Seeing Stars (25 page)

‘OK,’ she said eventually. ‘For what it’s worth, firstly I think you should apologise unreservedly to your ma. No – really.
Maybe you think she’s been in the wrong for keeping everything hush-hush for years, but you don’t know anything about the
circumstances, do you? She must have had her reasons. Wanted to protect you. You going off all half-cocked and snarling wasn’t
very fair on her. She’s done a great job as a single mum – and you said you didn’t want to know about your father anyway—’

‘Of course I bloody do!’ Lewis finished his ice cream, licking away the last melting drops with a very pink tongue. ‘But I’ve
always had to go along with the pretence, haven’t I? I’ve always wondered who he was. Why she left him. I’m nearly thirty
– and there’s always been this huge gap.’

‘Maybe it wasn’t like that. Maybe it was the other way round? Maybe he left her? Maybe it’s just too painful for her to talk
about it?’ Amber sighed, feeling slightly guilty now about asking Cassiopeia to intervene on this particular subject. ‘Once
you’ve made up with Zillah, maybe, if you give it a bit of time, she’ll tell you the truth. But I don’t think you should rush
things. You’ve waited this long. Give it a bit longer. And be tactful, for God’s sake.’

Lewis nodded, wiping his fingers on his jeans. ‘Yeah, OK. I can do tactful. And I hate falling out with her – but I said some
awful stuff to her – she’ll probably never forgive me.’

‘She’s your mother. Nothing’s that unforgivable with your mother. Once she’s got over the anger and the hurt she’ll be OK.
You’ll see. And as for my part in the
Timmy thing, I’m really sorry about that. I sort of gathered that it wouldn’t go down too well – but what else could I do?’

‘Not a lot, as I told Ma. Don’t worry about it – she’ll have told him no by now. But she might still have some tart words
for you.’

‘I can take tart,’ Amber suddenly grinned. ‘I’ll have to apologise to her, too. Look – shall we change the subject? I’ve got
something that might take your mind off your problems for a bit – you’ll never guess where I’ve just been… And I know you
probably don’t want to hear about my irrelevant girlie stuff, but honestly, today has been so funny …’

‘Go on then,’ he said. ‘You’ve listened to me. And it helped. Thanks for that. I can see you’re bursting to tell me and I
could do with something cheerful.’

Lewis, seemingly mildly disinterested at first, eventually started to smile as she told him about the HHLL, then he laughed.
A lot. And he carried on chuckling as she told him about Freddo, too.

‘So –’ she looked hopefully at him ‘– as I’ve been invited to watch The JB Roadshow perform at a party, I wondered if you
were free …?’

‘Are you asking me out?’

She shook her head quickly. ‘Nah. Just to come with me as a mate. And I’d really welcome a second opinion about this band
– before I persuade Fiddlesticks to take them on for Harvest Moon. So, if your diary is free of Sukie or anyone else a week
next Saturday …?’

‘I’ll check and let you know.’ Lewis stood up. ‘But right now it sounds perfect. I can’t think of anything better than gate-crashing
some party to listen to a batch of wrinklierockers who were failures the first time round.’

‘Is that a yes, then?’

‘With one proviso.’

‘Oh?’

‘That you agree to make it a threesome.’

Amber’s heart sank. Sod it. She really, really didn’t want to share either Lewis or the JB Roadshow with Sukie, the Irish
witch.

Lewis grinned. ‘Take it or leave it.’

‘Maybe I’ll leave it.’

‘Whatever. But Jem’ll be really disappointed to miss it…’

Under the Moon of Love

For Amber, the next few days passed in a sort of blur: the temperature soared, days and nights were heavy, hot, humid and
headachy; the Fiddlestickers grew ever grumpier about the lack of rain and the lack of sleep; Hubble Bubble became a daily
solo routine because Mitzi was now the burstingly proud grandmother of a little boy, Sonny, and spent every spare minute getting
under the new parents’ feet; Fern was lit up with love; Zillah wasn’t.

As for Lewis, Amber hadn’t seen him at all since the soul-baring in Winterbrook.

‘If it’s like this for Plough Night,’ Gwyneth puffed early one morning as she fed and watered Pike in the shady bit of Moth
Cottage’s back garden, ‘we’ll all be out in our swimsuits.’

Amber, having collected eggs, given the cats their breakfast, and made a pot of tea to go with their porridge – ‘Don’t matter
what the weather, duck, you can’t beat a bowl of oats to start the day off proper’ – set the table under the trees, and sank
into one of the deck chairs. There was nothing but the sound of the birds, awake for hours as Amber could testify, still chirruping
their multitudinous choruses to the new day.

