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

by Laura Kemp

  ‘So … you okay?’ Wanda asked, taking a glug of her pint, watching both of them over the rim of the glass.

  ‘Yes! Had a good night actually, haven’t we, Lew?’

  He nodded and sank his nose into his beer to avoid talking.

  God, this was painful. Pretending the past had never happened wouldn’t lead to reconciliation, yet they couldn’t broach it here, now. And definitely not while they were pissed. Annie squirmed in her seat; this was such an uncomfortable situation. She saw Wanda gulp and hold her throat and then she was flapping her top, shifting around, and she went paler than normal. Was she going to puke? Her chest now heaving, Wanda placed her hands over her mouth and nose and began to struggle with her breathing.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Annie said. Wanda looked as if she was focusing on trying to control herself.

  ‘Sorry, I don’t … know … I feel really weird.’ Wanda’s eyes met hers, terrified.

  ‘I think you’re having a panic attack,’ Annie said. ‘Is it like the other night?’

  She nodded. ‘I can’t … believe this. Not again.’

  ‘Come on, let’s get some air.’ Annie was surprised to see Lew joining them – if he’d been looking for a get-out then it would’ve been the perfect opportunity.

  After a few minutes of sitting on the wall in the cool of the night, the colour came back to Wanda’s cheeks, but she was still rocking slightly, holding herself when she felt able to speak again.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Maybe I’m just really tired. Not used to being physical; I sat down for years at work.’ Her smile was weak.

  ‘You must be under a lot of strain, too.’

  Wanda’s eyes watered. ‘It’s Mam, her infection hasn’t cleared up. Carys and the babies as well, I can’t bear her brave little face. The campsite, worrying about money… it’s all come to a head.’

  Annie decided this was a chance to raise what else would be on Wanda’s mind. Not to upset her, but to acknowledge it; it seemed the right moment, when the three of them were alone.

  ‘It can’t be easy seeing me and Lew again, either,’ she said softly.

  Wanda bit her lip. With tears streaming down her face, she admitted it. ‘No.’

  Lew produced a tissue. ‘Here you go.’

  It wasn’t a groundbreaking start to rebuilding their relationship but at least he’d spoken to her now.

  ‘Thanks,’ she whispered, stealing a glance at him. ‘I shouldn’t have come out tonight. Stupid of me. When you’ve done one Big Smoke-Out, you’ve done them all, really,’ she said, staring at her hands. ‘This is self-indulgent of me and I’m trying to keep positive, but I just keep thinking I shouldn’t be here any more, in Gobaith. It’s like I’m trapped.’

  ‘It’s not forever,’ Lew said. Annie heard a slight edge in his voice as if he thought she needed a dose of perspective, which was fair enough; but the timing wasn’t great.

  Wanda had caught it, though, and she lifted her chin to him.

  ‘It feels like it,’ she said in a hard voice.

  Annie needed to calm this down. ‘I know it must be disappointing. But it’s not all bad, is it? You can still go away. Business will pick up, it’s early days in the season.’

  But Wanda threw her hands in the air. ‘That’s the trouble: the campsite looks much better, and I’m very thankful for that, to both of you, honestly,’ she said, placing her palms on her heart, ‘but it’s not a patch on what it was. How are we supposed to compete when camping is all about bell tents and yurts? We’ll be lucky if we get a couple of pensioners from Scarborough in their touring caravan.’ She stood up and shook her head.

  ‘God, when I think! There were so many things I wanted to do while I was away. I should be speaking Spanish in Colombia, being taught how to tango in Buenos Aires, volunteering in Chile, hanging out on a South Pacific beach, doing some yoga and surfing in Indonesia, cooking in Kerala and shopping till I’m dropping in Marrakech, taking photos left, right and centre.’ She was going for it now, loudly and clearly. ‘But no, here I am in nowheresville, with a mountain that isn’t actually a mountain. Do you know something, I feel like I’ve failed my dad. He wanted me to travel. But I’ve let him down. And, what’s more, I have never ever got round to doing up his shepherd’s hut, like he wanted.’

