Page 45 of A Sky Full of Stars
‘Then howwouldyou put it?’ Tristan sprang up again from the tree stump. ‘You’re the expert. Do tell me.’
‘I’mtryingto tell you.’ Charlotte tried to keep her voice as calm as she could, but she suddenly felt as though Tristan was telling her off again, like the first time they’d met. ‘I don’t know why this wouldn’t have been documented at the time.’ She reached out a hand and tried to touch Tristan’s arm, but he stepped away from her, out of reach. ‘There should be at least a footnote in a journal, a reference to your mum and dad in relation to the discovery, but there’s nothing. The professor who was at North West Wessex at that time, Professor Jacobson, should know more. Your dad emailed him back in the day, to ask for his assistance in corroborating the potential discovery, but then the trail ends there. It doesn’t make any sense. Todd’s going to try to track him down as he moved to an American university and had tenure until he retired a couple of years ago. He wants to work out why the paper trail went cold after that email from your dad.’
Tristan stood stock still, his expression unreadable as he took in what Charlotte was saying. Eventually, he broke the rather uncomfortable silence that had descended between them.
‘I appreciate that this is important to you,’ he said. ‘And perhaps, if I’d spent the past few weeks immersed in the project as you have, I’d be champing at the bit to find the answer to what’s clearly a bit of a puzzle.’
‘It’s more than that!’ Charlotte couldn’t disguise her irritation at Tristan’s understatement. ‘It’s a significant discovery that potentially should have been attributed to your parents. Aren’t you even a little bit excited or energised by that?’
‘Do you want the truth?’ Tristan asked, and Charlotte immediately noticed a different, more brittle tone in his voice.
‘Of course I do,’ she said, trying to keep her own tone calmer than she felt. ‘Tell me, Tristan, please.’
Tristan’s eyes met hers for a long moment before he averted his gaze to look down the long, straight track of the next stage of the woodland path. There wasn’t anyone on the horizon, and for a moment, it felt to Charlotte that if there had been, Tristan might not have been so honest.
‘I’ve spent my life trying to move on from what happened to my parents,’ he began quietly. ‘I wanted to manage the Observatory Field project because, to my mind, razing it to the ground was the best way to get away from the stranglehold it has on my family. And now, when we’re literally days away from the final phase in that process, you’re telling me that the book might not be closed, after all?’
Charlotte’s shock at his words must have registered on her face, because before she could respond, Tristan continued. ‘Thea, my grandmother, and I have all rebuilt our lives after what happened to my parents. The last thing any of us needs right now is for an over-enthusiastic archivist to go digging about in the past, raking up memories that we’ve all tried to move on from. When Mum and Dad died, we all needed to put some distance between ourselves and the observatory. Even though the bloody place stayed in the family so long, what was left of the family needed the space. Gran’s brother didn’t make that process easy; he blocked every attempt she made to sell the land and I never really knew why. When he finally died and left his share to Gran, we discussed what should happen next. Painful as it was on some levels, it was agreed that the best thing to do was to sell it. Everyone made peace with it, and although Gran was determined to ensure its contents were preserved for future academics to study, none of us had any intention of becoming immersed again in a past that was so painful for us.’
This time, when Charlotte put out a hand to touch Tristan, he let her. ‘I understand what you’re saying,’ she said gently. ‘And I can’t even imagine how difficult and traumatic this final stage of the observatory’s history has been for you. For all of you.’ She paused, considering her next words carefully. ‘But wouldn’t you rather know that your parents got the credit for the discovery that they deserve? If it does emerge that they found the binary first, their names should go alongside it.’
Tristan shook his head. ‘Can’t you see, Charlotte? It doesn’t matter. So what if they found this eclipsing binary thing first? It doesn’t bring them back. Even if they do get credit for it, it’ll be just another footnote in a scientific journal that no one will bother to read. It means nothing.’
‘Are you telling me to just forget about it, then?’ Charlotte retorted. ‘Because at the end of the day I’m an astronomical historical archivist, and spotting things like this is part of why I do what I do.’
‘I can’t tell you to do that.’ Tristan’s tone was gentler now, and his eyes were locked on Charlotte’s, pleading with her to understand. ‘But please… tread carefully. The last thing my family needs is to be dragged back into the past. We’ve tried to escape it for so long. If you can’t leave it where you found it, then at least grant us the courtesy of not involving us.’
Charlotte nodded. ‘I can try not to.’ She gave a brief smile, trying to reassure Tristan. ‘Besides, all of this was before the internet became commonplace… there might not be anything more to tell.’
