I risk a look at Jack and find him much closer to me than I expect. His features are washed blue by the light from the screen and his expression is almost identical to his daughter’s when I saw her watch the star trail video. I see wonder fill his eyes and in that moment I feel completely connected to him. Now he understands. It’s a beautiful thing to see someone experience the awe you’ve known all your life. I know I’m staring, but I can’t help it.
Without warning, his gaze slips from the screen to meet mine and I hear his breathing stop, just for a second.
‘Thank you,’ he says quietly.
‘What for?’
‘For – this . . .’
And then I see him – really see him – not as an opponent or a secret starmaker on a beach, but for who he is and who he could be. Jack Dixon has blocked the stars and filled my vision. Reflected in the dark pools of his eyes I see myself.
And then I am falling, tumbling forward, not caring where I land . . .
Chapter Fifty-Four
Jack
‘There you are!’
Seren pulls back sharply as I turn to see Lou Helmsworth in the doorway, arms folded, frowning at us.
‘What on earth are you doin’ out here?’
‘We didn’t want to influence the vote,’ Seren calls back, the beginnings of mischief playing on her lips. ‘It’s up to the town to decide.’
Thank goodness one of us is thinking quickly. I’m still reeling from what we almost did . . .
Lou considers Seren’s words. ‘Fair enough. And you don’t need anythin’? Or any company?’ His feet dance on the flagstones, revealing his impatience to see what’s happening in the Guildhall.
‘We’re fine, thanks,’ Seren replies. ‘You can be our eyes and ears in there, Lou.’
‘Yes. Good point. Right then, I’ll just be . . .’ The end of his sentence is lost as he hurries back inside.
The intensity between us has passed, but I can hear Seren’s voice shake as she laughs. I’m shaken too. Whatever else I thought might happen tonight, kissing Seren MacArthur was never part of the plan. But if Lou hadn’t appeared, I don’t think I could have stopped myself.
We don’t have long until the result of the vote is announced. If I’ve done what I set out to do, Seren is close to victory. And then – who knows? Maybe I’ll ask her for coffee. Do people even do that nowadays? It’s a long time since I asked anyone but Tash out for anything.
I can’t think about that now. I just want to enjoy this time before the town decides our fate. I get the feeling Seren does too. So, carefully avoiding the subject of what just happened, we talk about anything and everything, enjoying the freedom that the end of the campaign has given us. There’s still the result to come, but until then we can just be two people passing the time in the heart of St Ives.
Nearly an hour later, there’s the deep rumble of an announcement from the stage and the few people from the audience who are milling about outside the Guildhall stub out their cigarettes, empty the dregs of their coffee cups and file back inside.
We stand and turn towards the open door. Seren rubs her hands together. Nerves ball up in my stomach.
‘So, this is it,’ she says.
‘Here we are. At last. Are you nervous?’
Amusement fills her eyes. ‘Terrified. You?’
‘The same.’
We’ve worked hard to get here. I know as soon as we set foot inside the hall, everything will change. I start to follow her up the path.
‘Seren – wait.’
‘What is it?’
‘I just wanted to say, whatever happens in there, I hope we can still be friends?’ I offer my hand in a ridiculously formal gesture, instantly regretting it.
‘I hope we can, too,’ she smiles.
Then, instead of taking my hand, she hugs me.
It’s completely unexpected and it blows me away.
As soon as it began, it ends, before I have the chance to pull her closer or say the really profound thing you’re supposed to say when a beautiful woman hugs you.
Totally thrown, I trail dumbly after her into the Guildhall.
There’s a noticeable buzz in the room, all eyes on Seren and me as we make our way up onto the stage with Lou and Agatha. The ballot box has gone, with two piles of folded white paper sheets in wire baskets on the front of the stage. From my seat, it’s impossible to see which is the biggest, although I think the Save the Parsonage pile might contain a shade more.
Lou thumps the microphone, adding another dent to its poor metal head. I can almost hear it breathe a sigh of relief that this is the last time it will have to endure the Lou Helmsworth treatment.
‘All right, ladies and gentlemen, hush if you will. Thank you. The votes are in and we have the result. I don’t know what it is, so I’ll invite Nick Boleyn from the St Ives RNLI squad – our independent adjudicator – to bring the result.’
A tanned smiling beast of a man strides to the front of the stage and accepts the microphone from Lou.
This is it.
Seren is watching and I can see her holding her breath like I am. I want to offer her one last smile before we hear the result, but her attention is taken by the man with the envelope. On this stage we have become opponents again, divided by a single question:
Which proposal do you approve for the Bethel Parsonage site?
A: Save the Parsonage campaign (Elinor Carne Foundation)
B: Brotherson Developments (Rectory Fields)
‘All votes have been independently counted and verified. As adjudicator I can announce that the people of St Ives vote to approve . . .’
Lou’s face is bright red. The members of Seren’s committee are on the edge of their seats. The only supporter I have for my side is me; and I am crossing everything for defeat.
‘. . . Brotherson Developments for Rectory Fields.’
There is a pause before the hall explodes with applause.
