The Day Studham Lost Its Stars

The first star landed on my ladder at half past nine. Silver cardboard, thankfully. A proper star would have done dreadful things to the van, and I’m still learning where everything goes without adding a crater. I was halfway through Mrs Puddlewick’s downstairs windows in Studham, with one bucket more than I needed, when it stuck to the third rung. It was slightly soggy, with blue ribbon attached.

‘That’s the second one,’ Mrs Puddlewick said, appearing at the back door with a mug of tea. ‘There was a moon in my lavender earlier.’

I looked up. A brisk breeze was shifting clouds over the village, but nothing else seemed unusual. Then a gold planet rolled along the path and stopped against my boot.

‘Saturn,’ she announced. ‘You can tell by the ring.’

By the time I’d finished her glass, we’d collected six stars, Saturn and something resembling either a comet or a very ambitious carrot. Everything had come from the next garden. Over the fence came a long sigh, then a small voice.

‘Perhaps Grandad won’t mind if the universe is mostly string.’

I called across to ask whether anyone was missing a galaxy.

A girl in yellow wellies popped up behind the fence. This was Elsie, Mrs Puddlewick’s neighbour, staying with her grandparents. Her grandad, Arthur, had spent years showing her the constellations. Tonight was his birthday, and she and her gran were turning their old greenhouse into a tiny planetarium as a surprise.

Only the wind had got through the open door before they could hang everything. Half the decorations had escaped, the fairy lights were hopelessly tangled, and the windows were so dusty that Elsie reckoned even the real moon would struggle to see inside.

Her gran, Mabel, appeared with silver tinsel looped round one shoulder.

‘I was aiming for outer space,’ she said. ‘At present it’s more abandoned potting shed.’

Arthur was out walking their elderly spaniel, Crumpet. They had until lunchtime. I looked at my water-fed pole, then the greenhouse. I might still be learning the ropes, but dirty glass was something I could help with.

‘Well,’ I said, ‘I can’t do much about the speed of light, but I’m fairly handy with daylight.’

With Mabel’s permission, I carefully cleaned the greenhouse glass while they rescued the remaining planets. I took my time over it; being keen isn’t much use if you rush the job. Mrs Puddlewick joined us carrying the recovered stars and a tin of wooden pegs. Mabel kept the tinsel on. Nobody mentioned it, and I thought it suited the occasion.

As the last dusty pane cleared, sunshine broke through. Bright little spots danced over the bench where Elsie had laid shiny paper. She stopped untangling the lights.

‘We don’t need it to be night,’ she said.

So we hung the stars securely above the bench and arranged the planets between the pots. Mabel brought out two cushions, a flask and Arthur’s old star atlas. Elsie made a sign saying GRANDAD’S UNIVERSE, with PLEASE MIND SATURN underneath in smaller letters.

Arthur arrived early. Crumpet was carrying a muddy tennis ball as though it were an important scientific sample. We were still beside the greenhouse when Elsie took her grandad’s hand and led him inside.

He looked at the stars, the atlas and the two cushions, then sat down rather slowly.

‘You remembered our observatory,’ he said.

Elsie tucked herself beside him. ‘This one’s got better windows.’

That gave me a lovely warm feeling. I left them choosing which constellation to find that evening and went back to the van, where I discovered one last silver star caught in my sleeve. Elsie insisted I keep it, so it now hangs above my dashboard. Not standard KP equipment, perhaps, but I’m pleased with it. Unlike my extra bucket, it’s exactly where it ought to be.