Chasing Stars

by Helen Douglas

  ‘Village life is so exciting,’ said Ryan, laughing. ‘Will this be in the local paper? Local resident offends neighbours with untimely bonfire.’

  ‘Probably. Although it is evening, so I guess it’s OK.’ I turned to him, about to make a joke about the sorts of items that made local headlines, but the smile dropped from his face.

  ‘Stop the car,’ he said.

  I hit the brake. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I think the smoke is coming from the farmhouse.’

  ‘Really?’ I squinted into the distance, but there were too many fields between us and the column of smoke rising into the sky.

  ‘Back the car up, Eden.’

  I moved into reverse and twisted round, looking out of the rear window. Slowly we backtracked up the lane. When I reached the mini-roundabout at the top, I started driving out of the village.

  ‘Park the car,’ said Ryan.

  I pulled in to the kerb. ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘We’re going to find out if it is the farmhouse. But we’re not going down the lane. There’s a footpath through the fields, isn’t there?’

  We crossed a stile into a field of potatoes and skirted round the edge, heading towards the smoke.

  ‘Tell me what you’re thinking,’ I said.

  ‘I’m thinking Lauren just set fire to my time-ship.’

  ‘She’s on the Isles of Scilly.’

  ‘She was. Is there another way to get to and from the islands, other than the boat?’

  ‘There’s a helicopter and a plane.’

  He said nothing.

  ‘It might just be someone having a bonfire,’ I said.

  ‘Maybe.’

  Over the hedge, a combine harvester made its slow way through the field, dust and straw clouding the air around it. The next field was filled with cows. They all stopped chewing the ground and turned to look at us, their sleepy brown eyes widening with curiosity.

  Ryan gripped my hand tightly as we walked across the field. The cows returned to their chewing.

  By the time we reached the third stile, the smoke was thicker, toxic-smelling. We were just two fields from the back of the farmhouse. From here it was easy to see that the shed where Ryan had hidden his ship was on fire. Or had been. There were no flames, just smoke spiralling up from the smouldering remains of the shed.

  He swore and fell into a crouch, pulling me down with him. My knees hit the dirt with a thud. He dropped my hand.

  ‘Ryan,’ I said.

  He shook his head to stop me speaking and swore again, repeatedly, under his breath.

  Now we knew. She was here for Ryan.

  ‘Ryan,’ I whispered. ‘We need to leave.’

  He looked up at me, his eyes wild with panic. ‘All my money is in the farmhouse.’

  ‘That doesn’t matter now. We have to get out of here.’

  He took his wallet out of his jeans pocket and pulled the notes out. ‘I only have eighty pounds. It’s not enough.’

  I placed a hand on his arm; I could feel his whole body trembling. ‘We have to get out of here,’ I said. ‘We’ll worry about money later.’

  We stayed low to the ground, half crouching, half running back towards the main road. When we reached the last stile, we stopped to catch our breath.

  ‘I can use my debit card. I have some savings,’ I said.

  Ryan looked back over his shoulder. ‘No. She’s here for me. She’ll be watching you too. That means she’ll be watching your internet usage, your bank account, your phone calls. We can’t use anything traceable.’

  ‘I have some savings in my bedroom. I have my mum’s wedding ring. We could get that.’

  ‘We need to stay away from the farmhouse and your house.’

  He looked around, his eyes searching. ‘Give me your mobile.’

  I handed it over. He threw it into a bin, along with his own phone.

  ‘You can locate someone using their phone,’ he said. ‘We need to leave here. Fast.’

  We ran to the car. Ryan jumped into the driver’s seat and started the engine. He took the coast road, driving too fast, straddling the central line.

  ‘Easy,’ I said. ‘We drive on the left.’

  He pulled erratically to the left, grazing the side of the car against the hedge.

  ‘Where are we going?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  We drove in silence, past fields of wheat and potatoes, past the wooden holiday chalets dotted on Perran Towans, past the golf course. A mile outside of Perran, the main town in the area, Ryan pulled off the road into a parking area that overlooked the sea. Below us, I could hear the waves booming against the base of the cliff.