‘Does it sound awful that I hope there isn’t?’ Tristan asked. He suddenly looked incredibly tired and vulnerable, and Charlotte thought she saw a trace of the small boy who’d lost his parents all those years ago. ‘I’ve spent the best part of thirty years trying to get away from the horror of what happened that night. I’m not sure I’m ready to revisit it.’ He stepped forward and Charlotte was enveloped in a warm embrace. She rested in his arms, a combination of relief and frustration battling within her. Her heart told her to respect Tristan’s strong wish for her potential discovery to be abandoned, but her head and all of her academic training were screaming at her to keep following the trail. Tristan’s feelings were one thing, but sometimes emotions had to take second place to science. She still didn’t know which territory this particular conundrum could claim to be in.
44
Monday morning arrived with mixed emotions for Tristan. It was his first day in the Portakabin office on the Observatory Field site, and he’d spent most of it getting his papers into the right places, setting up the wi-fi router, which, irritatingly, wouldn’t be connected until the following week, and making sure everything was in order for the commencement of the build. Charlotte wasn’t on site today, having chosen to work from Lorelai’s, but he felt relieved. It would have been difficult enough to concentrate as it was, knowing she was at the other end of the site, after yesterday.
He believed Charlotte when she’d told him that it was all over between her and Todd. Why wouldn’t he? She’d stated in no uncertain terms that there was nothing between them, and he had no reason to doubt her. That she’d neglected to mention Todd making a flying visit to Lower Brambleton nagged at him, but he trusted Charlotte and he knew he could take her at her word when she explained why she hadn’t said anything. They were still in the early days of their relationship, after all: she didn’t owe him an explanation about everything she did, and everyone she chose to see.
On the other hand, he’d seen that acquisitive look in someone’s eyes before, and he didn’t like what he saw in Todd’s gaze when he’d been wrapping up his conversation with Charlotte. She’d tried to reassure him that there was nothing to worry about, but his insecurities ran deep. He’d felt as though he might finally be allowing himself to take risks with his emotions, and it was a cruel twist of fate that the day after he’d come to this realisation, Charlotte’s ex had shown up. He might trust Charlotte, but he definitely didn’t like Todd one little bit. Something about his perma-smile and the confident way he’d approached them at their table rankled.
And then there was the information Charlotte had dropped about the potential binary star discovery made by his parents. While this wouldn’t be an earth-shattering discovery in the grand scheme of things, and the canon of astronomical revelations, it had been enough to set his world even more off-kilter. Tristan liked order, and his mantra was always to move forward. He didn’t want to be dragged back into a past he’d spent so much of his life trying to get away from.
So now here he was, about to sign off on the demolition of the observatory building and consign whatever it was his parents had discovered to the dusty annals of history. But what did it matter? He’d lived with the tragedy of their death for decades; why should he now start caring about the place that had, indirectly, been the cause of it? He remembered, as a young child, being almost jealous of the hold the observatory had over both of his parents: how he’d got bored just hanging around up there while they spent what felt like hours aligning instruments, making calculations and discussing their observations with each other and the rest of the Astronomical Society. With the imminent demolition of the observatory, he could finally lay all that to rest.
It was ironic, then, that out of the greatest tragedy of his life the greatest potential for happiness had sprung. He wasn’t enough of a romantic to think that he was head over heels in love with Charlotte yet, but she was clever, funny and seriously attractive. He wanted to spend more time with her, to get to know her. He was astute enough to realise that the potential was there for him to fall deeply in love, if the daft smile that he could feel creeping over his face whenever he thought back to this weekend with Charlotte was anything to go by. He’d even grown to like her dog.
The paperwork he had onscreen was enough to banish all further thoughts of romance from his mind and concentrate it on the future of the observatory site. A DocuSign copy of the agreement for the demolition of the building was staring him right in the face, confirming the date that had been set, which was a fortnight from today. After he’d signed off on this, the observatory would be closed to everyone and no one would be allowed on site until the demolition was complete.
He looked at the screen for a long, long time before he signed it. As the document updated, he felt a visceral sense of loss, of letting go of things, of ideas and thoughts that would now, truly be consigned to history. But it was for the best. This was going to be the start of a new phase for Lower Brambleton, and also for him and his family. He knew it would be a great start for Thea and her children, and many others who’d benefit from the new development.
As if she’d been aware he’d been thinking about her, Thea’s name flashed up on his phone. Swiping, he spoke.
‘Hi, Thea? Yeah, I’m fine. What’s up?’
‘Can you come over later? I need to talk to you.’
Tristan wrinkled his brow. He had hoped he’d be able to see Charlotte tonight, if she wanted to see him. He felt uneasy about the way they’d left things after their walk, but not wanting to appear needy, he’d given her some space and not pestered her with texts or calls. She’d told him how busy she was going to be in the run-up to the demolition, and he didn’t want to be the cause of any distractions. He had, however, hoped that she might be free for a drink later.
‘All right,’ he said, when he realised that Thea was still waiting for an answer. ‘What do you need to talk to me about?’
