Tell It To The Stars by Joe Padfield

The silence was the hardest part to bear. Not true silence of course - Andrew was conscious that true silence didn't exist any more. If it wasn't the neighbours' television blaring out of the open windows of a summer evening, it was the incessant traffic passing the house. The mopeds were the worst, screeching past like kamikaze wasps. They put his teeth on edge. No, it was the silence that came from missing noise; the noise one was so used to that it went unnoticed, until it suddenly ended.

Andrew wondered sometimes whether Janice ever noticed the silence. Unlikely really, since the volume of the television was almost loud enough to drown out the neighbours'. Plugged into that day and night, it was a wonder she was conscious of anything else. Still, he thought, we all need a coping mechanism.

'Cup of tea?' he called from the kitchen.

Silence. Well, a silence of sorts. Certainly no answer, anyway.

'Janice?'

Nothing. Well, no point in asking anyway. She always had a cup of tea at this time, to slurp while her inner being was sucked into EastEnders.

Andrew filled the kettle and switched it on, then went outside onto the back doorstep for his evening cigarette. As always, a slight gust of wind appeared from nowhere as he attempted to put the strands of tobacco in the cigarette paper. Amazing how it happened every time, almost as though it was intentional. George had always disliked him smoking, but it used to happen long before he was even born. Gusts of wind from beyond the grave - the idea almost made Andrew chuckle to himself. Almost.

His musings were interrupted by movement, and a mouse scurried out from the flowerbed. Just under 8 months now, Andrew had been watching this mouse each evening. He had named it Jerry - admittedly not very original - and had grown quite attached to its company. Well, at least it looked at him when he spoke to it. OK, so it didn't answer, but at least it acknowledged his presence. As he watched it, Andrew thought about how this nightly ritual had remained the same. The mouse still came every evening, quite oblivious to the events of the last four months. Oblivious to the tears that had rolled down Andrew's face. Oblivious to his pain and suffering. Oblivious to everything except the dangers in its small world.

Andrew sat down on the doorstep and lit his cigarette, ignoring the second unwelcome gust of wind which threatened to put out his match. He knew he had to give up smoking really. Not for his health - well, not his physical health anyway - but for his general well-being. Smoking had started as a way of coping with everything, somewhere to put the anger, something to call his own, a choice he could make for himself. So different to when he used to smoke as an adolescent, simply to fit in with everyone else. No, this time he had chosen to start smoking again - chosen to pollute what he had to call his own. But now, well, he didn't really need it now, and these evening, daytime, anytime cigarettes actually caused him to sit and think and that was when all the pain and hurt threatened to return, like a rat gnawing at its cage. Well, he reflected, unless that is you spent the whole cigarette thinking about smoking.

Andrew stubbed the cigarette out in the bird-bath and put it in the dustbin, before returning to the kettle. He made Janice's tea and took it into the living room, where he was greeted by a wan smile of thanks before she returned to the world of make-believe. He still couldn't understand how she could be so absorbed by what she was watching. But then why let your own thoughts rampage around your life, destroying your sense of peace, when you can simply sit and gaze at the thoughts of others? But why were the story-lines always so bloody miserable? God help him - and Janice come to that - they had suffered enough misery over the last 4 months.

'Tea OK?'

'Mmm, thanks.'

Maybe tonight was the night. Maybe now was the right time. Should he wait until EastEnders reached it's nightly cliffhanger, or just leap in now? He looked at the clock - 8.28, so only about a minute to wait. At that moment, the theme tune started. As Janice reached for the remote control to switch channels, Andrew leant over and picked it up first, pressing the red button. Silence. True silence. Well, until another moped screeched past, but it went unnoticed.

Janice gave him an enquiring look: 'What are you doing?'

'I thought maybe we could talk,' he replied. And then added quietly 'Or should.'

'What about?'

'Well,' he began, 'it's been just over four months now and I really think it's time we started to decide what to do. You know, about upstairs'.

Tears began to well up in her eyes. He could see her lower lip twitch, and the lines gather around her mouth. Oh God, too soon. Wrong moment. Wrong as always. He had to fight down the urge to overturn the coffee table, to smash something, to scream, to beat himself around the head.

'I'm sorry honey. I don't want to upset you. But we have to face it some time. You know we do.' Please, please let her see sense. Let her at least meet me half-way. Please.

She turned to face him, smiling through the tears. 'OK Andy. You're right. We'll look at it next month. I promise. It won't take long.'

He got up and went over to her. Kneeling down, he took her face in his hands and kissed her gently. 'Thank you sweetheart. You know I don't mean to nag, but it has to happen'.

Janice reached around him with her arms and held him tight, as she picked up the remote control.

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