Page 11 of A Sky Full of Stars
Brian said goodbye, arranging to return and lock up in three hours’ time. He’d laughed when she’d suggested that she could phone him, reminding her again about the lack of signal. She resolved not to stay for the whole day, since Lorelai had charge of Comet and she was still finding her bearings, but as Brian left her alone, she couldn’t resist wandering around the room that had been the observatory’s research hub. It was silent now, although she could make out the sounds of the wild birds overhead, probably nesting in the secluded nooks of the dome. She imagined what it would have been like back in its heyday, with keen astronomers congregating here to log star patterns, cosmological phenomena, and the trails and paths of comets across the sky, at all times of year. Certainly, the technology had changed, and it was easier now to document things digitally, but she felt electrified at the prospect of getting her hands on the original handwritten or typed notes that were bound to be lurking in the filing cabinets and on the shelves of the records room.
She’d have plenty of time for that. Today was about getting a feel for the observatory and its history. She’d need to develop some systems if she was to do justice to the stacks of paper and documentation that she was going to have to sift through. Pulling open the top door of an army-green steel filing cabinet, whose label, handwritten, was still attached to the front but had long since faded, she let out an involuntary gasp as she saw how crammed full of paperwork it was. Some of it was suspended in document files, hooked snugly over the rails of the drawer, while a lot more had just been shoved into cardboard document wallets of varying hues and thickness. It would take some doing to get this lot in order.
It’s like Miss Havisham got a hobby and worked out how to use a telescope, she thought, giving a short laugh. The sound faded into the dim light of the records room, and, feeling oddly unsettled for the first time since Brian had left, she shivered. Maybe it was the thought of Dickens’s tragic character, but the observatory suddenly felt a lot bigger, a lot bleaker, without Brian showing her around.
Best get used to it, she told herself firmly. She was a research team of one on this venture, and from the looks of it, she’d be occupied from dawn until dusk for the duration of her stay in Lower Brambleton. She realised that she was feeling more nervous now she’d seen the size of the job than she had before she’d come here. The context that Brian had given her had made her all the more aware of the imminent loss of it. She found it strange that she hadn’t encountered anyone as yet who felt a sense of loss for the observatory’s looming demolition.
13
After what felt like the fiftieth phone conversation of the day about the five hundred interminable details of the Observatory Field site that needed to be settled before work could finally progress, Tristan Ashcombe hung up the phone in his office and let out a long, frustrated sigh. The Observatory Field build was already a year behind schedule, and he was counting down the days until ground was actually broken and the project could begin. Then, and only then, would he be able to relax.
Tristan was, by nature, a details man. Always had been. That was what made him so good at his job. As chief project manager for Flowerdew Homes South West, he needed both the macro and micro view of a project, and while this played into his, even by his own admission, tendency to be a control freak, it also made him an excellent choice for the housebuilding company. That and his desire to constantly move forward. Tristan never looked back if he could help it. Building new homes, where people could realise their dreams for the future, was his principal driving force, and he’d been at the head of five previous developments, all of which had regenerated and revitalised their local areas, providing hundreds of people with the chance to live in the places they’d grown up.
He was, of course, well aware that this wasn’t always the case with developments. They were often met with violent opposition from people who saw new houses as a threat to the status quo of their surroundings. Early in his career, he’d worked as an assistant for a number of house builders who’d ridden roughshod over the residents, and the landscape. He’d vowed that, when he eventually had the experience, he’d only work for a company that took each plot on its individual merits, not just in the interests of profit, but in the interests of the local community.
He knew that this often set him against the capital-driven goals of the businesses in question, and it had taken him a long time to find a company that aligned with his principles and personal philosophy. And up until now, he’d been extremely happy with the outcomes of the projects he’d managed. Then, Observatory Field had been earmarked as a site for regeneration, and everything Tristan believed in was now being tested to the limit.
It wasn’t that Observatory Field was a bad site: far from it. The buildings on the land had lain empty for years, and the pleasing flatness of the landscape above the steeply inclining woodland lent itself well to the prospect of an estate of small, affordable, well-constructed dwellings that would enable people who were priced out of the local area to really put down some roots. The permission for the access road had been granted four years ago, and after the last deeds and covenants on the land had been recovered from the solicitor in Burnham on Sea, permission had been sought and granted for the new estate. On paper, the development was everything that Tristan strived for and would ensure that many people over the next few years would be able to settle, have families and bring new life to an area that needed an infusion of new blood to keep it alive.
