Rewrite the Stars

‘You hungry?’ I ask him when I think I just heard his tummy rumble.

‘I’m starving,’ he says in relief, his eyes brightening at the thought of food. ‘That toast was good but I’m a growing boy, plus we still have our date today so don’t stand me up, Charlie Taylor.’

‘As if I would,’ I say, looking forward to it more than anything. ‘But I’ll need to go home first and get changed, which means braving the snow.’

He shakes his head, climbs off the bed and goes to a chest of drawers, which is the only other thing in the room apart from a battered guitar. He hands me a pair of pale blue jeans and a black Guns N’ Roses sweatshirt.

‘Cinderella, you shall go to the ball,’ he says with a heart-melting smile. ‘We won’t be going too far so don’t worry about being too glamorous. There’s a great wee pub that does bar food just a few miles away. It’s got sea views, an open fire and there’s always someone in the corner playing a tune so this will be just perfect.’

I lift the sweater.

‘The Ramones and Guns N’ Roses all in one day!’ I say to him in mock horror. ‘Whatever happened to me being a country girl at heart?’

He walks towards me and takes both of my hands.

‘Come on, let your hair down, country girl,’ he says, kissing me on the forehead. ‘It’s a brand-new day and life is for living, plus I think it will look pretty cool with your blue cowboy boots.’

I look at the offering and my heart skips a beat. My brother has the same sweatshirt. Stay present, be happy, I tell myself. Matthew would want me to be happy.

I’ve a feeling he would also have a lynch mob out for me now if he knew who I was with.

‘By the way, just so you know, I never, ever do this type of thing, ever,’ I say to Tom as I pull the sweatshirt over my head to try it on for size. The jeans fit well enough with the help of a belt tied really tight and, although this all feels a lot out of my comfort zone, it does make me feel a bit sexy knowing Tom wears these on his beautiful body.

‘You told me last night you’d say that,’ he says to me, handing me a towel now. ‘Shower is to the left.’

I take a deep breath and make my way out of the bedroom, feeling his eyes on me every step of the way.

It’s a snowy winter’s day in December, it’s the Christmas holidays, so I may as well have some fun with my rock star from Ohio who I’ve dreamed of for so long. I’ve waited forever for this moment and no one, not even my brother, is going to ruin it for me.

Chapter Three

We’re in the cosiest little pub by an angry winter sea, wrapped up like onions with an open fire by our feet, and I’m looking across the table at Tom Farley who still can’t take his eyes off me. And I can’t take mine off him.

I’m not sure what heaven is like, but I’m pretty sure this feeling is as good as it gets.

A smell of turf and damp clothes fills the air around us as an old man plays a slow air on a fiddle in the corner, followed by an almost unrecognizable rendition of ‘A Fairytale of New York’. It has us all singing along at the tops of our voices, giving the famous Pogues song the Christmas national anthem status it deserves.

I’ve a bellyful of oysters and Guinness, a heart that’s about to burst with joy and I don’t ever remember feeling so relaxed and at home in my whole life.

‘I think I’m in love with this place,’ I whisper to Tom. His sweater is soft on my skin and I’m so at ease, glad to be comfortable in these new but oh so welcoming surroundings. ‘I think I’ve fallen in love with Howth and all it means being here.’

I think I could very quickly fall deeply in love with him, too, and I’m sure he knows it.

‘It’s one of my favourite places, too,’ says Tom. His gravelly voice and rugged good looks make him the icing on the cake in this setting. ‘Do you have a favourite place, Charlie? I’d love to go there with you if you do.’

I swoon inside at the idea of us making plans like this together. He wants to do things, see places with me.

‘I’d love to go to Paris one day,’ I tell him. ‘It’s been on my bucket list since I was very little. I must be a romantic at heart, even though I’ve always believed I was a cynic. Something, or someone, must have changed my mind.’

He knows well that I’m referring to him. I never believed in the power of love until I met him.

‘We’ll go to Paris one day, then,’ he says, his eyes lighting up at the idea of it. ‘You and me, candlelit dinners overlooking the Seine, evening walks taking in the sights … Of course you’re romantic, Charlie! You’re a writer. Romance is bursting from you.’

I take what he says as a compliment. I suppose I couldn’t write country songs with heart-breaking themes if I wasn’t romantic.

