Christmas Under the Stars

by Karen Swan

  She bit her lip, hating that she needed to ask this, needed to know. ‘Did you see anyone today?’

  Tuck blinked. Anyone?

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ he sighed, knowing exactly who she meant. ‘Look, Lucy, she’s just gonna need some time, OK? We knew it was going to be a shock for her.’

  ‘But I don’t understand why she doesn’t see it in the spirit in which it’s intended?’ Lucy cried. ‘I haven’t seen her for four days, Tuck. Four days!’

  Tuck turned away, looking almost guilty.

  ‘You have told me everything, haven’t you?’ Lucy asked desperately. ‘There isn’t something else I don’t know about?’

  ‘Of course not. Like what? I told her, she got upset, said she wouldn’t call him that name and left.’ He shrugged. ‘End of. It was . . . embarrassing and it was painful. But she’ll come round. Just give her some space.’

  Lucy stared at him. She sensed his own ambivalence about it too. Still. He hadn’t once called the baby Mitch either, instead calling him Titch.

  ‘And you don’t like his name, either. I know you don’t . . .’ Then, when he didn’t say anything to contradict her: ‘I thought she’d be pleased. I thought you all would.’

  She heard the whine in her own voice, saw something seem to snap inside him.

  ‘Did you? Really, Lucy?’ Tuck asked, an incredulous expression on his face.

  ‘Of course! Why else would I have done it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he shrugged. ‘I really don’t. You made that decision all on your own, without once asking me. What, was it punishment for not coming back?’

  ‘No!’ she cried.

  ‘What then? What made you think you could make such a crucial decision all on your own, without talking to either me or Meg about it?’

  ‘Why would I have talked to Meg about it? It has nothing to do with her!’

  ‘It has everything to do with her. You made sure of that when you chose to call our son by her dead husband’s name.’

  ‘He wasn’t her husband.’

  ‘By a week! Are you gonna pretend their relationship meant less because he died before they could get married? They were engaged! They’d been together since forever! Of course it’s gonna hurt her hearing you call our son by his name!’ Tuck stared at her like she’d gone mad . . . Had she? She was so dog-tired, she wasn’t even sure any more.

  ‘Jesus, Lucy,’ he cried. ‘I do not get why this is going over your head. Is it the baby blues, is that it? Why are you making this all about you, when it’s not? You can’t act as though what you’ve done doesn’t have consequences. But we can’t change it now so we’re all just going to have to get our heads round it. And you – you’re just going to have to be patient while we do, OK? It’s that simple.’

  His shoulders slumped as she started to cry. ‘Look, Meg will forgive you. She always does.’

  ‘Always does? What does that mean?’

  ‘It means that you’ve hurt her, Lucy. I know you didn’t mean to – I know your intentions were good but for Chrissakes, wake up to what you’ve done!’ His voice softened as he saw her expression. ‘She’ll come round when she’s ready.’

  ‘But what if she doesn’t?’ she asked, her voice small.

  He looked at her for a long time. ‘Then we’ll have lost her too.’

  ‘Good knife skills,’ Jack said, staring at an impressive life-size ice carving of a brown bear. It was standing on its hind legs, paws up, teeth bared.

  ‘Said the surgeon to the sculptor,’ Ronnie smiled, resting her head on his arm.

  Meg clapped her hands together to keep warm, her eyes on the bear. ‘Mmm. Well, it’s rather too lifelike for my liking,’ she said, her eyes on one of the particularly sharp claws. ‘If we’re going to linger over impressive knife skills, I’d prefer we did it admiring the slightly less life-threatening elk over there.’ She nodded her head towards the equally giant carving of the herbivore on the other side of the street. ‘Shall we?’

  They continued walking, Ronnie and Jack hand in hand, the three of them trying to carve a course through the multicoloured pom-pom-hatted crowds, the sound of a band playing further down the street drifting to their ears. Meg wasn’t sure she’d ever seen the town this busy before. The festival had been going for over forty years now and she and Ronnie had always come down here with their parents – in fact, her father used to offer fly-fishing workshops during the week it ran – but it was the opening-night party that held the most treasured memories for Meg, as though the carnival had come to their remote mountain town. Every year the film festival attracted bigger crowds and flashier sponsors but this year’s had to be the most impressive yet. There couldn’t be an empty bed in the whole town.

