The January Stars

by Kate Constable

It was weird, though Bee was a relative and she barely knew Toby at all, it was Toby, at this moment, who felt more like a friend.

  ‘Clancy, is it? What a great name.’ One of Toby’s mothers was smiling at her. ‘Let’s go. We don’t want to keep your grandpa waiting any longer.’

  Feeling Toby’s presence just behind her, like some kind of guardian angel – or maybe that was taking things too far – Clancy followed the two women outside into the gathering dusk.

  Bumping along the track. The harsh white beam of headlights cutting through the lurid coppery glow of the sinking sun. Eerie shadows flickering. Birds clamouring, chattering, shrieking, chasing through the trees. And then, high above, through a screen of leaves, an unexpected glimpse like a familiar face: the bright clear roundness of the moon. Hello, Nan.

  Pa and Tash beside the road, so much sooner than she expected. Stumbling out of the car. Realising she hadn’t put her shoes back on; the stones biting her bare feet. Pa’s trembling hand grasping hers, his right foot jerking uncontrollably as it did when he was tired, his face pale beneath the grey stubble.

  Toby and Jen, one on either side of Pa, levering him upright. Shuffling, half carrying him to the car. Pa collapsing into the front seat, his cry of pain and fright. Clinging to Clancy’s hand.

  Monica and Tash squatting by the wheelchair, trying to figure out how to fold it up. Everyone clustered around the stubborn chair, talking over each other, reaching across each other, leaving Clancy to look after Pa. His eyes squeezed shut, a tear trickling. Holding his hand, not knowing what to say.

  A sudden yell, a lurch, a snap and a cheer, and the wheelchair crumples, shoved into the back of the sevenseater, everyone piles back in, doors slam shut, Clancy squashed in the back seat, separated from Tash by broad, comfortable Jen. (Toby and his mums were wearing ordinary clothes, not weird robes, which was a relief.) Fumbling with the seatbelt, giving up, guiltily, but too tired to really care. The car bumps and sways, the bodies in the back thrown against each other.

  The crunch of tyres on gravel. The car stops, the doors are thrown open and people spill out – they’re spilling out of the building too – and there is Bee, calling, ‘Where is he? Where’s my father? Is he with you? Is he okay?’

  ‘Jeez, Bee, he’s fine. Take a chill pill,’ muttered Tash.

  The woman in the orange robes was there, and a man with a beard, also wearing loose orange clothes. Clancy stood back, blinking with tiredness, while a crowd of people milled around, trying to extract Pa from the car. Getting him out was more difficult than putting him into it. Clancy’s feet throbbed.

  ‘Hungry?’ said a low voice in her ear.

  Toby loomed behind her. Mutely Clancy nodded, and she let him steer her inside, through the foyer and into one of the side rooms, where a line of people queued for food, holding plates and trays. A few wore orange robes, some yellow, some white like Bee, but many were wearing ordinary exercise gear or baggy cotton pants and tops. They were mostly women, with only a handful of men. Eerily, they were all silent. Clancy was more convinced than ever that they’d stumbled into some kind of bizarre cult – unless they all had aphasia, too? But it was too late, and she was too exhausted, to run away now. And at least Toby and his mothers seemed to be normal enough.

  Clancy found herself at a table sitting next to Toby, with a plate of vegetable curry and yellow rice – more rice! – though she was too tired to eat much of it. She leaned her head on one hand. She still hadn’t washed her hands, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t eating with her fingers. And the germs must have rubbed off by now.

  After a while, Toby went away, and Bee and Tash came to sit beside her. They were talking in low, vehement voices. Clancy wished they’d go away and let her sleep …

  She touched Tash’s arm. ‘Where’s Pa?’

  ‘Gone to bed.’ Tash turned back to Bee. ‘Don’t worry about the money. We can pay.’ She rummaged in her backpack and showed the stash of cash to her beneath the table.

  Bee’s mouth dropped open. ‘Where did that come from?’

  Heads turned in their direction. ‘Ssh!’ said Tash crossly. ‘I’m trying to be discreet. It’s not stolen or anything. It belongs to Pa.’

  ‘Tashi, what have you done?’

  ‘Nothing! It’s what Pa wants. He asked to come here.’

  Their voices had risen, and the orange-robed woman glided up to their table. ‘Is everything all right here, Atma?’

