When Stars Collide

by Tammy Robinson

  “Don’t be silly,” he smiled, brushing it off like it hadn’t happened, “come here and give me another hug you beautiful girl.”

  And they stood like that in the doorway for quite some time, feeling the comfort that only the touch from a family member can offer you. She’d missed this; feeling so connected to another person.

  Finally he took a step back.

  “How long are you here for?” he asked.

  “I’m home for good.”

  “Oh that’s wonderful news,” he said. “Let’s go and have a cuppa, celebrate your return.”

  He started to turn away but she reached out and touched his arm.

  “That’s not all,” she said, and taking a deep breath she drew back the flaps of her coat to her sides, exposing her rounded belly. She was a dainty person, and she was carrying her baby bump well.

  Her grandfather looked at her stomach and then back up to her face. She watched delightedly as realisation dawned.

  “Are you –?”

  She nodded.

  “You mean - is that what I think it is?”

  She laughed, rubbed her stomach contentedly.

  “Yes granddad, I’m having a baby.”

  He stood stock still for a moment, digesting the news, then he drew her into another great hug.

  “Congratulations my girl” he said, “how wonderful.”

  “Thanks granddad, I wasn’t sure how you’d take the news to be honest.”

  “Well of course I’d be delighted. You home at last and with a little one on the way? I don’t think I’ve felt this happy since – well, since a long time anyway. Come on, this definitely calls for a celebratory cup of tea.”

  At the top of the stairs though he stopped as a thought occurred to him, and he turned to her.

  “The father?” he asked.

  Ivy sighed. This was the part she had been dreading.

  “A guy I was seeing in England. We weren’t together very long and broke up at the start of the year.”

  “Does he know?”

  She nodded. “He does. I told him not long after I found out. He’s happy for me, wants me to send him the occasional photo and update, but he has no interest in being involved.”

  Leo’s face darkened as he frowned.

  “The scoundrel.”

  “No it’s ok,” she reassured him, “I’ve accepted his decision. Obviously in an ideal world this baby,” she placed a hand on her tummy protectively, “would have both parents, but I intend to make sure they are never short of love. My own upbringing has shown me that it is possible.”

  He regarded her, the staunch set to her chin and lips as she spoke, the way she held her stomach and for the first time he saw her as a woman, not as his little girl grandchild. As they made their way to the kitchen he reflected on this recent joyous turn of events. He had been feeling his age lately, and the two strokes he’d had, although relatively minor as far as strokes go, had really knocked him off his feet confidence wise. Just this morning he’d thought about the fact that time was getting away on him. He’d been scared of dying all alone, but now Ivy was home and she had bought a little miracle with her. The thought of the little baby nestled safely inside her bought a spring to his step.

  “How far along are you?” he asked her as they drank their tea at the breakfast island.

  “Six months.”

  “So you’re due in -?”

  “October. Back in England they kept telling me that first babies have a tendency to arrive late.”

  “Do you know what it is yet?”

  “No,” she shook her head. “They asked me if I wanted to know at the last scan but I decided to keep it a surprise.”

  He nodded, pleased. “I think that’s the only way to do it,” he said. “Back in our day when your grandmother gave birth to your mother it was like Christmas morning waiting to find out what she was.”

  Ivy yawned and he noticed.

  “Oh my girl you must be exhausted, travelling all that way in your condition. You need some rest. Would you like a nap here or I can make up your bed with fresh sheets?”

  “Bed please,” she said, “I’ll help you make it. But before we do, where are they?”

  He knew exactly who she was talking about and led her to a corner of the lounge she hadn’t noticed before when she’d come in.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” he said, “I wanted to set up a little area where I could – I don’t know, talk to them every now and then I guess.”

  “It’s perfect,” she whispered, and it was.

  Her grandfather had cleared a little alcove on a sideboard built onto the wall. From memory it used to house books and the odd ornament or piece of driftwood; now it held the two boxes containing Pat and June’s ashes. As well as that he had framed two beautiful pictures of them. The one of her mother was taken not long before she died. Ivy knew this because she had taken the picture herself, one weekend morning at the markets. Her mother was behind the table and was at the tail end of a busy morning selling flowers. She looked harried but beautiful, a tendril of hair clinging to the dampness of her forehead. Ivy had called out to her mother and snapped the picture the moment her mother looked up, her face questioning but smiling, as she always smiled at her daughter. Her eyes were staring straight into the lens and seeing the picture now and the smile on her mother’s face Ivy felt comforted, her mother was happy that she was home.

  The picture of her sister took her a moment to place, but then she noticed the dress her sister was wearing and realised it was taken at her engagement party; the happiest night of her life. Her sister had been so on fire with radiance that night, everyone had commented on it.

  There were also some freshly picked pink and red camellias in a vase.

  “It’s beautiful granddad” she told him.

  She followed him upstairs to her room and helped him make the bed, exhaustion catching up with her. She barely had time to notice that her room was also exactly as it had been left and then she was in bed, pulling the crisp sheets up to her chin and kicking her feet to warm them up.

