A Sky Full of Stars

by Dani Atkins

  A

  Sky

  Full

  of

  Stars

  ALSO BY DANI ATKINS

  Fractured

  The Story of Us

  Our Song

  Perfect Strangers

  This Love

  While I Was Sleeping

  A Million Dreams

  A

  Sky

  Full

  of

  Stars

  DANI ATKINS

  www.headofzeus.com

  First published in the UK in 2021 by Head of Zeus Ltd

  Copyright © Dani Atkins, 2021

  The moral right of Dani Atkins to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN (HB): 9781789546200

  ISBN (XTPB): 9781789546217

  ISBN (E): 9781789546194

  Head of Zeus Ltd

  First Floor East

  5–8 Hardwick Street

  London EC1R 4RG

  WWW.HEADOFZEUS.COM

  Contents

  Also By Dani Atkins

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  An Invitation from the Publisher

  A

  Sky

  Full

  of

  Stars

  1

  Alex

  He’d have done everything differently, if he’d known. He’d have held her tighter, kissed her longer or simply wound his arms around her and refused to let her go. If he’d known.

  But Alex’s lips had brushed against hers in their sun-drenched kitchen as though there’d be a thousand more kisses in the decades to come. As though they’d still be doing this when her hair was threaded with grey and his own hair was thinner and his waistline thicker.

  He’d been bent down, attempting to mop up the glass of orange juice Connor had just sent flying with his elbow, when Lisa entered the kitchen. She scoped the room, taking in the dripping of Del Monte’s finest onto the checkerboard tiles and her son’s tears that were also threatening to spill. Connor’s lower lip was trembling.

  ‘No one is cross with you, big man. It was an accident.’ Alex’s eyes went to his wife’s, conveying his unspoken message. This is what I mean about him being too sensitive.

  Her cornflower-blue ones flashed back her reply. He’s only six, and he hates being in trouble. Just let it go.

  ‘Here. Let me do that,’ Lisa had said, reaching out to relieve Alex of the cloth as the puddle of juice continued to expand rather than diminish.

  Alex had looked up at her, his eyes travelling from the red-soled stilettos, which would be pinching her toes uncomfortably by the end of the day, to the wheat-coloured shift dress. It was the perfect outfit for a speaker at an exhibition in London, but less perfect for sticky kitchen duties.

  ‘Nah. I’ve got this, hon.’ He glanced at his watch, wasting a few more precious seconds that he could have spent looking at his wife’s face. ‘You’d better hurry or you’re going to miss your train.’

  He was right, and yet, even so, she’d hesitated. Had she felt it then, the moment when the sand in the hourglass had started to trickle out?

  ‘You’re on the 7.48, right?’

  Lisa had nodded, picking up her laptop bag and her car keys in a single swoop.

  ‘I wish I could go with you, Mummy. I want to see the models of the planets and the moon.’

  Lisa paused to crouch down beside Connor’s chair. Alex loved how she unfailingly did that. She would always hunker down to speak to him on his level, both figuratively and literally. It was a trait he kept meaning to adopt, yet he always seemed to forget.

  ‘I know you do, kiddo. But I’m going to be so busy giving that boring old talk, we wouldn’t have had any time to explore all the cool exhibits together. Next year,’ she whispered, leaning over and kissing her son’s shaggy strawberry-blond hair. ‘Next year you and I will go to the Astronomy Fair together. We’ll go on the train and spend all day looking at every single stand. Just you and me.’ Lisa swiped a pink-tipped fingernail across her heart. ‘It’s a promise.’

  Alex’s face was turned, to hide his smile, because he knew only too well how excited his thirty-three-year-old wife was to be giving that boring old talk. She’d been practising it every night, the laptop propped up on the bed between them as she spoke of black holes, supernovas and lunar seas with a passion that made his heart swell with pride that this bright and beautiful woman was his.

  He knew her speech almost as well as she did by now. ‘You’re going to knock it clean out of the park,’ he’d told her the night before, leaning across and carefully shutting the lid on her laptop.

  ‘But I still need to—’ she began on a protest that died on her lips as his mouth covered hers. ‘Oh well,’ she continued with a happy sigh, as she slid her hands beneath the hem of his T-shirt and allowed them to explore the muscles of his back, ‘I can always wing it.’

  ‘Wish me luck,’ Lisa said now, rising smoothly on her skyscraper heels that narrowed the difference in their heights to only a few inches. She moved in for a hug, enveloping Alex in a cloud of the perfume she only wore on special occasions. And this was a special day for her; he knew that from the nervous excitement glittering in her eyes.

  He pulled her against him, his heart contracting weirdly as her familiar curves moulded against him, like a yin and yang symbol. He released her with a reluctance he couldn’t explain.

