Chapter 3
Chapter Three
On Saturday morning, Stella bought the largest coffee she could find and made her way across Greenwich Park where groups of kids (and adults) were having a kickabout, families with small children were flying kites, and couples were walking hand in hand. It was a lovely park and Stella was pleased to see so many happy lives around her, even if it did increase her sense of loneliness. By the time she made it up the hill to the observatory, she’d finished drinking her coffee and was searching for a bin to dispose of the empty cup.
‘There’s a bin behind you, but you could more easily fit the bin in the cup than the other way around.’
Stella looked up to see a familiar face smiling down at her. A knot unloosened itself in her stomach. It wouldn’t have surprised her at all if he’d not turned up.
‘Hello, Benedict. Still working on the comedy routine?’
‘When I can. You came then.’
‘Evidently, and who is this handsome young man?’
Beside the professor was a bespectacled little boy with brown hair and brown eyes. Dimples winked in his chubby cheeks – a sure sign of either a Libran ascendant or Venus in the first house. Under her scrutiny, he blushed and hid behind his father’s legs .
‘This is my son, Daniel. He’s a huge fan of the planetarium.’
‘Hello, Daniel,’ she said. ‘I’m a huge fan of the planetarium, too.’
On hearing this, the little boy crept back into view. ‘Are you coming in with us?’
Stella didn’t know how to answer this question. Labouring under the impression that this was a date, she’d not really factored in spending the morning with a little kid, and she didn’t want to muscle in on what now appeared to be dad and son quality time. But what kind of man fetched his son on a date, let alone a first date? Unless she’d woefully misunderstood what today was about. But she was confident that she hadn’t got hold of the wrong end of the stick as Mercury wasn’t retrograde at the moment and everything was rosy in Neptune’s sea garden right now.
‘Of course Stella is coming with us, Daniel. I explained that earlier.’ Benedict looked up. ‘I told Daniel about you on the train on our way here. He was supposed to be going camping this weekend but the camp leader tested positive for Covid this morning, so that put paid to that. I thought a trip to the planetarium might make up for the disappointment. Apologies for not forewarning you, only it didn’t occur to me to ask for your phone number the other night.’
‘Don’t worry and please don’t feel obliged to include me. I can easily entertain myself.’
‘We wouldn’t hear of it. Come on, planetarium for three it is.’
Benedict took his son’s hand and together they headed into the planetarium and settled down for the show. Stella looked at the little boy’s rapt face as he stared up at the night sky. Astronomy must be in the blood. Well, this wasn’t her strangest first date by a long chalk, but it was certainly up there. She tried not to think about the man who’d once invited her on a date as a pretext to having her star in an ‘art’ film he was making. Stella hadn’t paid much attention during art classes at school, but even she knew when something was definitely not art and had made a suitably swift exit.
When the planetarium show finished, Daniel was already up on his feet, crossing his legs and bobbing up and down.
‘Daddy, I need a wee.’
‘Come on, son. We won’t be long, Stella,’ said Benedict. ‘Shall we meet you outside?’
Stella followed at a more leisurely pace. After a few minutes, Daniel emerged from the gents with his shirt and jumper tucked into his pants. Benedict bent down to straighten him up.
‘Well, I don’t know about anyone else,’ he said, ‘but I could do with something to eat. What does everyone fancy?’
While Stella had been looking forward to a romantic bistro lunch for two, now that was out, it seemed churlish not to let the kid choose.
‘I’m easy,’ she said. ‘Daniel, what would you like to eat?
‘Burger,’ said the little boy, without hesitation, beaming and showing a mouthful of milk teeth with two missing in the front. ‘And I bet you want a burger too.’
‘Dan-i-el,’ said his father. ‘Stella can choose for herself. Not everyone is as keen on burgers as you are.’
Stella grinned. ‘My staple diet, given half a chance. So lead me to the burger joint of your choosing.’
‘Would the West End take you too far out of your way?’
‘As a matter of fact, I was on my way up there next to see a couple of films, so that works well for me.’
She’d thought it wise to have something planned for the afternoon in case she needed an excuse to leave and had come across an indie cinema showing a double bill of two of her favourite weather disaster movies.
Benedict took his son’s hand and they walked through Greenwich Park to the river bus. It was a lot slower than the Tube, but much more exciting for a visiting six-year-old boy. Within the hour, they were seated at a window table in a restaurant just off Soho, ordering burgers, fries and chocolate milkshakes while London fizzed past.
When they’d finished eating, Stella glanced at her phone. ‘Well, thank you for lunch, Benedict, and it was lovely to meet you, Daniel, but I’d best start making tracks if I’m to get to the pictures on time.’
‘My pleasure.’ Benedict stood up to see her off. ‘I’m giving another lecture during the week in South Kensington. I don’t suppose you’d like to come along?’
Did she really want to sit through another dry-as-dust astronomy lecture? Not particularly. But she did want to see more of the person giving the lecture, so one more night of equations would be a small price to pay.
‘Er… yes, I’d like that. Thank you.’
‘Let me have your number and I’ll be in touch with the details. He unlocked his phone and handed it over while she typed in her number.
