Chasing Stars

Chapter 4

As soon as I set foot back on the mainland, I began to breathe more easily. Lauren’s presence – however random – had transformed the islands from a subtropical paradise into a trap. The feeling of relief was short-lived.

‘She knows where I live,’ I said, as Ryan unlocked the car.

‘You’re not going home.’

The Scillonion hadn’t sailed until late in the afternoon; it was now early evening. We would need to eat soon and find somewhere to sleep.

‘So . . . are we going to the farmhouse?’ I asked.

‘Just to pick up some cash. We have to stay away from anywhere she could trace us to. We’re not taking any chances.’ He reversed out of the parking space and pulled on to the main road.

‘Where will we stay?’

‘Another B&B. Just till we’re sure she’s gone.’

The further we were from the dock, the better I felt. I leant back against the headrest and shut my eyes. I was tired. Maybe tonight I would sleep better.

‘You OK?’ Ryan asked.

I looked at him. His T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, the sun lighting the top of his head with golden streaks, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards in the beginning of a smile. How had I got so lucky?

‘You know, when you were back in the future,’ I began, not sure how to phrase this question without sounding insecure or jealous, ‘I mean, you were there a long time.’

‘Nine months.’

‘Did you ever feel like giving up on coming back to 2012?’

‘Never.’

‘Did you ever wonder, though, if it might not be pos­sible? If you might just have to let it go?’

He glanced at me. ‘The thought never crossed my mind. I knew I’d find a way. Nine months felt like for ever, but I’d have kept on trying if it had been nine years or fifty-nine years. I wasn’t going to let you die like that.’

‘But when you were there, you must have had a life as well. You must have gone to school and had a social life and things like that.’

‘School wasn’t so great. I got kicked out.’

‘How come?’

‘Long story. I was on this elite program for pilots. It was intense. I was too distracted.’

‘So what did you do?’

Ryan shrugged. ‘I got a job in the shipyards with my friend, Pegasus.’

‘What about your spare time? You must have gone out with friends.’

‘I went out to a bar sometimes, but I spent most of my spare time trying to find a way back here. To you.’

He pulled off the main road and into the supermarket car park.

‘So you didn’t have a girlfriend then?’

He yanked the handbrake up and looked at me as though I’d lost my mind. ‘Are you serious?’

‘I was just wondering,’ I said, unlocking my seatbelt.

He pulled the key out of the ignition and twirled the key ring round his finger. ‘There hasn’t been anyone else since I met you.’

‘And before you met me?’

He shrugged. ‘Well, yeah. There was this one girl before I met you.’

I wanted to ask him for details. Name, age, pictures. But I couldn’t bring myself to. Not here in the bright light of a supermarket car park, while shopping trolleys rattled and clanged outside the car.

‘You’re not jealous, are you?’ The shadow of a smile flitted across his face. ‘You’ve no reason to be. She hasn’t even been born yet.’

‘I’m not jealous,’ I said.

He opened the driver’s side door. ‘Come on.’

We walked across the car park in silence for a moment.

‘So, this girl. Did you . . . you know . . .’ The words stuck in my throat. I coughed.

‘Are you asking me if I . . . ?’ He smirked, but there was a noticeable flush across his cheek.

I nodded.

He stared at the ground as we walked. ‘Yeah,’ he said.

‘And you didn’t hook up with her again when you got back to your own time?’

We were at the trolley park by now, Ryan pulling a trolley out of its stubborn embrace with the one in front of it.

‘Of course not. The only person I had any interest in hooking up with had been dead for over a century.’

He blushed even more deeply when he noticed the middle-aged woman, who’d clearly heard every word, waiting patiently behind us.

‘That must have sounded weird,’ he whispered as we pushed the trolley towards the store.

‘Not to mention creepy.’

He paused just before the entrance. ‘Is there anything else you want to ask me?’

I felt hot. I could feel my face burning. ‘Why are we here?’

‘Is that an existential question?’

‘A practical one.’

‘To buy food. If we’re going to lie low until Lauren leaves, we’re going to need supplies.’

We took a trolley and made our way up and down the aisles, grabbing food off the shelves and dodging the slow, got-all-the-time-in-the-world tourists.

‘If I was going on holiday, I would never go self-catering,’ said Ryan. ‘How is it a holiday if you have to go supermarket shopping and cook your own meals?’

‘Not everyone has a limitless supply of money, Ryan,’ I said, smacking him lightly across the head with a baguette. ‘Something you’d better get used to if you’re going to be living on the wages of a flower picker.’