‘I’d love to see Paris with you one day, Tom,’ I say to him. ‘But I’d also be happy to stay here forever.’

‘You’d be very welcome to stay here forever,’ he says, putting a strong arm around me, telling me the feeling is mutual. ‘We could live by the sea and watch the world go by, test-run our self-penned songs on the punters at our leisure before strolling home with the wind in our hair. Not the worst type of life if you ask me.’

My heart swells at the thought of it.

‘Imagine being able to make a living out of your own creations, being exactly the person you know you want to be instead of being a slave to mortgages and bills in some silly rat race in the city.’

I allow myself to dream of a life here in pretty Howth with its island views, writing songs and playing music, being who I am and not who I seem to have become.

‘That’s how I thought my life would be,’ sighs Tom. ‘Don’t you ever just wish you could make a living from your talent, your passion and your dreams instead of always going against the grain of who you really are, Charlie?’

He looks like a man with so many regrets as his mind drifts away again from the beautiful moment we have been sharing for the past couple of hours.

‘You’re too talented to be stuck in a job you hate,’ I tell him, sitting up straight. ‘You used to steal the show on stage with the band, even from behind the drum kit. Plus I’ve heard you singing so I know you’d make a great front man if you wanted to.’

He smiles lightly but I know he doesn’t believe me.

‘I’m thirty-two years old,’ he says to me. ‘Maybe it’s about time I stopped dreaming of being the next Bob Dylan and earned some money for a change.’

‘Maybe it’s time you stopped trying to be someone you’re not by working in an office,’ I say, knowing I’m talking to myself as well as him.

‘I’m a free spirit, Charlie,’ he says as if reading my mind. ‘So are you. We should both be earning a living doing what we love instead of where we both are now. But sometimes life gets in the way and we need to do what we need to do. Does that make sense?’

I nod slowly. Of course it makes sense.

I think of my job at the primary school and how much I love it, yet since Tom told me how talented I am five years ago, I’ve always feared I might be a square peg in a round hole, ticking boxes, robotically following systems I don’t even believe in just to keep a roof over my head and to have a career that gives me a steady income.

I think of Matthew, a truly tortured artist now working in a corner shop in the middle of nowhere and living with our parents as he battles with his mental health issues which have suffocated him when all his dreams folded. He couldn’t make his passion work, so why would it be any different for me?

Then there’s my friend Kirsty who wants nothing more than to be someone’s wife with two-point-four children, and my sister Emily who travelled to Australia with me and met the love of her life on the way. Always content with the simple things in life, Emily has forever been my role model and the one I look up to with her carefree attitude and happy-go-lucky ways.

I don’t know how I became who I am now on the outside, but on the inside I’m bursting to be different, to take risks, to follow my heart and soul instead of my head. Inside, I’m longing to be the real me and so far in my life the only one to recognize that is this man in front of me. He sees in me something that I have only ever seen myself. He believes in me so much that it’s almost catching my breath.

‘Do you mind if I call my sister really quickly?’ I say to Tom, needing a moment from this realization and perhaps some familiarity before I really am tempted to run away with him and pack in all that I’ve worked for. ‘It’s not that we need to know each other’s every move, but I did abandon them all last night so it might be good to see how they got on.’

Tom gladly gives the go-ahead then goes to the bar to get some drinks in, giving me time to check in with Emily. She misses the call then rings me straight back and I’m excited to tell her all about my very quaint surroundings here in this brand-new place where life seems so free and easy.

‘Happy school holidays, Miss Taylor!’ she sings down the phone when I pick up. ‘Are you still with that absolute ride Farley? Our Matthew will murder you, you do realize that? I get a feeling he hates him and everyone else who was in that band.’

I can hear Kevin, my brother-in-law, mutter in the background something along the lines of Matthew being all right if nothing falls on him.

‘I’m with him, yes, in a little pub in Howth,’ I tell her. ‘I think I’ve fallen in love with Howth, not to mention the company. Oh Emily, he is just the best. I’m feckin’ mad about him.’

Not that I need to tell her that as she’s listened to me go on about all the ‘what if’ scenarios and fantasizing I’ve done about Tom Farley over the years.

