Christmas Under the Stars

by Karen Swan

  ‘Sounds brainy,’ Lucy said.

  ‘I think he must be. But they also have to maintain the station and make repairs where necessary, so he’s like a mechanical engineer too.’

  ‘Brains and brawn? He sounds like my ideal man,’ Barbara chuckled.

  ‘A man orbiting space and getting out from under my feet is definitely my ideal,’ Dolores quipped. ‘More men should be put out there, if you ask me.’

  Barbara cried with laughter, throwing her head back, and Lucy and Meg chuckled at the sight of them.

  ‘Plus,’ Meg continued. ‘On top of all that work, he has to do two hours’ exercise every day or else he’ll suffer bone-density loss. Osteoporosis is a real problem in micro-gravity.’

  ‘Oh, good Lord, don’t let me apply for the space programme then,’ said Dolores. ‘I work hard enough for my bones as it is. Although you’d love it, Barbara. All that anti-gravity? Instant facelift!’

  ‘Oooh,’ Barbara cooed with wide eyes, bringing her hands to her cheeks and gently pushing up.

  ‘Well, it’s a wonder he has time to write,’ Dolores said. ‘He must really enjoy chatting with you.’

  Meg shrugged. ‘It must get lonely up there. I mean, as much as there’s all this incredible beauty in space, he must be longing to be a part of things down here again. I think that’s why he likes hearing my news. It’s just . . . normal.’

  ‘You should ask him what he misses about Earth,’ Barbara said, puffing slightly. ‘Although then again, don’t. He’s still a man. He’ll probably say something completely banal like . . . Oreos! Or the Super Bowl.’

  Meg didn’t think he would say that – for one thing, he was Norwegian and Oreos and the Super Bowl were irrelevant there. ‘It’s just a shame I can’t get Wi-Fi at the cabin or we could have more of a conversation. As it is, we just end up writing these sort of monologues to each other, almost like diary entries. I write in the day when I’m in town and he replies at night.’

  Dolores gasped. ‘They’re like postcards from space!’

  Meg grinned. She liked that description. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Don’t you still talk on the radio?’ Lucy asked. ‘I mean, that’s how you first made contact.’

  ‘Occasionally. It’s easier late at night when there’s fewer people on the channels but it doesn’t always work – the channels can get really crowded and noisy. You wouldn’t believe how many people are trying to get hold of him – the ISS, I mean. It’s a proper thing. Sometimes I can’t get through at all, other times I can hear him talking to someone else, but it’s really, really faint.’

  ‘He talks to other people?’ Lucy echoed. ‘So then, do you think he’s got other people he’s writing to, too?’

  Meg paused, not liking how the thought of that made her feel – and then not liking the fact that she didn’t like it. She tried to shake the feelings off. ‘I don’t know. Maybe . . . Probably. He says once he’s off-duty, there’s not much else to do apart from look out the window, take some photos. Although they watch films on their iPads too and there’s lots of books.’

  She had never considered before whether or not their correspondence was ‘exclusive’ – after all, it wasn’t like she was talking to any other astronauts! But in all reality, he probably did have other friendships just like hers; maybe someone for when he was passing over New Zealand? Or South Africa? Or Germany?

  Dolores stopped walking, turning her face to the sky. ‘What must it be like to be him, all the way up there and looking down on this planet? Imagine how it must expand the mind, the spirit! I can’t think of anything more wonderful.’ She turned to face them all. ‘They should make a space trip compulsory for every person on the planet. There’d be a lot less war and pollution as a result, I can tell you that for nothing.’

  Barbara laughed. ‘I certainly agree with the principle, dear.’

  ‘How long has he been up there, did you say?’ Dolores asked, resuming walking again.

  ‘Over five months now . . . He comes back next week, actually.’

  ‘Oh, my goodness, how strange that will be for him!’ Barbara gasped. ‘Coming back down to Earth after all that time?’

  ‘I know. He says assuming they have a good re-entry, it takes about three to six weeks before they feel “normal” again.’

  ‘And if they don’t have a good re-entry?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘Then he won’t be feeling anything – they’ll have burned up on re-entry into the Earth’s atmosphere,’ Meg quipped, laughing nervously, not finding it at all funny.

  Lucy’s eyes bulged. ‘Ohmigod, are you serious?’

