Page 20 of See the Stars

The wonder is, not that the field of stars is so vast, but that man has measured it.

ANATOLE FRANCE

A lice stood outside the shed, watching as the light started to fade, the sun scattering in the high atmosphere and illuminating the low atmosphere as twilight set in.

She couldn’t believe her leave was almost halfway over.

Her job felt like it was another world. She’d had a notification that the parts for her telescope had been dispatched and would arrive on Monday.

She would stay for another week to make her repairs and enjoy the stars, then she would go back to London and rest there until it was time to return to the office.

Alice went back into the shed and stood at his shoulder. ‘It was never verified,’ she said. ‘You need to have a record of movement, and the next night was too cloudy again. It was likely nothing.’

‘I need 1998 as well,’ said Berti. ‘Is that OK?’

‘Of course,’ said Alice. ‘Just be careful with the books.’ She frowned, wondering why he wanted that year. She scanned the shelves, passed it to him and went to look at the telescope. She’d already disassembled the mount, ready to install the new lens when it arrived. She could barely wait.

Berti was urgently scanning the pages.

‘What are you looking for?’ asked Alice.

‘Another sighting.’

‘Berti?’ Matt poked his head around the door. ‘I’m here to pick you up. We need to get home for tea.’

‘Hi, Matt,’ said Alice. ‘Do you want to come in?’

‘I don’t want to go,’ said Berti.

‘You have to, I’m afraid,’ said Matt. ‘Strict orders from your mum. You know what you get like if you don’t have your meals on time.’

‘I still don’t think my blood sugar and your reaction to my behaviour is correlated.’

‘I’m not having this discussion again,’ said Matt.

‘Yes you are,’ said Berti. ‘Right now.’

‘Well, yes, but . . . ’ A twitch of amusement played on Matt’s face. ‘He’s got me there,’ he said.

‘And I’ve got this,’ said Berti. ‘Just five more minutes. Please?’

‘Cup of tea?’ offered Alice. ‘The kettle’s just boiled.’

‘Sure,’ said Matt, resigned to waiting.

Alice unfolded one of her grandfather’s old deckchairs and gestured to Matt to sit down outside. She left him to lower himself into the chair in privacy while she made the tea in the shed.

‘Here you go,’ she said, coming back out when she thought an adequate amount of time had passed.

‘Thanks,’ he replied. He looked settled in the chair and Alice sat down in another one nearby, almost spilling her own tea in the process. They were next to each other, sitting so they could both see the rolling fields that spread beyond the garden.

‘Berti seems quite taken with you,’ said Matt, his eyes on the horizon. ‘He doesn’t usually warm to people so quickly.’ He sipped his tea. ‘It took him ages to accept my presence. What’s your secret?’

‘It’s my logbooks he’s after,’ laughed Alice. She leaned back so she could watch the stars starting to appear over the darkening fields. ‘And my broken telescope.’

‘It wasn’t your logbooks that helped him out the other afternoon,’ said Matt. ‘Sounds like you were quite the hero.’

‘I would hardly say that. I was in the right place at the right time. That’s all.’

‘Well, thank you,’ said Matt. He hesitated. ‘I feel like it should be me helping him with that kind of thing. But thank you for stepping in.’

Alice looked at him, wondering if there was bitterness in his voice. ‘I just spouted some science at some boys,’ she said. ‘The laws of preservation of energy. Nothing special. But . . . ’

‘But what?’

She hesitated. ‘I think they do that kind of thing to him a lot.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It seemed routine for him. Like he wasn’t even bothered.’

Matt adjusted himself in the chair. ‘That’s what worries Jennie.

It’s why she has me come and pick him up from the library after school when I can.

I think maybe she thought that if they saw Berti with his tough old army uncle, it might put them off.

’ He stretched out his leg and winced. ‘Doesn’t seem to have worked, though,’ he said. ‘I can’t imagine why.’

Alice didn’t really know how to reply. ‘I’m sure you are helping,’ she said.

‘I used to be able to help people,’ said Matt, still with his gaze firmly fixed on the fields in front of him. ‘I loved it. Anyone in trouble, I’d come swooping in like Superman to the rescue.’

‘Like Superman?’ queried Alice with a smile.

He ignored her. ‘Now sometimes I need my sister to help me get out of bed in the mornings. I’m useless.’

‘You’re not useless,’ said Alice. ‘You’re so far from useless.’ She looked away from the horizon, directly at Matt. ‘You’re clever, you’re kind, you’re . . . ’

‘ . . . unable to walk without a stick.’

‘You’re an engineer.’