She exhaled. Despite only wearing the minimum to
preserve her modesty – a pair of white shorts and a midriff-skimming yellow vest – she was already extremely hot. She’d been
about to say they could do with a good storm to clear the air and stopped herself just in time. That might be a Fiddlesticker
homily too far.

She watched Gwyneth stroke the cats and fuss Pike again. Gwyneth was so lovely, always doing things for other people, never
grizzling about anything. And after the successful kitten rescue mission – the kittens all being looked after and waiting
for rehoming with the local Cat Protection lady – she and Big Ida’s next animal welfare sortie involved a pet shop in Winterbrook
with, they felt, inadequate caging facilities for their rabbits and guinea pigs.

Having made sure her beloved animals were eating up, Gwyneth toddled up the garden and beamed at Amber. ‘You OK, duck? Not
too hot?’

‘I’m fine – but even I’m beginning to think rain might be a good idea. Didn’t you and Ida make some sort of early plea to
Leo?’ Amber spooned up porridge and golden syrup – something she’d never have touched in a million years in her previous life
– with enjoyment. ‘For a storm?’

Gwyneth slid into her deck chair, practically disappeared from view, and had to haul herself back to the edge before she could
tackle her breakfast. ‘We was going to, yes. But it don’t do to tamper with the right dates or traditions really, duck. See,
there’s plenty in the village as’ll curtsey to a sickle moon and ask for rain – but not me. I’d never ask the moon for rain
unless she had ’er five misty-rainbow rings round ’er.’ She shovelled porridge into her mouth with relish. ‘Asking for trouble,
that is. Same as trying to invoke Leo’s Lightning afore ’e’s ready. Dangerous stuff. More tea?’

‘Please,’ Amber passed her cup across the table. She wasn’t going to venture an opinion on anything celestial. Not this morning
and probably never again. After what had happened with Fern and Timmy following the Cassiopeia-
wishing, she’d be very careful to mock anything she didn’t understand.

Was it astral magic at work? She had no idea, but there was absolutely no rational earthly explanation for Timmy’s volte-face.
It was totally inexplicable.

Arriving back from that amazing day with the HHLL and Freddo and Lewis, and prepared to turn herself inside out with apologies
to Zillah for her part in the love-nest search, Amber had found Chrysalis Cottage empty and had approached The Weasel and
Bucket with trepidation.

Late afternoon, the pub had been closed for at least an hour and the trestles were deserted. Zillah, she knew, usually stayed
behind to help Timmy with the clearing and cleaning and preparation for the evening’s onslaught.

It might be a good time to try and justify her actions – at least she could apologise without an avid audience.

Surprisingly, it was Fern, her face glowing, her curls awry and wearing a melon grin, who had bounced through the beer garden
to greet her. ‘Hiya! Can’t stop! Got to go and collect Win – but you’ll never guess what’s happened!’

It being Fiddlesticks and this being Fern, Amber wouldn’t even try to hazard the wildest conjecture. It was bound to be wrong.
‘Go on then – I can see you’re bursting to tell me.’

‘Can’t. No time.’ Fern glanced at her watch. ‘But Cassiopeia is a star. A real star. Oh, God – Amber! I’m soooo happy.’

‘Jesus, Fern – you can’t just leave it at that. What on earth’s happened?’

‘Earth’s got sod all to do with it.’ Fern waved her arms towards the sky. ‘This miracle is all down to the heavens.’

‘Have you been
dabbling?
Taking Win’s medication? Sniffing something?’

‘Nah – I’m high on love. High as a kite. As a star …’

‘You’re bladdered, aren’t you? Have you been indulging
in after-hours drinking? Why are you in the pub this late in the afternoon, anyway?’

‘Nag, nag, nag,’ Fern had giggled. ‘I’m not here to drink. I’m here for a far, far more important reason – and no, can’t say
any more. Win needs collecting. Catch up with you later. ’Byeeee!’

And still beaming, Fern had skipped away in the direction of Hayfields.

Amber had still been staring after her when Zillah had stomped out of the pub with a tray to collect the last straggling empties.

They’d looked at one another. Zillah had smiled first. It hadn’t reached her eyes.

‘I’ve – er – just seen Fern leaving,’ Amber said. ‘Is she drunk?’

‘Only emotionally,’ Zillah had scooped up half a dozen empty pint pots by their handles and screwed up crisp packets with
a deftness that came from years of practice. ‘Timmy’s given her a part-time job – and yes, I know. I was gobsmacked, too.
He’s always said she’d be useless, and then with no reason at all, he’s welcoming her in here like she’s Barmaid of the Year.’