‘I swear,’ she says to me. ‘I can’t believe this, Charlotte, he’s a dream! He’s your dream! Did you tell him about the songs you wrote about him? Oh my God, it’s like a movie! Did you tell him how mad in the head you’ve been about him for five years now?’

For the first time ever, I want to gag my big sister as she states the obvious as if she’s on speed.

‘And did you ask him what happened with our Matthew and the band?’ she continues. ‘I’d so love to know the real story there. Like, why on earth would Matthew leave Dublin and go back to the sticks over a silly row? It must have been really bad for it all to get so messed up. Ask him, I dare you! You better ask him, Charlotte!’

I don’t want to ask him. In fact, I feel panicky at the very thought of knowing the truth in case it ruins everything. I know it must have been bad – we all know it must have been bad – but I don’t think I want to know any more than that. What if it was Tom’s fault? What if it was so bad that it meant we could never be together?

I glance across at Tom who is thankfully engrossed in conversation with the barman and can’t see the worry in my face.

‘He’s everything I hoped he would be,’ I whisper to Emily, feeling tears of fear prick my eyes at the thought of this all going wrong. ‘I really hope that Matthew can forgive him for whatever it was and see how good we are together.’

My sister gasps in a high-pitched tone.

‘Sorry, I’m just really happy for you,’ she says, getting emotional now, too. ‘I can’t believe you just bumped into him like that. Like, five long years later, too. Kevin, did you know that she has waited five years to find this man? Even the hunks Down Under couldn’t change her mind and believe me, I tried to distract her from him. But look, she was right. It’s fate!’

I wait as my sister and her husband update each other on what Kevin knows and doesn’t know about my five years of pining for Tom.

‘So, anyhow, I just thought I’d check in so that you knew I was alive,’ I say quickly, trying to divert the subject, ‘and to apologize again for abandoning ship last night. I hope Kirsty isn’t too mad.’

I say that with the ultimate tongue in cheek as we both know that Kirsty, as long as she has a man stuck to her face, couldn’t care less if any of us disappeared to Outer Mongolia.

‘She’s worried sick about you.’

‘I’m sure she is,’ I laugh.

Tom comes back to our seat and I feel slightly nervous. Not nervous to be with him in the slightest, but nervous that my sister will let me down by declaring my forever love to him not knowing he is beside me again and he might overhear her.

‘Last I heard from Kirsty, she was planning her wedding. Yes, another one,’ says Emily, while Kevin continues to commentate in the background. ‘I mean seriously, I don’t know how she does it. I’m still de-stressing from my wedding a year later, never mind contemplating another. She’s like, what do you call her? What’s the name of the actress with all the husbands?’

Tom can definitely hear her now. We glance at each other. He catches my eye and smiles.

‘What’s the name of the famous actress who was married eight times?’ I ask him, not wanting him to feel left out.

‘Liz Taylor,’ he whispers.

‘Liz Taylor, yes! Kirsty would make Liz Taylor look like a spinster at this rate,’ I joke to my sister. ‘Look, I’d better go but you two enjoy the rest of your day and I’ll see you soon.’

But Emily doesn’t seem to want to go. She’s totally caught up in all things to do with me and Tom, it seems, and wants to hear more.

‘Is he there right now? Beside you?’ Emily says just as I’m about to hang up. ‘You know, our mother fancied him more than any of us when he was in the band with Matthew. She totally had the hots for him and said if only she was twenty-five years younger!’

I take that as my cue to go and we swiftly say our goodbyes, then I lean back on the booth and drop my phone beside me.

I can’t believe she said that my mother fancied Tom but, let’s face it, he probably has women of all ages swooning after him all the time. He’s the type of man that older women float towards in a giddy mix of maternal instinct and physical attraction.

‘So, your friend, is it Kirsty? She’s been married more than once or was that just a joke?’ he asks, out of the blue, and I’m a bit taken aback at his interest in the brief mention of Kirsty’s exotic love life.

‘Yes, Kirsty is a real romantic who would consider marrying Mickey Mouse if he asked her to, why?’ I ask, taking a gulp of my drink.

‘Just asking,’ he says to me. ‘Funny old thing, marriage. I’m just curious.’

OK, then, since he’s just curious …

‘Well, her first marriage was when she was twenty-four to a Turkish lad called Demir who she met on holiday,’ I tell him. ‘They’d known each other two weeks when he proposed.’

