Page 58 of A Sky Full of Stars
I also wanted you to know that I’ve been seeing someone.
That sentence, right at the bottom of the page, made her stop in her tracks. Charlotte’s heart did a little painful thump as the words registered with her entire body. She and Tristan had called a pause, that was true, but she hadn’t imagined he’d move on so quickly. Maybe he wanted to just forget it had all happened? The way things had been left between them had been traumatic, but she still faintly hoped that they’d see each other again eventually.
Realising she was just staring at the letter, she gave herself a mental shake and turned over the sheet of paper.
Thea and Gran were haranguing me about talking through some of the things that might have led to that awful night at the observatory, so I’ve decided to see a therapist (God, I HATE that word!), to help me to come to terms with the stuff I’ve been running away from for all these years. It’s early days, but one of my therapist’s first suggestions was that I try to find ways to process the little things, find the wins, as a way to tackle the larger things, and so I thought that sending this to you was a good way to start. This isn’t to put pressure on you, though. I know that you’ve also got a lot to work through, and our broken pieces won’t automatically fit back together.
Charlotte felt the relief washing over her, both that her first assumption was wrong, and also that Tristan was obviously trying to work on the issues that had dogged him for so long. That could only be a good thing.
I do miss you. I’d love to see you again, if you’d like to see me. If you’d rather not, though, please just accept the enclosed as a gift. I think it will have a better home with you than if it stays with me.
Yours,
Tristan
Putting the letter down on her desk, Charlotte delved back into the parcel and drew out a wooden case. In a flash, she knew what the box contained. Carefully, she put the case down on her desk next to the letter, flipped the brass catches and lifted the lid. And there, nestled in its protective black velvet lining, was the Unitron Refractor telescope.
Charlotte knew better than to try to lift it out of the case. One of the first things she’d learned when she did her qualifications as an archivist was never to just delve in and grab any artefact, to make sure your hands were clean, and you were as calm as you could be. Her hands were trembling too much to risk it now. So instead, she just gazed at the beautiful instrument as the tears started to fall.
56
‘So, what do you reckon I should do?’ Charlotte was sitting on Gemma’s extremely comfortable sofa, nursing a glass of wine and brooding quietly. She’d left the telescope at work for the time being, still undecided as to whether to donate it to the archive or keep it herself. There was no conflict of interest – Professor Edwin had read Tristan’s letter and confirmed that, since Tristan was giving her the choice, she was indeed free to decide where the telescope ended up. The question was, did she want to possess an artefact that was so intimately connected to Tristan and his family? On the one hand, if they decided not to continue their relationship it would be a reminder of what had happened between them; on the other, if they did meet up again and decide to pick up where they’d left off, Tristan might not want the continual reminder of the role his uncle had had in his parents’ personal and professional lives. The gift, though thoughtful, was now causing her head to ache. Perhaps the best thing to do would be to just put it in the archive and forget about it.
But Charlotte couldn’t forget about that wonderful night they’d spent stargazing in Tristan’s garden. She didn’t want to forget. Her heart was telling her one thing, and her head, as usual, was telling her another.
‘Well, you’d better at least text Tristan to thank him,’ Gemma replied. ‘If nothing else, he’ll want to know that the parcel got to you all right, and in one piece.’
‘I’ve been drafting and redrafting a text since I opened the bloody thing!’ Charlotte said, taking another sip of her wine. ‘I just can’t seem to get the tone right.’
‘Perhaps that’s because you’re not as decided now as you were when you left?’ Gemma observed. ‘I mean, let’s face it, you’re back doing your house parent thing and when you’re not looking after pissed undergrads you’re in the archive sorting out the Observatory Field papers. Now, Tristan’s sent you this gift and it’s put your mental planets out of orbit again, after just managing to get back on an even keel.’
Charlotte winced at the mixed metaphor, but she knew what Gemma meant. ‘I guess so,’ she conceded. ‘But it’s difficult to reply with anything other than a “thank you, it got here safely” when I still haven’t decided what to do with it.’
