Page 13 of A Sky Full of Stars
Charlotte bridled at his tone. ‘Of course,’ she snapped back. ‘I’m not in the habit of letting him run riot.’
The ‘could have fooled me’ expression on Tristan’s face stayed with Charlotte long after the man himself strode out of the garden.
Sensing that Lorelai was lingering on the patio after Tristan’s exit, Charlotte smiled as brightly as she could. ‘He, er, seems nice,’ she said, although she could hear from her own tone how insincere she sounded.
Lorelai gave a brief smile, and then sighed. ‘I’m sorry that Tristan was a little short with you,’ she said. ‘He’s been trying to convince me to stop taking in lodgers. Says I’m getting too old. Keeps reminding me what could happen if one of my guests turned out to be a wrong ’un.’ Her smile, this time, was apologetic. ‘He knows I only accept people who’ve got good references, in your case, of course, the university gave you a glowing write-up, but he seems to think, at my age, I might be in danger of losing my marbles.’
‘From what I’ve seen of you so far, all of your marbles are very much in the jar!’ Charlotte tried to lighten the mood.
‘In the jar, and packed in tight,’ Lorelai agreed, and this time her smile was more convincing. ‘But he worries. It’s not surprising, really. He and his sister have had such a tough time of it since they lost their parents. And this Observatory Field development is taking it out of him. He has a habit, though, of, what did the therapists call it, displacing his fears. I just call it lashing out at the wrong target!’
Charlotte’s mind began to whirl. Amidst all of the information that Brian O’Connor had told her since she’d begun working at the observatory, there’d been something that had nagged at her; some connection she’d been struggling to make. She drew a deep breath, wondering if what she was about to ask was going to be too intrusive. She’d only met Lorelai a couple of days ago, and she didn’t want to upset her. But, she reasoned, she was going to be digging into the records of the observatory in detail soon: it would be good to know exactly what she was dealing with before she got too immersed.
‘Can I ask you something, Lorelai?’
Lorelai glanced up from the roses she’d been deadheading in the flowerbed by the patio. ‘Of course, love. What is it?’
‘When Brian O’Connor, who let me into the observatory today, was explaining some of the history of the site, he mentioned a couple of people by name – Laura and Martin. They seemed to be pretty significant people in its timeline.’ She paused, wondering whether to continue, but Lorelai nodded her head almost imperceptibly. ‘Brian seemed surprised that I didn’t know about them, seeing as I’m lodging here.’
Lorelai drew a deep breath. ‘Martin was my son, and Laura was his wife. We lost them in a car accident thirty years ago.’
Although she already knew about the accident, Charlotte was still lost for words as Lorelai confirmed her connection with Martin and Laura. Such a tragedy, even all these years later, was shocking.
‘I’m so sorry, Lorelai,’ she said gently. ‘I can’t imagine how terrible that must have been for you. For all of you.’
Lorelai nodded sadly. ‘It was. For me and their children it was the worst kind of loss imaginable. But for Brian and the rest of the Lower Brambleton Astronomical Society, it was also very painful.’ She gave a brief smile of recollection. ‘Martin and Laura were the heart and soul of the Lower Brambleton Astronomical Society in its heyday. They met at university, where they both studied astrophysics. Although their careers took them into industry rather than academia, they still maintained a keen interest in astronomy, and they helped put the observatory back on its feet in the late 1980s, after the first threat of demolition came onto the horizon. The observatory had been winding down in the 1970s, but there was a flurry of interest in its records when the Winslow papers were deemed to be of special interest. I’m sure you’re well versed in that part of the history. That, and some minor discoveries made by astronomers in the 1960s, kept it from being torn down forty years ago.’
Charlotte nodded. ‘Yes. I’ve studied many of the papers. For such a small site, it was a real hive of scientific activity for decades.’
Lorelai acknowledged Charlotte’s statement with a brief incline of her head before she continued. ‘Well, Laura, Martin and the rest of LBAS, as they became known, kept the observatory going, adding to the records with their own findings and making sure it kept its spot on the astronomical map. I’m sure Brian filled you in on a lot of the history.’
‘He mentioned Laura and Martin’s names, and that LBAS were known for their parties as well as their astronomy.’ She smiled. ‘It sounds like they were a very tight-knit group.’
‘Oh, they were,’ Lorelai smiled, but the smile was replaced quickly by a wistful look. ‘That’s why, when we lost Laura and Martin, you could say that the life went out of the observatory, and of LBAS, too. After that, things went into a decline. None of the remaining members of the society wanted to spend much time there, and it was gradually decommissioned. It couldn’t be sold for a number of years, but when the right time came, its owner felt it was time to repurpose the land.’ Lorelai gazed out across the garden towards the delphiniums at the bottom. Charlotte let her have a moment. She didn’t want to intrude, but she was still very interested in the story.
