STARLIGHT (IN FULL) BY FIONA CUMMINGS

 SHORT STORY STARLIGHT BY FIONA CUMMINGS

I stood frozen. Numb to reality. The stars were beautiful. Like diamonds glistening in the ink sky. So pure and unspoiled. A mist, from my breath, framed the night’s jewels, as the cold bled through my body. Hands in my coat pocket, I knew this was not the way I should be standing, a lady on her own, in the middle of nowhere at night, my self-defence teacher would have a fit, as she used to lecture us, on how to stand. With our back against a wall, hands ready, with thumbs tucked under our fingers and feet slightly apart. There were no walls, just fields. My fingers would have dropped off, if I did not have them in my pockets and as for my legs? I couldn’t even feel them.

If someone did attack me, I would not be even able to scream, as I felt as though my face had been filled with rat poison!,

How on earth was I going to say hello to this guy?

Why on earth did I agree to meet with him here?

I mean, it went against everything I believed in.

But I didn’t want him knowing where I lived and where I live, is the problem. There is no public transport after five pm.

We were to meet at night, at seven, though it was eleven minutes past by that point.

I would for sure not get home, as there were no busses at all in the evenings.

I didn’t drive and taxis would not come out so far as where we lived.

I say we, because I live with my Husband of eight years and our daughter who has just turned four.

They are safely out of the way tonight; Greg took Libby to see her Granny and Gramps. I made my excuses and was left to be unwell on my own, well that’s what Greg thought.

What was I thinking? I mean, I am only a  twenty seven/eight minute walk to some sort of civilisation, but, our village is a blanket of suffocation into other people’s lives.

Oh, my nerves cannot take much more.

Then my phone rang. I looked at the number on the mobile, it read

“Steve.

I think my brain was frozen too, as I just looked at the screen, not answering. Not being able to press except call or talk. I mean, I could not be able to say a word. I would just sound so unattractive my face was so cold.

This was not how it was meant to be. I was to be so romantic. Our first meeting.

All these months on the net, writing to one another. Me laughing with him, reading his beautiful words telling me how good I made him feel. How important I was, me, important? Not just Libby’s Mum, not Greg’s wife and housemaid, but important to someone intelligent like Steve.

We had not even spoken on the phone and the first time he called me, I couldn’t answer the blooming phone.

Scared I guess, scared of rejection. Hearing more words saying he was unable to pick me up like what we planned. Afraid to have to walk back home, to an empty home, feeling a fool.

I guess it would have taught me a lesson?

OK, I decided to turn on my heels and head home.

Just then, I heard the heavy fast footsteps. Coming my way. Oh my God? There were no cars in sight, no people apart from whoever were following me. Not even a house I could knock on the door to ask for help?

My heart was beating in slow motion. My legs were about to stop. I could not walk. The air in front of me was pushing me backwards. Then it happened.

Slam and crunch. As I fell into a bad part of the track, a place which led to the lane towards my house.

I fell and hurt my ankle. Oh God, I was going to die, I would never see my little girl again. Who would feed my dog as Greg was away for the whole weekend?

How would I meet with my death? A bang on the back of the head? A knife? Would I be dragged? Forced into a car at the top of the avenue?

Then as I tried with no hope, to stand, the footsteps drew closer, slowed down, oh there were no street lamps at that part of the road, perhaps he had not seen me? I would keep still and let him walk past.

Then I felt it, a hand on my shoulder.

A face lowering down towards me!

Then the words.

”Are you alright love?”

As he bent down to look at me, the silver moonlight allowed me to see the shape of his face and his kind smile.

He asked,

“You’re not by any chance Leia, are you?

Leia Tamzwell?”

Oh, God, it was him, it was Steve?

“Steve? Steve Denby?”

“Yours truly, God love, let me help you up?

I put my hand around his shoulders and his strong arms supported me. He lifted me up like I was a feather. I felt so safe, so warm and so so, loved.

I could not remember the last time I felt like that in a man’s arms. Not even when my daughter was being conceived. Not even the dark dreadful, December day I gave my Husband his daughter.

How I was going to walk, an look normal? Was beyond me.

Oh my God, it was so embarrassing, an yet, I felt relaxed. From the fear I felt some moments, previous, to that moment in time? It was his way, his manner, his gentle caring persona .