‘Don’t remind me,’ he said. ‘That’s going to be so dull. I’m going to need to sort out some fake ID and some qualifications as soon as I can.’

‘And how do you think you’re going to find somewhere to buy fake documents? The internet?’

‘’Course not. I’ve already found my source. This guy near Truro. I just need to go and make the arrangements.’

‘Won’t that be expensive?’ I said, hesitating over a packet of chocolate Hobnobs. How much money did not much money mean? Was Ryan down to his last fifty quid, or down to his last fifty thousand? ‘Should we get biscuits?’

‘Sure,’ he said, putting them in the trolley. ‘I have more money back in the farmhouse.’

We pushed the trolley to the checkout. ‘When are you planning to do this?’

‘Soon,’ he whispered. ‘I need ID that can last a lifetime so it has to be good.’

My phone rang. My friend, Amy. I hadn’t spoken to her in days.

‘Hi, Amy,’ I said.

Ryan began stacking the groceries on the conveyor belt.

‘Where have you been hiding yourself?’ she asked me.

‘Just hanging out at home.’

‘Sounds boring. Anyway, everyone’s going to the beach tomorrow. Can you come?’

Obviously I couldn’t. But the thought of doing something normal like hanging out at the beach with all my friends sounded so appealing.

‘Not sure. I’ll let you know,’ I said.

‘Call me back, OK?’

I hung up and helped Ryan bag the groceries.

‘Who was that?’ he asked.

‘Amy. Inviting me to the beach tomorrow.’

‘You can’t do that.’

‘I know.’

He put the bags into the shopping trolley. ‘We just need a couple of days. Until we’re sure she’s gone.’

‘How will we know she’s gone?’

‘She’s a cleaner. She’ll want to finish the job and get home. If she’s interested in me, I’ll know about it soon. If there’s no sign of her for a couple of days, we can assume she’s left.’

We loaded the groceries into the boot and then Ryan suggested I practise my driving. I agreed. I needed all the skills I could get.

‘And if we get pulled over?’ I asked.

‘Drive well and we won’t get pulled over.’

By the time we reached the turn-off for Penpol Cove, I was beginning to feel confident behind the wheel, dipping and releasing the clutch smoothly, remembering mirror, signal, manoeuvre. All I had to do now was drive down the narrow lane to the farmhouse, without meeting a tractor coming in the other direction. Reversing was not my forte.

I smelt it first. A bonfire. Wood and paper and dry grass. But there was a nasty undertone to it, like the smell of burning plastic.

‘The villagers won’t be happy,’ I said, hitting the button to close the window. ‘It’s an unwritten rule that you don’t light bonfires during the daytime in summer. It makes the washing smell like smoke.’

‘Village life is so exciting,’ said Ryan, laughing. ‘Will this be in the local paper? Local resident offends neighbours with untimely bonfire.’

‘Probably. Although it is evening, so I guess it’s OK.’ I turned to him, about to make a joke about the sorts of items that made local headlines, but the smile dropped from his face.

‘Stop the car,’ he said.

I hit the brake. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I think the smoke is coming from the farmhouse.’

‘Really?’ I squinted into the distance, but there were too many fields between us and the column of smoke rising into the sky.

‘Back the car up, Eden.’

I moved into reverse and twisted round, looking out of the rear window. Slowly we backtracked up the lane. When I reached the mini-roundabout at the top, I started driving out of the village.

‘Park the car,’ said Ryan.

I pulled in to the kerb. ‘What are we going to do?’

‘We’re going to find out if it is the farmhouse. But we’re not going down the lane. There’s a footpath through the fields, isn’t there?’

We crossed a stile into a field of potatoes and skirted round the edge, heading towards the smoke.

‘Tell me what you’re thinking,’ I said.

‘I’m thinking Lauren just set fire to my time-ship.’

‘She’s on the Isles of Scilly.’

‘She was. Is there another way to get to and from the islands, other than the boat?’

‘There’s a helicopter and a plane.’

He said nothing.

‘It might just be someone having a bonfire,’ I said.

‘Maybe.’

Over the hedge, a combine harvester made its slow way through the field, dust and straw clouding the air around it. The next field was filled with cows. They all stopped chewing the ground and turned to look at us, their sleepy brown eyes widening with curiosity.

Ryan gripped my hand tightly as we walked across the field. The cows returned to their chewing.

By the time we reached the third stile, the smoke was thicker, toxic-smelling. We were just two fields from the back of the farmhouse. From here it was easy to see that the shed where Ryan had hidden his ship was on fire. Or had been. There were no flames, just smoke spiralling up from the smouldering remains of the shed.

