Rescuing Rose. Isabel Wolff
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in describing herself to me as a ‘PE teacher’. She’d been so much more than that. Yes, she’d taught games at a girls’ school, the article explained, but she’d also been an outstanding sportswoman in her own right. As an eighteen-year-old she’d been county tennis champion, and in her mid-twenties, as a middle distance runner, she’d won silver in the Commonwealth games. After retiring from the track she’d taken up women’s hockey and had played for the national side. She’d been selected to play for England at the Sydney Olympics but her injury had shattered that dream. Her accident had left her ‘suicidal’ and ‘devastated’ until Trevor transformed her life. ‘He’s my hero,’ she said. ‘We adore each other. Without him I just couldn’t go on.’ It was touching stuff and at the bottom was the number for Helping Paw.
When I got home Theo was in the kitchen, cooking. I could hear him singing to himself. Repelled by the thought of him spying on my neighbours dressed in a floral nightie, I decided to give him a wide berth. And I was just taking off my coat when I glanced at the half-moon telephone table and saw a pile of unopened post. There were my first utilities bills, a cashmere brochure and an Oxfam Christmas catalogue. Underneath, in a white plastic cover, was some magazine or other, it looked like Newsweek or Time. I turned it over and saw that it wasn’t either of those: it was Astronomy Now magazine. Oh.
‘Hello Rose,’ Theo called out suddenly.
‘Oh. Hi!’ Astronomy Now? But that didn’t explain the Janet Reger nightie did it?
‘Had a good day?’ he enquired politely as I went into the kitchen.
‘Er, yes. I’ve been shopping with a…friend. You’ve got some post, you know.’
He wiped his hands, ripped the cover off the magazine, glanced at it, then put it down. Star Clusters in Close-Up! announced the headline and beneath, Magellanic Clouds and Nebulae!
‘Astronomy Now? I said with studied casualness. ‘I’ve never seen that before. May I look at it?’
‘Course you can. I get Sky and Telescope too.’
‘So you’re interested in…astronomy then?’ I said feebly as I glanced at an article about the Leonid meteor showers.
‘It’s my passion,’ he replied as he got out a knife. ‘I’ve been mad on it since I was a boy, I –’ Suddenly his mobile rang. Or rather it didn’t ring; it played ‘Would you like to swing on a star, carry moonbeams home in a jar?’ He took the call, but it was clearly an awkward conversation for his throat become blotched and red.
‘Hi. Yes. I’m okay,’ he said slightly tersely. ‘Yes. Fine. That’d be grand. Whatever you want. Yes. Yes. I’ll drop the keys off at your office on Monday. No, I don’t want to come to the house. Sorry about that,’ he said with fake brightness as he put his phone back in his pocket, ‘where were we?’
‘Astronomy.’
‘Oh yes. It’s my…passion,’ he said as he sliced a courgette with a trembling hand.
‘So do you have your own telescope then?’ I enquired innocently.
‘Yes. It’s in my room. You can have a look at it if you like.’
‘Ooh, no, no, no, I wouldn’t do that. I mean, I wouldn’t go in your room.’
‘That’s okay. I don’t mind if you do – I’ve nothing to hide. It’s a three-inch refracting telescope rather than one of the more modern reflectors, but the optics are really good. It has a magnification of 150,’ he added proudly as he got out a frying pan. ‘It belonged to my granddad – he used to run the Leeds observatory – it’s old but it’s excellent.’ He opened the fridge and took out a beer. ‘I feel like a drink. How about you?’
I felt guilty about having mistrusted him so I nodded. ‘Thanks. That’d be nice. So where do you do your…star-watching?’ I asked as he got down two glasses.
‘The best place is Norfolk – I used to go there with my grandparents. You can do it in London, but you have to choose your spot carefully because the sky-glow’s so bad.’
‘Sky-glow?’
‘The light pollution. That awful tangerine glare. I’m involved with the Campaign for Dark Skies,’ he went on as he poured out my beer. ‘We ask local councils to install star-friendly street lighting which throws the light down, where it’s needed, not up. It’s tragic that people living in cities don’t get to see the night sky – they miss so much. I mean just look up,’ he said suddenly. He switched off the light, plunging us into darkness, and I peered up through the conservatory roof. Through the glass I could see five, no…eight stars twinkling dimly against the inky night and a sliver of silvery moon. ‘City folk miss so much,’ he repeated as I craned my neck. ‘How often do they see the Milky Way and the Pleiades, Orion’s belt, or the Plough? You don’t even need a telescope to be an amateur astronomer. You can see so much just with your eyes.’
‘So that’s why you didn’t want me to complain about the street lamps?’ I suggested.
‘Yes, that’s right.’ And that explained why Theo went out when it was dry and clear, not when it was wet. ‘Actually this area’s not too bad for observation,’ he continued as he turned on the light and the stars vanished, ‘which is why I like living here. That little park at the end of the road is quite good for example.’
‘Holland Gardens?’
‘Yes. I’ve taken my ’scope there a couple of times. There are no tall buildings around it so you get a big piece of sky, and I’ve a filter which cuts out the glare. And my friend Mark has a large garden so sometimes I go round there. I ring him and say “Are you up for it?”’ he added. ‘That’s what we amateur astronomers say. It’s our little in-joke. Are you up for it?’ He shook his head and laughed. So he wasn’t the Milky Bar kid after all – he was the Milky Way kid.
‘What a…fascinating hobby,’ I said with a relieved smile.
‘It’s more than that. I’ve been writing a book. I’m doing the final edits at the moment – the page proofs have just come back.’
‘A book? What’s it called?’
‘Heavenly Bodies –’ Ah. ‘– A Popular Guide to the Stars and Planets. It’s coming out in May. But I’m under terrible pressure timewise which is why I needed to live somewhere quiet.’
‘And where did you live before?’ I asked as he sliced the aubergine.
‘I told you, with this friend of mine, Mark.’
‘But you said that that was temporary; that he was helping you out – so where did you live before that?’
‘I lived in Dulwich…’ The knife stopped in mid-air and he repeated, quietly, ‘I lived in Dulwich. With my wife.’
‘Oh,’ I murmured, trying not to look astounded. ‘You, er, didn’t say you were married. You look so young.’
‘I’m not. I’m twenty-nine. I was married for five years. But I didn’t tell you because…well,’ he stopped. ‘Because it’s too painful and to be honest it’s not relevant.’ Now I remembered his boss’s odd remark, when I’d phoned for a reference, about Theo having had ‘a hard time’.
‘Why did you…’ I began, with a sip of beer. ‘No, I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.’
‘Why did we split up?’ I nodded. ‘Because I disappointed my wife.’
‘Really? Er…how?’
‘She felt I was letting her down. She’s a solicitor at Prenderville White in the City,’ he explained. ‘She’s very driven and successful, and she expected me to be the same. She wanted me to put everything into my accountancy career to match her success, but I couldn’t. I did all the exams but by then I’d become far