  “Anything else I can get you or do for you?” Leo asked

  “No” she murmured, already drifting off to sleep.

  He stood in the doorway and watched her for some time, happy that his girl had finally come home to roost.

  Chapter twenty two

  After a week at home resting Ivy felt ready to face the village so she accompanied her grandfather on his weekly shopping trip. She was apprehensive; people would remember her she knew, because of what had happened with her family. She did not fancy talking about it over and over every time she ran into someone. At first it went relatively painlessly. She recognised a few faces, greeted some old school friends and stood patiently while bingo cronies of her grandfathers clucked over her. She saw sympathy in their eyes but no one mentioned her mother or sister, and she was just starting to relax when it happened. She stopped at the end of an aisle and picked up a baby magazine to skim through while her grandfather wandered down to peruse the biscuits. She was engrossed in an article on breastfeeding and its benefits when she heard him.

  Even though it had been over ten years since she’d last heard his voice she recognised it instinctively but by the time the tones had reached her inner ear and the connection had been made he had already rounded the head of the aisle and she had mere seconds to decide; fight or flight?

  Her fingers hovered over the pages of the magazine and she cursed her luck, of lack thereof, in running into him so soon after her return home. She had thought she might have more time to prepare for this moment. She had certainly never suspected their reunion would take place in a supermarket.

  Before she could decide it was too late, to run now would only draw attention to herself so she drew herself in close to the shelves, letting her face drop and her long curly hair cascade forward in a dark curtain of camouflage. She tried to exude an air of nonchalance, a meaningless blot on the scenery of life, no one you need pay any a
ttention to and she felt the whisper of the air shift as he passed her by. She realised he was not alone; there were female tones mingling with his, a dry laughter like tussock cracking in the wind. Their trolley had a squeaky wheel, so every fourth step sounded like a comical mouse; step, step, step, squeeeak.

  She would have got away with it, had just started to allow herself to believe she had when she heard her name called from the very end of the aisle Walt and the lady were approaching.

  “Ivy,” her granddad called loudly, “I can’t remember whether you like the chocolate ones with the caramel inside or the ones with the mint crème?”

  Granddad, you fool.

  You’ve undone me.

  The squeak came to an abrupt stop. Squee…..

  She heard him say her name, and hearing it in his voice caused her to shudder with a longing she didn’t know she still had.

  “Ivy”?

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and then she plastered on a smile and turned, letting her eyes trace the contours of his face. His cheekbones were still pronounced, even more so, and he had filled out from what she remembered, had a more mature look about him. Back then he had still seemed a boy, with the slim figure that goes with that. Now he was unmistakably a man. Time hadn’t bypassed him completely though, and there were the beginnings of faint lines around his mouth and in the valleys under his eyes. The eyes themselves were still the same, and the way they were studying her bought back hot flashes of memory. She felt herself blush, something she thought she’d grown out of but which he clearly still had the power to provoke. She saw a smirk tug briefly at one corner of his mouth when he noticed the effect he’d had.

  The woman at his side registered this exchange and stiffened, instinctively appraising Ivy as a potential threat. She reached out a hand and let it entwine through his arm possessively. The smile she gave did not reach all the way to her eyes.

  “Hi Walt, it’s been a long time,” Ivy said, but it came out deflated, her voice sticking. She coughed, cleared her throat, tried again.

  “You look great,” she smiled.

  He made no move to speak, just studied her, one eyebrow slightly lifted. Ivy knew she owed him an apology but this was neither the time nor the place, and certainly not the right company. The woman at Walt’s side looked her up and down and Ivy bristled under her gaze. She decided to show the woman she was no threat to her, and with three long strides she was in front of them.

  “Hi,” she smiled, extending a hand towards the woman. “I’m Ivy.”

  The woman paused, deliberately a moment longer than was necessary. She looked at Ivy’s hand and then back up at her face before she finally untangled herself from Walt and took the proffered hand limply. Her grip was icy cold and the nails had long French tips, like shiny white talons.

  “Nina,” she said. Then she put her hand back on Walt and looked away, affecting a bored expression in a clear sign that Ivy was no longer of any interest. The threat had been appraised and found lacking. Ivy suppressed a smile; she couldn’t blame the woman really. Compared to her, Ivy felt like a watercolour. Nina was vibrant, all red lipped and potently scented, like cloying jasmine on a hot day. Ivy tried to remember if she had remembered to roll on deodorant that morning and strongly suspected she hadn’t.

  “Ivy,” Walt finally spoke, shaking his head as if not quite believing the sight in front of him. “You’re back.”

  “Yes,” she nodded.

  “For a visit or –?” he trailed off.

  “For good.”

  He seemed to have forgotten about Nina and she sighed deeply to remind him.

  “Darling,” she whined petulantly, “we have to leave now or we’ll be late for lunch.”

  “Ok,” he shook himself like a dog shakes off water, although in his case he was shaking off a sudden assailment of memories.

  “We have to get going,” he told Ivy, his tone neutral. “It’s been – nice - to see you again.”

  “You too,” Ivy smiled.