  ‘We can’t be seen from the road,’ said Ryan. ‘We should be OK here for a bit.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘I need to get that money. I need to see that guy about my ID tomorrow and then I have to disappear.’

  I stopped breathing. ‘And what about me?’

  He dropped his head in his hands. ‘I’m sorry, Eden. She’ll use you to get to me. You’ll have to disappear too.’

  I exhaled. ‘Thank God.’

  He looked at me.‘What?’

  ‘I don’t want you to leave without me. I don’t want you to disappear and leave me with a cleaner.’

  He unclicked my seatbelt and pulled me across the handbrake and into his arms. ‘I’m not leaving without you,’ he said.

  ‘Where are we going to sleep?’

  ‘These seats recline a bit. I’ve got a picnic blanket in the boot. It’s not perfect, but it’s only for one night.’

  On the horizon, a thick band of sea mist was creeping slowly inland. Sea mist could appear – and disappear – very quickly in this part of the world. Soon it would smother the sun and the air would chill. Within a few minutes our car would be covered by a thick blanket of it; we wouldn’t be able to see the edge of the cliff. We wouldn’t be able to see anyone until they were right outside our window.

  ‘I have a better idea,’ I said.

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Head back to the Towans. Let’s look for a vacant chalet.’

  ‘It’s the middle of summer.’

  ‘It’s worth a look.’

  He pulled on to the road and headed back the way we’d come. We parked in the public car park and started walking across the sand dunes. The chalets were spread apart, each one surrounded by its own little patch of grass and sandy parking area. Families sat out on the decking, barbecuing chicken and drinking beer. The world was going on around us, innocently, peacefully, as we searched for cover, for escape.

  It was easy to tell which chalets were occupied; even those with no car in the driveway and no people around had towels drying on the line and surfboards and buckets and spades stacked outside the front door.

  ‘We should check out the more remote chalets,’ I said. ‘The ones closest to the beach always fill up fast.’

  We climbed the dunes and headed away from the sea. It was quieter here; rabbits were beginning to emerge from their burrows and hop around, stopping to nibble at the thin grass.

  ‘Wait,’ said Ryan, putting out an arm to stop me. He was staring at a tatty, wooden chalet near the lifeguard hut. Blue paint was peeling from the clapboard and the front decking sloped to one side. ‘I think that’s the one,’ he said.

  We circled the chalet widely, hand in hand, as though we were doing nothing more than taking a romantic walk on the dunes. There were no lights on inside the chalet, no tell-tale buckets or fishing nets drying outside.

  ‘There’s a back door,’ I said.

  ‘Perfect.’

  I stood on the pathway acting as lookout while Ryan draped his thick jacket over one elbow and smashed the rear kitchen window. The glass exploded inside. My heart raced as I scanned the area while Ryan climbed through the window. Two minutes later he unlocked the back door.

  ‘Be careful where you stand,’ he said. Tiny shards of glass were scattered across the fl
oor.

  I went to check out the rest of the chalet, while he swept up the glass and patched up the broken window with a piece of cardboard from an old crisps box that was filled with beach toys.

  It was obviously a privately owned chalet, rather than a rental. It was too shabby and much too full of personal items for the rental market. Which was a good thing, unless – by some unfortunate coincidence – the family that owned the place chose this night to head down to Cornwall for a break. There was a double bedroom at the front of the chalet and a twin bedroom at the back. Just one small bathroom. The kitchen and living room was all-in-one with windows to the front and rear.

  ‘There’s a bedroom at the back,’ I told Ryan. ‘It’s the only room that doesn’t face the front.’

  ‘That’s where we’ll stay then,’ he said. ‘No one has any reason to pass by the back of the chalet.’

  Ryan went to the car to fetch some clothes and the bags of supermarket groceries. I searched through the cupboards for towels and sheets. There were a couple of scratchy blankets, but no sheets or pillowcases. I checked the taps: water flowed. The electricity was off.

