Beneath the Moon and the Stars

by Amelia Thorne

  ‘She’s out,’ he said, wondering why he couldn’t stop himself from getting involved. ‘She’s just left.’

  They turned to face him and gave him that look that most people gave him when they met him for the first time. The look of “My God, he’s huge.” He was used to it now. At six foot ten he always got that look. He was broad as well, and he understood that some people found him intimidating.

  The policeman found his voice first. ‘Do you know which way she went; we really need to talk to her?’

  Instinctively and not really knowing why, except having this intrinsic need to protect her, he found himself pointing in the opposite direction to the one she had just taken. ‘She normally walks through the village to The Pride and follows the little path up to the old beacon.’ God, now he was lying to the police as well.

  The policeman nodded. ‘We would appreciate it if you didn’t tell her you saw us. We’d like to speak to her first. We wouldn’t want her to worry.’

  ‘No, of course not.’ Finn nodded, feeling his stomach clench with that exact same worry.

  The police got back in their car and drove off in the direction that Finn had pointed. Finn threw down his tools, whistled for Billy and quickly followed in Joy’s footsteps.

  Chapter Five

  Joy had made for the tallest peak in the range of hills. The one that looked like a face. Old Woman White, her dad used to call it or White Lady Hill to everyone else. It was a good long walk, but Darcy had enjoyed it. Joy knew, as she approached the side that held the hooked nose, she would have excellent views of the valley below. There would be the River Quail, which was nothing more than a tiny stream in this part of the country, it would curl lazily through Hollyhock Woods, down Blueberry Hill and most importantly straight past Blueberry Farm. It was the farm she was more interested in seeing than anything else. She hadn’t been brave enough to go and visit it yet. But when she did she would give the man that owned it a piece of her mind. For now she would settle for looking at it. Maybe she would sit for a while and remember.

  Her dad had said that she should never look back, that dwelling on the past was a mistake. He said that time was well spent planning for the future, but more importantly it should be spent living for now, enjoying the moment, because you could never go back and change things, so there was no point wishing you could. She wondered if he would be disappointed that she had come to the farm that day, if he would be shaking his head over her plans.

  As the farm came into view, she realised she had been holding her breath. She stood looking at it for a moment, then sat down to indulge in the past.

  *

  Finn had easily spotted her about a thousand yards ahead, her red hair flying like a scarlet banner behind her. He had followed her, slowly closing the gap between them, as she had walked with purpose across the range. As he drew closer she finally stopped and sat down, staring out on the view below. He approached, but now he was here he didn’t know whether to talk to her about the police or not. Surely it was best for both of them if he just kept walking. He really didn’t need to be there for her, or to know the reason for that sad, faraway look on her face. He would just keep on walking.

  ‘You see that farm down there Darcy, that’s my farm.’ Joy pointed down towards Blueberry Farm. Intrigued at the lie more than anything else, he moved to stand near her side.

  She looked up, clearly embarrassed at being caught talking to her dog, and annoyed to see Finn was the one to disturb her, she moved to get up.

  ‘No don’t go on my account, I was just enjoying the view. Surely we can be civil enough to enjoy the same view at the same time.’

  She nodded reluctantly and he sat next to her. They sat in awkward silence for a while, probably while she wondered if he had some sort of split personality disorder. He’d been scrubbing her doorstep this morning, then he refused to smile at her when she had smiled at him, and now he was sitting down next to her as if they were best friends. He was confused by it himself.

  ‘I… couldn’t help overhearing you telling Darcy that Blueberry Farm was yours. I know the person that actually owns it and you look nothing like him.’

  He watched her jaw clench but she didn’t say anything.

  ‘It’s an odd thing to lie to your dog.’

  Her eyes flashed. ‘It was my farm. I was born there, lived there till I was eighteen. I still consider it my home, even though it belongs to some arsehole now.’