  ‘Break a leg – break both legs,’ he said, claiming one last kiss before she left.

  The sound of her laughter followed her down the hallway as she headed for the front door. Those were the last words he said to her that morning.

  *

  Connor was obviously enjoying the novelty of being left in the care of Parent Number Two, a clearly inferior candidate for the job who took twice as long as his mum to get him ready for school. That said, Alex felt he scored bonus points for dealing with Connor’s claims tha
t his toothbrush ‘tasted funny’ and for successfully locating the missing school shoe that was mysteriously found buried beneath his pillow.

  Despite the fact that they should have already been in the car and on their way, Alex took his time lacing up the shiny black shoe on his son’s swinging foot.

  ‘Everything all right, big guy? Nothing bothering you about school, is there?’

  Connor’s scissoring feet stilled and Alex felt a frisson of panic. His son was a quiet, intelligent boy, the kind who teachers adored and other kids kept at arm’s length. He had a few school friends, but both Alex and Lisa had also seen him standing all alone at the edge of the playground, waiting to be collected.

  Alex briefly wished Lisa hadn’t had to catch that early train, because she was way better at this kind of thing than he was. From the moment the midwife had placed their new-born son into her arms, there’d been an unbreakable bond between his wife and child. He’d never felt excluded, and yet he knew that Connor’s need for his mum far exceeded his need for Alex. ‘That’ll all change when he has to learn how to shave, or parallel park, or ask a girl out on a date,’ Lisa had predicted. ‘That’s when you’ll come into your own, babe.’

  As none of those things were imminent, Alex still felt like there was a gigantic L-plate pinned on his back; Lisa, meanwhile, was acing the parenting test.

  ‘My tummy feels kind of funny,’ Connor admitted, rubbing his hand against his stomach.

  ‘Like you’re going to be sick?’

  ‘No. It just feels like I’ve eaten something squirmy.’

  His words perfectly described the weird sensation Alex himself had felt in the kitchen. He laid an inexperienced hand against Connor’s forehead, the way he’d seen Lisa do a hundred times before. As far as he could tell, his son’s temperature was normal.

  ‘Why don’t we tell Mrs Anderson about it when we get to school, and then if you still don’t feel well later, I can always come and fetch you? I’m going to be working from home today.’

  Even while Alex was busy double-checking Connor’s seatbelt was secure, he was wondering whether he should phone Lisa and run his decision past her. Was it the right call, to send Connor in? He glanced at the clock on the dashboard as he buckled himself into the driver’s seat. The chances were she was already on the station platform by now, but if he told her that Connor was feeling ill, he knew she’d abandon the exhibition in a heartbeat and come back home to be with him. Alex shook his head determinedly. Lisa had worked too long and too hard for this kind of recognition, and he wasn’t going to rob her of her big moment because of something as trivial as a ‘squirmy’ stomach – either his or Connor’s. They could cope without her for a single day.

  *

  ‘Of course we’ll keep an eye on him. But these things often miraculously disappear once they’re here with their little friends.’

  Alex’s eyes flew to Connor, who was sitting alone at a low table and reaching for an overflowing pot of crayons and a sheet of paper. Quite a few of the children were running around the classroom like miniature escapees from an asylum; others were delving into boxes of construction toys, books and dressing-up clothes. His was the only child sitting down.

  ‘He’s a very good little boy,’ Mrs Anderson confirmed warmly. She paused to separate two children who looked like obvious candidates for future ASBOs. ‘I could do with a few more like Connor in this class, Mr Stevens, to be perfectly honest,’ she confided with a laugh.

  Alex experienced his usual giant-in-Lilliput feeling as he threaded his way past chairs as low as milking stools and tables that came up only to his knees to say goodbye to his son. Connor’s head was bent low over his drawing, his hair a tousled mess. Had Alex remembered to comb it before they’d left the house? From the look of it, possibly not.

  Luckily Alex did remember that goodbye kisses were only permissible in the privacy of the car, so he settled instead for a quick ruffle of Connor’s already scruffy hair. ‘I’m going now, big man.’

  Connor lifted his head from the sheet of paper he’d covered with fat waxy crayon strokes. It was a drawing Alex had seen countless times before. Versions of it covered the walls of his son’s bedroom, and others were fixed by magnets to their fridge door, beside Lisa’s scribbled shopping list. Once again, Connor had captured the moon in an inky black sky, but not in the way usually depicted by a child his age. This was no glowing crescent a cow could happily jump over or even a cheesy ball with a smiling face; it was the real deal, with shadows, volcanoes and realistic-looking craters.