‘There you go. Well I’d better get a move on.’
She shrugged on her jumper and made her way outside, father and son waving at her as she left. Stella really didn’t know what to think. Professor Redman was incredibly attractive, but he had a young son, which was new news. There was still a bit of a question mark over this Miranda woman, but it seemed unlikely that she was the boy’s mother. Daniel didn’t look at all like his father or Miranda. He was dark and they were both fair, so the boy’s mother must be dark-haired and dark-eyed. According to her admittedly vague recollection from school biology, there was something to do with recessive genes that meant two blue-eyed people couldn’t have a brown-eyed baby. Or maybe it was the other way around. As she’d paid no more attention to science than she had art, or any other subject come to that, it was impossible to be sure. Still, in all likelihood, Miranda wasn’t Daniel’s mother, so she could go to this lecture with a clear-ish conscience.
But that same conscience insisted on pointing out that Miranda might just as easily be a more recent addition to the family. Stella had hoped she was just someone from his work. Only slightly ashamed of herself, after meeting Benedict for the first time, she’d thoroughly scoured the university website and searched for a Miranda, but there was no sign of anyone by that name. If only she could just ask Benedict, but it was a bit early in the day for any kind of defining-the-relationship conversation. Plus, it wasn’t even as if he’d invited her on a second date. He’d only invited her to his lecture, mistakenly thinking that she had a genuine interest in his work. Either that, or given how boring the last lecture was, he was short on numbers and trying to boost his audience.
Stella got ready for the date/lecture with special care. She looked at herself in the mirror and smoothed an orange tunic over her white linen trousers. Deck shoes completed her ensemble and she tied her hair up loosely, leaving a few strands to fall around her face. It wasn’t a tweed suit, but it was just about formal enough for an evening lecture.
She’d almost changed her mind when Benedict texted her the lecture details a few days ago. Not even a phone call. That tipped the scale in favour of this not being a romantic assignation but a purely practical one. In his innocence, he probably thought he was doing her a favour.
It had been overcast all day, so just in case the night turned chilly, Stella pulled a soft cream wrap around her shoulders. It had belonged to her mother, and was in the precious box of belongings sent to the children’s home. Her mother had crocheted it for her wedding. Not a good idea, thought Stella, unwinding it and deciding it was not that cold after all.
Alighting from the Tube at South Ken, Stella was surprised by a throng of children dressed as characters from Peter Pan and had to swerve to avoid two miniature pirates chasing an even tinier Tinkerbell .
‘Sorry, love,’ said a breathless mother trying to catch her unruly offspring.
When she arrived at the institute where the lecture was taking place, Benedict was waiting on the steps and her heart flipped at the sight of him. No sign of the scruffy jumper this time. Instead, he was wearing a beautifully cut navy suit with a blue shirt and tie. He smiled and ran down the steps to greet her.
‘Thanks for coming. I’m so pleased you could make it. You’re nice and early, so you should be able to nab the best seat. Come on, let me show you in.’
Together, they went into the old building and climbed to a large room at the top of a marble staircase. The lecture room had a high, vaulted ceiling and the whole place smelled of old wood and even older books. Stella settled into what appeared to be a repurposed church pew and watched Benedict while he organised his projector and checked his notes. Gradually, the room filled up around her. It was a relief that there were no refreshments this time, so at least she was spared from having to make polite conversation with strangers.
An untidy-looking man slid into the pew next to her and Stella slid away from him so she ended up jammed against the wall. So much for nabbing the best seat. Scrutinising him from the side of her eye, she was convinced she’d seen him before. When he removed his hat and his loopy brown hair tumbled out, she recognised him as the quinoa corduroy man from the night at the planetarium. Evidently, another glutton for punishment.
Benedict crossed the room and dimmed the lights before returning to his projector. As he turned on the slides, Stella prepared herself to look interested, but was disappointed to see that it was the same presentation she’d seen at Greenwich. It had been bad enough sitting through it the first time. Why would Benedict invite her to see the same presentation again? Judging by the number of empty seats, her theory about him making up the numbers was looking increasingly likely.
She was thrown out of her musing when she heard Benedict’s voice saying, ‘Isn’t that right, Stella?’
‘Er, yes,’ she mumbled. ‘Yes it is.’ What had she just agreed to? Hopefully not a third repeat of this lecture. She tried to pay more attention to the rest of the talk, but she was never good at watching re-runs, no matter how fetching the presenter.
At the end, there was a question-and-answer session. It was astonishing how the people in the audience seemed intent on besting Benedict. Every question was a challenge to his authority, but he dealt with each one easily and charmingly, never allowing anyone to put one over on him, but also never making anyone feel as though they’d lost. Quite the diplomat. After the questions, people started to filter out, and a few gravitated towards Benedict to pick his brain further. Stella wondered what to do. She’d been to the lecture as per the invitation, and now that it was over, she should probably go. She’d started to gather her belongings when Benedict appeared at her side.
‘Sorry, Stella, can you give me ten minutes then I’ll be ready and we can go on somewhere?’
‘No problem.’
