Under a Starry Sky: A perfectly feel-good and uplifting story of second chances to escape with this summer 2020!

by Laura Kemp

  ‘I know what you mean,’ Mam said. ‘Mam’s the word!’ She mimed a zip across her mouth. ‘If Blod finds out, then all of Wales will know.’

  ‘Come on, let’s go then.’ Wanda ushered them out of the hospital, with Carys on one arm and Mam hobbling on the other, and into the Land Rover, apologising to Rock and Roll with every bump of the tarmac. All talk of Danny was off-limits – Carys simply said she believed that what would be would be. Wanda’s heart ached that her sister was holding on to the hope that he’d suddenly appear as if by magic, but who was she to pop Carys’s balloon? If she wanted to handle it that way, it was her prerogative. Food was a good distraction, too. Carys had a craving for an early tea of egg, chips and baked beans, so once they were back Mam got on it and shooed the sisters outside as if they were children.

  ‘We’ve done good, Caz,’ Wanda said, breathing in the lush grass in the late-afternoon sunshine as they wandered off, finding themselves en route to the gardening club plot.

  ‘We have. The website is getting lots of traffic and we’ve got bookings coming in for half-term, that’s less than two weeks away!’

  ‘Things, dare I say it,’ Wanda said, crossing her fingers, ‘are looking up. About time, really. Our costs are going up. Those canoes, wetsuits and lifejackets didn’t come cheap.’

  ‘But worth it?’

  ‘Definitely. That sunset cruise last night was magic. So romantic.’

  Wanda had taken the reformed glamper wankers out for an hour at dusk, showing them the inlets and caves, as birds dipped onto the surface of the water before bats swooped overhead in the twilight. When the stars came out, they all lay back and let themselves sway on the lake as they gasped at the constellations. And it was good thinking tying a bottle of bubbles off the rear of her canoe: they were toasting the night in plastic wine glasses when the man only went and proposed to his girlfriend! It was a beautiful thing: he took the wire off the cork and turned it into a ring and they pulled their canoes together to seal it with a kiss. Wanda left them to it, paddling back to shore because she was approaching gooseberry status, but she was so happy that Under A Starry Sky would always be special to them. And they’d promised to spread the word about the campsite on glamping forums. The hearts on their engagement piccy had come in thick and fast on Instagram – as much as Wanda knew ‘likes’ weren’t something to get too excited about, it was good to feel the love. She wasn’t getting any herself, so that’d have to do.

  Carys heard her sister sigh. ‘You all right?’

  ‘Yeah …’ She didn’t want to moan, because Carys had it far worse.

  ‘At least we can be spinster sisters together!’ That was the drawback of psychic siblings, they could read your mind.

  ‘We can crochet our own clothes and grow matching moustaches.’

  Carys snorted. ‘You’ll find someone, you know.’

  ‘What if I already have and he’s off making wild love to a Portuguese chick?’

  ‘Lew? Still? I had no idea!’ she said, her eyes widening.

  ‘I know, I know. I really should be over a teenage crush by now. But when I heard he was off on a date with her I felt so jealous. I still am.’

  ‘It wasn’t a proper date, Blod said she’d forced him to show Belmira round.’ Bless Carys for backtracking.

  ‘It doesn’t matter what it was. The point is it’s brought up all the feelings I had for him.’

  ‘It could just be a reaction to seeing him again …’ Carys said gently.

  ‘Yes, a reminder of adolescent infatuation. That’s probably it.’

  But Wanda had her doubts – because all it had taken for her to find herself weakening in his presence was one conversation. She’d examined it every which way but was no clearer in her mind about what he’d been going to say to her when Carys had interrupted them. It gave her a sense of madness; she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. Ever. Was that why she’d never been in proper grown-up love? Was he the one? Or was she stuck in some time warp because her life had seemed to stop that night when they’d nearly kissed? For them to have never picked things up again though, that had to mean neither of them was actually bothered. You wouldn’t drop someone from your life if you loved them, would you? Yet none of the notches on her bedpost had come close to Lew.

