Emma Heatherington - Rewrite the Stars

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.

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.