No, no, no – it’s all wrong! They were supposed to vote for Seren, for her father and Elinor Carne. Not Rectory Fields. I’ve spent so long this week trusting my gut, working on the alternatives and nudging people in Seren’s direction that it has never once occurred to me what would happen if the vote went Brotherson’s way.
I’ve won. But it feels like the worst defeat.
I can’t believe it.
Instinctively, I look across to Seren and our eyes meet. She smiles but is she just hiding her own disappointment?
Lou Helmsworth takes the microphone. He looks visibly shaken – while he’s been a fair and objective host for these town meetings, I know he’s poured his heart and soul into winning this battle. He looks how I imagine Seren must feel, although I can’t read her expression as easily as I can his.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your time and careful consideration. I think it only fair we hear from Jack Dixon as the spokesman for the winning campaign.’ And suddenly, the microphone is thrust in my face and the room stills. This is supposed to be a victory speech, but I don’t know what to say. It is good news, and I will see the plans and dreams I’ve had for Rectory Fields happen in real life. But I expected Seren to win.
At the back of the hall, the door opens and Bill Brotherson appears. He has the smile of a lottery winner and several people nearby are shaking his hand. Now I have to say something. But where do I begin?
‘Um, just – thank you to everyone who voted for Rectory Fields. I want to promise you again that I will make sure the site is honoured and its history preserved for the future. I think the plans we have made will do that and I hope you are pleased with the result.’
‘He’s a legend!’ Brotherson shouts from the back of the room, as every head turns.
I see Lou’s expression darken, but he beckons my new employer to the stage. A rumble of reaction shudders through the crowd as Brotherson strolls to the front.
Now Seren’s smile slips and I can’t help watching her as Lou takes the microphone from me, passing it to
Brotherson. There is so much I want to say, but the words stick in my throat. I wanted Nessie and me to have a secure future, and now we have one. But I didn’t want that to be at Seren’s expense. She has lost everything – and I’m the one who caused it. Whatever might have happened outside means nothing now. I’ve lost any chance I might have had of getting to know her beyond this vote.
How could I let this happen?
‘Now, I know Mark MacArthur wanted to save the parsonage and many of you supported him and his daughter. Like Jack says, we heard you. Rectory Fields will be a nod to the past with one foot in the future.’ He looks pleased with his soundbite. Seren looks sick at his mention of her father. Lou sees it too, taking the microphone from Brotherson a little too forcefully and closing the meeting.
As the people in the hall noisily stand, Seren smiles at me and walks over. I should have known what to say, but I feel completely embarrassed, not least by my employer’s casual reference to her dad. I panic, any words I might have snatched from the ether deserting me.
She holds out her hand. ‘Congratulations.’
‘Thanks,’ I mumble, making as quick a contact as I can. I want to hold on to her forever but this wasn’t how I expected tonight to turn out. What I planned to say was that I wanted her to win, that I thought she would be a better custodian of her father’s dream than Brotherson or me.
‘Actually, can we have a chat somewhere? The very least I should do is buy the victor a drink. I hear from a good source that Harbour Fish and Chips do a cracking late-night tea . . .’
I’m about to reply when a huge slap stings my shoulders and Bill Brotherson’s head fills the space between Seren and me.
‘Didn’t he do well, eh?’
Seren’s smile tightens. ‘He did. Congratulations.’
‘And, hey, sorry about your old man. I guess he’ll be haunting me from now on, eh?’
Horrified, I jump in before my employer says any more. ‘We should be going, actually.’
Her eyes flick to me, a crease appearing between her eyebrows. ‘But I thought . . . ?’
Brotherson looks like he’s gearing up for another wisecrack and I just can’t let that happen. So I make a decision to get us out of there as quickly as possible. Seren’s suffered enough; she doesn’t need to be insulted on top of everything else. ‘Yeah, sorry, we’ve got a lot to do, you know? Now we have the vote we need to set the wheels in motion.’
‘Yeah, bring the diggers in and start demolishing the place.’
Bill Brotherson did not just say that. I try to push him away but Seren steps into our path.
‘Hang on, I thought you were salvaging the parsonage building as part of the development?’
‘We wanted to, but . . .’ I begin.
‘But that ruin is knackered, girl. Seriously. Best to rip it all out and start again.’
‘Then you lied – to everyone?’ I can’t tell if her question is directed at Brotherson or me but it feels like a slap across my face.
‘We didn’t, Seren. The fact is . . .’
She shakes her head, her eyes full of fury. ‘Save it, Jack. I might have known you’d say anything to win the vote. Well, you did it. I hope you’re happy.’
And then she’s pushing past us, blazing a trail off the stage and out of the Guildhall.
And in that moment, I know I’ve lost her.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Seren
He lied.
Jack Dixon promised he would look after the site and honour its history. But he didn’t mean a word of it. The town believed him.
Worst of all, I believed him.
And now what’s left of Elinor’s home is due to be pulled down. I’ve lost the place Dad cared about, and I’m about to sell the shop he loved. All his work, his passion, gone. It’s all my fault.