  ‘Oh.’ Oh crap, thought the arsehole. The woman that had been trying to buy him out – the woman that had made repeated calls, sent many letters and emails asking him to sell his farm to her, the woman he had largely ignored for the last few months – was sitting next to him. ‘Why did you leave if you still consider it to be home?’

  ‘I…’ She stared back down at the farm, pulling her knees up to her chest. ‘I didn’t have much choice.’ She bit her lip, clearly considering whether to tell him or not, and every part of his brain was screaming at him to get away before she unburdened herself with her story. By the look on her face it wasn’t going to be a happy one. He was trying to ignore the need to put his arm round her and comfort her right now and he hadn’t even heard the story yet. If she started crying, that would be it, he’d be lost for good.

  ‘My parents died, they were killed in a car accident when I was nine.’

  And there it was, he was lost, beyond the point of no return.

  ‘My brother raised me after they died, but there was seemingly very little money. Alex didn’t know a lot about farming, I was always the one that followed Mum and Dad around, asking loads of questions about the dairy cows. Alex was always building stuff, robots, animatronics. He did a course on it at college and was set to go to university to study special effects in film.

  When they died, he had no clue how to carry on what they had started and though he had a part time job it wasn’t enough to pay the bills. I know, in the first few months after they died, he started working more hours, though he was always there to take me to school and pick me up at the end of the day. I know that he was worried about money, I heard him on the phone talking about how he was going to keep a roof over our heads. Slowly, over the years, he sold off pieces of land to neighbouring farms, sold the cattle, the crops, the machinery. The only thing we had left in the end was the farmhouse.

  I found out that he had sold everything when I was about fifteen, after I had spent the last six years tramping over ground that wasn’t mine, stroking the cows that were no longer mine. I was so angry that he had practically sold everything without telling me. The other farmers never said anything, even when I’d see them working in the field I assumed they were doing it to help Alex. I was so stupid.’

  ‘You were a child.’

  ‘A child that had no idea how much things cost. I just took it for granted that there would always be electricity in our farm, that there would always be food on the table. And there was. Only looking back now I realise how hard Alex must have worked to ensure that.

  When I was eighteen I applied to go to university and Alex sat me down and told me there was no money to do it. Tuition fees, rent in halls of residence, food – all that would cost money that he simply didn’t have. He told me of his dreams to go to university too, that these dreams were put on hold when our parents died. He told me that if we sold the farm, there would be enough money left over to pay for us both to go to university, to pay our fees and rent and maybe even a small deposit on a house for us once we came back out the other side. As much as I wanted to go to university I wanted my home more, I wanted to live there for the rest of my life, raise my children there. But I knew that Alex’s life had been put on hold for the last nine years, that he should have travelled the world, gone to university, got the job of his dreams… and he couldn’t because of me. As I was eighteen, I knew he should start living his life again. We sold the farm, but I vowed one day I would come back and buy it.

  I’ve lived in many places since then, a few months here, a year
there, but nowhere has been my home. I don’t know what I’m looking for if I’m honest, it’s just a feeling I suppose, a silly sentimental feeling.’

  ‘You spend eighteen years in the same place, nothing else is going to compare to it. It’s not silly at all.’

  ‘I was going to buy it back last year when it came up for sale but I dithered. I didn’t want to take a step back. It felt somehow that I wasn’t moving forward but still living in the past. But I decided that even if I wasn’t going to live in it, I wanted to own it. It’s belonged to the family for over seven generations and it feels wrong that it now belongs to someone else. Unfortunately I was too late, and despite very generous offers to the idiot that’s now living there, he won’t budge. Sorry if the idiot is your friend.’

  Finn shrugged. ‘I don’t like him much.’

  ‘I think that’s part of the problem, it being owned by an arse. If it was owned by a husband and wife who loved it, who had three little kids and a donkey out the back, I think I could let it go.’