‘Sweet.’

I smile at his sincerity.

‘That’s one word for it, I suppose,’ I explain, ‘but as soon as he got his visa just over a year later, she was history.’

His face changes. ‘Ah, not so sweet then. Poor Kirsty.’

That’s what we said at the time, but we needn’t have worried.

‘Second of all was James, a forty-seven-year-old divorcé she met online who only wanted someone to look after his children so he could work around the clock,’ I say, and Tom’s eyes widen. ‘So this time she jumped ship after two years, realizing that being Fräulein Maria was not her destiny, after all. She’s twenty-nine now and still hasn’t given up on her happily ever after.’

Tom sits back and raises an eyebrow. I can’t tell if he’s impressed or just intrigued that someone in this day and age could be so gullible.

‘I guess we all make foolish mistakes when we’re young and think we’re in love,’ he says, a tinge of regret in his voice. He looks like his mind has drifted again for a second. ‘Do you fall in love easily, Charlie?’

‘What?’

‘You heard me.’ He squeezes my hand and my heart flutters.

I hold his gaze as I wonder how to reply. If only he knew how I’d longed for him after only minutes in his company five years ago. How I’d spent hours of my life pouring my thoughts into love song after love song and how every single man I’ve met since him failed to give me the intense feeling in the pit of my stomach like he did. I’d thought that maybe I’d imagined him to be something he wasn’t, that I’d dreamed him up in my head, yet here we are having the most relaxed, perfect time together and it tells me that I was right all along.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever been in love before,’ I say to him, wanting to hold back from spilling my whole heart out to him so soon. ‘I’m a bit of a cynic, maybe. My mother always said I should lower my expectations instead of dreaming of Mr Perfect For Me.’

He laughs now with a tiny hint of embarrassment at the mention of my mother.

‘So, you’ve never been in love,’ he says. ‘Ah, come on.’

If only he knew.

‘Same question back to you,’ I say to him, feeling brave but unsure if I want to know the ins and outs of his love life. I already know that it’s been, let’s say, very busy.

He takes a sip of his frothy pint of Guinness and then leans forward and clasps his hands.

‘I’ve certainly thought I was in love before,’ he says, not afraid to look me in the eye as he does so. ‘Many, many times I thought, wow, this must be it, but then it would wear off and I’d wonder if that’s how it should be. I’ve been searching and hoping for something deeper, you know? Something real that lasts and that doesn’t give up when the novelty and lust drug wears off, but to be honest, I’m still wondering if I really know what it’s all about at all. What even is love?’

We both take a deep breath and sit in silent contemplation. I feel tears prick my eyes when I think of the words I put into songs about him, yet I didn’t even know him at all back then. Is that love? Or how I dreamed of this moment when we’d be reunited and it’s just as perfect as I’d imagined it. Is that love?

‘What I do know?’ he says, breaking our silence and looking my way, ‘is that when I first met you, Charlie, I think I felt something that I hadn’t before.’

He pauses. I try not to gasp.

‘And I also know that I haven’t felt the same with anyone ever since, no matter how I tried to convince myself otherwise,’ he continues. ‘That probably sounds ridiculous but it’s true, Charlie. I find your talent, your presence, everything about you just so mesmerizing, which is why what your brother thinks of me just can’t get in the way any more. Not this time. Not ever.’

I inhale this moment. Could this really be happening? Is it true what they say, that when you know, you just know? What is it about the two of us that makes this all feel so unique and real? When I see him, I want to touch him, to hold his hand, to take every part of him in. When I speak, it’s like he hangs on every single word and answers in exactly the way I want him to – actually no, he answers even better than that.

I swallow hard. ‘Thank you,’ is all I can say. ‘I’m really honoured you think I’m so talented. I’ve always feared my songs might be a bit twee and simple.’

He looks at me in disbelief. ‘You should be shining brightly, Charlie Taylor,’ he says, leaning closer, touching my face. ‘You absolutely impressed me and have rarely left my mind ever since that day, no matter where I’ve been or who I’ve been with.’