All week, I’ve been working for this outcome. I’ve won, in a way. But as soon as Jack admitted they’re demolishing Bethel Parsonage, I realised what I’d lost. I didn’t win for Dad. Or Elinor. I did it for Jack Dixon, who made me believe he was a good guy. I don’t know what’s the biggest offence – that he chooses to align himself with an arrogant rat like Brotherson, or that he could so blatantly lie about preserving the building Dad fought so hard for. Or that I believed him.
And what about earlier? I almost kissed him. What’s worse, I wanted to kiss him. Was that all part of his plan, too?
I can’t stay in the Guildhall and I can’t face the others yet. I saw Aggie’s shock and Kieran and Cerrie’s disbelief when the result was announced. I was supposed to lead them to victory in Dad’s name. Everything I thought I wanted has been turned on its head and I’ve been left with nothing.
When the parsonage is demolished and MacArthur’s is finally sold, what will be left to show St Ives that Mark MacArthur ever walked its streets? One initial carved into a single brick in the wall of our house isn’t much of a legacy. I’ll be responsible for the two things he cared most about being lost. My decisions. My mistakes.
I’ve turned my back on Dad. I’ve lost Elinor Carne’s home. And for what? For a man I never really knew. I was swept along by the magic of the seaglass stars and forgot myself, believing that what I saw on Gwithian Beach was a sign of what could be possible. I don’t even believe in signs!
Even though it’s dark outside and my friends will be looking for me, I walk up the hill, past the station and across the road that leads to Carbis Bay. I can’t stop the tears falling but the streets are empty and I don’t care any more. Within ten minutes I’m at The Maidens, crossing the empty car park and walking through the long grass to the middle stone.
When I reach it, I let the full force of what I’ve done hit me.
I’ve lost everything, and for what? I thought Jack needed to win and that when he did – and when I’d told him I was the other starmaker – we might have a chance together. But my hope was as based on fantasy as these blocks of stone, no more the stuff of legend than the concrete car park or the faux-gothic house beside it. Someone’s idea of a romantic story, set into the ground to fool holidaymakers. I let myself believe a fairy tale and found an empty façade instead.
Sinking down to the cool grass at the foot of the middle Maiden, I close my eyes and wish I could become stone, too.
Until I heard the result I didn’t realise what it would mean to lose the parsonage. I thought I could let it go because Jack and his daughter needed the work more than I needed to remember Dad. I wasn’t prepared for the reality of it.
Now it feels like losing Dad all over again.
The night we found him, he was in his favourite place in the world, doing what he loved best. He’d worked a long day at the shop and said he needed to hang out with the stars for a while. Mum and I understood – he’d been looking tired lately, but watching the night skies always seemed to re-energise him. So we had tea together and he headed outside, blanket and thermos flask in hand, with Molly’s excited paws tap-dancing across the kitchen tiles beside him.
I’d promised to join them in a while, but I went to my room and ended up getting preoccupied with a seaglass bracelet I was making for Aggie’s birthday. The silver wire wasn’t sitting right across the seaglass pieces and I had to unwind and rewind several of them in an attempt to make the design work. When I eventually solved the problem and glanced at my watch it was almost midnight. I rose stiffly from my workbench and peered out of the attic window to see if Dad was still in the Shedservatory. The hatch window was open, so I grabbed my coat and hurried downstairs to join him.
Molly met me at the Shedservatory door, unusually alert; her blanket box bed, where she would normally snooze until Dad had finished, abandoned.
‘Hey, Dad,’ I called, seeing his blanket-swathed frame up on the mezzanine bench. Clarabell’s pink Dralon cover was draped at his back, the beloved telescope pointing through the hatch towards the stars.
Patting Molly’s head, I climbed the ladder, noticing how bright the constellations appeared through the open hatc
h.
I was chilly but it didn’t matter: I would steal half of Dad’s blanket and snuggle up beside him, just like I had always done. He would pretend to be annoyed, but his warm chuckle would rise into the night as he wrapped his arm around me.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ I said, reaching the edge of the bench and sliding alongside him. ‘I lost track of time. Stars look amazing tonight, don’t they? Give us some of your blanket . . .’
He didn’t answer, his eyes trained on the night sky.
It was only when he didn’t move that I realised he wasn’t there.
After the shock and the emergency call, the ambulance and the defibrillator, the race to hospital and the countless anguished, urgent prayers in corridors, waiting rooms and a relatives’ room with sympathetic looks and whispered conversation, we knew. The cold, stark, awful reality dawned that we were in the first minutes of our lives without him.
A heart attack, the emergency doctor said as he sat opposite us. Sudden, catastrophic – it was far too much for his body to recover from. It’s likely he knew nothing about it, he assured us. Take comfort from that, if you can. He wouldn’t have been in pain . . .
But I don’t know that for certain, do I? Because I wasn’t with him, where I should have been. I was too preoccupied with making my own dream happen.
And it’s happened again, hasn’t it?
I let my attention be drawn by what I thought the seaglass stars could bring me. But I can’t make that happen, any more than I could make a living from my jewellery. It was all an illusion: I’ve traded Dad’s beautiful memory for a handful of old, shattered glass on a deserted beach.
Somewhere Beyond the Sea Page 25
