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

by Laura Kemp

  Annie gasped at the threat, her brain scrabbling for words amid her horror. How she hated him. How she wanted him to curl up and die. Her breathing had become shallow and she felt herself losing her courage. Was this how it was always going to be? She’d believe she’d taken a step away from him and then he’d reappear, soiling her progress with reminders of where she’d come from.

  ‘Good job I’ve got CCTV, ain’t it?’ Spike said in a low voice as if he’d sensed her desperation.

  ‘Yeah, right, ’course you have,’ Dean said, thrilled to have had a tug on his line.

  ‘You going to risk it?’ Spike pulled himself taller, towering above Dean’s skinny frame, and he visibly shrank.

  Annie hated the fact it had taken body language to make Dean stand down; for this physical power was something she would never have. That was the kind of neanderthal Dean was. But she realised she could deliver the final blow. Because he’d made a mistake in coming here – he’d got too big for his boots. He’d dropped the dog-custody nonsense but still felt it was his right to intimidate her.

  ‘You come near me again and I’ll refuse to divorce you.’

  ‘So?’ He was having a go at a comeback. But she had him by the short and curlies.

  ‘You’ll have to wait for that money you need from the sale of the house … the money you need to repay the false expenses you claimed for, why you lost your job, that you only got to keep quiet about because you said you’d pay it back double.’

  ‘Bitch.’

  He started to retreat, but he wasn’t finished.

  ‘Comfy at Blod’s, are you?’

  Again, he was letting her know he was keeping tabs on her.

  ‘You’re too much of a coward to turn up there!’

  ‘Am I?’

  ‘I’d watch it,’ Spike growled. ‘I’m a witness now.’

  Dean quickly turned away and his footsteps gradually faded until he was swallowed by the night.

  Instantly, Spike was filling the air with expletives and what he’d like to do with him. And then the apologies began. ‘Sorry I got involved, it’s your battle to fight, I know I shouldn’t have stepped in. I just wanted to back you up, give you some support.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ she said, relieved the scene was over. ‘I’m just glad he’s gone. Do you have CCTV, by the way?’

  ‘No! But first thing tomorrow I’ll get some. Oh, come here, Annie,’ he said, reaching for her. ‘Talk about from the sublime to the ridiculous; what a night.’

  But Annie couldn’t accept that. Security cameras in a place like this were unnecessary, an abomination that she would be responsible for.

  ‘Spike …’ she hugged herself instead of him. ‘I can’t do this.’

  ‘What? What do you mean?’ His eyes examined her fearfully.

  ‘Arthur could be dragged into this.’

  ‘So what are you saying?’

  ‘I’m saying that we … leave this … for a while.’ She felt her chin wobble as she said it. This was killing her. But too much was at stake – Arthur had to come first. And really, this was what she deserved. The scale of her joy was so huge that it couldn’t be real. It wouldn’t last. ‘I just feel so attached to Arthur that if something happened to him …’

  ‘Don’t you think I hadn’t thought about that?’ Spike’s face was softer, imploring, telling her he would care for her.

  ‘Well, yes, of course.’ But things had changed. The world had gone back to monochrome. This was what she had to do to make sure Arthur was unharmed. Look what had happened to Ryan when his life had been messed up by a bad man. That was all she cared about.

  ‘But if you feel it’s too complicated, too risky, I understand.’ He had agreed readily. Perhaps it had been too soon for him after all.

  ‘We can still be friends, can’t we?’ But she would never forget his kiss, how it had transported her to a place she’d never been before and she knew she wouldn’t go to again.

  ‘Yes. Definitely. Arthur would never forgive me if we weren’t.’ Spike gave her a weak smile and she suggested with her eyebrows that they head back to the party.

  ‘I think I’m going to call it a night,’ he said, suddenly weary. ‘Teg can keep me company.’ Instead of Annie? Was that what he had imagined? Because Annie had as they’d touched. Yet now it would only ever happen in her dreams. She couldn’t feel sorry for herself about it – this was what she was used to: she was a loner, to have proper friends like she had now was more than she’d dared expect.