  Three months, that’s how long her relationships usually lasted. She knew she was guilty of sabotage; it wasn’t them dumping her because they didn’t like her, it was because she’d lose interest and talk incessantly of leaving – and they had no place in her plans. The most recent, Christos, had lasted nine months. A guy she’d met two years ago at a travel conference, he was Australian and heading home after ten years in London. He was the perfect man – tall, dark, handsome and she didn’t have to commit to him. It was weekends only, lots of fun and laughs, but while he’d asked her again and again to visit him and his huge Cypriot family in Sydney, she’d always known she wouldn’t.

  Coming across Lew again, her heart had latched onto him rather too quickly. It couldn’t be real, to feel so much for someone who was in actual fact a stranger. Why he’d come back, no one but Annie knew; she’d kept his confidence, but there was clearly no woman in tow. What had he done for the last fifteen years: had he come home to lick his wounds or was it always his long-term plan to return? Even the silly things she used to know – did he still have three sugars in his coffee? She didn’t know him at all. Just look at how he’d knocked up a feast the other night, and he’d been barely capable of making eggs on toast. Wanda didn’t know these things because she had never picked up the phone to call him. This had to be a kind of muscle memory of being around him and her fragile ego craved to hear him tell her how he’d thought of her every day and he’d never stopped loving her. But that stuff never happened. And what if he did say it? Maybe that’s all she needed to hear and she’d move on. Wanda didn’t trust her judgement when it came to matters of the heart.

  She was much better when it came to work. That was where she had some control and, looking around her now, she felt so much pride. The camping area was neat, the motorhome hardstanding weeded and the all-natural playground smart with wood chippings. Even better, though, was the Grow Up garden. There were pallets and bags of compost and shingle and piles of earth and stones. Someone had been busy! Huge planters were already in place and there was a long, sturdy homemade wooden workbench too, topped with trays and pots. The borders were showing off gorgeous flowers of all colours – she had no idea what they were but they looked so bright, she felt a rush of optimism. After just two Saturday sessions, it was a credit to Annie and Spike.

  ‘Isn’t it fab?’ Wanda said as she took out her phone to take some snaps.

  ‘I’ll use those,’ Carys said, ‘put them on our Facebook page, it’ll show we’ve got a caring-sharing side to us.’

  ‘Genius!’ Wanda said, closing in on pink petals with the lake in the background. The click of the shutter set her mind racing. ‘Tell you what else we can do … get some hammocks to hang between the trees … make a jumbo Jenga set from offcuts of wood for the play area … put some solar-power storm lamps on the branches as night lights … and,’ she said, thinking of her sister’s courage in the face of single motherhood, ‘how would you feel if we got some fire pits too?’

  The squeeze from Carys’s hand told her all she needed to know – these sisters could and would do it, not just for themselves but for each other.

  19

  Annie had always been good at pretending, but a week in a sleeping bag on a hard floor was pushing her to her limits.

  So tired, so achey, she was operating on her reserves and they were fast depleting. Asking for help wasn’t who she was – instead, she was ruled by the shame of her situation. She had got herself into it, only she could get herself out of it.

  But it was hard when you had only three or four hours’ sleep each night. Her hot water bottle was Teg, who w
ould begin the night curling up in the crook of her knees, then she’d wake up to find her the length of her body as if she was trying to stop the cold of pre-dawn seeping into her mistress’s bones. Then the birds would start and the sun would rise and she would have to go back to Blod’s, creeping in to shower and eat breakfast. Blod hadn’t noticed – she’d been immersed in Belmira’s visit. Yesterday had been her last night, though: Wanda had gone to the pub with them, plus Lew, who had been seated beside Belmira and hadn’t complained. Was there anything between the two of them? Annie saw two people who were easy in each other’s company and the occasional touching of arms, but she didn’t know what to make of that when she was struggling to control an out-of-body feeling due to so much broken sleep. Everyone had laughed when she put sugar on her chips instead of salt – it didn’t stop her from wolfing them down, though. An empty belly would keep her awake. She’d had to stay until the end, she couldn’t slip off and get onto Blod’s sofa because she couldn’t leave Teg alone in the van. Paranoia had risen in her and made the most of her exhaustion. It’d been gone midnight before Blod had gone upstairs and she’d wondered if she could sneak Teg in, but she’d smell the cats and bark. Annie didn’t think Blod would be cross, it was just that she didn’t want to go behind her back. Waking up the house followed by an explanation of what Dean was up to would lead to tears and both of them had work in the morning. By the time she’d sneaked into the van and let it roll down the hill without starting the engine, found her secret spot where she couldn’t be discovered and made up her bed, she’d lost the best hours already.