She put her bag back at her side and checked her phone to see if she had any new client appointments. Summer could be a bit slow sometimes, what with people going on holiday or spending their hours doing outdoorsy things. At this rate, she’d have to do a bit of online advertising – always a double-edged sword as it was hard to bring in just the right number of customers without overwhelming herself. She’d give it another day or two and hopefully some of her regulars would be back off their hols soon.
‘You’re wasting your time, you know.’
The untidy-looking man was addressing her and she turned to look at him.
‘Excuse me? ’
He tipped his head towards Benedict. ‘With him. You’re wasting your time, and it’s not really fair on the ankle-biter, is it? Getting him all upset for nothing. And Miranda won’t be best pleased either.’
Stella looked at the man long and hard. Underneath his loopy brown hair was a face that looked as though someone had recently slept in it. As well as recalling him from the planetarium, she recognised that face only too well from the staff page on the university website. The photo looked about ten years out of date, but there was no mistaking that hair. He was another professor, who worked in the same field as Benedict and obviously knew him well enough to know that Miranda would not be best pleased about Stella being involved with him. Perhaps Benedict and Miranda were married after all, but recently estranged. Whatever the relationship was, there was definitely something there, and having seen Miranda in action. ‘not best pleased’ had to be something of an understatement – that woman could frown for England. Clearly, the pair of them were going through a difficult patch and Stella getting in their way wasn’t helping at all.
Seeing that Benedict was engrossed with a gaggle of elderly astronomy groupies, she squeezed past the quinoa corduroy man – who, despite wanting shot of her, made no effort to move out of her way – then she crept out of the room, ran down the staircase, out of the door and arrived at the station, panting. Why was it that doing the right thing made her head feel a lot better but did the absolute opposite for her heart? She bypassed the Tube station and stopped at a kiosk to buy the biggest tub of ice cream available.
When Stella let herself through the outside door to her building and walked towards the lift, she saw Ernie’s eyes travel to her tub of ice-cream, but he was kind enough not to mention it .
‘Evening, Stella. You look as pretty as a summer flower in that get-up, if you don’t mind my saying so.’
‘Not at all, Ernie. It’s very kind of you to say so.’
The porter was eighty if he was a day, so Stella really didn’t mind at all and was grateful to him for not asking how she was, or whether she’d had a good evening, or any other awkward question that might set her chin quivering.
Her flat – hers temporarily, at any rate – was on the fifth floor of a sprawling mansion block on Abbey Road. The studio flat itself was quite small but very well appointed, with a huge bay window along with French doors that led to the balcony. She couldn’t imagine what the flat must have cost its owner, but she was glad to have such luxurious quarters for a while. Her father would have loved it here as he’d been a huge fan of the Beatles. When she was little, he’d shown her the Abbey Road album, with the Beatles striding over the zebra crossing outside their recording studio. She felt a little closer to her father, being next to a landmark that would have meant so much to him.
Immediately she’d locked the door behind her, Stella threw down her bag, and changed into PJs and fluffy socks. She picked out the biggest spoon she could find in the kitchen drawer and peeled the lid off her ice-cream. She’d scoff the lot and push Professor Benedict Redman and his snooty Miranda out of her mind. After a couple of mouthfuls of vanilla, she retrieved her phone from her bag to see what was on TV and spotted that she had a voicemail. It must have come while she was on the Tube. She sighed, licked her spoon and pressed the button to listen to the message. It was from Benedict, who sounded remarkably cross.
‘Stella? Benedict here. Where did you get to? I said I’d only be ten minutes. Sincere apologies if that was too long to wait. I’d hoped we could go for something to eat. Daniel’s safe and sound at home with Miranda. Look, when you get home, please call me. I don’t understand what’s going on, but I’m still in London, so call me back, and we can go somewhere for a late supper if–’
Without listening to the end, Stella deleted the message. Unbelievable! Even mentioning his wife and son while berating her for leaving him in the lurch. Obviously, he was the worst sort of man and she’d done well to get out of his way before it was too late. She dug angrily into her ice cream. Although she hadn’t managed to find her favourite fudge, or her second-favourite chocolate, vanilla wasn’t too awful and would just have to do. When the phone rang again, she jammed the spoon into the tub. Well! He was obviously annoyed because she’d wrecked his plans, and he’d be even more annoyed when she gave him a piece of her mind and told him that he couldn’t behave like this and expect to get away with it. On the third ring, she snatched up the phone.
‘Professor Redman,’ she said. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘You can tell me why you ran out on me. One minute you were there, and the next, you’d vanished. And please stop calling me Professor.’
‘Please accept my deepest apologies, Professor. I came for the lecture as requested and then decided to go home. While I am interested in the stars, I have zero interest in getting involved with married men. Please refrain from calling again. Goodnight.’
With that, she hung up, prised the spoon free from the tub and rammed a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. The phone began to ring again immediately. Stella rejected the call then turned off her phone and removed the battery for good measure. At last, she could get back to her ice cream and TV. But her heart wasn’t in it any more, so she stuffed the tub into the freezer and went to bed instead, then lay awake wondering how she could have been so stupid, and what kind of man would involve his little boy in this kind of subterfuge.