  Meg nodded. ‘If they come in too fast. Or, if they hit the atmosphere at the wrong angle, they can actually bounce off it like a skimming stone and be bounced back out into deep space.’

  ‘Freaking hell! That’s so intense.’

  ‘Language, Lucy!’ Barbara scolded.

  Lucy rolled her eyes.

  ‘So are you going to meet him when he comes back down?’ Barbara asked.

  ‘No!’ Meg scoffed.

  ‘But why ever not? If you’ve spent all this time corresponding with each other . . . aren’t you curious to meet him in the flesh?’ Dolores asked.

  ‘Of course I am, but . . .’ Meg faltered, not sure what to say next. ‘Well it’s easier said than done, that’s all.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because he lands all the way in Kazakhstan for a start—’

  ‘Assuming he doesn’t get fried or boinged into deep space first, of course,’ Lucy quipped.

  Meg jogged her with her elbow. ‘Thank you. And then he’s got to re-acclimatize – he says the ESA have to do all sorts of tests to see how his body has coped with being in micro-gravity.’

  ‘ESA?’ Barbara frowned.

  ‘European Space Agency,’ Meg clarified. ‘And then he has to go on this, like, promotional tour for three months afterwards, going into school and colleges, tech and medical conferences. I don’t see him making a detour to li’l old Banff, Alberta, do you? He’s an important man.’

  ‘Well, you could always go see him. Fly to London or Berlin or wherever the heck he’s doing his tour,’ Dolores said, as though it was the easiest thing in the world when she could barely cope with visiting her own sister in Toronto.

  Meg just shook her head. ‘Look, things will change. He’ll pick up his old life and be super-busy . . . It’ll be different for him then.’ She smiled as she saw their expressions. ‘What? It’s OK. I know perfectly well that I’m only interesting to him while he’s floating in space. I give him an outlet to communicate. But once he’s back, with his family and friends and colleagues—’

  ‘How old is he, this astro man?’ Barbara asked.

  Meg shrugged.

  ‘Married? Girlfriend? Kids?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Meg replied, laughing lightly.

  ‘Why not? He obviously knows about you and Mitch, doesn’t he?’ Dolores asked.

  Meg felt her chest tighten. ‘Well, yes but—’

  ‘But what?’

  Meg shrugged. ‘We just have general chats, that’s all. We don’t get personal.’ But that was a lie. They’d been nothing but personal. He’d sent her a poem that had felt like a hug, wrapping around her and holding her together on the darkest nights when she thought she might fall apart; and as their correspondence had gone from daily to several messages daily, she had confided secrets in him that she hadn’t told anyone – not Lucy, not Ronnie, not even Mitch. Knowing she’d never meet him, not having to be face to face, had allowed an almost confessional freedom in their messages that would never have been possible had they been conducted in the flesh.

  Barbara gave a little gasp, as though something had shocked her.

  ‘What?’ Lucy asked, jumping in alarm.

  ‘Have you seen a picture of him?’

  ‘Oh, Mom!’ Lucy said irritably. ‘I thought something bad had happened!’

  ‘Have you?’ Barbara asked, ignoring her daughter’s complaint.
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  Meg hesitated, before nodding, self-consciously fidgeting with the straps of the backpack. ‘Well, I did google him.’

  ‘And? Surely that tells you how old he is?’

  Meg remembered the shock she’d had when she’d seen his face for the first time. It had been an official ESA/NASA release, Jonas looking straight to camera with a wary smile, wearing his white spacesuit, his helmet on his lap and the Norwegian flag draped in the background. He was far younger than she’d anticipated – his strict observance of radio protocols had made him seem older – with fine features but deep-set eyes, pale skin and light brown hair. She’d found another image of him speaking at a press conference, wearing a badged boilersuit like a jet pilot, and that had been more surprising still as he’d been smiling in that one and the animation had lit up his face, changing him completely. He looked lean and athletic, confident and composed, wearing his accomplishments lightly. She’d spent a lot of time looking at that particular photo, trying to mesh the face to the voice, the astronaut to her friend. It still felt hard to believe she was talking to him and it had inhibited her responses so much the next few times they’d written, that she’d had to stop herself from looking at it at all. It didn’t make her feel as though she knew him better; it made her want to run.

