After five minutes she realised, for the first time, that she was miles away from anyone who knew her, with a man she had just met. It was a position she had never before put herself in, and she was astounded that he’d had the power to override her naturally cautious nature. As they walked she mulled over how she was feeling. Was she scared? No. She wasn’t. And she was a girl who could normally find something in any situation to be afraid of. She was tiring though.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
“Is it much further?”
“Not at all, it’s right up ahead.”
And in another minute they were there.
“Welcome,” he said, “to the casa de Walt. And co” He did a dramatic sweep with his arms encompassing the grass and the trees at the top of the bank just in front of them.
It took her a minute before her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the trees and she realised that what she was looking at was in fact a rugged sort of treehouse, more of a platform with three walls, nestled snugly in the branches of a weeping willow who, if its size was any indication of age, had been there for quite some time.
“And co?”
He shrugged. “Me and a few friends. We built it ten years ago, consequently it belongs to us all. The local kids use it too. This treehouse,” he said proudly, “has withstood some of the fiercest storms this coast has ever seen.”
“Wow,” she said, because that was pretty impressive.
“Come on,” he said, holding out his hand and helping her up the bank. “Can you see those boards nailed to the tree?”
“Yes.”
“Use them like a ladder. Put your feet here -” he pointed, “hold on to the rungs above you and climb up,” and he demonstrated, clambering nimbly up while she watched.
His head poked back through the square he had just disappeared through.
“Your turn,” he said.
“Just like that?” she asked.
“Just like that,” he confirmed.
She took a deep breath and tried not to think about heights, or splinters. And thinking instead of hot chocolates, and her favourite book, she was beside him in the treehouse very quickly.
“Oh wow,” she said again, this time at the view in front of her. The platform was only two, maybe two and a half metres from the ground but it could have been the Eiffel tower for all the difference it made to the view.
From the beach, the view of the ocean was beautiful.
But from up here, it was breathtaking. The horizon glowed, and the reflection of the moon and the stars on the water made it appear as if she were looking at two starry skies joined in the middle by a silvery blue belt, never-ending and stretched out as far as she could see to both sides.
“Beautiful isn’t it,” he said.
“Beautiful doesn’t begin to do it justice.”
“I knew you’d appreciate it,” he said, proud of himself for recognising in her an appreciator of such things.
“It’s the most marvellous sight I’ve ever seen,” she said in all honesty.
“Me too,” he said, although he was looking at her when he said it.
She shivered slightly, the breeze off the ocean was stronger up here and he noticed.
“Sorry,” he apologised, “would you like to go down again?”
“No not yet. This is wonderful, let’s enjoy it for awhile,” she smiled shyly and they lay together on their backs and admired the stars through the leaves and listened to the sound of the ocean waves breaking, and they talked for hours. They talked about everything that was relevant, like what she did for a living (worked behind the front counter in her mother’s florist shop) and whether he still didn’t believe crabs cut off toes (he didn’t), and everything that wasn’t relevant, like her favourite sweet (jellybeans) and how many fillings he had (two).
And at some point she shivered again so he reached out an arm and she put her head on his shoulder and nestled in against him like it was the most natural thing in the world and they enjoyed the silence of simply being together, until they drifted off to sleep filled with dreams of each other.
When the sun rose over the water and their faces were bathed in the pastel shades of the sunrise and the dawn chorus chirruped a welcome to the new day they awoke, stretched and smiled at each other.
“Hey there,” he smiled.
“Morning.”
“Would you like to join me for breakfast?”
“I’d be delighted.”
And she knew that her instincts had been right, and that the night’s events had somehow, in some way, altered the course of her life.
Chapter three
So this is what it feels like, he mused.
Love.
Because he was fairly sure that’s what he was feeling, although he couldn’t confirm it one hundred percent on account of never having been in love before. He certainly had a funny, kind of fluttery feeling in his chest when he looked at her, and he’d heard that was a common side effect.
He knew they made quite a sight when they got back into the village but he could not care less. The streets were relatively empty but Walt headed towards the coffee shop - open even though he guessed, from the colour of the sky and the angle of the sun, that it was still fairly early, perhaps just gone seven o’clock. The owner-slash-barista was outside sweeping the pavement and he gave them an appraising look as they approached.
“Morning,” he said, eyebrows cocked.
“Good morning my fine man,” Walt declared, and Ivy giggled.
The man frowned, not sure if Walt was mocking him, but then he saw the look that flashed between Walt and Ivy and with a jolt of recognition he remembered looking that way at someone himself, a long time ago. A young couple in love, he realised, and he couldn’t help but smile at them affectionately.
“What can I do for you?” he asked.
“We’re after some breakfast,” Walt told him, and the man stepped to the side and welcomed them in to his shop with a wave.
“After you,” he said.
