As Far as the Stars. Virginia Macgregor
the three of us. All those birth order theories don’t apply to us. Blake’s the middle child but he gets all the attention. Jude’s the eldest but that doesn’t make her feel special – she’s the one who feels like she’s being overlooked. As for me, I’m the opposite of the spoilt and indulged youngest child – I’m the one whose job it is to sort out my brother and sister’s problems and fights.
My eyeballs sting like I’m going to cry, because I know that it’s totally not fair. There are times when Jude’s sulkiness about not getting enough attention has annoyed the hell out of me but if there’s one time that Jude shouldn’t feel left out, it’s at her wedding.
I sniff back the tears.
Leda nestles in closer to Christopher. He sits up and pats her head gently.
‘She yours?’ he asks.
‘My brother’s. I’m babysitting.’
He puts out his hand and Leda puts her head into it like she’s looking for a treat.
‘I love dogs – all animals really,’ Christopher says.
He keeps stroking her. Leda’s tilting her head back so far now it’s like she’s in some kind of trance. He’s totally good with her.
‘Do you have any pets?’
Christopher shakes his head. ‘I was never allowed. Too much moving around.’
He keeps stroking her and I can tell, from how his shoulders drop and his body sinks into itself, that Leda’s making him feel more relaxed too.
‘So, what happened?’ Christopher asks. ‘I thought you needed to be somewhere.’
‘I did.’ I look back at the space where I parked the Buick. ‘They took my brother’s car.’
‘Your brother?’ He frowns and knits his eyebrows together: they’re blond and tangled, like his hair. ‘The one who owns the dog?’
‘The very same.’
‘He’s the one you came to pick up?’
‘Yeah. Sort of. It’s a long story. I think I got it wrong. Or he got it wrong. Anyway, he’s not here.’
‘Right.’
I hand him the parking notice. ‘They took the car.’
‘From the car park?’
I shake my head. ‘From here.’
‘Here?’
I nod.
‘Right here?’
‘I was in a hurry – we were already late.’ My throat goes thick. ‘I know it was a stupid thing to do but I texted Blake to come straight out; I thought it would only take a few minutes before we’d be back in the car.’ Tears prick the back of my eyes; I blink hard to make them go away. ‘I didn’t know all this would happen.’
‘Are you okay?’ asks Christopher.
And then it all comes out.
‘My sister’s getting married on Monday, during the eclipse, on this amazing rooftop terrace in a hotel in Nashville. And I should be there already but I thought Blake got on the wrong plane so I came back to collect him and now he’s not here and he’s not answering my texts and I don’t know how to tell my family – and now I don’t have a car anymore.’ I gulp. ‘I don’t know what to do.’ My words tumble over each other so quick I’m pretty sure I don’t make any sense. ‘So no, nothing’s even close to okay.’
I shut my eyes to push the tears back in.
‘Can I help?’ Two perfect pink circles form at the top of his cheeks.
It’s a weird thing to ask. But it’s kind of nice too – to have someone helping me out for a change.
‘Help?’ I ask.
‘To get your car back,’ he says.
He makes it sound so simple. And it makes me feel better – that there’s one thing I might be able to sort out in this whole tangled mess I’m in.
‘I’m fine,’ I say.
‘I’d like to help.’
‘You would?’
He gives a quick nod. ‘Take my mind off things for a bit – you know?’
It hits me again. That someone he knows – someone he cares about – is on the plane that’s gone missing.
His brow is scrunched up and he’s squinting into the sun and I get it, that he needs this.
‘Yeah, I know,’ I say.
He studies the parking notice and then says, ‘Have you called the number yet?’
I shake my head.
‘The tow truck might not have got very far. We could explain.’
‘Explain?’
‘What’s going on,’ he says. ‘That these are special circumstances.’
Our eyes catch his and, for a beat, we don’t say anything.
‘You think that would work?’
In my experience, traffic enforcement doesn’t do special circumstances, especially for people our age.
‘We could try,’ he says.
Leda gives out a small bark and thumps her tail against the sidewalk, like she’s agreeing with him.
I bite the side of my thumbnail and notice that my sky-blue nail varnish is chipped. I went to have a manicure before I left DC – on instruction from Mom. To match the bridesmaid’s dress I’m meant to wear tomorrow.
Then I get out my phone and dial the number.
16.45 EST
I watch Christopher grab a sheet from an old in-flight magazine from his backpack and start folding. I don’t even know what he’s making but I can tell that he’s enjoying it, the feel of the skin of the paper as he rubs it between his fingers. He looks relaxed like he did when he was stroking Leda.
I snatch glances at him through the corner of my eye, hoping that he doesn’t realise that I’m staring. It takes my mind off things, looking at this weird English guy who’s got nothing to do with my life or what’s going on in Nashville or with Blake. How he’s sitting here, folding that bit of paper, as though it’s another ordinary day.
It’s weird that he’s this calm, because as bad as I’ve got it with Blake and the wedding and everything, Christopher has it way worse. Someone he knows was on the plane that’s crashed. God, I haven’t even asked him who he came to meet or why he was here. I’ve been so busy thinking about myself. And he’s the one who must be going through hell. And yet he’s sitting here, like he’s got some special information that no one else does. As if that floating piece of metal doesn’t mean the same to him as it does to the rest of us: that the crash was bad. Really bad. As in, it’s unlikely anyone survived.
Leda puts her muzzle on Christopher’s lap and keeps slobbering on him, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
‘I didn’t ask you…’ I stutter.
‘Sorry?’
‘I never asked you, who you came to meet.’ My voice breaks a bit. ‘I mean, who you were collecting at the airport.’
‘Oh.’ He goes quiet for a bit. ‘Dad. I came to collect my dad.’
‘I’m sorry.’
He doesn’t answer. I guess it’s all too much to take in right now. That’s probably