Rewrite the Stars. Emma Heatherington
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I can’t speak right now. All I can think of is my brother and his mental health problems that have driven him to some very dark places, of the recluse he has become, of his rejection, of his avoidance of any mention to do with the band he set up with such love and attention. He refused to tell me what happened, but I’d never have guessed any of this.
‘And you’re sure that’s all it was?’ I choked. I’ve a feeling there was more. There had to be. ‘It seems pretty trivial to build up a band for a year then throw it away over you asking for my phone number.’
Tom’s chest rises and falls, and he looks away, his face etched with pain.
‘I dunno, Charlie,’ he sighs. ‘I tried to talk to Matt. I really tried to dig deep with him, you know? He was acting so strangely around me, and I couldn’t get it out of him if there was something else. Are you sure he never told you anything?’
I shake my head. Matthew’s darkness moved a black cloud over our whole family as we battled to help him, but he refused to talk. He just closed up and said he’d had enough of life. We’ve been on a time bomb of nerves with him ever since, watching his every move. Tom’s return could be enough to tip him over the edge again.
My phone rings, giving us both a welcome distraction until we see who it is.
‘Oh God, you’ll never believe it but it’s Matthew calling me,’ I whisper, wishing I could just run away from all this mess between these two men who I’ve so much feeling for. Could he have found out where I am today?
‘You should answer it,’ says Tom, rubbing his temples. ‘Would it help if I spoke to him?’
I look at the floor. The smell of Guinness is turning my stomach now and the fire is too hot. I can’t answer. I can’t answer Tom and I can’t answer my phone. Matthew leaves me a voicemail message, but I don’t need to listen to it. I know how his moods have been lately. If he’s heard I’m with Tom, he’ll just spit out a rage at me and I can’t cope with what he has to say right now.
Plus, I’m angry at him. I’m so angry that he couldn’t see past his own ego back then, his own big brother macho attitude or his own jealousy that I might have just an inch more talent than he wanted me to have or might stamp on his toes. How dare he make that decision for me when it was none of his business?
I’m angry at Tom now, too. I can’t believe he didn’t stand up to Matthew more and push through with the band when it was all he ever wanted in life and when they were showing so much potential. How petty of them to throw it all away over some jealous row – unless there was more to it than I’m being told?
‘Aren’t you going to call him back?’ Tom asks me and I shake my head.
I feel a bit sick. I don’t want to talk to Matthew right now.
‘I think I need some fresh air,’ I tell him, lifting my coat.
‘Me too.’
He follows me outside and we stand in the slushy snow watching waves crash on a grey foamy sea in the near distance. I shiver, clutching my bag that holds my dress and other bits and pieces from last night, while Tom paces around me, smoking a cigarette and waiting for a reaction. But I can’t give him one right now.
‘None of this has to ruin us, does it?’ pleads Tom. ‘We can’t let it happen again, no way. I have feelings for you, Charlie. We can’t keep letting other people get in our way. Do you have feelings for me, too? Tell me.’
He puts his cold hand on my face and rests it there, looking deep into my soul. A hot tear trickles down onto his fingers from my eye but he doesn’t move his hand away.
‘I do,’ I say to him. ‘More than you’ll ever know.’
He slips his arms around my waist now and pulls me close to him, the warmth of his body soothing me instantly. I close my eyes, lean on his chest and feel the rush that fills me up from head to toe. I have to be with him. I just have to.
‘Last night at the bar,’ he says to me, like he’s breathing his last words to me. ‘Charlie, I didn’t just turn up there unexpectedly, you know that.’
I’m confused now. I look up at his face.
‘I was hoping you’d be there,’ he says. ‘I had absolutely no idea if I was on some wild goose chase, but I went to Pip’s Bar because I was looking for you. I had this mad hope you might be there, just because it’s the area of town you used to live in, and then I gave up and went out the back for a cigarette but … well then, there you were. It was like it was meant to be. Mad, really, when you think of it.’
I gulp, stunned a little that it worked out as it did. My friends and I hadn’t planned to go there last night. It was only because of the weather that we did. He couldn’t have known. He took a gamble. He’s telling the truth.
I look up to the black, snow-filled night sky and the moon that reflects down over Dublin Bay. We didn’t just meet last night by accident. Sometimes things are meant to happen. Some things are meant to be.
‘You should be a detective,’ I laugh, and he kisses me on the forehead, not lightly like he has done before, but a long, lingering kiss that makes me hold him even tighter. I give myself to him, leaning in and absorbing every ounce of the man I’ve wanted to hold me and touch me for so long.
‘I wish we could stay here forever,’ he whispers to me, and I feel exactly the same. I love this place more than anywhere I’ve ever been. This moment, this kiss, this knowing that for once in my life the planets aligned and brought us here together again.
I think I love Tom Farley, but then I always knew I did.
‘Look, just let me talk to Matthew once and for all,’ I whisper and when he looks at me, I can see the pain and worry in his eyes. ‘I’ll explain to him that he can’t get between us, no matter what happened before, and we’ll see where this all goes. I can’t take a chance on losing you again, Tom, and I know you feel the same.’
‘You sure?’
I nod at him. ‘I’ve never been so sure,’ I tell him. ‘We’ve waited five years for this. I don’t want to lose you again. Never. It’s happened once and it will never happen again.’
Matthew James Taylor, my one and only brother, was my hero every day of my life when I was a little girl. He was the big brother of dreams, the one who all my friends adored and wished they could be around, no matter what stage of life I was at.
As a child I’d hear him sing in his bedroom, everything from Elvis Presley to Oasis, and I’d watch him in awe when he took the lead in school concerts, drama groups and anything that allowed him to take centre stage. Other boys were mad into following football and chasing women, but Matthew had one dream and one dream only and that was to sing.
At first my father tried to push him into sports of all sorts, thinking he wasn’t manly enough if he didn’t play rugby or cheer on the reds or blues or whoever was the popular soccer team of the day. But Matthew was always to be found in his bedroom with a guitar