A Sea of Stars. Kate Maryon
Dedication
For Hayley, Sophie, Lucy, Georgina,
Janie and Tim…
for all the wonderful adventures we shared!
Beaches, campfires, tents, rain, sunshine, parks, oat burgers,
A303, M3, Stonehenge, swimming, theme parks, picnics,
Crimean wars, stories, sleepovers, mud, sand, forests and hills.
The kiss of your childhoods’ - still warm on my cheek.
Thank you for trusting a batty Sponge like me to take care of you!
I’m so relieved that no one actually did get blown off a cliff
or dragged away by a wave, and that you all survived to
grow into the awesome adults that appear before me.
I love you all so very much.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wkyR9KsokYg
For Lily, Paige, Brooke, Ellie, Anna & Kitty.
For Doy & baby Jack x
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Other Books by Kate Maryon
Copyright
About the Publisher
I’ve wanted a sister forever. Even before Alfie was born. Then after him I kept wishing and wishing and wishing but she never came along. So I’m going to remember this summer holiday forever, even when I’m an old lady with grey hair and wrinkly skin. It’s hard to believe how much has happened between finishing school and starting back again tomorrow. It’s as if these huge hands came down from the sky, picked up my life, tipped it upside down and shook it, like one of those beautiful snow dome things. And I just stood there in the middle while everything got all mixed up and blurry. But then the snow started to settle and now I have to keep pinching my leg to remind myself it’s actually true. Here I am, on the beach, alone, waiting to catch some zabaloosh gnarly waves, and my mum isn’t even panicking. And I feel like squealing and jumping up and down because my sister, Cat, is actually clambering down the cliff to join me, with her surfboard under her arm. She’s actually getting in the water. We’re actually going surfing together. And you’re never going to believe it but six weeks ago I hadn’t even met her. I knew she existed but I’d only seen her face in photos and on the DVD, not properly in the flesh. I didn’t know her beetle-black hair smelt like custard or how loud and earsplitting her screams would be. I didn’t know how much she’d nibble-nibble-nibble on her nails. I had no idea how frustrating and irritating she’d be (and she really is frustrating and irritating sometimes). And I couldn’t have even imagined in my wildest dreams that the sight of her running across the sand towards me would make my heart unfurl like a huge pink flag to wrap her up in love.
Some people wish they had mystical powers so they could see into the future and know what’s actually going to happen. Or that there was this big book in the library where your whole life had been written down. Dad says everything is planned. He says it’s already mapped out in the stars and that we choose our life and our family and friends and everything that’s going to happen to us way before we’re even born, when we’re just tiny twinkling stars in the sky. Some people think its God that has this great life plan drawn out for us, or Buddha or Krishna or Allah – someone like that. That it was their huge great hands coming down from the sky and shaking up my life.
I don’t know if I believe any of that stuff. All I know is that, after everything that’s happened, things still aren’t perfect with Cat and me; having a sister is nothing like it was in my imagination and it probably never will be. But things are what they are. This is how it is now we’re sisters.
The first time I said the word ‘adoption’, it felt like I was drinking from one of Nana’s special crystal glasses. Like the word was something really precious, something to be careful with. But that was a whole year ago, so now it’s more like a toothbrush or a spoon. When Mum and Dad got married they planned for a really big family – you know, the ones that look like they’re about to burst out at the seams. The ones that have a million pairs of trainers by the front door and mountains of food in the cupboards. But, after Alfie, they’d been too scared to try for any more. It was kind of weird because we never really talked about it but the fact that I was an only child clung to the air like the saddest day in the world.
Then, a few weeks ago, Susannah, the social worker, phoned to say she’d finally found us this ten-year-old girl called Cat to adopt. Mum was so excited her knuckles turned white gripping the phone so hard. Dad’s eyes spilled over with tears and he hugged us both so tight I could hardly breathe. And I should have been excited; I should, because who wouldn’t be when their dream had just come true? And I tried really hard to smile about it, but I couldn’t get my lips to work properly. I just froze to the spot and my tummy clenched up as if my insides had turned into this big skipping rope and someone was knotting it up all tight. A million damselflies started whirring and fluttering in my throat, making me feel wobbly, like I might fall over and be sick.
“You OK, sweetie?” asked Dad. “You look a bit pale.”
I nodded. I picked up Peaches Paradise, my cat, hid my face and buried a little tear in her fur. I didn’t even know why I was crying. I just had this big crushing feeling in my heart, like someone had dropped a car on my chest.
A few days later, Susannah sent us a DVD of Cat that she’d made with Tania, her foster mum. Dad tipped popcorn into a bowl and Mum made us hot chocolate with marshmallows on top.
“Be careful, Maya,” said Mum, handing me mine, “and sip it gently; it’s still too hot to drink.”
I wished she’d stop treating me like a baby. I slid closer to Dad, dipped my finger in the chocolaty froth and licked it. But I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to spoil things. The sun was streaming through the windows, bouncing off the sea and it felt perfect, us all curled up on the sofa, together.
“She’s much smaller than I imagined,” I said, after a while. “I mean, I’m only two years older and I’m much, much taller than her.”
Mum nodded and wiped away a tear. “Just look at her, though,” she said. “She’s so cute! So sweet! Look at those