Page 5 of A Sky Full of Stars
Making her way across the field of tall grass, wishing she’d put jeans on instead of the cut-off denim shorts she’d chosen for the walk, she drew closer to the building. First impressions were not encouraging. There was mortar missing from between the serried layers of red brick, the dome that topped the observatory and provided the opening for the telescope was green with age and, alarmingly, had what appeared to be cracks across several facets. A vibrant green ivy plant twined possessively up one side of the building, and the windows that were inset into the heavy metal door at the front of it were grimy and blackened with dust and cobwebs.
Charlotte had been warned by the contact at Flowerdew Homes that the observatory had lain abandoned for some years, and that a security company had looked after the land and the building since it had closed, but that hadn’t stopped quite a few attempts by people hellbent on breaking in to try their luck on the site. As a consequence, there was a heavy chain-link fence wrapped protectively around the building, with razor wire on top, and piles and piles of junk and rubbish, obviously fly-tipped, at various points inside and outside the fence’s perimeter. An old mattress, mouldy and damp, lay on its side just past the padlocked chain that marked the entry to the building. Several black bin liners, their contents spilling out like innards, obviously having been attacked by the local wildlife in need of a snack, were piled up. Charlotte wrinkled her nose at the smell of rotting refuse.
‘I think I’d best put you on a lead when you come with me tomorrow,’ Charlotte said, reaching down to touch Comet’s soft head. It was partly for her own reassurance. She’d known the building was going to be a challenge, but the reality of it, deserted, abandoned, unloved, abused by time and indifferent locals, gave her a sense of melancholy that she was finding hard to shake. After the peace, tranquillity and wonderful atmosphere of Nightshade Cottage, it was an unpleasant contrast.
Pausing a moment longer to look at the path that led from the gated fence to the front door of the observatory, Charlotte wasn’t prepared for Comet, who’d caught sight of something on the other side of the fence, to suddenly wriggle through the gap between the gate and the fence and shoot off in pursuit.
‘Comet!’ she shouted, heart thumping. ‘Get back here, you bugger!’
Comet, however, was following his instincts. She watched as he rounded the corner of the observatory and disappeared from view.
Calling his name again, she started to panic. This place, with all of its waste hazards, would be an absolute nightmare for a naturally inquisitive dog. He could have eaten anything by the time she caught up with him, not to mention cutting his feet on discarded items. The thought of syringes, rusty tin cans and broken glass raced through her mind. Shehadto get through the gate and get him back before he seriously injured himself.
If only she’d waited until she’d arranged to meet the contact that Flowerdew Homes had appointed! He’d have all the keys, and it would have been a matter of moments to retrieve her dog. Pushing against the fence, she attempted to wriggle through the small gap that she’d managed to create. It wasn’t going to be big enough, she realised. She had one arm through, but that was about it.
‘Comet!’ she yelled again, but frustratingly, the spaniel remained out of sight. Pushing herself harder into the gap, breathing in as far as she could and starting a rather unbecoming wriggle, Charlotte could feel the cold steel of the fence biting into her back and chest as she wedged herself between the gate and the fence. ‘Just a little further…’ she muttered to herself, thanking goodness she’d only had one slice of toast for breakfast. But it was no good. She’d pushed through as far as the fence was prepared to admit her in its locked state.
‘Comet!’ This time, there was a hitch of pain and frustration in her voice.
Then, breaking into her worry came a harsh, angry voice. ‘Just what the hell do you think you’re doing? Didn’t you read the bloody sign? This is private property, and you’re trespassing!’
6
Tristan Ashcombe wasn’t having a good day. In fact, if he was being honest, the whole week hadn’t been that much cop, either. Or the month. Or the year to date. And now, what was supposed to have been a brief recce of the Observatory Field site to double check a couple of details before the final planning meeting on Monday had turned into a rout of yet another trespasser. Why couldn’t they just leave this bloody place alone?
‘Oi!’ he shouted again. ‘Can’t you hear me? The observatory is out of bounds.’
Striding through the long grass, his jeans-clad legs that were tucked into Wellington boots made short work of the fifty yards between himself and the interloper. In irritation, Tristan swept his curly light-chestnut hair out of his eyes, which were now fixed on the figure who was struggling, seemingly caught between the gate and the fence. As he drew closer, to his further annoyance he realised there was a small, scrappy-looking dog gambolling around the entrance to the observatory building.
‘I suppose that animal belongs to you, too, does it?’ he snarled as the blasted dog began to yap. ‘Can’t you shut it up?’
The woman, who was still struggling to free herself from the two halves of the fence, turned furious eyes to him. ‘He’s protective,’ she snapped back. ‘He doesn’t like it when people shout. Especially dickheads who appear to be threatening me.’
Tristan stopped a couple of yards in front of her. ‘Well, maybe you shouldn’t be trespassing, then,’ he retorted. It was bad enough that he’d been dragged down here on a Sunday morning, and now he had to deal with some hippy-dippy walker, who, from the look of her, probably believed she and her dog were entitled to roam anywhere they chose.
‘I’m not trespassing,’ the woman, whose auburn hair had caught in the links of the fence, retorted. ‘I just wanted to take a look.’
‘Well, you’ve no right to be here,’ Tristan replied. He paused. ‘You or your badly behaved dog. Don’t you know there are hazards behind that fence where idiots have been fly tipping for years? Both of you could end up injured.’
‘Don’tyouthink I know that?’ she replied. ‘I hadn’t been intending to go anywhere near the place. Comet wriggled his way through the gap in the fence, and I was trying to rescue him before he got hurt.’
Tristan’s irritation subsided fractionally when he heard the concern in the woman’s voice and saw the way her eyes suddenly glistened at the thought of her dog suffering a mishap. He gave a deep sigh. ‘Well,’ he said after a beat or two, ‘it’s a bloody good job I brought the keys along with me, then, isn’t it?’ Briskly, he unhooked the key holder from his jeans and hurried forward to unlock the padlock that kept the thick steel chain in place. As he did so, he caught the warm scent of a floral perfume emanating from the woman’s body. Fumbling slightly with the padlock, he pulled it away and the chain slithered to the ground, landing coiled and snake-like in the long grass.
‘There you go,’ he said, pushing the gate open. ‘Now you can get your dog back.’
‘Thank you,’ the woman replied stiffly. She looked up at him, and her clear blue eyes, the same colour as the sky above them, showed appreciation along with some residual discomfort.
‘Comet!’ she shouted, moving away from him. She went to go further into the compound where the observatory building was.
‘Stop!’ Tristan said quickly. He’d noticed, as she’d moved away from him, that she was only wearing a pair of Grecian-style flat sandals on her feet. Open toes and thin soles were no match for the potential dangers embedded in the long grass. ‘Like I said, there’s all kinds of stuff in there. You’re not exactly dressed to get through it.’ He looked down again at the woman’s denim shorts and insubstantial footwear. ‘You don’t want to get stabbed by broken glass, barbed wire, or worse.’
‘What about Comet’s paws?’ the woman replied. ‘I can’t just let him run around in there.’
Tristan sighed again. ‘Give me his lead. I’ll get him.’
‘He won’t come to you,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t like strangers.’
‘Have you got any treats?’ Tristan replied. ‘My gran’s old Labrador would go with anyone if they offered him a gravy bone!’
