Among a Thousand Stars

by Jo Bartlett

  ‘Fancy a tequila?’ Ashleigh, who’d expected to value Liam’s opinion about relationships as much as a sumo wrestler’s advice on healthy eating, suddenly really needed another drink. She didn’t want to admit that he might be right. Sloshing more tequila into two of the empty glasses on the table, she took another huge slug and then another. After that, her recollection of the evening all went a bit hazy…

  ****

  ‘Oh Christ. My head.’ Something like sawdust was lining her tongue and her skull was on too tight. Trying to turn over in bed she hit something solid – the wall. Except she wasn’t in bed, but seemingly in some impossible yoga move with her legs almost behind her head, curled into one of the armchairs in the front room. There was a lumpy outline on the sofa next to her. Something lumpy and snoring. ‘Liam?’ She leant over the sofa and shook him by the shoulder.

  ‘Morning gorgeous.’ He reached out a hand, which, like a homing pigeon, made instant contact with one of her breasts.

  ‘Er… morning.’ An involuntary groan escaped her. Had she really been that drunk? She had no memory of getting back to the flat and certainly no memory of inviting Liam back there. Her hand shot downwards, she still had her Spanx on. They’d been an essential pre-requisite to wearing a tight dress the night before. Thank heavens for small mercies and big knickers. ‘We didn’t… you know?’ She shuddered again, horrified at the mere possibility, despite the reassurance she still had her pants, a fresh wave of nausea sweeping upwards.

  ‘Sadly not babe, just a bit too much tequila came between us.’ He leant towards her, obviously ready to give her another one of his tongue-twisting kisses, his morning breath as repellent as the rest of him. ‘Shall we have a go now?’

  ‘Look, I’m sorry. I should never have invited you back or let you think there was a chance I was interested in some kind of repeat performance.’ Ashleigh slumped back into the armchair, her arm wrapped across her breasts, in a too-little-too-late attempt at modesty.

  ‘Hey, no hard feelings babe.’ Liam whipped back the blanket covering him, revealing his naked body and a reasonably impressive hard-on. ‘Or maybe just the one.’ He certainly hadn’t lost his touch for sexual innuendo.

  Getting up, he pulled on his discarded jeans and shirt. There was no sign of his pants. Whether he’d had any in the first place wasn’t a question Ashleigh could answer and she wasn’t about to ask. ‘It was great catching up babe. I’ll see you around.’ Dodging his attempt to kiss her on the mouth, their cheekbones banged awkwardly and he ended up kissing her on the ear. Sitting on the recently vacated sofa, she put her head in her hands. This must be it – her all time low.

  ‘You okay, honey?’ Stevie poked his head around the living room door.

  ‘Yeah, great.’ She could barely lift her head to look him in the eye and, if he laughed, she swore to God she’d kill him.

  ‘I think your boyfriend left these behind.’ Zac, looking unnervingly chirpy, appeared at Stevie’s shoulder twirling a pair of red thong underpants around his index finger. ‘They were on the lampshade of the hall light’

  ‘That’s it. Can someone just kill me?’ Ashleigh groaned. Like two naughty schoolboys, their lips pressed tightly together in an attempt not to laugh. ‘No offers? Call yourselves my friends?’

  At that moment, Liam’s thong flew through the air and landed in her lap. ‘You could always hang yourself with lover boy’s knickers elastic.’ Zac had given way to laughter now and she shot him a look before a familiar sensation swelled in her stomach.

  ‘Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick…’ A wave of nausea took hold of her body. Suddenly Zac wasn’t laughing and nothing in her line of fire had escaped.

  ****

  After a change of clothes and hot showers all round, Ashleigh finally stopped wishing for death. Picking at the corner of the piece of dry toast, which Stevie had insisted on making for her, she groaned again.

  ‘I’m sorry guys, it’s just Liam said some stuff to me last night and I was already upset about Tom and Dad, so I think somewhere in my subconscious I decided to try and drown myself in a bottle of tequila.’