  Annie could see this was just frustration and loss tumbling out. ‘All those things you wanted to do, well, do them here, then.’

  ‘It won’t bring my father back though, will it?’ Wanda roared.

  Annie froze.

  ‘Wanda,’ Lew said, firmly, ‘don’t do this.’

  ‘What?’ she spat. ‘Every day I think how he died, looking for me in the house!’ Then she swung round to point at Annie. ‘In a fire Ryan started! And you reckon tidying up the campsite will make up for it!’

  ‘You’re being way too harsh, Wanda.’ Lew lost it then. ‘Can’t you dial down the drama for once in your life?’

  Enough was enough, Annie thought, staring at Wanda, who was pulsing with anger. ‘What I’ll say now, I will say one last time. Never again. I’m so sorry on behalf of my brother and for your dad’s passing. Ryan was a victim in all of this too in his own way, whatever you think. But I am not responsible for it. Yes, I helped you out of guilt, I’ve carried it my entire bloody life. But I also did it because I wanted to be your friend again. We have to move on from this or we’ll all be miserable.’

  Annie turned her back on Wanda to find a crowd watching. It was kicking-out time and they must have heard the lot. And, oh, Spike was there with Arthur, they must’ve taken a while to say their goodbyes. For them to find out about everything like this sickened her. At least they’d heard it from the horse’s mouth.

  An arm came round her; it was Lew. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

  But she calmly took his hand off her. So many times she had imagined this scene: to unload herself of her heavy heart and dirty conscience. She’d feared it would hurt her too much. Instead, having lanced the boil, she felt a stillness. It was done. She’d said her piece. And now she wasn’t going to waste any more time on the past. She’d shed the skin of the last forty years.

  Marching off, she decided that from now on she would only look to the future.

  10

  Wanda couldn’t do enough for us! A brilliant host at a beautiful location. Shame we couldn’t have a campfire, there’s nothing like bangers cooked on an open flame!

  Babs, The Blood Bikers

  The Midlands

  Wanda staggered down the stairs with what was probably the biggest hangover ever recorded in Wales.

  If Lew considered her outpouring last night as dramatic then she was bloody well going to make her suffering Oscar-winning.

  But that was just her shame talking. She’d lost the plot, her dignity and all sympathy – and she deserved it.

  Obviously, the news had reached Carys, judging by the look of disapproval thrown her way from the hob when Wanda slumped down at the kitchen table. Then, to make it certain how she felt, Carys banged a drawer shut to make Wanda’s head pound even harder. She had every right to, to be fair.

  Wanda laid her forehead on the cool of the country-scene place mat and waited for what was coming.

  ‘What the fudge was last night about then?’

  Wanda looked up and met daggers. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Apparently, you were quite the entertainment, you were. You put the gob in Gobaith, Blod said. Fair enough you’re frustrated and sad, but to behave like that! It’s so ungrateful, considering what people have done for us.’

  ‘I know. I’m mortified.’

  Carys plonked a coffee in front of her. ‘Get this down you. I’ll do some rarebit.’

  ‘I’m not sure … I feel a bit sick.’

  ‘I spent the last few months feeling sick, not just in the morning, but during
the afternoon and evening too.’ Carys put her hands on her hips and a crescent of stomach peeked out from under her now too-tight Nirvana T-shirt. ‘So suck it up.’

  Pass her a straw and Wanda would’ve done, even though she was full to the brim with self-loathing.

  ‘I shouldn’t have drunk so much,’ she said to Carys’s back as she prepared their ultimate comfort food: cheese, butter, flour, mustard, pepper and Worcestershire sauce all whisked in a pan, then grilled on doorsteps until it bubbled.

  ‘It wasn’t the drink though, was it?’ Carys said, over her shoulder. The clink of the fork dulled as the mixture melted. She flipped the bread, spooned on the rarebit and popped it back under the heat to brown. ‘It came out not because of the booze but because it’s all in there. You’ve never really dealt with the fire or Dad or Lew or Annie.’