‘An unemployed engineer.’

‘At the moment. But you could find a new job.’

‘You sound like my sister. It’s not so simple.’

‘Just because it isn’t simple doesn’t mean it’s not worth doing,’ said Alice. ‘I know life isn’t easy. But if we only ever took the easy route, nothing would ever change. No great discoveries would have been made. We’d still be sitting around in shacks made from animal dung.’

Matt smiled, despite himself. ‘You think it’s easy to make a house from poo?’ he asked. ‘You haven’t done the same survival training I have.’

‘You know what I mean,’ laughed Alice, pleased to see him smile.

‘You’ve done the hard part. You studied, you got a scholarship and a degree and travelled the world.

That takes passion and drive and determination.

It doesn’t take . . . ’ She stopped herself.

Two perfectly functioning legs was what she wanted to say, but that seemed insensitive.

‘It takes someone special to do all that,’ she finished instead.

Matt put down his mug. ‘Thank you, Alice,’ he said, his voice a little husky.

‘I’m sorry I’m so . . . ’ He stopped talking and rested his hand lightly on hers.

Alice felt a guilty yet wonderful tingle at the contact, which spread throughout her body.

It was just the warmth of an old friend’s hand, she told herself. Nothing more.

‘You’re pretty special yourself,’ he continued, his voice soft and his hand remaining on her own. ‘For Eddy’s little sister.’

‘Alice, come see what I’ve found.’ Berti’s head appeared round the edge of the shed door. Matt and Alice had fallen into silence, each thinking their own thoughts. His hand still rested on hers. Alice quickly removed it, for some reason placing her own hand behind her back.

‘Maybe show her next time?’ said Matt, gradually getting to his feet. Alice’s hand felt cold and empty without the warmth of his. ‘We should get home.’

‘Look,’ said Berti, ignoring his uncle as Alice got up to join him. ‘You see it, don’t you?’

‘See what?’

‘The pattern!’

‘What pattern?’

‘I’m great at patterns,’ declared Berti. ‘But you guys are terrible.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Come on, Alice, look! Your grandfather saw something in the same patch of sky. Each time just a single sighting, so dismissed as nothing. But it wasn’t nothing and it was regular.’ Bertie was gesticulating with his hands as he spoke, excitement pouring out of him.

Alice looked. ‘I don’t . . . ’

‘Can’t you see?’ he insisted. ‘It was every nine years.’

‘So?’

‘We need to fix your telescope quickly,’ said Berti. He took a pen and paper and started scribbling something.

‘Why?’ asked Alice.

‘Because I think your grandfather did find a comet. And I think it’s on its way back.’

‘Calm down, Berti,’ said Matt, joining them in the shed. ‘Maybe do that breathing exercise your mum suggested.’

‘Wait. What did you say?’ asked Alice. The excitement was contagious. She took the logbooks and looked at where Berti was pointing.

‘The same longitude and latitude. Regular.’

She bit her lip as she flipped through the pages. He was right. There was a pattern.

‘A periodic comet,’ she said, testing out the words. Some comets appeared only once in the sky. But periodic comets came back at regular intervals. It was a remote possibility. Very remote.

But a possibility nonetheless.

‘And look,’ said Berti, flapping his hands in the air as if he were about to take off. ‘It’s due to come back!’

Alice studied the dates. It had been twenty-seven years since the last recorded sighting. Three sets of nine years. Since then, no one had been looking. She felt a pang of regret.

But if it was periodic, then Berti was right.

It was due back.

And soon.

It was late. Berti had left, but Alice sat in the shed, poring over her grandfather’s logbooks. Excitement was growing. Why had it taken a thirteen-year-old boy to spot the pattern that she and her grandfather had missed?

She knew why. They’d been too close to it. And the sightings had never been confirmed. Towards the end, they’d thought his dementia had clouded his mind. And the earlier times, clouds had, well, clouded the sky.

But the last time?

Alice remembered her grandfather’s excitement. She’d seen an aeroplane and assumed the worst. She closed her eyes, wishing she could go back and behave differently. She opened them again. That wasn’t the only change she’d make to her life. In fact, it wouldn’t even be the first one.

She stopped herself. She couldn’t get lost in regrets, not again. On earth, time only went in one direction, as far as she knew. She couldn’t go backwards.

No. She had to focus on what she could do now.

Her grandfather might be gone, but perhaps she could still find the comet he’d spotted on its next orbit.

The thought filled her with excitement, and she started to sketch the pattern, plotting the points in the sky, working out the dates.

It would be so much easier if she had that final logbook. But still.