Page 87 of Birds of a Feather

‘What star sign are you?’ she asked.

‘I’m a Gemini,’ Nick replied.

‘I see,’ Jarrah said thoughtfully, caressing an imaginary beard. ‘A Capricorn and a Gemini …’

‘But I’m not a Capricorn,’ I said. ‘Remember? I’m now a Sagittarius. Because of the new thirteenth star sign. An Ophi-something.’

‘Ophiuchus. No, apparently that wasn’t true,’ she said, rolling her eyes as though she was disappointed in the universe for providing her with misinformation.

‘What?’ I squawked.

My mind flashed over the events of the last few months. I thought of Jarrah telling me about the new star sign, and how I’d bought a lotto ticket to prove there’s no such thing as fate. I recalled Leo the lotto CEO’s big white smile as he congratulated me on my win, which had led to my conversation with Gran when she first told me about Gerry.

‘What do you mean there’s no thirteenth star sign? You said there was.’

A group of Gran’s herbarium colleagues standing nearby looked around to determine the source of my raised voice.

‘Calm down, Bethie,’ Jarrah said softly. ‘Why are you getting so upset? You don’t even believe in that stuff.’

I looked at Nick, who was studying me intently.

‘Of course I don’t. It’s just that …’

My head was swimming as I thought about what Gerry had said on the night Gran died, about her and Gran being star-crossed lovers, and that maybe their relationship had to happen so I would meet Nick.

‘NASA tweeted about it,’ Jarrah continued with a casualness that belied that she had no idea that her announcement about the thirteenth star sign had set in motion a series of life-changing events.

‘Apparently, rumours of the extra star sign surface on social media every few years. You were right about the Babylonians. They did divide the zodiac into twelve segments and lined it up with the calendar. But, according to NASA, it’s not that simple; the constellations are different sizes and shapes, and the sun spends different amounts of time lined up with each one.’ She traced her foot in an arc in the dirt. ‘The sun actually passes through thirteen constellations. Not twelve. But those crazy Babylonians just ignored the last one because it didn’t neatly fit with their calendar. It’s been there all along.’ Jarrah nodded, as if this explanation should settle it once and for all.

My mouth fell open.

‘But none of that really matters, does it, Nick?’ Jarrah posed, squeezing him in a side hug. ‘Sometimes, the universe has a plan for us, whether we like it or not.’

Jarrah wandered off towards Mum and Dad who were surrounded by a crowd of people congratulating them on their performance. This didn’t irk me, though; they deserved the praise being showered upon them.

Nick stepped towards me, put his hands around my waist and drew me towards him. And, despite everything that had happened, I felt an unequivocal sense that everything was just as it should be. Celestial even.

Epilogue

Beth

Three months later ...

‘Bonjour,’ Dad said as he greeted me at the door for lunch on my final Saturday before I left for London.

He was wearing a black waistcoat, had a red scarf around his neck, and he’d drawn a curly moustache on his upper lip; tonight’s theme was French, so of course he had.

His face contorted with shock when I stepped into the light of the hallway.

‘Bethie,’ he gasped. ‘You’re wearing a beret.’

I pawed at my head. I had seen the beret in the window of an op shop store and decided it might be fun to play along. After all, this would be my last family lunch for a while.

‘Très bien,’ he whispered as he gave me a huge hug. ‘Très bien, indeed.’

When they appeared, Mum and Jarrah both looked like they’d stepped off the stage of the Moulin Rouge. Elijah showed off his Converse: the ultimate French footwear, apparently.

Dad handed me a flute of champagne. ‘It’s French fizz,’ he said proudly. ‘Only the best for my daughter’s send-off. We thought about making today’s lunch English-themed, but warm beer just didn’t seem fitting for such an important celebration.’

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