He swore and fell into a crouch, pulling me down with him. My knees hit the dirt with a thud. He dropped my hand.

‘Ryan,’ I said.

He shook his head to stop me speaking and swore again, repeatedly, under his breath.

Now we knew. She was here for Ryan.

‘Ryan,’ I whispered. ‘We need to leave.’

He looked up at me, his eyes wild with panic. ‘All my money is in the farmhouse.’

‘That doesn’t matter now. We have to get out of here.’

He took his wallet out of his jeans pocket and pulled the notes out. ‘I only have eighty pounds. It’s not enough.’

I placed a hand on his arm; I could feel his whole body trembling. ‘We have to get out of here,’ I said. ‘We’ll worry about money later.’

We stayed low to the ground, half crouching, half running back towards the main road. When we reached the last stile, we stopped to catch our breath.

‘I can use my debit card. I have some savings,’ I said.

Ryan looked back over his shoulder. ‘No. She’s here for me. She’ll be watching you too. That means she’ll be watching your internet usage, your bank account, your phone calls. We can’t use anything traceable.’

‘I have some savings in my bedroom. I have my mum’s wedding ring. We could get that.’

‘We need to stay away from the farmhouse and your house.’

He looked around, his eyes searching. ‘Give me your mobile.’

I handed it over. He threw it into a bin, along with his own phone.

‘You can locate someone using their phone,’ he said. ‘We need to leave here. Fast.’

We ran to the car. Ryan jumped into the driver’s seat and started the engine. He took the coast road, driving too fast, straddling the central line.

‘Easy,’ I said. ‘We drive on the left.’

He pulled erratically to the left, grazing the side of the car against the hedge.

‘Where are we going?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know.’

We drove in silence, past fields of wheat and potatoes, past the wooden holiday chalets dotted on Perran Towans, past the golf course. A mile outside of Perran, the main town in the area, Ryan pulled off the road into a parking area that overlooked the sea. Below us, I could hear the waves booming against the base of the cliff.

‘We can’t be seen from the road,’ said Ryan. ‘We should be OK here for a bit.’

‘And then what?’

‘I need to get that money. I need to see that guy about my ID tomorrow and then I have to disappear.’

I stopped breathing. ‘And what about me?’

He dropped his head in his hands. ‘I’m sorry, Eden. She’ll use you to get to me. You’ll have to disappear too.’

I exhaled. ‘Thank God.’

He looked at me.‘What?’

‘I don’t want you to leave without me. I don’t want you to disappear and leave me with a cleaner.’

He unclicked my seatbelt and pulled me across the handbrake and into his arms. ‘I’m not leaving without you,’ he said.

‘Where are we going to sleep?’

‘These seats recline a bit. I’ve got a picnic blanket in the boot. It’s not perfect, but it’s only for one night.’

On the horizon, a thick band of sea mist was creeping slowly inland. Sea mist could appear – and disappear – very quickly in this part of the world. Soon it would smother the sun and the air would chill. Within a few minutes our car would be covered by a thick blanket of it; we wouldn’t be able to see the edge of the cliff. We wouldn’t be able to see anyone until they were right outside our window.

‘I have a better idea,’ I said.

‘You do?’

‘Head back to the Towans. Let’s look for a vacant chalet.’

‘It’s the middle of summer.’

‘It’s worth a look.’

He pulled on to the road and headed back the way we’d come. We parked in the public car park and started walking across the sand dunes. The chalets were spread apart, each one surrounded by its own little patch of grass and sandy parking area. Families sat out on the decking, barbecuing chicken and drinking beer. The world was going on around us, innocently, peacefully, as we searched for cover, for escape.

It was easy to tell which chalets were occupied; even those with no car in the driveway and no people around had towels drying on the line and surfboards and buckets and spades stacked outside the front door.

‘We should check out the more remote chalets,’ I said. ‘The ones closest to the beach always fill up fast.’

We climbed the dunes and headed away from the sea. It was quieter here; rabbits were beginning to emerge from their burrows and hop around, stopping to nibble at the thin grass.

‘Wait,’ said Ryan, putting out an arm to stop me. He was staring at a tatty, wooden chalet near the lifeguard hut. Blue paint was peeling from the clapboard and the front decking sloped to one side. ‘I think that’s the one,’ he said.

We circled the chalet widely, hand in hand, as though we were doing nothing more than taking a romantic walk on the dunes. There were no lights on inside the chalet, no tell-tale buckets or fishing nets drying outside.

‘There’s a back door,’ I said.

‘Perfect.’