At the counter they conferred and then Walt placed an order for large coffees and full English breakfasts with extra hash browns, even though Ivy insisted coffee and a muffin would be more than enough.
“Rubbish,” he said, “we burnt off about a million calories last night –”
“-talking-” she interjected furiously, because she’d noticed the barista smile knowingly as he stood making the coffees.
“-yes, talking, I was going to say that -” Walt grinned
She picked up a brochure off the counter and pretended to study it while she waited for her cheeks to cool down. While she studied it, Walt studied her. Her hair had curled up into tendrils from the salt spray, and she had a light dusting of sand on her cheeks and eyelashes. The hem of her jacket and, underneath, her dress, were wet through from the receding tide they’d had to cross to get back to the mainland. There had been no sign of their shoes, either stolen by the tide or adopted into a new home by an opportunistic passerby, so both were barefoot.
“Close your eyes,” he told her and when she did he blew gently over her face.
“That tickles.”
“In a nice way?”
“Very.”
And they smiled at each other for so long that the barista had to clear his throat three times to get their attention when their coffees were ready.
“Take a seat,” he said, “I’ll bring the food over shortly.”
Ivy went to take a seat by the window but Walt stopped her with a hand on her arm, “Let’s eat outside.”
“Oh,” she said, “I just thought –” she trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence, but she didn’t need to, he knew what she was thinking and decided to tease her.
“You don’t want to be seen with me?” he pretended to pout.
“Oh no, it’s not that,” she protested.
“Then what is it?”
“What if we see someone from last night?”
&
nbsp; “What if we do?”
“They might notice that we’re, you know –”
“What, happy? Alive? Drinking Coffee?”
“Wearing the same clothes.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about that. They seemed a pretty self-absorbed lot.”
“You’re right.”
But still, he noticed, she didn’t relax completely and kept checking over his shoulder, and turning around occasionally to check over her own.
“Ok,” he said, “does it really bother you that much if someone sees us together?”
“I’m sorry,” she said, “It’s not that I’m embarrassed or ashamed, it’s just –“
“What?” A thought occurred to him, “You don’t have a boyfriend already do you? Some six foot rugby player who’s going to beat the living crap out of me?”
She laughed. “No. No boyfriend.”
“Then what?”
She surprised herself by reaching across the table and taking his hand. Something in his tone spoke of uncertainty, and she wanted to reassure him.
“You’ve got it completely wrong,” she said. “It’s not that I don’t want to be seen with you by anyone I know, it’s that I do.”
“Oh,” he said, ridiculously pleased. “Well, that’s ok then.”
The man bought out their food and they let go of each other’s hands to allow for room but immediately she shivered, bereft, so he reached out and took it back and they ate like that, one handed, even though it was difficult and they had to bite the bacon into smaller pieces off the fork and use the bread to mop up the egg yolk and tomato juices.
“That,” he said, “was the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten,” even though he knew it was because of the company rather than the food.
“Divine,” she agreed, for the very same reason.
By now, the village was slowly starting to come alive. The Sunday morning market stalls were being set up along Main Street, adorned with a variety of crafts; homemade pickles, knitted teapot covers and driftwood garden ornaments and all manner of amateur artistry.
“Shall we amble along and have a look?” he asked her.
“Before we do I should warn you.”
“Sounds ominous.”
“It’s not, well it could be. But not in a bad way. At least, I don’t think so.”
“Ok. I’m really curious now.”
“My mother runs one of the stalls, and my sister will probably be there with her.”
“The bride to be?”
“The very same.”
“Wonderful,” he said, “I can’t wait to meet them.”
During their many hours of conversation during the night, - when they’d basically caught each other up to speed on their lives, as if reuniting after an absence instead of meeting for the very first time – she’d told him about her family. Her father had passed away when she was only a year old from a heart attack. He was only thirty one and her mother, upon suddenly finding herself widowed and with two small girls, moved back in with her parents. They took over the reins of childcare for a time while she lost herself in her grief. There were days she barely moved from her bed, barely ate, barely even took the next breath. She just, existed, although in the loosest term possible. Time is relentless though. It moves on whether you’d like it to or not. And so over time she’d recaptured her zest for life, although never in quite the same full throttled way she’d had before his death.
Ivy and her sister, June, had a wonderful childhood despite their loss. Their mother and their grandparents made sure they had an abundance of love and laughter around them. June was the elder of the two, and the most confident. Where Ivy had to be coaxed from behind their mother’s skirts on the first day of school, June gave barely a backward glance, marching into the classroom and claiming the prime peg for her school bag, the one nearest the door so as to ensure a quick exit upon the chime of the 3.00 o’clock bell.
June played team sports, dated boys, went to parties.
Ivy read books in the peaceful solitude of her bedroom and sketched seagulls in silence at the seashore.
Each happy in their own way, and despite the vast differences between the two, they couldn’t have been closer in affection.