‘Then just do that,’ Gemma reasoned. ‘You can always follow it up with something more detailed when you’re ready.’ She topped up both of their glasses. ‘Now,’ she continued. ‘How did the first time out in the new car go?’
Charlotte grimaced. ‘About as well as you’d expect.’ She’d decided to brave the world of motoring again since returning to Bristol. Being out in Lower Brambleton for the summer had reminded her just how useful it would be to be more mobile, especially when she couldn’t rely on public transport or Gemma to get her places. Her parents had gifted her some money as an early Christmas present which, combined with her pay for the Observatory Field job, allowed her to buy a second-hand car and insure it. After much stalling and crunching of gears, she’d gradually stopped shaking and taken a first proper drive around the city.
A little voice in her head had reminded her that, should she have her own car, it would be easier to travel to see Tristan, too, but she’d hushed it firmly. This wasn’t about Tristan. All the same, she hoped that if she gained some confidence in her driving she might be able to take a trip under her own steam to Lower Brambleton again. She quite fancied visiting and staying connected with the new friends she’d made. And if she was ready to see Tristan, so much the better.
‘I’m happy to sit in your passenger seat, too,’ Gemma said. ‘Although I’m not sure how good a support I’ll be!’
‘Thanks.’ Charlotte smiled at her friend. ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’ She took her phone out again and was looking at the text in her drafts folder. Would ‘thank you, the telescope arrived safely’ really be enough to send to Tristan after such a heartfelt letter? She sighed and put her phone down again.
‘Stop overthinking it!’ Gemma said firmly. ‘And either send it to him now or put your phone out of reach. One more glass of wine and you’ll be drunk-texting something you’ll regret.’
‘All right,’ Charlotte grumbled. She put her phone back into her backpack. ‘I just wish I knew what to do.’
Gemma tilted her head to one side, and Charlotte realised she was under scrutiny. ‘Well,’ her friend said eventually, ‘this sounds like a cliché, but what is your heart telling you to do? Forgetknowing, and tryfeelingfor a bit. Maybe you’ll find the answer.’
Charlotte shook her head. If only it were that easy. Taking another sip of her wine, she settled back against the sofa and tried to focus on the television, where Gemma had selected another episode of their guilty pleasure viewing,Outlander.Watching Sam Heughan wooing Catriona Balfe across the wilds of time, Charlotte, feeling drowsy, began to wonder if the situation with Tristan really was as complicated as she was trying to make it. Perhaps it was simply a case of trusting the stars.
57
A week and a half after Charlotte had taken delivery of the telescope, Tristan still hadn’t quite got used to getting decent reception in his Portakabin office, and actually getting messages and WhatsApps through on the site’s newly established wi-fi was almost intrusive. For the first couple of weeks on site the inconvenience of a patchy connection had been counterbalanced by the fact that he could only really be reached when he got out of Lower Brambleton’s black spot, and it was almost liberating. Now everything had gone live, and he was reachable wherever he was, he felt a little cornered. It hadn’t helped that he’d left his phone in the office on Saturday afternoon when he’d popped in to check a couple of last-minute details on the heavy plant machinery that was arriving on Monday. Now, on Sunday morning, he should have just picked up his phone and left again – he had a lunch date with Lorelai and Thea and the kids, but he found himself compelled to check a few more details for Monday, while he was here.
Grabbing his phone where it was face down on his desk, his heart raced when he saw it was a message from Charlotte. She hadn’t been in contact since she’d gone back to Bristol, and so it was with some trepidation he’d sent her the Ultron Refractor telescope and his letter. What had happened between them had felt unfinished, and he wanted to offer her his perspective on things, just as a way of providing his own full stop. Whether she chose to respond was up to her. For days after he’d sent the package he’d been on tenterhooks, but now, at last, that waiting seemed to have come to an end.
Hi Tristan,