  How on earth was he going to tell her that he owned the farm? It would be weird between them, and he still wasn’t sure what he was going to do with it. In the last year since he had bought the farm he had become very attached to it. It had been in a bad way when he first bought it as an investment, a project for him to undertake, but he had spent months lovingly restoring it and now he’d fallen a little bit in love with the place. Clearly not as much as Joy loved the place. He still hadn’t decided whether to sell it on when it was finished or to move in himself and until he had decided he needed to keep the fact that he owned it quiet.

  She let out a deep breath. ‘Wow, I don’t know why I told you all of that, I’ve never told anyone that before. It seems so silly to be clinging onto my childhood home like this, but I can’t seem to let it go.’

  He was silent for a while and looked down to see her hand held in his, with no recollection of how it got there. Damn it. He needed to get back to the original reason why he came up here.

  ‘The police were looking for you.’

  She paled significantly and he wished he’d just kept his big mouth shut.

  ‘Did they say what for?’

  He shook his head. ‘Did you know there was a diamond robbery at Menton Hall last night?’

  ‘At Menton Hall? Oh my god.’ She paled even more, which was not the reaction he was hoping for. ‘Do you think they want to talk to me about that?’

  ‘Why would they?’

  ‘I… don’t know.’ She stood quickly. ‘I… better go.’ She hesitated for a moment. ‘I’m having a housewarming barbeque tomorrow night. I invited all the villagers. I doubt anyone will come but… will you?’

  He shook his head. ‘I have Casey’s wedding rehearsal dinner thing tomorrow night. I’m not entirely sure what the whole bloody thing entails, only that I have to be there as Casey’s best man. Sorry, I would come otherwise.’ Would he? Would he have gone as her friend?

  ‘I take it Casey and Zach won’t be there either.’

  He smiled. ‘I don’t think they can rehearse without Casey. Maybe we can come by after.’

  She nodded and then hurried off down the hill. He watched her go. She’d been spooked by the police coming, that was for sure.

  *

  The police looking for her had bothered Joy. She had spent most of the night worrying about it and whether they had any connection that might link her with the robbery. But as it was now nearly lunchtime the next day and they hadn’t come back, she had to assume it was for an entirely innocent reason that they wanted to talk to her.

  She had spent the morning busily preparing for the housewarming barbeque that night. She had marinated chicken, made salad and punch and decorated her garden.

  But now, with the sun warming the day outside, it was a perfect time to enjoy a pint of cider in the beer garden of her nearby local. Though being banned from her nearby local might put a dampener on those plans. Could she perhaps go in disguise? Would a fake nose, a pair of googly specs and walking with a limp be enough to get past the astute eyes of the landlady Pam? Unlikely.

  Though she wasn’t just limited to Bramble Hill. There was a cluster of villages in the surrounding area, almost all of which had a local pub. Ashton Woods was about a thirty minute walk from Bramble Hill. A good walk would be just what she needed to work up a thirst for a pint of cider. Calling for Darcy she headed out, scooping up the daily offering of dog poo that had been posted through her letterbox on the way.

  *

  She stopped outside the small thatched pub in Ashton Woods. It had a low white picket fence around the outside and small tables and chairs in a pretty little garden, complete with multi-coloured parasols. The pub sign swung gently in the breeze, its slight squeak drawing her attention. Instead of the arrogantly named Peacock’s Pride, in large friendly writing was the cosy-sounding Ale and Custard. It made her smile and she crossed over the road to get a closer look.

  As she drew nearer there was a sign outside that declared that The Ale and Custard welcomed dogs. She just hoped that the customers and landlord were as welcoming to their human owners – and that her reputation of throwing old ladies from their homes hadn’t preceded her this far.

  She pushed the door open. The pub was empty save for three elderly men playing dominoes and two middle aged ladies, one of which, the larger of the two, was serving behind the bar. She was chatting to a lady with long blonde hair. The blonde lady looked up and smiled at Joy and then the smile slid from her face, as she went an almost deathly shade of pale.

  Oh god. She just wanted a pint of cider and to sit for a few hours and read her book. Surely Bramble Hill’s small mindedness couldn’t have stretched this far.

