Page 40 of Rewrite the Stars
‘I’m not going to be in this wheelchair forever, you know,’ he told me with tears in his eyes. ‘I feel like such a loser, not being able to dance with my sister on her wedding day.’
I shook my head, willing my own emotions not to show. ‘You’re going to ruin my make-up if you keep going, you rascal! Don’t go making me cry, now! Youwillwalk again. You’re too stubborn not to.’
Matthew gripped my hands when I went to let go. He wasn’t finished.
‘I hope I didn’t ruin your life, Charlotte,’ he whispered to me, his face etched in agonizing pain. ‘You rarely sing and you never write, do you? Tom Farley believed in you and even possibly loved you, but I couldn’t get past my big fat ego to let it happen. I hope you are telling me the truth and that you’re really happy with Jack.’
I felt my nose itch and I sniffled, which told me I was on the edge of letting go of a burst of emotion, but I couldn’t. I breathed out.
‘Iamhappy,’ I assured my brother. ‘Now, let’s hit the bar and celebrate your little sister getting hitched. I need a gin and tonic. A large one! And I think you do too.’
Emotions were high, but I held it together knowing that fate was playing its part in my life and I reminded myself I was the luckiest girl in the world.
It was my wedding day. Of course I was happy.
‘So, eight o’clock then at the new steak house?’ I say to Sophie, who is now on a roll of examples of how habitual and boring our husbands are fast becoming.
‘Yes, see you then,’ she says, still on her rant. ‘Did I tell you he is growing abeard? It’s the most hideous thing I’ve ever seen! I swear he’s losing the plot, never mind his hair!’
My head, on the other hand, is still full of arithmetic and spelling rhymes from my day at school. My new job is ‘different’, let’s say, and after two full months in, I’m just not totally convinced I fit the bill. I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad it’s Friday and I can’t wait to get home into the warmth of a bubble bath in our new dainty cottage.
With an authentic thatched roof, whitewashed walls, red ornate sash windows and two floors of country-inspired living designed by Jack’s long-time friend Rick, whose impeccable taste gave it the wow factor, it’s a world away from the buzz of city life. It reminds me in a way of the pace of Loughisland where everyone knows your name and your neighbour lives across the fields, rather than next door. I’ve even started an Instagram page for interior design lovers and my followers are growing rapidly, way quicker than I ever anticipated. It’s the closest thing to heaven and is slowly beginning to feel like home.
I say goodbye to Sophie, smiling at her observations of married life, and reflect on the past few months which have been progressive and exciting in so many ways, yet hugely challenging as I do my best to adapt to a whole new approach at Holy Trinity.
I wasn’t even going to apply for the post, but Jack found it in the newspaper and almost broke his neck to get it to me, insisting it was just the step up I needed. A fresh start to go with our new life as a married couple.
‘They’re going to love you!’ he told me on the morning of my interview. City life was busy and fast, and I still enjoyed every day at St Patrick’s where I’d cut my teeth as a teacher and was so attached to the pupils and parents who were now so familiar, but he was right, I needed a challenge. I needed a change. I’d tried to pour some energy into writing songs in the evenings, but it just wasn’t happening, so instead of forcing it, I decided to take a crack at a fresh start in a new school. When I got the job, my family were absolutely over the moon, but I was devastated when it came to leaving St Patrick’s. Although I know it’s early days and a big change, I’m still not sure if I’ve done the right thing for me.
‘I do believe if you fell into manure you’d get up smelling of roses,’ my sister Emily said when she came round to celebrate my news of moving to a ‘very posh school’. ‘Mam and Dad are wondering if they could announce your news inThe Timesjust like Jack’s parents did when you got engaged! You’re definitely going up in the world!’
There was no doubt about it, life was moving on really fast for our family, with Matthew and Martin now settled, not in Dublin, not in Loughisland, but across the country on the west coast of County Galway where Martin had taken a career break in dedication to seeing Matthew walk again. It was a bold and brave move but, just like me with my new job and new home, I could see that Matthew also needed some fresh energy to allow him to really shift his life up a gear.
‘You’re playing a blinder,’ Jack reminded me this morning when I left for work, nervous again about a whole new day ahead. ‘Plus it’s Friday and we’ll have some fun tonight.’
I’m so glad it’s Friday.
I sing along to Ed Sheeran on the radio, then the familiar voice of the DJ who accompanies me on my journey home most days announces his next track with news that makes my ears prick up as I approach the rainbow-coloured village of Ardara.
‘Next up it’s the latest from one of my favourite bands of the moment,’ says the DJ in his usual upbeat, eager tone. ‘They’ve just announced a long-awaited new arena tour which will get all you fans up and close with them at last! They just keep getting better and better! It’s Blind Generation, with their new single, “Move Into Me”.’
I slow down a little as the tick-tock drum beat opens the song but instead of panicking, then switching channels as I’ve often done when I’ve heard or seen any reference to Blind Generation, I turn the radio up and put the windows down. I’m determined to shift my mind-set and Tom Farley’s wondrous voice fills the car.
It’s a clever melody with a catchy hook and by the time I pull into the stony driveway that leads to our cosy cottage, I’m singing along without any of the old anxieties, fears or regrets that I once associated with the first person who truly broke my heart.
I am a mature, successful, independent, talented woman who is proud of who I am now and of who I was then. I’m over him. I’ve forgiven myself once and for all, and to prove it, I do something I should have done a long time ago. I open my emails and, right then from the driveway of my new home, I send Tom Farley a message to acknowledge his massive success, and to give myself closure from the ghosts of my past.
Dear Tom,I write quickly.
You mightn’t even use this email address any more, but I just heard your new song on the radio and thought I should send a long overdue message of congratulations from one friend to another. I know I’m about three years late, but better late than never, I hope!
I’m so delighted for you and all you’ve become, Tom.
I only wish I’d had the courage and maturity to say it before now, but sometimes it takes the heart a bit of time to catch up with the mind.
I hope you’re enjoying every moment of your wonderful life which I’ve been following from afar as your star keeps rising. Keep pumping out those hit singles, you talented sod! You deserve every bit of success that comes your way – I’m rooting for you, and always will.
Most of all, I’m so, so proud of you Tom Farley.