  Certainly the Homestead was at capacity and she glanced in through its arched windows as they passed by. The fires were roaring, as ever, people sitting in the lounge chairs, looking cosy and pink-cheeked as they drank coffees and read the papers, Barbara’s staff looking run off their feet as they rushed to and fro with trays.

  Meg looked away again, feeling bad that she hadn’t been over in the past few days. She knew Lucy needed her – the texts were coming almost hourly, sometimes in the middle of the night – and she could feel Lucy’s longing for her to drop in and make a coffee, hold the baby and shoot the breeze. The day of the birth had given them both a glimpse of how things used to be between them – trusting and selfless and supportive – and Meg had allowed herself to believe their friendship was restored again; but that moment had been but a shooting star, briefly bathing in light a ship that was sailing out of sight on dark waters. They were estranged once more; this was the new normal now and she just couldn’t bring herself to see any of them – not Lucy, not Tuck, not even the baby.

  Meg was trying to understand why she’d done it – this idea of remembrance, honouring his memory – but she couldn’t. Lucy kept blurring the boundaries of their friendship, as though they all had an equal status to one another within their four – but how could that be? They were two couples with two friendships, but it wouldn’t occur to Meg to treat Tuck as on a par with Mitch, so why should Lucy? It wasn’t right. It wasn’t appropriate.

  ‘Hey, do you like marshmallows?’ Ronnie asked Jack, immediately steering him towards a huge fire pit with a cluster of young families standing around it.

  ‘I guess I do,’ Jack grinned as she placed a wooden skewer in his hand.

  ‘This was always our favourite bit,’ Ronnie said, handing one to Meg too.

  Meg smiled, placing a pink marshmallow on the end of her stick and holding it out over the fire. ‘My sister likes her marshmallows flambéed,’ Meg said. ‘Watch. Perhaps call the fire service.’

  Sure enough, Ronnie was holding hers straight into the flames, the marshmallow blistering and swelling, blackening rapidly. ‘The moment before the point of utter collapse is what’s she’s aiming for,’ Meg continued, watching as Ronnie withdrew hers that moment too late and it collapsed onto the grill in a runny dribble. ‘Yeah . . . it can get messy.’

  ‘Oh!’ Ronnie pouted. ‘I’m out of practice.’

  ‘So, total annihilation is what we’re aiming for,’ Jack murmured, sticking his marshmallow stick into the flames. ‘Let’s see if I can do it.’

  Meg preferred hers lightly toasted and as she ate one and skewered another, enjoying the warmth of the fire, she looked out, down the street. It was a winter wonderland now. The snow, after its tentative start yesterday, had come down hard overnight and they had awoken to deep drifts, Jack having to do more than just look the part now as Ronnie had handed him a shovel before breakfast and asked him to clear a path to the snowmobile shed. He’d seemingly loved it as he’d no sooner done that than he’d chopped up some logs too, for which a grateful Meg had rewarded him with extra eggs and sausages.

  The Christmas lights weren’t yet up in the town, but the stores and houses looked so pretty with their softly topped roofs rising like soufflés, the windows beginning to slant in t
he bottom corners as the snow built up on the sills. There were already snowmen in some of the gardens and the pavements were becoming streaked with the tracks of sledges pulling tired children.

  Meg scanned the crowd for familiar faces, finding plenty. She saw Barbara and Bob walking arm in arm together down the street; Josie and Denise heading towards Bill’s – they’d never been particularly close friends at school but since her relationship with Lucy had become strained in the past few months, she’d hung out with them more. It was never going to be more than a friendship of convenience, though, and when they’d texted her earlier, asking if she wanted to meet up for the rodeo-riding contest, Meg had been more than a little relieved to bow out under the pretext of hosting her sister and boyfriend for the week.

  A child walked past with a balloon dog bumping against his bobble hat; two teenage girls, their cheeks smacked bright pink, walked past giggling, their hands wrapped around hot chocolates to go; a group was gathering around a fire-juggler just a few yards away, some of them stamping their feet against the cold. One man turned, looking about him with a smile. He was wearing a black beanie and thickly padded down jacket zipped up to his chin, so there wasn’t much of him to see – but still, Meg froze.