  “Say hi to Leo for me,” he said.

  She nodded towards the end of the aisle where her grandfather was unashamedly watching the exchange with interest. “You can say hi to him yourself if you like,” she said.

  Nina turned on her heel sharply and without another word started to walk away. With one brief, lingering look, Walt turned to follow her. Step, step, step, squeeeak.

  Ivy let her shoulders relax and exhaled sharply through pursed lips. A situation had been handled, reunion over and done with. Of course she knew that wouldn’t be it; at some point she would need to see him, to attempt to explain herself and her actions. It was something she was not looking forward to as she was deeply ashamed of her younger self’s actions. She was grieving deeply at the time yes, but would he accept that as an excuse? She didn’t think so. He had deserved a goodbye from her if nothing else.

  She saw him pause at the end of the aisle, shake hands with her grandfather and exchange words. Both men laughed at something and then he was gone.

  Out of sight, but most definitely not out of mind.

  Chapter twenty three

  On the way home Ivy nodded and agreed and murmured in the right places when her grandfather spoke, but she barely registered a word he said.

  Walt.

  Even though she had known that she would run into him sooner or later, the village was too small after all to expect otherwise, she hadn’t expected the reunion to stir up quite so many feelings.

  She felt, alive, tingly, like fizzy champagne was running through her veins.

  She felt the way she felt the first night she’d met him, all those years ago.

  She knew that their relationship had ever had a chance to reach its natural conclusion. They hadn’t fallen out of love or grown sick of the sight of each other like other couples did over time. One hadn’t run off with someone else, or decided they simply just didn’t love the other anymore and they’d be better off friends.

  Instead she’d run away like a selfish, childish teenager, without a farewell or even an explanation. Her cheeks still burned with shame when she thought about how she had mishandled it. How she must have hurt him. At the time she hoped he would understand but now she wasn’t so sure. Something in the way he had looked at her in the supermarket spoke of anger and resentment still lurking inside.

  Oh the way he used to look at her! She leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. Her grandfather, mistakenly thinking she was tired, stopped talking. But she wasn’t tired, she was allowing herself to remember things she hadn’t let herself think of in a long time.

  The way he once made her feel as if she were the most beautiful, desirable woman in the world.

  The way he used to devour her with his eyes; hungrily, and the way he would unleash that hunger when they were alone.

  She moaned softly.

  “Are you ok?” her grandfather asked, concerned.

  “Fine” she told him, embarrassed, her face turned towards the window with a half smile dancing in her lips. Thank god he couldn’t read minds.

  There had been others since of course. One serious boyfriend, a couple of semi serious and a handful of casuals. There had even been the odd one night stand, something she wasn’t proud of but nor did she regret them either. They were just a part of her journey, the life of a traveller. On the road she’d found, relationships and friendships were forged in the blink of an eye. She’d learnt more about people she’d met on twelve hour train rides across continents than she did about some people she’d grown up with and known for years.

  She’d never loved any of them like she’d loved Walt though, which she put down to him being her first love. The feeling in her chest had never gone away when she thought of him, which had been often even though she’d tried to push him from her mind, ashamed at the way she had let things end. Over the years she had wondered about him. Hoped he was happy. She deliberately never asked her grandfather if he had any news of Walt, preferring to leave i
t to her imagination.

  As for Walt, he sat through Nina’s family lunch, accepting her mother’s offerings of extra gravy and the best piece of the chicken, much to the disgust of Nina’s father. Walt was the perfect guest as usual, smiling when appropriate, laughing when required and even remembering to express his gratitude at a meal perfectly prepared.

  Like a swan on the water, calm and serene on the surface but a frantic churning mess underneath, he was seething with emotions he hid carefully from the present company.

  She was back.

  After all these years she was back.

  All this time he’d planned and plotted about how he would react if he ever saw her again. But those plans had relied on forewarning, not being caught unawares like he had today. He went over and over their brief reunion, trying to garner some hint of remorse from her. She had seemed perfectly happy to him though; smiling and pleasant, as if they were merely old friends reconnecting rather than past lovers.

  Which led him to a niggling problem, was it all still in the past? Seeing her had taken his breath away, literally. Thank god for Nina and her ill concealed jealousy, it had given him a chance to collect himself before he’d had to speak.

  She was even more beautiful now than when he’d last seen her. Older, obviously, but age had treated her kindly. She was slightly softer around the edges, but it simply served to highlight her femininity. He was glad she’d grown her hair long and curly again, and he remembered how it used to look fanned out around her, snaking over her pale skin, as they made love under the moonlight.

  He moaned softly.

  “Are you alright?” Nina asked him suspiciously.

  Her mother might be fooled but she was not. Walt was distracted; had been ever since they had run into that woman in the supermarket.

  “I’m fine,” he lied.

  Chapter twenty four

  (Handwritten on piece of paper and buried in the sand on the beach)

  Dear mum and June,

  I’m sorry I haven’t written since I’ve been home. I’ve been trying to adjust to life back here. The oddest thing - it’s almost as if the last ten years never happened. Under granddads roof I feel like a child again.