  ‘Can I take you home?’ he asked.

  ‘I ought to see if Blod wants to go back,’ she said, reluctantly.

  ‘Cool,’ he said, shuffling his feet. Where there had been no air between them, there were acres of space now.

  Her arms ached to hold him again. Had Dean not appeared then they might be leaving together. But better it ended now, before she really fell for him and her bad luck and baggage cast a bad spell on the most precious of fathers and sons. Spike was still standing there, and she wondered if he thought she might change her mind. She couldn’t. And she wouldn’t.

  ‘I’d better go,’ she said, nodding, squeezing her fists tight, keeping her fingers curled up in case they dared to unfurl.

  But before she left him, she allowed herself one last gorgeous look at the man who’d been hers for one magical moment.

  26

  Sunrise on the mountain top – do it!

  Chloe, Deb and Hazel, Cardiff

  Campsite Visitors’ Book

  Wanda’s alarm went off but it was pitch black around her.

  Was this a nightmare? No. She was definitely awake. A joke, then? But what kind of an idiot would set a clock for 3.15 a.m. on a Sunday morning?

  It took her a few seconds to remember: she was that kind of idiot. And she only had herself to blame.

  Some campers had returned from a sunrise climb of the mountain this week and they’d shown her the most amazing photos. If only they’d been the walking-boots brigade then she could dismiss them as such. But they’d been three really nice women who’d been after an adventure on a mums’ weekend away. ‘You’ve never done it?’ they said. Well, then, she’d felt not shamed exactly, but inspired. If only Wanda hadn’t told Lew about it last night after they’d had a skinful at the disco. Drunk on the power of being international rock stars from Abba and Queen, they’d decided they’d do a super-group mash-up dawn climb to the peak one day! ‘Tell you what,’ she now recalled saying with a groan, ‘it’s the longest day tomorrow! Let’s get into the summer solstice vibe!’ ‘Yeah! Let’s!’ Freddie Mercury had postured, with a half-wonky moustache, which did nothing to curtail his good looks. Now she prayed Lew would have forgotten all about it. If she just lay here and didn’t move and shut her eyes … Ping!

  ‘Coming, dancing queen?’ he said. ‘Got stuff for brekkie and a flask! Be here by 3.45 at the latest.’

  It had been her idea – what could she do? So with a flamboyant throw of the duvet, she managed to sit up, stagger out of bed, dress, clean her teeth, get down the stairs, grab a torch and stagger up the hill to the beat of her banging head. She flashed her light at him and snorted. Lew was looking as dishevelled as she was. Wordlessly, he handed her a swig of his water – she’d already necked two glasses before she left but hangover thirsts were unquenchable.

  ‘This better be worth it,’ she said, stumbling alongside him on the path as they set off, shivering from the coldest part of the night. ‘It’s actually quite nippy.’

  ‘We’ll warm up,’ Lew said, ‘out of sheer bloody exhaustion. My legs are aching already.’

  ‘That’ll be from you leaping off tables with your microphone broomstick.’

  ‘Was that before or after you teamed up with Agnetha to do “Dancing Queen” – on the stage?’

  ‘It makes a change from being a drama queen,’ she said. ‘
Think yourself lucky I didn’t come as Mick Hucknall – there aren’t many gingers in rock and roll to choose from. Oh, why did we do shots with Blod?’

  ‘I’d like to put it on record that you insisted on the tequila.’

  ‘Just think of the smug factor when we get there,’ she said, albeit unable to possibly imagine it when her sheets would still be warm.

  ‘That’s the only thing keeping me going.’

  ‘And breakfast. What time’s sunrise?’

  ‘Four fifty-three a.m.’ Just over an hour from now. Hopefully they’d have a brew going by the time they watched the sun peek over the horizon.

  They fell silent, their feet and breathing making the only sounds. There were no birds, no car engines, planes or wildlife. The line of shrubs which chattered with life in the day was dormant, the stile barely visible, the woodland as dark as a cow’s stomach.