  She blinked, watching as he laughed at something a woman said as she was dragged past by her Newfoundland pulling on its lead.

  No. It couldn’t be him. Why would he be here?

  His gaze alighted on her momentarily and she froze again – she recognized him exactly from his photo and the footage she’d seen on TV and all those YouTube videos. Would he see the recognition in her face? Would he guess, sense, who she was? But one of his companions turned and said something in his ear and as he looked away, forgetting her, she felt a sharp stab of disappointment, of hurt.

  She watched as he laughed at his companion’s comment and nodded, saying something back. If she could just hear his voice, be absolutely sure . . .

  ‘Meg?’

  Huh? She felt something touch her arm and whirled round sharply, almost colliding with Ronnie, who had come round the fire pit and was now standing beside her.

  ‘Hey!’ Ronnie laughed, a slightly strained smile on her face. ‘We’ve been calling you for like a minute. You were miles away.’

  ‘I—’ Meg faltered as she saw the reason they’d been calling her. Lucy and Tuck were standing with them, the baby strapped to Lucy’s chest in a baby carrier.

  ‘Hey,’ Lucy nodded, looking nervous. Tuck was staring into the crowd – whether diplomatically or because he didn’t want to set eyes on her, she wasn’t sure. Had he told Lucy what she’d done – slapping him? What she’d said – wishing he’d died?

  Meg felt her chest tighten as her gaze fell to the baby, his arms and legs dangling heavily, his cheek pressed against Lucy’s chest, dark eyes blinking. He’d grown so much already! He was becoming a little person, a proper baby boy. Another Mitch.

  No!

  She turned away quickly. She couldn’t do this. Not here.

  ‘Meg, please!’ Lucy called out, desperation in her voice, as she began walking away. ‘Meg!’

  Directly ahead the man in the black hat whirled round, his eyes scanning the crowd like a parent looking for a lost child. They settled on her this time as she froze once again, in front of him.

  A slow smile of disbelief crossed his face as he took two steps towards her and she heard that voice that she knew so well and had missed so much. ‘Meg?’

  Who was this guy and why was he looking at Meg like that?

  Lucy had caught up with her but Meg didn’t appear to notice. She was staring at the man with an expression that was sort of in between pleasure and pain.

  Lucy looked back at him. He was good-looking in an intellectual kind of way and quite tall – way taller than Mitch, about the same as Tuck. He didn’t look that sporty although he had on all the best kit. Lucy took a guess – he was some city-type film producer who fancied trying his hand at adventure films.

  So, how did Meg know him? Because she clearly did.

  The penny dropped with considerable force. The guy from Toronto? He’d come all the way out here? Had Meg invited him? Oh, God. A bullet of nausea lodged in her throat as the thought came to her – had Meg been seeing him all this time?

  ‘Who’s this?’ Lucy asked tersely, not bothering to dress up her hostility.

  Meg blinked, as though roused by the sharpness in Lucy’s tone, and Lucy thought she saw a wariness in her eyes now. ‘Lucy, this is Jonas Solberg.’

  Jonas? Lucy mused. The name was familiar.

  ‘Hi,’ Jonas said, dragging his eyes from Meg and holding out a hand, before catching sight of baby Mitch and bending down to the baby’s eye level, gently stroking his tiny, curled gloved palm. ‘Wow, so small! How old is he?’

  He had a soft trace of an accent, she thought. ‘Nine days.’

  ‘And you brought him out in the snow?’

  ‘He’s plenty warm,’ Lucy replied defensively.

  ‘Of course. I didn’t mean to imply he wasn’t,’ Jonas smiled easily. ‘What’s his name?’

  Lucy, her gaze sliding to Meg, watched her stiffen. ‘Mitch.’

  ‘Mi—?’ Jonas began, before immediately looking back at Meg too. She had turned her face away, her lips pressed tightly together as though stopping tears from falling, her feelings on the issue perfectly clear and making Lucy look like a monster. ‘Oh.’

  Lucy saw, as Jonas looked back at her now – his expression still mild – that he understood exactly the friction between them, and it was clear to her which one of them he sided with. She turned round to look for Tuck, to feel his hand in hers as she endured this silent opprobrium, but he was still standing by the fire pit, chatting awkwardly with Ronnie and her boyfriend, all of them looking over frequently.