  On her knees she was now, weeding at Mrs Jenkins’s, with Teg snuffling around her, sensing she needed protection. Tidy up, collect more bottles and then she’d take them to the recycling point at the tip. She had a load of grass cuttings to get rid of, too.

  Annie took a glug of her dark, strong coffee. Driving was the only time when she felt alert – she had to be, her livelihood depended on it. Even so, the motion of the van made Mrs Jenkins’s empties chink as if they were laughing at her. She felt that paranoia again. It took her back to the times when she’d walk with her chin down to avoid people’s judging eyes. She summoned up the energy to slam the steering wheel, she’d thought she’d left that behind.

  Suddenly a battered white van came out of nowhere behind her and brought her to. Focus, she told herself, there’s a blind corner coming up here and then there’s your turning. Don’t miss it or you’ll be unable to turn for miles. Usually this shortcut was quiet and she would enjoy the peace of that feeling of being alone on the road. Her eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror, as the van seemed to get closer to her. With the next look, it was almost up on her bumper. She gasped at the aggression and then heard herself cry out when she saw that the driver looked like Dean. It was certainly his frame, she could see a close-cropped head looming over his dashboard, but her back window and his windscreen were both dirty. With the sun dappling through the trees, making her eyes squint, it was hard to know if it was really him. She didn’t recognise the vehicle but he could be in someone else’s, or it could even be nicked. How had he found her? Had he been following her? Had he been following her for weeks and she had no idea? It was just the kind of thing Dean would do, a cunning method of intimidation, out of sight and so easily brushed off on the pretext that he was on a legit journey. Should she pull over and let him past? But no other cars were around and he could block her in – she wouldn’t put herself at risk.

  ‘You utter bastard,’ she shouted into the mirror, and the van began to flash its lights at her. What the hell did he want?

  Teg began to whimper as she sensed the air charge with fear.

  ‘Shhh,’ she said, taking one hand off the wheel to stroke her ears. But she hadn’t been watching properly and she had to swerve to avoid a branch in the road. Just keep going, just get to your turning … Trying to resist the temptation to speed up, she went into third gear, hearing her engine roar, but this old thing didn’t have the kick she needed. Counselling herself, she refused to look back at him and kept her eyes straight ahead, sticking to the speed limit, spying the turning on her left, beginning to breathe again when she got closer, applying the brakes with clenched teeth, hoping she wasn’t about to get shunted from behind. Her indicator was ticking, calmly, and Annie tried to embrace that calm, because a car was coming out and she had to be in control. Her fingers were white from the pressure of gripping the wheel and her palms were sweaty; one false move and there’d be a pile-up. Exhaling through puffed cheeks, she left the main road and gave a quick glance at the van on her tail. How she wanted to roll down her window and scream at him cutting past her. She should go to the police after this: he’d put her in danger with reckless driving. But, at that second, sunlight streamed through the glass and she couldn’t get a proper look at him or the registration number. She had no evidence at all that it was Dean. Perhaps all she had was proof that she was losing her mind.

  20

  We had a smashing time! If we’d known dogs were allowed, we’d have brought ours!

  Mr and Mrs Timpson, Exeter

  Campsite Visitors’ Book

  Wanda’s CV was building nicely, she thought as she put her arm round the passenger seat of a guest’s car and prepared to reverse their caravan into their pitch.

  Toilet cleaner and photographer were already on her list of talents and now she could add marriage guidance counsellor.

