Chapter 11
11
Charlotte’s curiosity began to rise as Brian led her carefully around the interior of the observatory. The ground floor was cracked and uneven, the tiles lifting from damp and neglect. Faded posters from the 1980s and 1990s, advertising public stargazing nights and special lectures, and photographs of celestial events and past members of the Lower Brambleton Astronomical Society lined the walls, their edges curling with age. Charlotte didn’t have time to wonder why the LBAS hadn’t started to clear up already: the entrance hall and ground floor felt like a time capsule. She had the feeling, though, from the conspiratorial tone of Brian’s voice as he began to speak again, that she was about to find out.
‘There’s been a lot of legal wrangling over it,’ Brian said as he led her across the floor towards the open, curved staircase that led up to the viewing gallery at the top of the dome. ‘It’s been locked up for the past few years and because the Winslow papers were removed in the late nineties, no one was bothered about the rest, until Flowerdew started sniffing around to develop the area. When their offer was accepted for the land, they put in high-level security, and made sure everything was safe. We at the Lower Brambleton Astronomical Society weren’t allowed in to retrieve anything, either. They bought it right from under us.’
‘But surely it was better for the experts to remove what’s in here than just chuck it into a skip?’ Charlotte asked.
Brian paused at the foot of the steps that began the ascent to the ancient, dilapidated, green-stained dome. Back in the heyday of the observatory, the dome would open like a gigantic celestial eye, to allow the telescope an uninterrupted view of the night sky. Now, since the telescope had been removed some years ago, its absence made the area seem wide, empty, devoid of purpose.
‘You’d think so,’ Brian replied, ‘but Flowerdew weren’t bothered about that. All they wanted was to get it levelled as quickly as possible. The more time it took to dismantle, the more money they were losing while the development was delayed.’
‘So why did they appoint me to come here?’ Charlotte asked, half to herself. But Brian, who she sensed was never one to pass up an opportunity to talk, answered it for her.
‘There was an old covenant on the building,’ he said. ‘The owners of the land had stipulated that, should the observatory ever have to be removed, its salvageable contents should be donated to the University of North West Wessex, to sit alongside the Winslow papers for posterity. Flowerdew nearly missed it, but at the last minute the documents were found, held by some tinpot solicitor in Burnham on Sea.’ He sighed. ‘I’m afraid it’s just another part of the very complicated history of the observatory.’
Charlotte made to ascend the staircase, but Brian reached out a hand to stop her. ‘Sorry, love,’ he said. ‘I can’t let you go up there. Since the telescope was removed, it’s been condemned. Rot, rust, you name it. It’s got it all. Shame, really – we had some great nights up in the dome, stargazing and chatting until dawn.’ He grinned. ‘But needs must, and it’s far too dangerous now.’
Charlotte felt a sting of disappointment, but a broken leg, or worse, would have put an end to her work here, so she acquiesced. Turning away from the stairs, she forced a brighter smile. ‘So, what else can you show me? If there’s nothing left in the dome, what am I supposed to be cataloguing and archiving?’
Brian smiled back. ‘Come with me,’ he said.
They moved away from the staircase and deeper into the interior of the building. It felt as though they were about to enter the beating heart of the observatory, and Charlotte could see that this room, right in the centre, had been constructed to keep its contents safe and unharmed by the elements. Brian pushed open the steel door, white paint yellowed with age, and rusted from the damp. ‘This is what you’ve really come to sort out.’
As she followed Brian into the records room of the observatory, she couldn’t help a gasp of surprise. The records room was a dimly lit space filled with towering bookshelves that reached up to the ceiling. The shelves were now empty, but it was an easy leap to imagine them crammed with journals and magazines during the observatory’s heyday. Dust motes danced in the light from the harsh white bulb that flashed on at the flick of a switch. A few chairs and desks were scattered about, their surfaces cluttered with stacks of books and old journals. The musty smell of old paper pervaded the room, a testament to years of neglect. There were green filing cabinets lining all four walls of the room, with handwritten labels on each drawer, which obviously formed the bulk of the paperwork and artefacts that would become Charlotte’s focus for the next few weeks. Magazines from the 1980s and 1990s, such as Sky & Telescope and Astronomy , lay in piles, their covers featuring bold headlines about the latest celestial discoveries and technological advancements of the time.
To say that Charlotte was gobsmacked was an understatement.
‘How on earth is this all still here?’ she breathed, looking around the room in wonder. ‘I mean, all of the rubbish outside… the vandalism… this part looks as though it hasn’t been touched in thirty years!’
‘Something like that,’ Brian said, clearly enjoying her surprise. ‘As I said, Flowerdew have been after the observatory for a long time. Their security was incredible, and they’ve had an option on it for at least a decade, even though the owners weren’t prepared to sell immediately. At one point, there was a team of security guards up here twenty-four hours a day, just to keep the hordes out.’ He sighed. ‘That was another reason why LBAS weren’t allowed in.’
‘But I’m guessing this is all your stuff?’ Charlotte persisted. ‘Why weren’t you allowed in to retrieve it?’
Brian’s face suddenly looked as though it had aged twenty years. ‘After everything that happened with Martin and Laura, most of us just wanted to move on. No one had the heart, or the guts, to pack it all away. Too much water under the bridge.’
‘Martin and Laura?’ Charlotte echoed. She was surprised by Brian’s assumption that she’d know who they were, but then that tended to happen a lot in small communities, where everyone did know everyone else, or at least knew someone who did. She paused before adding, in a gentler tone. ‘Who are they?’
Brian gave a sad smile. ‘Sorry – since you’re staying with Lorelai, I assumed you’d know.’
Charlotte drew in a deep breath, and then wished she hadn’t as the taste of the dust in the air hit the back of her throat. Coughing slightly, she had time to consider her response. Eventually, she spoke again. ‘Lorelai’s told me a little about the developments up here,’ she said, when the cough had abated. ‘But I didn’t like to ask too much, for fear of prying. She seemed to have some very strong feelings about it all.’
Brian paused for a long beat. ‘Well,’ he conceded, as if he was weighing up the wisdom of his next words. ‘I suppose, since you’ll be spending a lot of time at the observatory, it’s only fair that you should know the whole story…’