‘Blimey …’ Amber had exhaled. ‘But – why?’

‘Heaven knows.’ Zillah had bent down with lithe fluidity to collect some plates from the grass. ‘And she’s as ditzy behind
the bar as she is in front of it, but give her her due, she’s tried hard and she’s worked like a dervish. The customers love
her, of course, which helps – and she’s so unremittingly cheerful.’ She’d straightened up easily. ‘I’m afraid we’re closed…’

‘I didn’t want a drink – I was looking for you, actually.’

‘Were you? Any particular reason?’

‘I ran into Lewis this afternoon. In Winterbrook. I was – er – working for Mitzi and he was collecting Jem from the joinery,’
Amber had explained quickly in case Zillah thought she’d been stalking her son. ‘We had a chat.’

‘Did you?’ Zillah’s voice had been sharp. ‘And?’

‘I know you’ve had a fallout, but that’s none of my business—’

‘No, it isn’t.’

‘No, but I just wanted to apologise to you – about the Internet stuff … the holiday places … Timmy … Timmy asked me to do
it and I couldn’t say no, could I? If I could have I would have – believe me. I—’

Zillah had rested her hip against one of the trestles. Amber noticed that the hem of her long purple skirt was stained with
damp and there were strands of dried moss clinging to her bare toes. Had she been
paddling?

‘Amber, what you know, or think you may know, about my relationship with Timmy again isn’t any of your business. Any more
than my private disagreements with Lewis, OK?’

‘Yes, of course, I know that, but—’

Zillah had sighed. ‘Sorry, love. I sound like a right mardy cow, don’t I? No, don’t answer that. It’s not been a good time
for me. And thanks for trying to explain – but there’s no need. Timmy seems to have changed his mind about taking me away
for a – er – romantic break.’

‘He has?’

Zillah had nodded. ‘Don’t ask me how or why? But from straining at the “Let’s Spend the Night Together” leash last night,
he’d become Mr “Let’s Take This Nice and Easy” this morning. Hardly given me a second glance – been all over Fern.’

‘What?’

Amber felt as though someone had punched the breath from her lungs.

Ohmigod! It had
worked!
She’d made a merely halfhearted, jokey, celestial incantation to Cassiopeia – and it had bloody worked!

Never, ever again would she mock this star-wishing stuff. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to Fiddlesticks’ astral-magic
than met the eye?

Ohmigod!

‘So?’ Zillah had asked casually. ‘How was Lewis?’

‘Uh?’ Still stunned by the Timmy-Fern news, Amber had to drag herself back to the matter in hand. ‘Oh, tired. Very. Hot. Upset.
Miserable.’

And still heart-stoppingly beautiful and sexy and gorgeous despite it all, Amber thought, remembering how Lewis had looked
– like some hippie love god, sitting mournfully on that boring, boring rockery – and how every other female in the park had
clearly agreed with her.

Zillah had moved away from the trestle and sighed. ‘Poor boy. I know the feeling. Maybe I ought to give him a ring.’

‘Mmmm,’ Amber had nodded. ‘I think that would be a good idea. And, Zil, I’m sorry. For interfering …’

‘Don’t be,’ Zillah had smiled. Properly. ‘You’ve no need. None of this is your fault. I should be the one to apologise. And
I do. Unreservedly. Friends?’

‘Definitely,’ Amber had sighed happily. ‘And I promise never to meddle in your life again.’

Staring down into Gwyneth’s back garden from her bedroom in Chrysalis Cottage, Zillah grinned. Gwyneth and Amber, sitting
in the deck-chairs having breakfast with Pike and the cats dancing attendance, were chatting and laughing together as if they’d
always shared a home.

Amber had made so much difference to Gwyneth’s life, Zillah realised. Amber had made a difference to Mitzi, and to Fern and
to Jem. Maybe even to Lewis although he refused to be drawn on the subject and still never treated her as anything other than
a casual friend.

She watched as Amber helped Gwyneth to her feet from the depths of the canvas chair and they hugged one another, giggling
over something Gwyneth had just said. With a pang, Zillah wondered what on earth Gwyneth would do should Amber decide to move
on at the end of the summer. Both Gwyneth and Big Ida, although ridiculously fit, were one day going to need someone younger
to keep an eye on
them. Zillah had always been more than willing to take this on – after all Gwyneth and Ida had taken her under their wing
when she’d arrived in Fiddlesticks and it wouldn’t have occurred to her not to repay the love. But how would Gwyneth cope
without Amber in her life?