Rewrite the Stars. Emma Heatherington

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 СКАЧАТЬ