  ‘He’s definitely younger than I’d thought. Mid-thirties? White, clever-looking.’

  Barbara gasped again and stopped walking.

  ‘Oh, what now, Mom?’ Lucy asked, before she too did exactly the same.

  The sound was unmistakable – a snort, followed by massive paws pounding the earth and then a roar that made their bones quake.

  Meg felt her stomach drop to her feet as she saw the bear move out of the trees, its shoulder blades rolling beneath a heavy fur hide, its eyes beady in a massive head and trained solely on them.

  Lucy screamed – she was closest to it at the edge of the path – her hands flying to her vulnerable, protruding belly as she began walking backwards, trying to cluster for safety in their little group.

  Barbara screamed and froze.

  Meg did the opposite, sucking in frantic gulps of air, her hands reaching round the back of the backpack and groping, fumbling for the pepper spray she’d put in the mesh pocket at the side, never once thinking, not really, that she’d need to use it.

  The bear rose onto its hind legs standing three metres tall, its paler-furred stomach extending past their heads, its sharp, thick claws visible now, every single one as sharp as a butcher’s knife. It swiped, the rush of air blowing past Meg’s face as it reached for Lucy.

  Dolores roared, ‘No!’ and suddenly pushed Lucy as hard as she could. Lucy flew off the path, landing heavily on her side and rolling onto the grassy bank, her head missing a rock by mere centimetres.

  The bear, having fallen back onto all four paws, turned towards her and reared again, its sights still on Lucy. She was closest, she was on the ground . . .

  ‘No!’ Barbara screamed, a blood-curdling sound that Meg knew, if they survived this, she would never forget. She picked up a stone, throwing it helplessly at the bear’s back. Did it even feel it?

  ‘Here!’ Dolores roared, waving her arms frantically above her head. ‘Look at me! Come here!’ she screamed, her voice thunderous. ‘Come after me!’

  The bear turned as another stone hit it – a large one this time, striking it on the head.

  Meg felt her stomach drop again as those unblinking eyes met hers for a moment, her hands still scrabbling to find the spray as the bear sized up every one of them.

  ‘Yes!’ Dolores hollered. ‘That’s it! Over here!’ She was waving her arms above her head to keep the bear’s attention, walking backwards now to draw it away from Lucy.

  The bear came towards them in a swaying, lumbering walk, its weight vibrating the ground beneath their feet, its mouth hanging open, muzzle dropped. And always, its eyes unflinching upon them.

  Behind it, Meg could see Lucy scrambling backwards towards the trees, pine needles pressed into her skin and hair, her eyes wide, a look of sheer, stricken horror on her face.

  The bear reared again, its distinctive damp, musky smell enveloping them and catching in the back of their throats; the spittle dripping from its black jaws, the yellow teeth glistening with saliva, the roof of its mouth ridged and speckled black. It was so close . . . Meg’s fingers found the aerosol and she gave a cry of relief as she tugged it free, her hands shaking violently as she tried to remove the cap, to face it towards the bear.

  She saw the paw swipe past her again towards the others, its power immense, and she screamed as she pressed on the aerosol, all her fear, all her anger released along with the spray. She kept on screaming, her finger white as she pressed hard, never stopping, sure her lungs were bleeding as pepper gas mushroomed in the air like a toxic cloud. Almost immediately the bear fell back on all fours, shaking its head agitatedly, pounding its paws into the ground, unwilling to retreat, here to fight.

  Meg advanced, just one step. Two. But the bear moved back, away from her, its attacking roar changing to sounds of distress, whimpers, as the spray kept coming.

  ‘Hey! Hey!’ someone shouted. A man.

  Other voices – lots of them – drifted down the track and then a crowd was running towards them, dust clouds at their feet as they ran. A few had sticks. They waved their arms as Dolores had done.

  ‘Help us!’ Barbara screamed. ‘My daughter!’

  The bear, hearing the commotion, seeing it was outnumbered, jostled backwards towards the trees, shuffling straight past Lucy, before turning and lumbering back into the forest from whence it had come, out of sight within ten seconds. Before the crowd even got to them.

  Voices clamoured.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Call nine one one!’

  ‘She’s down! We need paramedics here!’

  ‘Oh, my God, Lucy! Are you hurt?’