  The husband and wife were on the verge of divorce when Wanda stepped in with her best ‘don’t panic’ face. It was an actual popcorn moment, with other visitors spectating from their camping chairs as the air got thicker with expletives. This was a family campsite after all, so Wanda had to do something – not that she’d ever manoeuvred a caravan before, but she remembered her dad’s advice to similarly spatially challenged campers: the back of the caravan will always go the opposite way to the back of the car. Go slow and keep an eye on the wing mirrors. Swinging left, then right, she managed to get it into position on her first attempt, admittedly at a snail’s pace, and it was with relief more than pleasure that she accepted their thanks. It was their inaugural outing with their baby, they’d always dreamed of getting away for long weekends with all the home comforts. Wanda had a feeling it’d be a case of ‘careful for what you wish for’, as they revealed they’d never erected David’s awning before.

  ‘Give me a shout if you can’t get it up, David!’ Wanda said, cheerily, until she’d realised what she’d just said. She scurried off quickly and giggled when she was safely out of earshot. It occurred to her that after only a short time, she was beginning to enjoy herself. She was doing things she’d never done, including laying laminate flooring with Lew in the shepherd’s hut. It had felt weird at first being in there together, in the place where they’d been so close as teenagers. But the job had been about making the best of the old, sanding down the wood, and adding in new features, marrying them to make something beautiful again. That was kind of what this whole experience was about: repairing her own damage and coming back stronger than ever.

  The visitors’ book was always an education, too. It got her to thinking about the latest comment concerning dogs – perhaps they did need to reconsider that; she’d have a word with Carys and Mam and see if they minded. As long as they were well behaved, then why not? Although what dog had the guest been on about? Dusk was falling, so she decided to have a look around before it was dark – no one had arrived with one and surely she’d have noticed if one had been snuck in …

  After a trek round, Wanda found nothing. Perhaps it had just been a local dog in the community garden – that was open to the public, after all. There was nothing of note so she took a few snaps of the sunset. Crouching down, she was trying to fit in tendrils of leaves, the lake and the mountain, but she needed to go back a bit, a bit more and … she backed into something solid, her feet went from under her and she landed right on top of a lump of something covered
in tarpaulin. Curiosity got the better of her and she peeked beneath it, only to find a tent packed away in its bag. There was also a metal bowl and a saucepan. How odd. None of it belonged to the campsite. She looked around in confusion – who’d be storing their stuff here? And why? But here came Annie, maybe she’d know. Yet as soon as their eyes met, Wanda understood the sheepish look on Annie’s face: it was obviously her tent and saucepan. Teg, bless her, went straight to the bowl, sad to find it empty, betraying the fact it belonged to her and solving the mystery of the dog on site.

  Her face crumpled in agony, Annie did away with pleasantries and went straight in with an explanation.

  ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry, Wanda.’ Annie was actually shaking. ‘I’ve been so stupid, taking advantage of you behind your back. I’m no better than my name, am I? I’ll pay you for being on your land. I just didn’t know where else to go.’

  Wanda couldn’t bear it. She’d been sleeping out here? ‘What is it? What’s happened?’

  ‘I’m so sorry. I’ve ruined everything. This, you and me, how will you ever trust me again?’

  ‘Hang on, hang on.’ Wanda held Annie’s shoulders to still her. ‘Explain it to me. I’m not angry. Why aren’t you at Blod’s?’

  It all tumbled out. Her ex wanting custody of Teg, threatening to take the dog; being unable to stay at Blod’s, leaving hers as soon as she went to bed, pitching the tent in the dark, grabbing a few hours sleep fully clothed, cwtched up for warmth with Teg; making tea on her stove first thing before packing the tent away and sneaking back before Blod was up. Wanda counted her blessings all at once – Annie’s whole life had been suffering: this dog of hers was her baby, the one she’d raised when her dickhead of a husband wouldn’t let her have kids. And she’d come to this little piece of garden, a place she was pouring her heart into, seeing it as her only sanctuary.