‘It all became a bit of a white elephant in the end,’ Lorelai continued, finally. ‘As romantic as the observatory might seem to a newcomer, it’s long outlived its usefulness. It’ll be good, finally, to see something new on the land.’
Charlotte was surprised by Lorelai’s philosophical attitude: it seemed at odds with the huge and terrible loss she’d suffered. She would have assumed that, should something so awful happen, it would be comforting to have somewhere like the observatory as a memorial. Then she thought back to the unloved, untidy, nearly derelict site that was Observatory Field and began to see why Lorelai might think that way. What was the point in holding onto a building, when the people who brought it to life were long gone?
‘I hope that having me here, doing the job I’m doing for the next few weeks won’t be too painful for you and your family,’ Charlotte said gently. ‘Please let me know if you’d rather not talk about it. I don’t want to dig up old memories.’
Lorelai leaned over and gave Charlotte’s hand a squeeze. ‘I appreciate that,’ she said. ‘It’s actually therapeutic, in a strange way. I know you’ve not been here very long, but I already feel as though what’s left of the observatory will be in safe hands. And it’s about time someone who really knew what they were doing sorted through all the papers and documents. Bless Brian and his group, they did their best to preserve everything, but actually what’s needed at this point is a fresh pair of eyes. I’m glad you’re here.’
Feeling touched and a whole lot more at ease with the project now that she and Lorelai had spoken, Charlotte headed off to make dinner. She couldn’t begin to imagine how awful the loss must have been for Lorelai, Tristan and Thea, but at least she could understand now why this development project was so important. She vowed to give it the time and respect it needed, to finally bring the strange half-life of Lower Brambleton’s observatory to a close.
15
Charlotte was arranging her own hours at the observatory, and, once Brian had given her keys to the padlock on the gate and the building itself, she didn’t have to stick to a strict nine-to-five schedule. For the next few days, she constructed the database that she was planning on using to catalogue the documents she found, working at the desk in her room at Nightshade Cottage. It didn’t make much sense to drag all the way up the hill to Observatory Field just to stare at a computer when she could be working in the comfort and light of Nightshade Cottage’s annexe. She knew she needed to be efficient, to get her systems up and running so that when she was spending time at the observatory, she was using it productively.
She’d been getting up early, before the heat of the Somerset summer sun was at full strength, to take Comet for a wander through the lower slopes of the woodland. At seven o’clock in the morning, the woods had an ethereal, unworldly air, and she was getting quite addicted to the heavenly scent of pine balsam mixed with mouldering bracken that the damp, early morning mist produced. Comet loved it too, darting in and out of the trees, snuffling and sniffing at the scents of rabbits, badgers and the roe deer that inhabited the woodlands. They were a vulnerable fringe, a buffer between the rest of Lower Brambleton and the site of the new housing estate, and Charlotte felt a sense of relief that they weren’t going to be bulldozed to make way for more houses. Some things had to remain, in the midst of all of this change.
Once their early walk was complete, Charlotte began working each day. Comet, happy to stretch out in a burgeoning patch of sunlight that peered its way through the sash window in the living area-cum-study of the annexe, was usually quiet until the afternoon, when he’d request a quick pit stop in the back garden. They’d walked through the woods a couple of times in the evening, too, but Comet wasn’t too fussed about a second walk. The fresh country air was exhausting him, and they were both sleeping well when they eventually turned in.
Staring at a computer screen for hours on end, though, was hardly edifying. It was the part of her job she liked the least, even though it was necessary for the successful completion of a project. Finally, after a few days of tweaking and amending, she was satisfied with the setup. By way of celebration, and because supplies in her fridge were woefully low, she decided to take Comet out for a longer stroll that Saturday morning. She knew that there was a farm shop on the furthest boundary of Lower Brambleton that was within walking distance, and so she decided it was time to check it out.
The route on foot to Saints Farm shop was meandering, and just the exercise both she and Comet needed after a few hours’ work at the desk. Although she was reluctant, initially, to let the spaniel off the lead, the lane that led from Nightshade Cottage to the centre of Lower Brambleton was extremely quiet, and so, for about a quarter of a mile, she unclipped him so that he could dash up the sloping verges and have a good sniff. When she knew she was getting closer to the main road, she put his lead back on. Comet had excellent recall, despite what his early escapades at the observatory would suggest, but even the most well-behaved dog could get spooked.
The main road was quiet, too, which wasn’t entirely surprising. Lower Brambleton was one of those charming little hamlets that were dotted all over Somerset: not big enough to have its own school, but to her left as she walked, Charlotte could see the austere grey tower of what looked to be a Norman church. Most likely thirteenth century, the building was still standing, but the tower was at a rather interesting angle. She wondered if services still took place there.