I could not remember the last time I felt like this, I guessed it was when I was a child and my Father picked me up as I fell on some horrible gravelled path. I hurt then so much, but my Father made it all right!

Would Steve make it all right for me?

He had a lot of fixing to do in my life.

  My Husband was a cruel man; he married me when I was just seventeen. I lived in the city then; I had lots of friends, a family and a spark about me.

When we married, we moved here, into his Grandfathers cottage. A cold damp and I swear haunted place of living.

As for the  ghost/ghosts? If not his departed Grandfather, it could be his Father, who actually died five months after Gregs Grandfather... As for the women in Greg’s life? I was not allowed to ask questions about them. All I knew was they were not at our wedding, I met his Father briefly, he came for the wedding but did not stay for the reception. Why? Another mystery. But the man left me cold. Greg said it was because of the death of his Grandfather, his  Father just went into a depression, but to  be honest, though I was a very early bride, my young years on this earth, taught me that Gregs Father, did not seem to be the type of person who would allow himself to suffer from depression.

To have depression, one would think one should have a heart and for sure he had his removed at birth; in I’m sure, what would be an extremely complicated biopsy.

An orange lamp shone through the old flaked front window of the cottage. A window which showed years of  neglect. The  cobbled path  leading to the door of the house, barely closed. Rattling in the February night, the echoes of the lid, flapping, on the old coal bunker in the back alleyway seemed like it was chasing us away, but where to go? As we approached the front door, no key needed, as the door had been broken for at least the latter two years of our daughters life, the doorbell hung from wires too. It was one of those ancient bells, the ones with the hanging chimes. On our door we had a heavy iron door knocker, in the shape of a lion’s head. We didn’t really need a doorbell, not with our dog Sammy. A mouthy Collie, with a cautious need for approaching him, but a caring thing, once you got past the front door. He would lick you to  death, but I never told anyone that.

When  Greg was out on the fields some two acres away and beyond, I felt the fear of the silence of country life.

As I felt ashamed, entering the front hallway, as there was no  difference between outsides frost and the bitter bareness of the stone walls inside.

Not even a warm carpet met us, greeting Steve. A neglected bare wooden floor was the first thing Steve saw. He asked me where I would like to sit? I thought for  a while, wondering what room I was happy with Steve seeing?

I indicated to the kitchen. In there, the floor was as cold if  not more so, but I could turn on the argar. The floor was slate, I scrubbed it that day, and tried to keep Sammy in the yard most of the day, so it still looked very clean. There were limited work surfaces. And right  there, stood this huge argar of a cooker. Greg used to sicken me as he would use that, to place the rejected baby lams in until they dried out? Oh I hated cooking in there, no matter how many times I cleaned it out.

The rustic bread board lay on the old oak table and the wobbly chairs were placed around it, so precise. With the exact gap, between each one.

On the windowsill was a vase of freshly picked snowdrops, they looked pretty with the frost for their background on the window. Framed by the floral curtains I had made the year before. In the corner of the room, was a top loading washing machine and a cuddly toy on the top, I had washed for Libby to take to her Grandparents. Oh I thought, she will never sleep tonight? I wanted to run to her, scoop her up and bring her home, but I could hardly walk and I had a guest.

Steve asked me where our emergency first aid box was?

I looked at him feeling ashamed for the fourth time, since meeting with him just ten minutes before. He looked up at me, as he was removing my shoe and said,

“I guess you have one Leia?

I gestured towards the cupboard under the old green sink, which like everything in my cottage had seen better days. Greg would say in a boastful  voice,

“That’s a Belfast sink? The best you can ever get?”

I never was, or never will be convinced on that one.

I’m sure that is what his Grandfather used to tell him as a child, and his Grandfathers father before him.

The gentle attention in which Steve cared for me was simply beautiful. Almost hypnotising me into falling deeply in love with him.

I was enjoying this state of mind so much.

I asked him if he would like for me to put the kettle on and make him a drink? He said, no, you sit there and I shall do it? Oh God, wait until he found out how he was to put the kettle on?

I looked towards him, with a hopeless expression upon my face.

He awakened an emotion that had been a sleep for a long time. Laughter. Telling me about his car, how he was to pick me up in it and how it jigged about right in the middle of the motorway, then stopped. It was the sounds he was making, it was his facial expression, and it was the thought of the other drivers, as he acted out their faces, pushed against their car windows, making angry motions towards him. He is so funny.