  Then she softened. ‘I get it, Wanda. It’s all on you. You must feel like you’re back where you were then, shouldering everything.’

  Wanda didn’t deserve understanding, but Carys’s insight was spot-on.

  ‘I didn’t handle life well when Dad died. I messed it all up, my exams, remember the resits I put us all through: life wasn’t fair and all that? But you were there for me, I could crumble because you were strong, you let me heal. But you were never allowed to do that. Do you think this is what it’s all about?’

  ‘It’s hardly convenient now though, is it? For me to have a crisis? You and Mam need me to be—’

  ‘We’re fine,’ Carys interrupted. ‘Well, what I mean is, we’ll get through it, you don’t need to carry us.’

  She dished up two plates of carbs plus cheese, basically God’s own food. Wanda realised her nausea was down to hunger. She’d hardly eaten yesterday, she’d been so busy with campsite admin.

  ‘I’ve got my babies, Mam’ll be back on her feet any day, you’ll be away soon.’ She said it as if it was that simple. ‘We’ll find a way through it. Like people do.’

  Carys was already two-thirds done on her first slice – she was delighted that twins meant she needed to eat for three.

  ‘How? It’ll take months for Mam to get fully mobile and you’ll have your hands full.’

  ‘We’ll manage. Because we have to.’

  There was an alternative, something Wanda hadn’t thought of until now. ‘We could sell up.’

  Carys flinched. ‘Now you’re just talking stupid.’

  ‘No, listen. Mam could retire, you’d both be able to afford a place each, no mortgage. You could get a job when the babies are older.’

  There, that was simple.

  ‘I don’t want that!’ Her sister’s face was flushed now. ‘Stop deciding what you think is best for everyone! It’s not up to you! I want my children growing up on this land beneath this mountain – and it is a bloody mountain, by the way.’ It wasn’t, but now was not the time to argue. ‘If you want to go, then go! No one has ever stopped you from leaving. No one apart from you.’

  Wanda could barely breathe. Because ultimately, God damn it, Carys was right. She could book her trip and be gone within a few months. It was totally doable. So why wasn’t she doing it? Immediately, the reasons reared their heads again, but now Wanda saw they were her own excuses, not actual reasons. They circled her head as she prepared for the day, dressing in scruffs and heading out for campsite duties. A gentle breeze caressed her cheeks and the warm midday sunshine echoed Carys’s belief that there was a better way – just as Annie had said last night. Could Wanda sign up to it, though?

  It would mean turning her version of things upside down. Was she brave enough to move forward? Could she stop blaming herself for her father’s death? Could she forgive Annie and accept that her brother had been a victim too? Could she try again with Lew? Would that bridge that she had destroyed last night be fit for repair?

  She dumped her bucket of cleaning equipment beside the bathroom block and dared herself to look up, not down.

  As ever, it started with the mountain. Wanda gave herself a three, two, one countdown and she lifted her face to try to stare it out. The challenge was on as it soared on high, distant and intimidating. She blinked first, the brightness of the day making her head bang once more, and defeated, she dropped her chin to her chest. Come on, she willed, and so she tried once more, walking to the lake, the tear of liquid blue which sat in the curve of the hillside. It was clean and clear and, whether it was a hot or a cold day, always exhilarating, when you’d got past the shock to the ankles, knees, thighs, stomach and shoulders. But once you were in, it made you laugh and shriek and you’d stare down, wondering if there was any truth in its tale of the Lady of the Lake. Many a time her toe had brushed a mossy stone and she’d shiver as if the legend herself had brushed Wanda with her own fingertips.

  Her smile began to spread then as she took in the treeline which had blossomed overnight, turning the woodland path into a low-level cloud of flowers. Then, by one path or another, the scramble up the stepping stones, which feet had rubbed smooth, then up the hillside which was beginning to turn green with life. Beyond, the crags and the brooks, the sheep and the moor grass, her eye followed the sweeping terrain higher and higher, which would soon burst into colour. Then the zig-zag of ascent, exposed but pure, to the jagged peak, its trig point and three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view for miles and miles. Yes, the mountain could be brutal and barren, but its calm and peace could also be euphoric.