  ‘Tuck!’ she barked.

  He turned reluctantly and she waved him over. He obliged, the others following too.

  ‘Hey. Tuck,’ Tuck said, offering his hand to Jonas as though the fact that he was standing with Meg was all the evidence he needed that he was friend, and not foe.

  ‘Jonas.’

  Ronnie gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. ‘Oh, God, you’re the astronaut!’ she exclaimed loudly. She was always so loud, Lucy thought, and several people turned to stare – the word ‘astronaut’ seeming to stand out of all the other conversations being had. Jonas looked embarrassed.

  ‘The same.’

  Lucy felt a rush of irritation that she hadn’t placed his name sooner. She knew she had heard it before!

  ‘We’ve heard so much about you,’ Ronnie gushed. She always gushed too, Lucy thought. ‘Oh, my God, Meg and I watched your landing live. It was terrifying.’

  ‘Yeah, tell me about it,’ he grinned. ‘So I’m guessing you must be . . . Ronnie?’

  ‘How did you know?’ Ronnie asked, amazed, looking at him like he’d just done a magic trick.

  ‘Well, Meg talked about you a lot; plus you look alike.’

  Had Meg talked about her to him, Lucy wondered, instantly jealous.

  ‘Yeah? You think?’ Ronnie grinned, grabbing Meg by the arm and squeezing it excitedly, pressing her cheek next to her sister’s so he could see them side by side. ‘Our eyes are different but apart from that, people often used to think we were twins growing up, didn’t they?’

  Ronnie had directed the question at Meg but Meg didn’t seem able to answer. She just nodded, still looking very shocked.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re here. How come you’re here?’ Ronnie looked at Meg. ‘Did you know he was coming? You never said!’

  Ronnie was talking in a gabble now, getting way too excited, and Lucy gave an impatient groan. Poor Meg couldn’t get a word in edgeways, even if she wanted to.

  ‘Actually, I’m presenting a prize at the festival,’ Jonas said, his eyes on Meg. ‘But I was going to try to make contact . . . I mean, I was hoping I’d get to see you but I wasn’t sure if . . .’ His voice trailed off and Lucy wondered if M
eg had fought with him too.

  Why was Meg being so quiet? She’d done nothing but talk about the guy when he’d been in space.

  ‘I’m Jack, by the way,’ Ronnie’s boyfriend said, reaching an arm over her shoulder, and they shook hands.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Ronnie laughed. ‘I was so wrapped up in the excitement of meeting you that I completely forgot . . .’ She patted Jack’s chest affectionately. ‘Jack’s my boyfriend.’

  ‘Got it,’ Jonas smiled, looking back at Meg again; but Lucy could see that every time he looked at her, his expression became more apprehensive. Perhaps this wasn’t the welcome he’d envisaged? She and Tuck, Ronnie and Jack had all been way more welcoming than Meg had.

  ‘Hey, why don’t we get out of the cold and warm up somewhere?’ Ronnie suggested. ‘Are you free, Jonas, or have you got to be somewhere?’

  ‘Uh, no, I’m being looked after by a festival rep but I’m sure he’ll have a lot more fun without me hanging on.’ As he said this, a guy came over to him, an enquiring smile on his face. ‘Talk of the devil.’

  ‘Are these the friends you said you were looking for?’ the man asked him.

  Jonas looked at Meg again before answering. ‘Yeah. Do you mind if I—’

  ‘Hey, have fun,’ the guy said, simultaneously slapping his shoulder and shaking his hand. ‘That’s what this week’s all about. I’m glad you found them. I’ll give you a call tomorrow, OK?’

  Jonas turned back to them. ‘Well,’ he shrugged, clapping his hands and looking a little nervous now that he’d cut himself loose, his eyes back on Meg. ‘Shall we go for that drink?’

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  ‘It’s so weird. You don’t look at all like I thought you would.’ Jonas looked down at her as they shuffled in the snow towards Wild Bill’s, where the kick-off party was continuing. Her red bobble hat was pulled down over her ears so that her long dark hair flapped at her neck in the breeze, snowflakes settling on her shoulders.

  ‘No?’ Meg asked shyly. ‘How did you think I’d look?’

  ‘I don’t know – shorter, maybe? Lighter hair? Shorter hair? Heavier?’