Just then, I heard a diesel sound. Sammy barked blocking out any voices that may have confirmed who it was?

Oh God, it would be Greg, as Libby would not sleep without Bobbins, her teddy bear. Oh my God? I felt sick, cold and absolute fear.

With my foot fixed to the best that was possible, I used the walls to lead me to the front door. I opened it and stood there, was Max, the guy who fixes the tractors on the farm.

“Sorry to bother you L, but Greg asked me to look at the top tractor and he didn’t leave me the key, so if I could just grab it and I will make a start at eight tomorrow morning, I won’t’ bother you early then?

“Oh, em, sure, ah, well, I shall grab the two bunches of keys and hand you them all; I don’t know what key is what?

Well I know, just let me in and have a look. Save me taking all of the keys?”

“Oh no, it’s OK? I shall bring them to you!”

Max looked at me, he knew, he knew there was something up. I prayed to God, that Steve would stay out the way in the kitchen.

 I opened the cupboard in the hallway and handed two lots of keys to Max.

He gave me a suspicious look and walked off.

I closed the door, oh God, I wish it locked?

I had to get Steve out of there.

 

I told him, I could not see him again. I said I was married, as he already knew and said I could not bear the stress if my Husband found out?

He looked so sad, he looked as I felt.

No more sun in my dark days. No one to talk to online. No one to tell me I was special, I was loved and I was worth waking up for.

A life’s choice. A continuation of this cruel prison.

My heart was torn and my life was ripped.

I was to pay the price. My life was to be in hell. My heart and soul, was to be in the arms of Steve. Am I a fool after all?

As Steve left the cottage, he turned to me and held my face in his hands.

”You and I have something wonderful. Something that the stars have in their plan for us. You shouldn’t fight it Leia. Follow your dream, don’t live like this? You have my number and email if you change your mind. No one has ever made me feel like the way you make me feel?”

Just then, he lent down, and kissed me.

As he pulled away, I wanted more. I wanted to shout to him,

“God, I’m wrong, I have been a fool,. I wanted to pull him back into my arms. Oh God. What to do?

 

I can tell you I didn’t sleep at all that night and the ironic thing was, When Greg and Libby returned, Greg said that Libby slept soundly without her teddy. Life was back to normal, the cold cottage had that smell of fear about it. The constant dread of just waiting, hanging around for Greg to come home, from work. His job meant that could be any time. I was week; I shivered with loneliness and regret. My heart was of  love and my soul  was full of a kind of beautiful dream,, how could I feel that way, about someone I had spent one hour with? Countless emails and a couple of texts, but no real contact, well, that is a strange statement, as the connection was actually so strong before we met. As though our souls had met in a past we did not understand.

Oh what to do, I still had Steve’s number, I looked at my mobile every day, night, and even through the night, crazy really, but I just wanted Steve to text just to say Hi!

What would I do if he did? I mean what would I say?

A bad two weeks had been with Greg and myself. He was as rore as ever with me, I had enough. I was tired of the life with him, every day feeling that pain of fear and sadness. Just wanting to feel safe. Hungry for laughter. Aching for a gentle kiss. It was not about sex, it was about being able to be just me. Not a cook, cleaner and Mother. I mean, at Libby’s age, you are really there for them only, yes they love you in their own way, but it is a kind of selfish way, you know? They need feeding, bathing, entertaining, educating and made to feel safe. Though Greg never hit Libby, she somehow was still very afraid of him, so I was there to make her feel safe for at least part of the day.

I was exhausted by the giving I did.

My dog needed feeding, grooming, walking and again, attention. I had to cook for Greg, if the food was not on the table, you would not want to know what I endured for a punishment.

The simple things in life, like going to the hair dressers? Even that was forbidden. Jenna, Maxes wife, came to the house and cut my hair for me. Nail varnish? I was not allowed to grow my nails, let alone paint them. How I would love to be treat like a lady for one day. No signs of mud, no tractor sounds, no booted men, entering my kitchen to make flasks of tea, with their filth on my floors. I scrubbed every second of the day. The house was falling to bits and I, cleaned the dam place. Why, well, apart from the fact I was told this was my job, what else would I do? Apart from fall apart more quickly.