  They were probably the only ones up in the entire village. Ha! Apart from Spike and Annie, who had disappeared together and then she had no recollection of either of them returning. Tonight would definitely have been the night for them! As was becoming usual, Wanda and Lew had ended up hanging out all night together.

  Somehow they always found themselves side by side in spite of the blurred boundaries that Wanda tried not to think about any more. If he had something to tell her, he’d do it in his own time: she wouldn’t try to prise him open, she wasn’t sure she’d like whatever it was he had to say. Whatever, they were drawn to one another, like an inevitability.

  And here they were again. Under a starry sky. It made the slog worth it: with each step they climbed closer to the Milky Way, which was running like a river through the heavens, lighter in the middle, brighter with every gasp. A lurch, though, and they’d be done for. And the earth loomed black, slowing them down.

  ‘This is actually quite scary,’ she said, as she misjudged her footing and slipped on a scramble of scree. Lew was there to grab her.

  ‘Try it with a backpack!’ he said, panting as they stopped to clear their rising panic.

  ‘Don’t worry, I know someone in Mountain Rescue. Although he might be over the limit.’

  ‘Not helpful,’ he said. Just a few minutes into a mammoth climb and they were already blinded by the night. The bounce of the torchlight threw up creepy shapes. They were unable to see beyond their feet and hands. It was hard to judge direction because of the wind which blew from all angles. And this lack of perspective, this absence of a looming peak, robbed them of all their orientation.

  ‘Should we turn back?’ Lew said quietly, taking hold of her hand. Their pulses were in rhythm, out of fear, exertion and sheer stupidity. ‘Imagine if we got lost. We’d never live it down. This is going to take forever.’ They stood in silence, feeling terribly small in the universe. Wanda was on the verge of surrender. And then the universe must’ve known, because it sent them a sign.

  ‘Look!’ Wanda cried.

  An ever-so-slight strip of orange had appeared where the mountain met the sky. It revealed they were at the bowl of the hill – they knew the rest of the ascent off by heart. And while it was obvious, it needed to be said to spur them on. Lew did the honours. ‘It’s getting light!’

  He gave her hand a squeeze to gee them on. ‘Let’s just do this. Like you said, we just need to act and be brave.’

  His eyes sparkled in the moonshine.

  ‘Yeah?’ she asked, wondering if this was his way of telling her he’d taken on board what she’d said the night the tent collapsed. Because that had been weeks ago and he hadn’t shown any acknowledgement of it in their contact before now.

  He nodded.

  ‘All right then,’ she smiled and he grinned back lopsidedly at her. Her insides fizzed. So on they went, hand in hand, slowly but surely, concentrating hard, pointing out rocks and stumbling blocks, as the lunar-like path zig-zagged upwards. Their climb was difficult but repaid by the ever-changing sky – it was as if a lighter had been put to a touchpaper, sending up slow motion flames of colour. Wanda would pause every now and again to photograph the view of deep navy hills against the orange, reds, pinks and purples. It was staggeringly beautiful and spurred them on to quicken up, to make up time; if they pushed hard they’d do it. They took off their jumpers, knowing they’d be bare-armed for the rest of this long day, and finally, the creamy top of dawn revealed the ridge, which was the toughest stretch. They navigated the narrowed corridor of earth and stone, aware of the abrupt edges which fell away mercilessly.

  And just as they got to the top, slapping the trig point in a high-five of celebration and adding their own to a pyramid of stones left by climbers before them, the tip of the sun broke the skyline. They’d done it! Lew threw off his backpack and Wanda twirled around in a circle, blown away by the never-ending blue panorama of hills and heavens. She wasn’t into crystals and all that stuff but there was definitely a higher power involved somewhere along the way.

  ‘This has got to be an official mountain, Lew. It’s just got to be.’

  ‘And it will be, I’m sure of it. And soon.’