  ‘We’ve all been there honey.’ Stevie kissed the top of her head and she grimaced, even her scalp was tender, bruised by the hangover from hell. What on earth had she put her body through? ‘We can forgive it all, just thank God you didn’t sleep with that dickhead Liam!’

  ‘We saved you by taking the bed I think.’ Zac grinned, acting like a noble gentleman, even though he’d made it clear that he didn’t do sleeping on sofas or floors. ‘What did that prat have to say to you that made you so upset anyway?’

  ‘He said I was needy, that I had to be reassured and told I was loved all the time.’ She glanced at Zac, her eyes so dry and sore that they ached with the effort. ‘The worst thing is I think he was right. All this time I’ve been thinking it was Liam’s fault we split or that there was something wrong with the way Tom acts and it was probably just my issue all along. I don’t think there’s a man out there who could put up with me.’

  ‘Bullshit!’ Zac and Stevie spoke in unison and exchanged a smile.

  ‘As my old nan used to say, there’s a lid for every pot and someone out there will be perfect for you, you just have to keep on keeping on.’ Zac moved beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. ‘Look at me, it took me seven fiancées before I got Stevie and I’ve never been happier in my life.’

  ‘Maybe I should go for a woman then?’ Ashleigh managed a smile. ‘Unless you guys fancy a threesome, without the sex of course!’

  ****

  A member of the local press struck gold later in the day, when he took photos of Zac, Ashleigh and Stevie on the beach at Sandgate. The accompanying article speculated who Zac’s mystery girlfriend might be and whether the girl he was seeing in the New Year with was likely to be his eighth fiancée. If only that journalist had realised how close he was to a much bigger scoop, and had not cut Stevie out of the photo, his career might have been made for life.

  Despite the story barely even being newsworthy, it shared the headlines on the showbiz page alongside an ‘exclusive’ chat with Susie-Anne Summers, which the journalist suggested lifted the lid on her on-going close relationship with Tom Rushworth. The report claimed that Susie-Anne was devastated not to be able to accompany Tom in his moment of need, keeping a vigil at the bedside of his elderly mother at the Coast and District Hospital in Kent – where she’d been taken in a life threatening condition after slipping on some ice in the early hours of New Year’s Day.

  Chapter Thirty

  ‘Is there anyone you want me to call for you?’ The nurse set the tea down next to Tom in the relatives’ room. Why was it that tea was seen as a cure all, regardless of the crisis you found yourself facing? Tea wouldn’t make things any easier for him to bear and it certainly wouldn’t help his mum.

  ‘No, it’s okay thanks.’ He wished, not for the first time, that he had a brother or sister. Someone else in the world he could share moments like this with, someone who would understand how he was feeling.

  ‘Okay, if you’re sure?’ The nurse hesitated. ‘I’m afraid I can’t give you any more definite information about your mother’s condition at the moment. When the doctors have finished assessing her, we’ll come to see you and explain the options more fully then.’ With that she was gone, escaping from the oppressive atmosphere in the room. Tom knew he would have been just as eager, given half the chance.

  She’d said that they’d explain the options. It didn’t sound like a particularly positive word in that context. Options usually meant choosing the thing you most wanted to do and that would have been getting his mum home safely as soon as possible. The dread creeping over him suggested that particular option was no longer open. He was on his own and never more so.

  ****

  ‘Are you sure this is the right thing to do, honey?’ Stevie, who’d insisted on dr
iving Ashleigh to the hospital, had spent the entire journey trying to talk her out of it, as she’d known he would. Pulling into the hospital car park, he switched off the engine and turned to look at her.

  ‘He might not be delighted to see me and I’m not daft enough to think this will be some romantic bedside scene.’ She laughed as Stevie wrinkled his nose and gave her a pitying look. ‘It’s okay, I know you think I’m crazy. I just wouldn’t feel right unless I at least tried to find out if there’s anything I can do. Since Tom has clearly switched off his phone, there’s not much else I can do other than just show up, is there?’

  ‘You could have phoned Francine and asked her to pass on a message.’ Stevie winced as she dug him in the ribs.

  ‘Yes or I could have done my Paul McKenna impersonation and used the power of my mind to send Tom a telepathic message.’ Ashleigh mimed the action, screwing up her face in mock concentration. ‘It would have more chance of getting there than any message that I passed via Francine.’