  More than the fullness of her mouth or her impossibly long eyelashes, Connor had inherited his mother’s love of astronomy. Suddenly the mysterious stomach squirminess made sense. Connor was obviously feeling upset that he’d not been allowed to go to the Astronomy Fair with Lisa.

  *

  Alex’s car was the last one left in The Meadows Primary School car park. He ran lightly across the tarmac towards it, only just managing to dodge the first fat raindrops that had turned the sky a threatening shade of pewter. He’d spent far longer talking to Connor’s class teacher than he’d realised, for the nine o’clock news bulletin had already finished when the car radio sprang into life. He switched on the windscreen wipers as the announcer predicted possible heavy showers later that morning.

  ‘No kidding,’ he said with a grimace as he drove through puddles deep enough to drench any unlucky pedestrian walking past. At least Lisa would have missed the worst of the rain, he thought; she should be warm and dry on the train right now. Probably running through her speech for the hundredth time, he guessed with a smile.

  After all these weeks of planning for the exhibition, he wondered if she’d find it an anti-climax going back to the children’s book on astronomy she’d spent the last eight months working on. Once again he smiled, knowing Lisa was as passionate about that project as she was about everything she ever touched.

  Although the book was still several chapters from being finished, he’d accidentally stumbled across the dedication page when he’d been looking for something on her desk the other day. There was a time he’d have felt embarrassed that tears had sprung to his eyes when he’d read: To Alex and Connor, who I love to the moon and back. But that was the old him; a hardened, trying-to-be-macho sort of bloke who Lisa had seen through in a heartbeat. Somehow she’d always known that hiding beneath that supposedly tough exterior was a man she could fall in love with. And thank God she had, because his life before her had been as colourless as a sepia photograph compared to the multi-coloured version he now enjoyed.

  We should be celebrating tonight, Alex suddenly realised, annoyed that he’d not thought of this earlier. If the roles had been reversed, Lisa would no doubt have planned him a big surprise party and invited all their friends. It was too late to pull off anything like that, but at least he could take the three of them out to dinner; they could go to that Italian place she loved so much.

  He just needed to know what time she’d be home, but despite scrolling back in his mind through recent conversations, he couldn’t remember her telling him. No problem, he’d phone her on some pretext or other and casually slip the question into the conversation. He was already shaking his head as he flicked the button on the steering wheel to engage hands-free dialling. Lisa would see straight through whatever lie he told, she always did, but she’d pretend that she hadn’t, letting him believe he’d surprised her anyway. They knew each other so well, it was as though at some point in the last nine years they’d stopped being two individuals and had somehow merged into a single entity.

  ‘Phone Lisa,’ he told his mobile, checking the clock as he did. She should still be on the train, so she’d be able to talk. Except that she wasn’t.

  ‘Hello.’ Her voice filled the car, surrounding him from every speaker.

  ‘Hey, babe, it’s me. I was just wondering if—’

  ‘I’m sorry, as you’ve probably guessed, I can’t take this call right now. So you know what to do. I’ll get
back to you very soon.’

  Alex felt oddly crushed that he’d not been able to speak to her, which was crazy as he’d only seen her about ninety minutes ago. He glanced down at the ring of platinum on his wedding finger and gave a rueful grin. You got me good, babe, he acknowledged with another shake of his head.

  ‘Just wanted to wish you luck one last time, wife. Hope everything goes well today. Call me when you get a free moment.’ He was on the point of pressing the button to disconnect the call when an unexpected feeling ran like a trespasser down every one of his vertebrae. ‘I love you, Lisa,’ he added in a rush.

  2

  Molly

  ‘Once upon a time…’

  I paused, though not for dramatic effect, which I knew from experience was largely redundant when your audience was a roomful of six-year-olds. I paused for the same reasons I had to stop halfway up every flight of stairs I climbed, why running for a bus was just a distant memory and why my bathroom cabinet was filled with medication rather than toiletries. If I’d been looking for one last confirmation that this was the right decision, there it was in my inability to complete even a four-word sentence without having to stop to catch my breath.

  Twenty-four pairs of eyes looked up at me. For once no one was fidgeting, jostling their neighbour or even talking when they shouldn’t have been. They sat cross-legged on the mat, waiting patiently for me to begin the story. It would be my last task as their class teacher and the importance of this day wasn’t lost on them. They were young – too young to pronounce, much less understand cardiomyopathy – and yet they were dealing with my departure far better than most of my colleagues.

  ‘Are you going to die, miss?’ It was a question the children hadn’t been afraid to ask, even if my fellow teachers at Green Hills Primary were too scared to do so. But I’d seen how my colleagues had watched with concern as my once rosy complexion had paled to the colour of parchment and my lips had taken on a bluish hue that no amount of pink lipstick could disguise.