  Joy hesitated on the threshold, then decided to brazen it out. Striding to the bar purposefully, she knew she looked braver than she felt.

  ‘Joy Cartier?’ said the blonde lady, her voice barely a whisper.

  Joy Cartier, not Jo Carter?

  ‘Yes?’

  The lady stared at her for a moment then came towards her.

  ‘I’m Rose, I’m Casey’s mum. He’s spoken so much about you, it’s a pleasure to actually meet you.’

  ‘Oh.’

  This was so not what she was expecting and didn’t explain the look of fear that had crossed the lady’s face when Joy had walked in.

  Rose smiled at Joy’s uncertainty. ‘You look so much like your mum, I thought for a second… when you came in… I used to be friends with her.’

  And though that did explain it, it did nothing to quell the confusion.

  ‘Let me buy you a drink and we can have a chat.’ Rose indicated a booth at the side of the room and Joy nodded numbly. Rose was soon sitting opposite her nursing a glass of whisky whilst Joy took a much needed sip of her cider. Her throat was dry all of a sudden.

  ‘We were best friends, me and your mum. We grew up together, she was maid of honour at my wedding and I reciprocated for her. I’m Alex’s godmother, though you’d never know it, I wasn’t around at all whilst he was growing up. Your mum was godmother to Zach and Casey too.’ Rose sighed. ‘We had a row, not long before you were born, over Zach. Right little tearaway he was, he must have been about four years old at the time. He used to play up at Blueberry Farm regularly, he loved your parents’ cows. Well, he found a tin of spray paint, bright orange stuff it was, and Zach decided to use it to graffiti all over the side of one of your barns. Your mum was heavily pregnant with you, very emotional because they’d just had to put down one of their dogs and they’d just finished painting the barn too. I think the graffiti just pushed her over the edge. She was furious – took Zach over her knee and smacked him. Of course I would have smacked him myself had I got there first but I was so angry that she had hit my son. We had a blazing row about it and we never spoke to each other again. It was such a stupid thing to row over, especially after we had been friends for so long. So many times I wanted to pick up the phone and apologise but I didn’t, too bloody
stubborn. As time went on it became harder and harder to do it, until eventually it was too late. When your mum died I was gutted that nine years of stubborn pride had stood between me and my best friend, that I had never righted things between us before she died.’

  A distant memory suddenly flooded Joy’s mind. ‘You’re Rosie?’

  Rose’s face lit up. ‘Yes, that’s what your mum used to call me.’

  ‘Mum spoke of you fondly,’ Joy said, honestly.

  ‘She did?’

  ‘We used to look through the wedding album regularly and she’d tell me who the people were in the pictures. She told me all about you two sliding down the bannister in the hotel where she got married, and skinny dipping in Brighton where she had her hen night.’

  Rose smiled. ‘Good lord, I’d forgotten that. I thought we would die of hypothermia. Becky thought it was hilarious.’

  ‘When I asked where you were now and why she didn’t see you anymore, she just said that sometimes friends drift apart. That pride was a silly sentiment and that she missed you a lot.’

  ‘Oh.’ Rose took a big swig of whisky.

  ‘I presume Zach didn’t have lasting scars from my mum’s beating.’

  ‘No, and he certainly didn’t do anything like that again. I think he turned out ok.’

  ‘I don’t know him that well, but he seems like a nice lad.’ Of course she couldn’t tell Rose that she’d imagined doing all manner of inappropriate things with him, that he was desperate to get her into bed. She quickly changed the subject as she was aware she was blushing. ‘Casey is lovely.’

  Rose seemed to glow with pride. ‘He is, isn’t he? So kind and sweet. I presume you’ve met Arielle.’

  Something about the way Rose said Arielle’s name made Joy sit up straighter. ‘You don’t like her?’

  ‘No love, I don’t. Nasty little cow. I can’t believe Casey proposed to her, I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. But if Casey’s happy then I’m happy.’