I stood on the pathway acting as lookout while Ryan draped his thick jacket over one elbow and smashed the rear kitchen window. The glass exploded inside. My heart raced as I scanned the area while Ryan climbed through the window. Two minutes later he unlocked the back door.

‘Be careful where you stand,’ he said. Tiny shards of glass were scattered across the floor.

I went to check out the rest of the chalet, while he swept up the glass and patched up the broken window with a piece of cardboard from an old crisps box that was filled with beach toys.

It was obviously a privately owned chalet, rather than a rental. It was too shabby and much too full of personal items for the rental market. Which was a good thing, unless – by some unfortunate coincidence – the family that owned the place chose this night to head down to Cornwall for a break. There was a double bedroom at the front of the chalet and a twin bedroom at the back. Just one small bathroom. The kitchen and living room was all-in-one with windows to the front and rear.

‘There’s a bedroom at the back,’ I told Ryan. ‘It’s the only room that doesn’t face the front.’

‘That’s where we’ll stay then,’ he said. ‘No one has any reason to pass by the back of the chalet.’

Ryan went to the car to fetch some clothes and the bags of supermarket groceries. I searched through the cupboards for towels and sheets. There were a couple of scratchy blankets, but no sheets or pillowcases. I checked the taps: water flowed. The electricity was off.

I glanced up through the window and saw Ryan heading back towards the chalet. A thin gauze of mist was in the air by now; the droplets shimmered in what was left of the sun. In his black jeans and jacket, Ryan reminded me of a fly caught in a spider’s web.

‘Everything OK?’ I asked him.

‘We’re good.’

We made plates of sandwiches and chocolate biscuits and took them into the back bedroom to eat. The sun was lost behind the thickening fog and colour was gradually draining from the world outside. The bedroom was dim and shadowy; within an hour it would be dark.

‘We should shut the curtains,’ I said. I eased myself on to one of the beds and leant back against the wall.

Ryan took the opposite bed. ‘If someone’s outside, I’d sooner be able to see them.’

My stomach flipped and I put my plate of food on the floor.

‘What am I going to tell Miranda?’ I asked.

Miranda. Who was already grieving for her dead boy-friend.

‘You’re not going to tell her anything. We’re going to leave some clothes and identification on the beach to make it look like we drowned.’

I squeezed my eyes tight, forcing back the tears. This was no time for crying.

‘How are we going to pay for the ID?’

Ryan glanced out the window. ‘I need to know where Lauren is. She can’t spend every minute at the farmhouse. When she leaves, I go in and get my cash.’

‘Where do you think she is?’

‘My guess is that she’s staying at my house. Using it as a base. But she’ll be checking out your house. She’ll look up your friends. Any places we’ve been known to use.’

‘And when she realises we’re gone, we’ll be safe? She’ll go back to her time?’

Ryan looked up and met my eyes. ‘We’ll never be safe. They know I travelled back in time. Unauthorised. They’ll always be looking for me.’

‘That’s what I don’t get. You said that small streams don’t change the future. I’m only a small stream. And you too, right? So why don’t they leave us alone? How much does you being here really matter?’

Ryan sighed. ‘I thought I’d managed to leave without a trace. I stole a ship that was due to be scrapped. I hid my portal. But I’m guessing this is big news back in my time. My father is a powerful man. Think about it: the son of one of the Guardians steals a time-ship and travels back to the past. It’s going to be a big deal. My father’s opponents won’t let this go.’

‘We can hide. We can beat them.’

Ryan smiled thinly. ‘I’m so sorry that I’m putting you through all this. I never wanted this for you.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘You’ll never see Miranda again. Or any of your friends. A new identity means giving up everyone you know. Everyone you love.’

‘Not everyone,’ I said. ‘It means giving up everyone else for the person I love most. It’s no more than you did for me.’

We lay down, fully clothed, on one of the twin beds, our bodies pushed against each other, the two thin blankets draped over us. Ryan’s hand reached for mine and held on tightly.

‘It’s going to be OK,’ he said.

‘I know.’

He kissed my forehead and then shut his eyes, his hand still curled into mine. We lay like that for a while, neither of us saying anything, while the fog rolled inwards, swirling and folding itself around the chalet until it was lost within the darkness. Ryan fell asleep first. His breathing grew steadier, then his grip loosened around my hand. I don’t remember falling asleep, but I must have, because I remember waking up.

A bright beam of light shone directly on my face. I opened my eyes. The light came from behind me, throwing sharp shadows on to the walls and the floor. Dread filled the pit of my stomach as I pushed myself up on to my elbows and turned to look behind me.

A full moon, shining like a searchlight in the clear, night sky, had captured me in its beam.