  ‘Yes, Jyotimitra.’ Bee stood up and folded her hands. ‘Perhaps you could help me explain to my niece about the ashram and what goes on here?’

  ‘Of course. I’d be happy to help.’ Jyotimitra swung one leg over the bench, sat down and gathered her robes around her with a smile.

  Clancy let her head drop onto her arm. How long was this going to take?

  ‘Hey.’

  At the sound of Toby’s voice, Clancy managed to drag herself upright again.

  Tash said, ‘We’re kind of in the middle of a conversation here.’

  ‘Nah, all good,’ said Toby mildly. ‘I thought Clancy might want to come to kirtan.’

  Clancy shot a glance at Bee. What was he talking about? What, or where, was keer-tan?

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ said Bee. ‘You like music, don’t you, sweetie?’

  ‘I guess,’ mumbled Clancy.

  ‘Then you’ll love kirtan! You wouldn’t mind taking her?’ That was to Toby. ‘Hari om!’

  ‘Go on, peanut,’ said Tash. ‘I think there’s going to be an argument here, and I know how much you hate conflict.’

  ‘I’m sure there won’t be any need for conflict,’ said Jyotimitra serenely.

  So Clancy stumbled after Toby, out of the dining room and across the darkening courtyard. From a small pond overhung with flowering bushes came a booming, rhythmic pobble-donk.

  ‘Frogs,’ said Toby.

  Clancy hung back. The stars of the January sky were just becoming visible, pinpricks of silver in a dark blue dome.

  ‘Looking for anything in particular?’ Toby pointed at the sky. ‘That’s Venus. And the Southern Cross is over there.’

  ‘I know where the Southern Cross is,’ said Clancy. ‘I was trying to see the dark emu. But the Milky Way isn’t clear enough.’

  ‘We’ll come out later, when it’s properly dark,’ said Toby. ‘Then you’ll see it. The sky here is amazing. You know the dark emu? So you know about stars?’

  ‘A bit,’ said Clancy.

  ‘Cool. But we’d better go in for kirtan now.’

  He held open a door into a large carpeted room, almost completely empty of furniture. Under a stained-glass window was a low platform and a scattering of musical instruments – bongos, a guitar, and something that looked like a big wooden box.

  Toby lowered himself to sit cross-legged on the carpet, and Clancy, self-conscious, sat down next to him. But not too near. Other people trickled inside in twos and threes, chatting and chuckling softly, and settled themselves on the floor.

  Clancy stared at the pattern in the stained glass. It was the same circular symbol that she’d seen on the signs, like an image in a kaleidoscope, a multi-pointed star, a map of a perfectly symmetrical world.

  Toby noticed where she was gazing. ‘That’s a mandala,’ he whispered. ‘It’s supposed to be a picture of the universe.’ He shrugged to show that he didn’t personally vouch for its accuracy; but Clancy didn’t care if it was accurate or not. It was a star, a sign from Nan, that was the important thing. Cult or not, Nan wanted them to be here. She closed her eyes.

  Her eyes were still closed when soft rhythmic tapping began from the front of the room, then a gentle strumming. But when a loud wheezing wail broke out, her eyes flew open.

  The man with the beard was energetically squeezing the big wooden box, like an unwieldy accordion. It sounded like cats were being tortured.

  Toby leaned across to whisper in Clancy’s ear. ‘Harmonium.’ He wiggled his eyebrows up and down and made a discreet gagging gesture, and C
lancy grinned back at him.

  If she hadn’t seen the mandala-star window, and if Toby hadn’t been beside her, tapping his hand on his leg, she would have found what followed too peculiar for words. There was Indian-sounding music, like Sidhu had played in the Comet taxi, and there was clapping along, and chanting, and a couple of people even scrambled up to dance and play tambourines. The tempo grew faster, the music and chanting became louder and louder, until the room was almost in a frenzy. Then gradually the music slowed and softened until it faded into silence – like a wave building to a crest, crashing down, and whispering onto the sands.

  After two or three waves of chanting had built and faded away, Clancy stopped politely clapping along. She leaned back on her elbows, stretched her legs out in front of her, and let her eyes nod closed. Cocooned by the music, she fell asleep.