  I glanced up through the window and saw Ryan heading back towards the chalet. A thin gauze of mist was in the air by now; the droplets shimmered in what was left of the sun. In his black jeans and jacket, Ryan reminded me of a fly caught in a spider’s web.

  ‘Everything OK?’ I asked him.

  ‘We’re good.’

  We made plates of sandwiches and chocolate biscuits and took them into the back bedroom to eat. The sun was lost behind the thickening fog and colour was gradually draining from the world outside. The bedroom was dim and shadowy; within an hour it would be dark.

  ‘We should shut the curtains,’ I said. I eased myself on to one of the beds and leant back against the wall.

  Ryan took the opposite bed. ‘If someone’s outside, I’d sooner be able to see them.’

  My stomach flipped and I put my plate of food on the floor.

  ‘What am I going to tell Miranda?’ I asked.

  Miranda. Who was already grieving for her dead boy-friend.

  ‘You’re not going to tell her anything. We’re going to leave some clothes and identification on the beach to make it look like we drowned.’

  I squeezed my eyes tight, forcing back the tears. This was no time for crying.

  ‘How are we going to pay for the ID?’

  Ryan glanced out the window. ‘I need to know where Lauren is. She can’t spend every minute at the farmhouse. When she leaves, I go in and get my cash.’

  ‘Where do you think she is?’

  ‘My guess is that she’s staying at my house. Using it as a base. But she’ll be checking out your house. She’ll look up your friends. Any places we’ve been known to use.’

  ‘And when she realises we’re gone, we’ll be safe? She’ll go back to her time?’

  Ryan looked up and met my eyes. ‘We’ll never be safe. They know I travelled back in time. Unauthorised. They’ll always be looking for me.’

  ‘That’s what I don’t get. You said that small streams don’t change the future. I’m only a small stream. And you too, right? So why don’t they leave us alone? How much does you being here really matter?’

  Ryan sighed. ‘I thought I’d managed to leave without a trace. I stole a ship that was due to be scrapped. I hid my portal. But I’m guessing this is big news back in my time. My father is a powerful man. Think about it: the son of one of the Guardians steals a time-ship and travels back to the past. It’s going to be a big deal. My father’s opponents won’t let this go.’

  ‘We can hide. We can beat them.’

  Ryan smiled thinly. ‘I’m so sorry that I’m putting you through all this. I never wanted this for you.’

  ‘I don’t care.’

  ‘You’ll never see Miranda again. Or any of your friends. A new identity means giving up everyone you know. Everyone you love.’

  ‘Not everyone,’ I said. ‘It means giving up everyone else for the person I love most. It’s no more than you did for me.’

  We lay down, fully clothed, on one of the twin beds, our bodies pushed against each other, the two thin blankets draped over us. Ryan’s hand reached for mine and held on tightly.

  ‘It’s going to be OK,’ he said.

  ‘I know.’

  He kissed my forehead and then shut his eyes, his hand still curled into mine. We lay like that for a while, neither of us saying anything, while the fog rolled inwards, swirling and folding itself around the chalet until it was lost within the darkness. Ryan fell asleep first. His breathing grew steadier, then his grip loosened around my hand. I don’t remember falling asleep, but I must have, because I remember waking up.

  A bright beam of light shone directly on my face. I opened my eyes. The light came from behind me, throwing sharp shadows on to the walls and the floor. Dread filled the pit of my stomach as I pushed myself up on to my elbows and turned to look behind me.

  A full moon, shining like a searchlight in the clear, night sky, had captured me in its beam.

  Chapter 5

  Although the sun was shining and the air was warm, Ryan and I had our hoodies pulled up, hiding our hair, our faces disguised behind sunglasses. He raised an eyebrow at my strip of unflattering passport photos, lightening the mood for a second.

  ‘You look like a hardened criminal,’ he said.

  ‘You don’t look so hot yourself,’ I said, pointing at his.