My mobile phone would ring when I was out with the dog, checking up on me. Greg was suffocating me. I needed to breathe again, I needed to live.

Friday, he was going to market. It was to be Friday, when I would go to the hill top, where the best signal was an phone Steve.

I psyched myself up. I would wait until Libby would fall asleep in the afternoon, in her pushchair. She would be at the bottom of the hill, safe in view and if she woke, I would be no more than twenty seconds away from her.

Yes, it would be Friday.

Greg was away, I ran around the house like a mad woman, cleaning so I could be free for an hour.

Oh but Libby, was not having any sleep. Oh no, she was hyper. Oh what to do? OK, I am going to take her to the hill. We played some games there. “Jack n Jill went up the hill, to fetch a pale of water. Of course, we had a small bucket too. She loved it, seven times up the hill; her tiny legs could hardly walk, so I had to help her. I was breathless, she was, well, let’s say very excited in her new game.

OK. I would still call Steve. I placed Libby in her pushchair, under the oak tree. She watched the bare branches, swaying in the wind. Mesmerised by the motion, oh silence fell at the bottom of the craggy hill, and sweet dreams of her favourite nursery rhyme was happening.

I opened my mobile, sat for a while, looking to the cloud formation and taking in the fresh winter’s afternoon. It was dry and crisp. There was his name. I called him the   name of my Doctor. Well I was only half lying; I wrote Doctor Williams, rather than Doctor Denby.  Dare I press the call button? Oh I just had to. I really had to.

The sky seamed to go silent, as though the birds were listening to my words. I felt the still from the grass which grew in between the rocks. Winter had made sure that it was more flat than normal, but still enough to sway in the gentle wind, but not then, it was so still. As though whispering to nature.

The what was moving branches on the oak tree had frozen and not with the weather. All around me, was like an oil painting. The sheep in the third field were huddled together, possibly keeping warm, who knows, as for sure they were not moving? My fingertips were numb.

The phone rang. And rang. It went onto answer machine. Oh God. What will I say?

Nothing, I closed the phone. Sat for a moment contemplating. What to do next? Do I take this as a sign?

Then it happened. My mobile rang.

I almost dropped the phone as I pressed this time the right button and said in a kind of desperate manner, “Yes, hello, oh, hello Steve.

“Well, hello stranger? Sorry I didn’t pick up; I was in a patient’s house. I’m driving back to the surgery now, but don’t worry, I’m hands free.”

“Oh, so you got your car fixed?

“Yes, it was only in a day, nothing too serious love.”

“I have to be quick Steve; Libby is a sleep for how long I am not sure?

“That is fine a second of your voice, is a lifetime of gifts for me! I never thought I would hear from you again Leia love?”

I was completely in love my heart danced. I dreamed I breathed, I lived for Steve. Who knows the first night we met, if his car had not have broken down on his way to me, where would we have been now? Enough time had been wasted and I was not going to waste any more time.

Some would say I Married Steve because I wanted to escape from Greg. If my family knew I wanted to leave Greg, they would have taken me in. Enough workmen showed interest in me to leave Greg for them, no, for me it had to be love. True love and it is. Steve and I have been married eleven years now. We have two children of ours, Jessica and Michael. Leia is a teenager now and thinks the world of Steve. She still sees her Father, Greg, who never remarried and who for some years left a ghost watching over me, but has left me alone for the past five years, since our children have been born. That chapter has been closed forever.

I smile now, just washing dishes, Steve will come to me, put his arms around me and ask me what was I smiling at?

 I would answer, nothing, nothing at all. I would feel a perfect presence of peaceful perfection. Freedom and a life. Something which was stolen from me for so many years. My life is so far from the life I had. If there is no food on the table, we go out for a meal, we get a takeout and bring it home, or, Steve will cook. I have the three children, I am recognized for my work and I have time to do my hobby, painting. My art started off as a spare bedroom hobby, selling a few exhibits for our local church and friends and family and now I get phone calls to paint for individual customers.

My work, people actually want something I, have done.

How different your life could be, if you just look for change, be patient and grab every opportunity with both hands.

You too can be as happy as I am right now? Don’t believe it? Neither did I until it happened, and even then it took a lot of years to realise, “You know something Leia Tamswell? You are worth everything single bit of happiness!