  Music and chanting wailed through Clancy’s dreams, and she struggled awake to a terrible whining clamour, which she thought at first must be a smoke alarm. It wasn’t until after she’d tumbled onto the floor in fright that she realised it was only a communal alarm clock blaring out in the corridor to wake people for yoga. She scrambled back into the bunk bed and buried her head in the pillow until someone turned it off.

  Faint light filtered through the cracks between the curtains. Across the room, Clancy saw a single bed where Pa lay sleeping, his face creased into a frown. In the corner was another bed, with Bee curled tight under the covers. Above Clancy’s head, Tash’s legs wriggled over the edge of the top bunk, then her sister swung down to land with a soft thump on the carpet.

  ‘Tash?’ whispered Clancy. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Sh!’ Tash placed her lips ticklishly close to Clancy’s ear and whispered, ‘We’re not allowed to talk till after breakfast.’

  ‘O—’ Clancy began to say okay, stopped herself, and gave Tash a thumbs-up instead, like Pa. Not allowed to talk? What kind of bizarre rule was that? How would anyone find out, anyway? Were the rooms bugged?

  At least not talking wouldn’t be a problem for Pa.

  Bee gave a muffled groan, rolled over and shoved her head under her pillow. Clancy still didn’t know what the time was. She waved to attract Tash’s attention, and tapped her wrist where a watch would have been if she ever wore one.

  Tash held up five fingers, then flashed both hands three times. Five thirty.

  Clancy’s jaw dropped in horror. With grimaces and gestures, she silently asked, Are you getting up?

  Tash indicated herself, dressed and ready to go, and rolled her eyes. Obviously!

  Clancy walked her fingers through the air and raised her eyebrows. Where are you going?

  Tash pantomimed bending and stretching. Clancy shook her head, uncomprehending. At last Tash leaned close and hissed, ‘Yoga!’

  Clancy could hear sounds of movement coming from the rest of the building – a running shower, shuffling footsteps, lights clicking on and off, doors opening and closing. But there were no voices. It was slightly creepy, like being surrounded by poltergeists.

  Tash beckoned, and raised one eyebrow. (Clancy wished she’d inherited that gene.) Coming?

  Clancy shook her head violently and snuggled back under the covers. No way!

  Tash shrugged, waved goodbye, and slipped out of the room. Clancy lay still, listening to the soft noises outside, until the last door whumped shut and silence fell.

  But not for long. Pa began fretfully snoring, and a riot of birdsong clamoured outside the window. Clancy sat up and squinted across at Bee, but her aunt was still curled in a tight ball, like a millipede, fast asleep – or at least pretending to be.

  Quietly Clancy slid out of bed. She was still wearing her T-shirt and shorts, but she couldn’t find her shoes. Were they still at reception? She tiptoed out into the corridor, and discovered several doors that opened to other guest rooms, and a bathroom, which she used. Wheelchair-friendly, she noted; without realising it, in the last couple of days she had begun to notice whether all kinds of things were wheelchair-friendly or not, from roads to doorways to toilets and showers.

  She spotted her runners on a shelf by the front door of the building and pulled them on, easing the door closed behind her. Her heart bumped as she crept around the edges of a confusing warren of buildings, centred on the three-sided courtyard. But nobody seemed to be around; they must still be asleep or at early morning yoga with Tash … Clancy realised with a sudden pang that by falling asleep on the floor like a toddler – how embarrassing! – she’d missed out on stargazing with Toby.

  The invisible birds were still shouting at the tops of their voices, and the grass was soaked with dew. Clancy tiptoed past a funny little mudbrick hut with no obvious purpose (a cubbyhouse? storage?), and a large pergola structure with a fire pit in the centre and plastic café walls like the dining room they’d sat in last night. Most of the buildings were made from weatherboards or mudbricks.

  The rosy light of early morning spread across the sky, blotting out the stars. But the faithful pale moon was still there, swinging huge and low above the horizon. It was just a shade past full. This was definitely the real moon. The Magpie Bookshop’s moon had been orbiting its own little world.

  Clancy’s racing heart slowed. It was peaceful here. She could see why Bee had decided to come, and why the magic of Nan had led them here.

  Now she was beyond the buildings and onto the grass. A large stretch of cleared ground lay between her and the edge of the forest. Apart from the shrilling of the unseen birds, everything was still.