  ‘Mom!’

  Meg, shaking, couldn’t take her eyes off the trees. Would it come back? Her arm was still outstretched, her finger still pressing on the button, but there was nothing left in the canister. It was empty.

  ‘It’s OK, honey, you’re safe now.’ Meg felt hands on her shoulders, arms around her. A woman’s face came into her peripheral vision, kind brown eyes. ‘You can put that down now. He’s gone. You’re safe.’ A hand gently pushed her arm down and Meg let the woman slowly turn her to face the crowd. They’d been rescued? ‘You’re OK. It’s over.’

  But Meg’s eyes had fallen to the sight of two people crouched over someone on the ground, nut-brown legs outstretched and motionless, a trickle of dark red blood seeping into the pine needles.

  No.

  It wasn’t over.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Meg came back with the coffees, both Barbara and Tuck oblivious until her feet appeared in their frames of vision on the floor. Barbara straightened up and took hers with a weak smile.

  ‘Thank you, dear,’ she murmured, the cup resting in her hands like a heat aid for a moment before standing. ‘I think I’ll have this outside. Call me if anyone comes . . . ?’

  Meg nodded, knowing Barbara was going out for a cigarette; her hands were still trembling, she was pale and Meg wondered whether she should be checked over by a nurse too. It was bad enough for her heart being confronted with a bear, let alone seeing it go to attack her pregnant daughter.

  Tuck didn’t move as his mother-in-law shakily walked off.

  ‘Tuck? Take this. I’ve added some sugar. It’s good for the shock.’

  Tuck looked up at her, his famously blue eyes now blank. He didn’t notice the coffee she was holding out to him. ‘What if she loses it?’

  Meg sank into the chair beside him, still holding his cup. Tuck had made it to the hospital before them, his expression wild and body language frantic as Meg and Barbara had run in after Dolores and Lucy, both being attended to on gurneys. ‘She won’t.’

  ‘You don’t know that.’

  ‘No,’ she
sighed. ‘But I do know Lucy’s a fighter. And she loves that baby so much already. She won’t let it go, Tuck. All she wants is for you guys to be a family.’

  He stared back at her, his eyes roaming her face as though looking for answers or tricks there and for a moment – without the veil of anger that had fallen every time she’d looked at him since Mitch’s death – she was reminded of the cocky, happy-go-lucky friend he’d been before: she could hear his easy laugh, see his ready smile, feel his straightforward love for her fiancé whom he had failed so catastrophically.

  He must have read it on her face, for his expression changed completely in the next moment – like a cloudburst disgorging rain, his features crumpled and fell in on themselves, his handsome face distorted and lost in grief as he saw all that they’d lost. He dropped his head, his hands clasped around the back of it, as huge sobs wracked his body.

  ‘It’s my fault. I’ve ruined it all.’

  Meg was silent for a moment, not sure whether he was referring to Mitch or Lucy.

  ‘It’s no one’s fault – it was a bear attack,’ Meg said quietly, defaulting to the present. It was easier; she couldn’t forgive him yet – not even here, in a new emergency. ‘We were just unlucky. Wrong place, wrong time.’ The park rangers had been on the scene only minutes after the paramedics, shotguns slung over their shoulders as they studied the ground for bear tracks and followed its path into the trees.

  He pulled away, standing up and beginning to pace. ‘No. No. This is . . . what’s that thing? Karma.’

  Meg held her breath, not ready to have this conversation with him. Not here.

  But she’d overestimated his emotional intelligence. ‘I . . . I wasn’t sure about the baby. I didn’t think I was ready. I didn’t want to be a dad and so now, I won’t be.’

  Meg swallowed, suppressing her own feelings of rage. ‘Those feelings aren’t unusual. It doesn’t mean you deserve this.’ Her voice was small and tight, as if it had been sewn up.

  He raked his fingers in his hair, pulling it tight at the temples. ‘She kept trying to get me to bond with it – wanting me to sing to it and stuff. But I’m not . . .’ His face pleated again. ‘I can’t do that new-age shit. It makes me squeamish, her tummy, I don’t want to touch it or feel for a kick but she won’t listen.’ He flashed her an apprehensive look. ‘And she keeps saying it’s fine when . . . you know. But I’m constantly worried I’m gonna hurt it somehow.’