  ‘Fair point. Am I at least allowed to wait for you?’ Stevie grinned at the group of nurses, who’d stopped to admire Zac’s shiny new Porsche and were now checking out the driver with undisguised excitement.

  ‘If you wait here you’ll have been mobbed by the time I get back.’ Ashleigh leant over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. ‘I think it might be better all round if you head back to mine to pick up Zac and spend a bit of quality time with your boyfriend.’

  ‘But you’ll call if you need us, won’t you honey?’ Stevie pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and gave her the earnest look he always did when he wanted her to promise him something.

  ‘I will.’ She smiled, if only all of the relationships in her life were as perfect as the one she had with Stevie. ‘But I won’t need you. You and Zac are like my surrogate parents. You’ve made sure I’ve got enough money for a cab to the station and my train fare back home if Tom tells me to sod off and I promise that I won’t talk to strangers!’

  ‘Okay, okay!’ Stevie held his hands up, finally accepting defeat. ‘Good luck, honey, and I really hope the papers are wrong about how poorly Isobel is.’

  ****

  Inside the sterile environment of the hospital, Ashleigh’s bravado began to fade, growing weaker and weaker with every step she took towards the ITU department. The interview with Susie-Anne had claimed Isobel was in intensive care, but since Ashleigh highly doubted Tom’s ex really knew any more than she’d heard from second hand gossip, it was hardly gospel. Angus had confirmed that Isobel was in hospital, when Zac had rung him, but even he hadn’t been able to reach Tom since he’d first got the news – so she didn’t really know what she was going in to. Would they let her in, would Isobel even turn out to be there and, if she was, what reception was she likely to get from Tom?

  Forcing herself to walk through the double doors that led to the nurses’ station in the ITU, Ashleigh spotted Tom before he saw her. He was sitting at the end of a row of plastic chairs, his head in his hands. Normally immaculate, his clothes gave the distinct impression of having been slept in and there was a layer of dark stubble on his cheeks.

  ‘Tom.’ Crouching down beside him, she instinctively put a hand over his, as he lifted his head to look at her.

  ‘Oh God, Ash, she’s really bad…’ There were no recriminations, no questions about why she was there. The navy blue eyes were red-rimmed and there was total despair in his voice. ‘I’ve never felt so out of control, so helpless.’

  ‘You’re here and that’s all you can do, all she would want you to do.’ Ashleigh hoped she wasn’t saying the wrong things. As if there was anything she could say that would make the slightest bit of difference to how Tom was feeling.

  ‘And you’re here too. It’s crazy. She’s been asking where you were and I didn’t have the heart to tell her.’ Tom looked utterly distraught. ‘I was going to go down and see her on New Year’s Day, let her know that we’d decided we’re better off as friends.’ He grimaced. ‘Not strictly true I know, but she liked you and she’d want to think we could at least have that. I didn’t want to tell her over the phone and I couldn’t bring myself to tell her when we first split up.’ Tom’s voice broke on the last words and he took a breath to regain his composure. ‘Only she insisted on coming home from Auntie Maureen’s on the morning of the thirty-first. It would have been Robert’s eightieth birthday apparently. She spent New Year’s Eve watching TV and then, just before midnight, for some bizarre reason, she decided to take Bertie for a walk down to the sea front. She’d barely got to the end of the road when she slipped on black ice. The people who eventually found her said Bertie was sitting next to her, licking her and desperately trying to keep her warm, barking like crazy to try and get someone’s attention, but there were parties nearby in full swing and no one heard him, or if they did, they didn’t bother to go and see what the fuss was. By the time someone eventually found her, she was so cold they thought she was already dead.’

  ‘Oh my God.’ It was horrifying. At the same time as Ashleigh had been fighting off Liam’s advances and downing tequila like her life depended upon it, Isobel had been lying on an icy pavement and Tom was getting the kind of phone call that nightmares are made of. ‘How is she now?’