There was just one problem. Observatory Field held a lot of history. Not just in the ground, but in the skies above. And when you, as project manager, were intimately connected with that history, that was when issues had the potential to arise. Despite this, he’d been cleared to project manage the development. His intimate knowledge of Observatory Field could be a benefit, and Flowerdew liked working with people who had an interest in the sites they developed.
The phone on his desk rang again, and, snatching it up in irritation, Tristan barked a terse ‘Hello?’ into the receiver.
‘Tris? Is that you? Everything all right?’
The familiar voice of his twin sister, Thea, came down the line. Immediately, he softened his tone. ‘Hi, Thea. Yes, I’m fine. What can I do for you?’
‘I promised I’d pop in and see Gran tonight, but I’ve been called into Cora’s school for a meeting. Is there any way you can swing by on the way home, check in on her?’
Tristan suppressed a sigh. He’d been hoping to stay late and iron out some of the details from the most recent land survey that had taken place on Observatory Field. There had been some question over a couple of metal compounds that had been found in the soil, and he needed to clarify a few things. If he had to call in on their grandmother, he knew he’d need to do it earlier rather than later.
‘Can’t you get over after the meeting?’ he tried.
Thea’s sigh was more audible than her brother’s suppressed one. ‘Not really,’ she said. ‘My car’s in the garage, so I’m stuck until close of play tomorrow. I’m having to walk to school and back as it is.’
Realising that Thea’s matter-of-fact tone was probably hiding a multitude of woes, Tristan acquiesced. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Is the car going to be all right? Do you, er, need any help?’
‘Nothing I can’t handle,’ Thea replied. ‘Just time consuming and expensive, but what isn’t these days?’
‘Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do,’ Tristan replied, knowing full well that Thea wouldn’t. They were both afflicted with a stubborn, self-reliant streak, and it was the thing that drove them mad about each other. They might have been born together, but they’d strived for independence ever since.
‘Just check in on Gran for me, and I’ll deal with the rest,’ Thea said. ‘I mean, you’re virtually on the doorstep these days, aren’t you, for the duration of the build?’
‘Not quite yet, but soon enough,’ Tristan replied. Once Observatory Field was properly underway, he’d be spending a few months on site in a Portakabin office before moving on to the next project, and he was sure Thea would be calling on him a lot more regularly to check in on Lorelai. He was currently still in the office in Taunton, which was about half an hour away from Nightshade Cottage, but he couldn’t say no to Thea’s request. It was very rare that he denied his sister anything.
‘Yup,’ he agreed. ‘OK, Thea, leave it with me. Hope everything goes well at school with Cora.’
‘Thanks, Tris.’ Thea gave a hollow laugh. ‘She’s been unsettled lately, and her teacher wants to talk about how that’s been manifesting itself in class. It’s not surprising, given what she and Dylan have been through over the past couple of years, but hopefully she’ll settle down again soon.’ Thea had endured a traumatic separation from the children’s father, who’d shown very little interest in pursuing a relationship with them after he’d left the family home. Thea, while outwardly recovering, was finding the life of a lone parent exhausting and tricky at times.
‘What’s she been doing?’ Tristan asked. He was ridiculously fond of his niece and nephew, and didn’t like the thought of either of them being less than happy.
‘She punched a boy in the face,’ Thea groaned. ‘Naturally, she had provocation, but I think what really took the biscuit was that she was quoting Henry V part 2 when she did it.’
‘What?’ Despite the seriousness of the deed, Tristan couldn’t help spluttering with laughter. ‘Why the heck was she doing either of those things?’
‘Well, her best mate, a little boy called Harry, was getting mercilessly picked on by this kid so Cora took matters into her own hands – literally,’ Thea replied. ‘And as for the quote… I might have watchedThe Hollow Crowna few times lately… she obviously overheard Tom Hiddleston giving it some during the whole “God, Harry and St George” speech and decided it would be the perfect accompaniment to a smack in the mouth!’
‘Well, I’ve got to give her points for originality!’ Tristan smiled down the phone. ‘Violence aside, she’s got a great future ahead of her in the theatre!’