I want to ask him why he didn’t come and find me back then if his feelings were so strong. What stopped him from looking me up and saving us both from all this misery for so long? Even if it hadn’t worked out, why didn’t he try and make it happen in the first place? And so I take a deep breath and ask him just that.

‘I think you broke my heart that day,’ I confess to him in an outburst I’ve been trying so hard to hold back on. ‘My heart went to pieces when I saw you with your girlfriend, not to mention all the different girls I saw you with after that.’

He bites his lip, then runs his fingers through his hair.

‘I think that when you’re ready you should ask your brother why I never made that move,’ he says to me, and for the first time since last night I see a different look in his eyes. A little bit bitter, maybe.

‘Matthew?’

Oh no, not this again.

‘Or I can just tell you now some of what happened, and you can make your own mind up if you want to see me again?’

We sit together, in a slightly uncomfortable silence, each acknowledging the dip in the mood and the onset of reality. I can almost hear my heartbeat. I don’t know if I want to hear this or not.

‘Just tell me,’ I say, closing my eyes as I concentrate on breathing. I’ve a feeling my whole world is about to be pulled from beneath me, just when it was all going so well. ‘No matter what it is, I’m sure it can’t be that bad.’

He swallows, holds my hand a little tighter, and I can see that this is just as difficult for him as it is for me, but it’s like an elephant in the room now and we have to get it out of the way.

‘The girls I was with back then, they never meant a thing and Matthew knew it,’ Tom explains to me. ‘It used to irritate him that I got all this stupid attention. Not that he was jealous or anything, but more that he wanted me to focus on the band itself, or him at least, rather than the women who followed us. Then, one night after a gig, I got the courage to ask him for your number. I made some excuse about wanting to hear more of your songs and he flipped, like, totally flipped, and told me that he never wanted to see me near you again. Called me a womanizer and a … well, you can imagine the rest.’

I shake my head and smile a little, but Tom isn’t smiling at all. This is a big thing for him to tell me and even talking about it is really opening up old wounds.

‘I can imagine.’

‘I totally got that he was your big brother and of course he was worried, but no matter how much I tried to explain to him that to me you were different, he wouldn’t have it,’ says Tom. ‘He was the big boss at the time, it was his band and I had to do what he said if I wanted to keep my place. We were really going places and he made me choose – go after you like I wanted to or stay in the band. At least he said that was why he was mad.’

I bite my lip as it all falls into place. Maybe this isn’t as bad as it seems. Unless there’s more?

‘But there’s no band now, right?’ I say to him. ‘There is no band so none of that matters any more, does it? We can be together now if we want to. It’s nothing to do with Matthew any more.’

I think of my brother and all the times he seemed to stand in my way when in his head he was standing up for me. He was always so super protective and I hated him for it, but maybe he had a point. He saw Tom as a Casanova who would break my heart. He was looking out for me as any big brother would, but that time is over now. We are where we are now. We can live in the present.

‘No, there is no band now, and I’d a big part to play in that too,’ says Tom, dropping his head and looking away. ‘That’s when the story ends, and it wasn’t a happy ending, as you know.’

Oh. So I haven’t heard it all yet. There is more …

‘Why did you guys break up?’ I ask him. ‘Please don’t say it was over me?’

Tom wets his lips with his tongue and exhales long and slow. My stomach hits my mouth.

‘We were having silly rows up until then,’ he continues quickly. ‘There were cracks. Me and Matthew were clashing left, right and centre. He wanted to be the star of the show, I wanted to have more say in what direction we were going in. It was a clash of ego, of power, a real-life case of too many chiefs, and I told him he was jealous, but I always had a feeling it was more than that.’

I dab my nose with a tissue as I try and absorb my part in all of this.

‘Jealous? You mean, jealous of you?’

He bites his lip. ‘Yes, I guess in a way he was jealous of me,’ he says, his eyes heavy now and sad. ‘But not just jealous of me. He was jealous … he was jealous of what me and you could be if we got together.’

It all starts to make sense now, even if it seems so petty and ridiculous on Matthew’s part. He used to make every excuse he could think of to put me off Tom Farley. He used to love to tell me that he’d a woman at every gig, a different one every night, and because he knew I fancied Tom he’d remind me that I’d always just be the same to him. I’d offer to help out at gigs, but Matthew would have anyone but me come along and hang out with them. He would never let me get close.