those two had been Annie’s only ever real friends with whom she had felt an equal. In her year, her pals had been odd-bod losers like her, clinging together for safety against the bullies, only to disband when they’d left school. In her working life, she’d had the kind of jobs which didn’t make it easy to get to know anyone: either shifts or solitary positions at the till of the petrol station or after-hours cleaning. The job she’d always wanted, working at Gobaith garden centre, among nature and kindred spirits, never came up. Then she had met and married Dean and WAGs of his friends had become hers. Finally, she’d had some women to hang out with down the pub on a Friday night. But over the years he’d become possessive, developing mystery ailments if she had something planned or belittling her wanting to sign up to evening classes or keep fit: he’d accuse her of having ideas above her station or wanting an affair, and eventually her world had shrivelled and she’d learned to live in isolation. It was less draining than arguing. That’s why it was so great to have Lew here again. But it would be even better if Wanda was in the circle again too.

  ‘Going to join us?’ Annie asked, tentatively. Lew gave her a look of disdain, which she ignored. Those two needed to sort out whatever it was between them and they could only do that if they were in the same airspace.

  ‘Thanks,’ Wanda said, quieter, as if she’d woken up to where she actually was – alone with people who’d known her intimately but were now strangers.

  ‘How’ve you been?’ Annie asked.

  ‘Really good,’ she said, not very convincingly. ‘No idea what happened to me the other night, the grass fire thing, totally ridiculous!’

  Annie had a feeling she knew – unresolved trauma from years of burying it deep down, only for it to rise to the surface because Annie and Lew had come back into her life. But she could hardly say that. It was hard to judge Wanda’s mood, too. Annie looked to Lew for support, but he was finding a beer mat very interesting.