Leading the way for a change, Ivy stopped suddenly and turned to him, suddenly shy again.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” she asked.
He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her straight in the eyes without blinking. “Never more so,” he said, and he leaned forward and kissed her softly on the nose; exactly how a butterfly’s wings would feel, she imagined.
Their first kiss.
The air around them shimmered.
“Ivy.”
Her name was called, breaking the spell.
Her mother was barely visible behind a stall adorned high with bunches of vibrant, fragranced flowers. Tall Lily’s jostled with bunched blue and pale purple hydrangeas for space, while small but determined gerbera and posies of sweet peas dug their elbows in, determined not to be ignored. The whole effect was one of ordered chaos.
“Ivy,” she called again, “I thought you were still tucked up in bed.”
Then she noticed two things.
One, Ivy was not alone, and two, Ivy was barefoot and still wearing the same clothes as the night before, the damp hem of her dress swinging jauntily around her bare, sandy legs. She looked, tousled and radiant, and her mother thought she had never seen her look more beautiful.
“Oh,” she said, then grinned and nudged the girl standing to her left.
“Look,” she whispered, although none too subtly because both Walt and Ivy heard her clearly as they approached.
“Well, well,” June drawled. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
“Mum, June – this is Walt,” said Ivy, and then in soft voice she added so only they could hear, “be gentle.”
“Oh course we’ll be gentle,” her mother came out from behind the stall in order to study Walt better.
“How lovely to meet you Walt,” she said, presenting him with her hand.
“You too,” he said, and ignoring the hand he dove in for a hug, lifting her slightly off her feet and taking her breath away.
“Shall I just call you mum?” he teased.
“Oh, well -,” she was taken aback and looked to Ivy for help.
“He’s kidding mum,” Ivy said.
“I am kidding,” Walt confirmed, “but I am also yet to have the pleasure of learning your name.”
“Sorry,” said Ivy, “mum’s name is Patricia, but everyone calls her Pat.”
“Pat,” he bowed his head slightly, “it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. And you must be the blushing bride,” he smiled at June, who had stayed put firmly behind the table least there be any more of the random hugging.
“I am,” she confirmed, eyebrow raised, slightly standoffish, unsure what to make of him.
“Your fiancé is a very lucky man.”
Ah, now she warmed to him as he was clearly a man of good taste.
“The wedding is soon?” he asked
“A month from Saturday.”
“And all the preparations are under control?”
“A few loose ends but only tiny ones.”
“Well I wish you all the best for a long and most wondrous marriage.”
“Thank you,” she said, and then in a spur of the moment decision added, “you should come to the wedding as Ivy’s date.”
And her mother clapped her hands. “Oh yes! What a wonderful idea! You should come, in fact we won’t take no for an answer, will we June.”
“Of course, I would be honoured to attend,” he said, “but only if it’s ok with Ivy.”
He turned to her with a questioning look.
Ivy nodded. It was very ok with her.
“She’s my chief bridesmaid of course,” said June, “so you’ll have to sit through the service by yourself but after that she’s all yours.”
“Marvellou
s.”
“Well,” her mother sighed happily, “That’s settled then.”
A customer approached the booth and Pat headed back behind the table. “Are you two going to stay around awhile - maybe have some lunch with us?”
“As delightful as that sounds,” Walt said, “and it certainly sounds delightful, I’m afraid I must ask for a rain check.”
And again Ivy experienced an overwhelming feeling of despondency, her shoulders slumping forward and the air escaping from her lips with a gentle sigh.
Until again Walt turned to her, held out his hand and asked,
“Are you coming?”
And the air sang.
Chapter four
Later, as she lay submerged in bubbles up to her chin, deep in the claw foot bath her grandfather had saved from the dump years before and lovingly restored, Ivy flicked through the snapshots of the day in her mind as if flicking through a photo album. She savoured each and every one as if it were a slowly melting chocolate, dissolving on her tongue.
Listening to the squeak of the chains as they swung on the swings at the children’s playground near the reserve, gleefully competing to see who could get the highest.
Observing the expression on the cashiers face at the supermarket as Walt bid her a flamboyant adieu, a bag of cheese and salami in one hand, saluting her with a baguette on the way out the door.
Laughing at the ducks at the beachfront as they squabbled for their share of bread, the ducks waddling and quacking furiously after each piece she threw. She aimed for one duck in particular who waddled with a pronounced limp, while Walt watched on indulgently.
Feeling the suns warmth on their faces as they lay on their backs, side by side, shoulders touching, fingers intertwined, picking out shapes in the clouds (she: “Oh look! a rabbit” – he, emphatically: “that’s clearly a hedgehog.”)
The sea that was visible through the round bathroom window was greyer now, her mood changed from the playful, blue dancing waves she had been when they were there only hours before. Perhaps the departure of the young lovers had saddened her.
When Stars Collide Page 2