  Lew’s arms came at her and they embraced, laughing and gasping, and then he didn’t let go, and she found she didn’t want him to either. They had the land to themselves, miles and miles of it, as if they were explorers claiming discovery. Euphoria flowed back and forth in an infinite loop: they swayed from side to side, her head against his neck, her nose breathing in his salty scent, her mouth just touching his naked skin. Lew’s hands were sweeping her back and a primal sensation seeped into the periphery of her mind. Once she’d felt it, she couldn’t control it – heat swept over her, she could feel blood rushing to her lips, her nipples and between her thighs. Oh God, he was delicious.

  ‘I think I’m still drunk,’ she swooned, gazing into his eyes, feeling completely erotic, and then dropping her head because this couldn’t be happening.

  ‘Me too,’ he whispered.

  They’d only ever been this close once before: back in the shepherd’s hut fifteen years ago. But he was different now, he’d filled out, the muscles of his back dipping into his spine and the padding of his chest more pronounced. He was a man now and she was a woman. The tempo had changed, his touch was firmer but slower, more sensual. She was lifting her chin, he was dropping his and their cheeks were touching. Millimetre by millimetre, they were moving their faces until their noses were together and their lips crept towards each other’s until they found a symmetry. Their heads tilted and Lew’s breath was mixed with hers and their mouths were seconds from finding each other. She had to feel his skin, she needed to put her hands on him to check he was really here – they went under his top and her fingertips touched his firm and soft sculpted back and he did the same, slipping his palms onto her, caressing and massaging, as they became lost in each other. Still they hadn’t kissed, it was like they were saving themselves until they reached the point of explosion. As her confidence and desire grew, her hands rose from the small of his back, feeling the two indents of dimples that she had desired in her dreams – but what was this? A rough expanse, rippled with what had to be scars.

  ‘No,’ he said, suddenly pushing her off. The sun was completely up now and it seared her eyeballs.

  Confusion swept through her – what had she done? What was wrong? They stood there speechless, staring, breathing hard. Wanda not understanding, Lew full of … what? His eyes were wide; was that fear? Was she terrifying? Had she hurt him?

  ‘What is it?’ she said, imploring him to tell her what the Welsh cakes had just happened.

  He gulped and looked down at his feet, his hands on his hips.

  ‘Lew, tell me. I might be able to help. Lew, it’s me. It’s always been you and me.’

  She’d said too much, she’d known it as soon as it had left her mouth – the guard would crash down again. But when he looked up at her, she saw he was close to tears. She reached out to him, her body
pleading for him to explain.

  ‘This is why we can’t be together, Wanda.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘My back. The skin, it’s an old burn injury.’

  ‘So?’ She’d want him if he was an old Yorkshire pudding charcoaled at the back of the oven. ‘I don’t care! You should see my stretch marks!’

  ‘It’s not about that …’ He rubbed his face with his hands. ‘You’re perfect.’

  She was perfect! He’d just said it! But, of course, it hit her: this was the first slice of the dumping compliment sandwich. Say something nice, fill it with rejection, finish off with another slice of something kind.

  ‘Don’t tell me, “It’s not you, it’s me … Right, well, it’s been lovely getting to know you but after several decades I’ve realised it’s not working out.”’

  ‘Listen, Wanda …’

  ‘What?’ She bristled with irritation. ‘I have wanted this … you … ever since we met. Even though you used to put snails in my school bag. There’s not been one day when I haven’t thought about you. You’ve got to be straight with me because I can’t keep playing this game of getting close then having to step back again. If you don’t feel the same about me, just tell me. I’ll get drunk, cry, bore everyone senseless, pretend I’m absolutely fine when I bump into you, curse whoever you end up with, and then eventually I’ll be all right, I’ll meet someone, maybe, and if I don’t I’ll have gone travelling anyway to get away from you. So please, this has gone on for too long.’

  ‘The burns,’ he said. ‘They were from the fire.’

  ‘The fire. The “fire” fire, the one at the campsite?’ she asked with trepidation. ‘From fifteen years ago?’

  ‘Yes. I was there when it started.’ He looked very guilty, barely able to meet her eyes.

  ‘You?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Suddenly the space between them multiplied as shock sent her reeling backwards, away from him, repelled by his presence. She felt sick at the sight of him.