  He pulled out his wallet and counted the rest of his money into my palm. Seventy-five pounds. ‘Go to the phone shop and buy two cheap pay-as-you-go phones. Then take the bus back to the Towans and wait for me in the chalet. I’m going to drive to Truro and arrange for the ID.’

  ‘Won’t he want money now?’

  ‘He’ll get the money when he gives me the documents.’

  He headed off in the direction of the car. I hurried into Perran Digital, picked up the two cheapest phones I could find, and hurried out again. There was still half an hour until the next bus. I walked down to the seafront furtively, sticking to the shadows, my hood up and my head low. Perran was a small town. I knew too many people.

  Down by the harbour, I sat by the boats, away from the clean, warm sand that the locals and tourists preferred. The harbour beach was jam-packed. I saw my friends, Megan and Connor, at the other end of the beach. They were holding hands and paddling in the shallows. Amy and Matt and a few other kids from school were lying on a beach blanket under the wall, which was more sheltered. The tide was coming in. When it was high they would probably go jumping off the harbour wall. They always did.

  I took my new phone out of its box and inserted the SIM card. The battery was fully charged, so I started adding the names and numbers of all my friends. I knew that it was stupid. I couldn’t call them in case Lauren was monitoring their incoming calls. But it made me feel safe – connected – to have their phone numbers programmed into my phone. There was another ten minutes till the next bus. I shoved the empty box into the bin, kicked off my flip-flops and wandered down to the sea. I walked along the water’s edge, leaving footprints in the damp sand. Halfway across the beach, I stopped and just watched.

  I’d known them practically my whole life.

  I would never see them again.

  They would all go on to college together, celebrate their eighteenth birthdays, choose their universities and careers. How long would it be before they forgot me?

  I would never forget them.

  The bus rattled its way along the seafront road. I said a silent goodbye and turned back the way I’d come. My footprints had already been washed away by the incoming tide.

  The bus was almost empty. The only people that ever used this service were the tourists staying at the chalets on the Towans and the kids too young to drive. It was that time of day when most people had already headed out where they were going, too soon for anyone to be headed home.

  I stared through the window at the sea as we
passed by. Where would we go? I didn’t really care so long as Ryan and I were together. But what if something happened to him? What if the cleaner caught him breaking into the farmhouse and took him back with her? What if something happened and I was left here all alone? Again.

  We had to get out of here. Soon. We needed to put as many miles between us and Lauren as we could.

  The bus pulled into the stop outside Perran Towans. I stayed aboard. I didn’t want Ryan going to the farmhouse to collect the rest of his money. I had a better idea.

  When the bus dropped me off outside the village stores in Penpol Cove, I pulled my hood up and put my sunglasses back on. I headed for the fields in front of my house and climbed the stile into a freshly ploughed field, the furrows in straight lines like a row of small waves. I walked along the perimeter of the field until I was just across from my house. Scrunching myself down, I peered over the hedge. The street was empty. I decided to give myself twenty minutes. If there was no sign of life from within the house in that time, I would risk it.

  Minutes passed. Gulls tossed and screeched on the wind. Clouds raced across the sky. A boy dribbled a football along the street until his mother called for him to come home for lunch. Then nothing. My legs shook with the awkward effort of crouching behind the hedge. Surely a cleaner sent back to catch Ryan would have more important things to do than hang out at my house in case I came home. I scanned the parked cars on the street. There were six of them. Four I could see clearly. Two were partly hidden from view.

  I stood up and shook the cramp out of my legs. She wasn’t here. I made my way back through the field, across the stile and on to my street. Trying to seem like someone taking a casual stroll I walked up the road, flicking my eyes from left to right, making sure the parked cars were empty. They were.

  For a moment I considered marching right up to my front door and unlocking it with my key. But a small part of me still felt uneasy. I kept on going right to the end of my street and then turned the corner, doubling back on myself along the rear alleyway. It was narrow. Both my street and the one behind it had back gardens that opened on to the alley. It was big enough for wheelie bins and not much else. There was no one there but me and the ginger cat who liked to come and visit us from time to time.