  ‘Barely hanging on, but it’s only a matter of time.’ Tom’s jaw was set in a grim line. ‘I’ve earned more money over the years than I could ever spend, but none of it means anything now. It’s all pointless, it won’t help Mum, nothing can.’

  ‘Isn’t there any chance?’ It felt surreal. A little over a week earlier Tom’s mum had been defiant of the leukaemia, like she might fight on for years.

  ‘She’s conscious, speaking with difficulty, but I can see her fading. She broke her hip in the fall and developed pneumonia, either from the shock of the fall or the cold. She’s too poorly to operate on and so it’s just a waiting game.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ She didn’t want to say the words, they were bland and pointless, but she said them anyway. ‘Is there anything I can do to help out? Get you a change of clothes, anything?’

  ‘She’d like to see you. I know…’ Tom swallowed hard. ‘I know it’s a big ask, but can you do me a favour please, don’t mention anything about us splitting up?’

  ‘Of course not.’ She longed to stroke Tom’s face, offer him some comfort. Hard as she’d tried to fight it, she’d fallen in love with him during the vulnerable moments, where he’d let down his guard and revealed the chinks in the armour that both protected and restricted him. Never had he seemed more vulnerable than at that moment.

  ****

  Willing herself to stay strong for him, Ashleigh followed Tom into his mother’s hospital room. Isobel’s skin was barely distinguishable against the crisp whiteness of the sheets. There were wires connecting her to a monitor, an oxygen tube in her nose and a morphine driver to relieve the pain.

  ‘Got myself into a bit of a state.’ Isobel’s voice was a hoarse whisper and as she tried to smile she managed to dislodge the oxygen tube, causing one of the machines to start bleeping erratically, as her heart rate dropped, until one of the nurses pushed it back into place.

  ‘Now don’t be letting her talk too long.’ The chubby Irish nurse smiled at them; no doubt as aware as they were that their last chance of speaking to Isobel was slipping away, like grains of sand in an egg timer. But, still, she needed to do her job.

  ‘Give us a minute for some girl talk, Thomas.’ Isobel used the long version of his name, as though she meant business. ‘Get yourself a coffee, you could use it I’m sure.’ Isobel closed her eyes until Tom left the room, opening them again seemed to take the kind of incredible effort required to scale a mountain.

  ‘I’m glad you’re here. You love him don’t you?’ Every word was a battle and Ashleigh didn’t want her to struggle on, so she just nodded. ‘And he loves you, but you realise he might never show it? Will it be enough
for you?’

  ‘It’s okay.’ Ashleigh fought to find the right words. While she could admit to loving Tom with a clear conscience, she wasn’t sure if she could lie to a dying woman and give her false hope. ‘As long as Tom feels it, even if he can’t say it or show it, it will be enough for me.’ It was true after all. The moment she’d seen him in the hospital, she couldn’t pretend that there’d ever been anyone else who’d meant as much to her as Tom did. If he wanted her, then she’d be there. So it might not be perfect, not like the movies or books said it should be, but she wanted to be with him and if pretending it wasn’t love was what it took, then she could do that. She was sure she could.

  ‘Thank you. I can go now and be happy.’ Isobel’s body visibly relaxed, the pinched look on her face less obvious.

  ‘Don’t talk like that...’ Ashleigh wasn’t sure what else to say; she was dying, what good were words?

  ‘Robert’s waited long enough, we both have.’ Her voice drifted off and she closed her eyes. For a moment she was so still, her breathing so shallow that Ashleigh was sure she had gone. Realising that the heart monitor was still beeping with clinical regularity, Ashleigh stopped holding her own breath. Please God, don’t let Tom be long, he should be here for this.

  Perhaps the Paul McKenna style telepathy was working after all. The door to Isobel’s room swung open and Tom looked across at Ashleigh, in a way he never had before, as if some boundary between them had at last been crossed.

  ‘Tom…’ Isobel opened her eyes again for the briefest of moments, as he took the seat beside her and placed a hand over hers, ‘…I love you so much, you’ve been my greatest achievement, my greatest joy.’ Every word was punctuated by a struggle to breathe. So wanting to get the words out, even though they were literally killing her.