  Clancy walked down a gentle slope to a dam, about the size of two swimming pools joined together. The damp grass brushed her ankles, and the rising sun touched the topmost leaves of the trees with gold. On the far side of the dam stood a large, imposing building of mudbrick and wood, some kind of hall or church or temple, with huge windows looking out onto the dam and the forest. Clancy wandered closer, skirting the edge of the dam, cupped her hands to the glass, and peered inside.

  The hall was filled with people. People standing on one leg, arms raised above their heads. People facing the window, hundreds of eyes staring straight at her.

  Clancy sprang back, tripped and fell on her bum in the wet grass. Was Toby in there? Had he seen her? Not to mention Tash. She didn’t dare to look. Her face burned as she hurried away, around the dam and across the grass until she reached the safety of the trees.

  As she followed the walking track deeper into the forest, she still couldn’t see any birds, but she could hear them shouting and twittering and calling and clamouring all around her. Sunlight slanted through the trees, lighting everything with gold, and wisps of mist drifted above the dry creek beds.

  Far ahead of her on the winding path she glimpsed a figure, walking. It was a woman, wearing a wide-brimmed sun hat … One of the guests taking an early morning walk … or could it be … ?

  Nan?

  Clancy quickened her pace, but she couldn’t seem to catch up; even when she broke into a run, the woman’s figure was somehow always around the next bend.

  At last she stopped, panting. If it wasn’t Nan, she didn’t want to catch up; if it was – well, Nan obviously didn’t want to be caught. She rested for a moment, holding her side, and then she noticed something odd. She stepped off the path to take a closer look. It was the stump of a felled tree, with a pile of white stones sitting on top of it. Clancy stared, and walked all around it, but it made no sense.

  ‘It’s quartz. For healing.’

  Clancy jumped. Bee had materialised beside her, robed in white as if she’d risen from the mists.

  ‘We had a ceremony a few weeks ago.’ Bee pointed to some other stumps, scattered through the forest, each with its own small heap of stones. ‘It was to quiet the spirits.’

  Maybe the spirits don’t want to be quieted, thought Clancy. Maybe they want to talk to us. Maybe they’ve got things to say… But she didn’t dare to say it aloud.

  Clancy was growing used to the look of Bee’s shaved head. In fa
ct, with her white linen tunic and trousers and her elegant head like an Egyptian queen, she was starting to think Bee looked pretty amazing. Maybe not all changes were terrible after all.

  Tentatively she whispered, ‘Tash said we’re not supposed to talk till after breakfast.’

  ‘Oops,’ said Bee; but she didn’t seem to really care. Well, if Bee thought it was okay to break the rules, Clancy guessed it must be all right.

  ‘There are so many birds in this forest,’ she said. ‘It’s perfect for Pa.’

  Bee looked uncomfortable. ‘Clancy, sweetie, I need to talk to you about that …’

  So it was going to be no, after all. Clancy wanted to protest: but Nan brought us here! But she couldn’t quite say that to Bee, in spite of her talk about the spirits.

  ‘Look, I get that poor Pa hates the place where he’s living, and I get that you guys want to find him somewhere better. That’s great, that’s wonderful. You’re amazing granddaughters. But – he can’t stay here.’

  Clancy kicked at the dead leaves on the forest floor. ‘Why not? There are a ton of people here to help out. There’s even a disabled bathroom.’

  ‘I know, but that’s for visitors. Someone like Pa can’t live here full time. That’s not what the ashram is for.’

  ‘This place is an ashram?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay.’ Clancy took a breath. ‘What’s an ashram?’

  ‘It’s a community … We live together, we grow our own food, we learn about spirituality and meditation and Hinduism and vegetarianism and yoga … It’s like a kind of school.’

  ‘A yoga boarding school?’

  ‘Sort of. Look, sweetie, I wouldn’t have time to take care of Pa. I have classes, and I work in the kitchen and the garden … It’s full-on.’

  ‘How long are you going to stay here?’

  ‘I don’t know yet. Some people live here for years. I came four months ago, and I’m still here. I want to qualify as a yoga teacher.’ Bee’s face glowed. ‘I love it here. It’s amazing. I don’t expect you to understand this, but it’s brought parts of myself back together, when I was starting to feel like they were drifting apart – mind, body, spirit – I feel whole now.’