  Wanda hadn’t been up it in years.

  This time the mountain didn’t stare her down, but it seemed to bask under her gaze. It was utterly, breathtakingly beautiful …

  Do all the things you want to do but do them here, Annie had said. Wanda could start, by way of a warm-up, with a photograph for her Instagram account. It might also lead her to the unthinkable: apologising to Annie and Lew for her meltdown.

  She took her phone, went onto the app but didn’t look at her feed of foreign escapes. She went straight to the camera and took a shot of sheer wonder, no filter and no editing required.

  As she posted the picture, she felt something release inside of her. Everything she wanted to do, she could do here until she managed to leave.

  The surf of Indonesia may be continents away, maybe she could canoe on the lake instead? As for speaking Spanish, she could help Arthur with his Welsh. But cooking in India, dancing in Argentina and volunteering in Chile … hmm, where did she start with that?

  She was interrupted by a notification on her screen. And another. Then another. These were names of people she knew in the travel industry, the ones whose perfect images of oceans and beaches, exotic foods and cultures had fed her soul. Only this time, they were giving her their love. Her eyes ran down the comments: This place looks amazing! Where is it? What a find! Where are you? It was only her back garden, she scoffed, smiling at the far-flung locations people were guessing at: was she in South America? Was it New Zealand? Europe? Africa? The Himalayas?

  No, instead she was in a land of light and air, which wasn’t claustrophobic but a breathing space. She hadn’t left it over all these years because she hadn’t been ready to. She had a mountain to climb, apologies to deliver, business to resolve and a resolution not to let the past happen again. Now, she realised, it was time to get on with this choice she had made: and enjoy it.

  11

  Just when you thought the biting winds and driving rain of winter had gone, spring came and chucked a load of weather at you.

  April showers, people called them. But in this part of the world they were more deluges. An icy gust straight off the knife-edge of the mountain sliced Annie’s fingers, which were bloody and raw from today’s jobs. Thick waterproof gloves were no good when it came to weeding, it slowed you down and in this kind of temperature, you wanted to whip in and out of every garden.

  She let herself in to her van, which rocked from the gale, found her flask, then hugged her metal mug of four o’clock coffee for
warmth. Not for the first time, she wondered how long she could keep this up. It wasn’t a useful thought and most of the time she would think she just had to get through today, this very wet Wednesday. But could she still see herself doing this physical work for the next five years? A torrent of hailstones suddenly hammered the windscreen. Right now, she couldn’t see herself doing it for the rest of the week.

  Parked up in Gobaith just beyond the high street, the heater inside was broken – she had no money to get it fixed. Her breath and the steam from her drink misted up the windows and she felt her eyes relax into a trance. Imagine if the next call on her phone was the garden centre … imagine if she was offered a position … Annie would accept on the spot. There’d be someone younger than her, and just as desperate as she had been to be her own boss, to take on her clients.

  Gobaith Gardening was a haven of all things bright and beautiful. With its decked walkway in a walled courtyard, it was as far as you could get from the polytunnelled plastic and rickety old tables of its poorer rivals. An exhaustive range of shiny leaves, blowsy flowers and healthy branches sat in big wooden planters. The hothouse, oh my God, she could do with being inside that now, inhaling the humidity as the blood returned to her numb toes. The café, with a living wall of tumbling ivy, sold hearty lunches, some made from the nursery’s own kitchen garden, and the farm shop bulged with local produce.

  That job offer coming, though? She’d more likely bump into Ryan in the pub. The boss there would always give her a sad nod when Annie went in for supplies. ‘Still nothing,’ she’d say. And no wonder, because her staff were looked after, given free lunches and a good discount – people who worked there stayed there.

  That left her one other option. The one nobody knew of, and that was even more elusive than her ex’s manners. If she told anyone, they’d laugh her off the mountain. She knew it was a daydream, but still, when she was soggier than a slug’s bottom, it was a seductive fantasy.