by Paige Toon
Ed looks up from the till and smiles as we walk through the door, his eyes moving from me to Van. He comes out from behind the counter to shake his hand.
‘It’s great to see you again,’ Ed says.
‘It’s been a while,’ Van replies.
‘Twenty-five years,’ I point out. ‘This is Libby.’ I shepherd her in front of me. ‘And obviously you know Luke.’ I glance around for my son, but he’s already found his way to the toy section – we sell some to supplement book sales. Libby joins him.
‘A few people have been in to ask about the signing,’ Ed tells us. ‘I reckon we’ll have a decent turnout.’
I hear a voice behind me. ‘Is that Nell Forrester? The author?’
I spin on my heels and crack up laughing at the sight of Ellie standing in the doorway, clutching her young son’s hand. Her baby daughter is safely tucked into the carrier she’s wearing.
I run and throw my arms around her, straddling her feet awkwardly due to the bundle strapped to her front. ‘What are you doing here?’ I cry. ‘I thought you weren’t coming until next week!’
‘And miss your signing? Nah.’ She shakes her head. ‘Was never gonna happen.’ Shooting a look across the shop, she claps her hands comically to her face. ‘Oh my God, it’s Van Stirling, the illustrator!’
He sniggers as they exchange another clumsy baby-bundle hug.
Van only really goes by Stirling now. Stanley Stirling is a bit of a mouthful, so Stanley has become more of a middle name.
‘Hello again!’ Ellie goes over to say a warm hi to Ed. ‘How are you? It’s been ages since I saw you at Easter.’
Van crouches down to speak to Ellie’s son. My friend notices and introduces them.
‘This is Thomas,’ she says.
‘Hi, Thomas,’ Van responds.
‘Have you been busy today?’ I ask Ed with a smile while this is going on.
‘Not too bad.’
‘You’re not missing me, then?’
‘You were only here two days ago.’ His warm brown eyes are amused. ‘Ask me next week.’
Van stands back up as another customer comes through the door – Brooke!
‘Hey!’ she cries as I hurry to embrace her. She’s brought her brother Brad’s seven-year-old daughter, Megan.
‘Thank you so much for coming!’
‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.’
I turn and widen my eyes at Ed. ‘This is Brooke,’ I say significantly.
‘Hello,’ she chirps, giving him a wave.
‘Nice to meet you,’ he replies.
‘Brad’s parking the car,’ Brooke tells me as Ed starts tidying up behind the till. ‘He’s come with Lisa and Emily.’ Lisa is Brad’s wife and Emily is their younger daughter – she’s four. ‘We passed Christopher and Theresa on their way here, too.’
I’m blown away by all of the support. Even some of Dad’s old friends come, including Steven and Linzie from the farm.
‘Your father would have been so proud of you,’ Linzie says to me, before pressing Van’s hand and adding, ‘both.’
That makes us a little emotional.
Mostly, though, it feels as though we’re having a party. The bookshop is crowded and the atmosphere is buzzing. A few locals come in to get their books signed, some of whom had bought them earlier in the week and were waiting for Van. I’m so proud to see him signing his name, and the day is right up there with some of the happiest of my life. I only wish Dad were here.
Afterwards, we decide to head across the road to the pub for a celebratory drink.
‘Come,’ I urge Ed.
He shakes his head. ‘I’ve got to shut up shop.’
‘Can’t Kiran do it?’ She’s his Saturday staff – I cover for her occasionally when she can’t come in and she’s covering for me while Van and Libby are here. She’s a primary school teacher, so she was happy to pull in some extra cash over the holidays.
‘I’ll see you next Sunday, okay?’ he replies with a small smile.
I try not to appear too disheartened, but I can’t help it. ‘If you change your mind…’
‘I know where you are,’ he finishes my sentence.
‘Ed not coming?’ Van asks as we leave.
‘No, he can’t.’
He slips his arm around my waist as we cross the road, but I cast a disappointed look back over my shoulder at the shop. It won’t be the same without Ed.
Our first few days together pass by in a blur. Van and Libby take a while to get over their jet lag – Libby fares better than her father – but by Wednesday, we’re in the swing of things.
Libby comes into the bathroom in the morning while I’m doing my hair. We’re off to the Minack Theatre shortly for a children’s storytelling session.
‘Can I brush your hair for you?’ she asks.
‘You can if I can do yours?’ I reply with a smile.
We go through to the kitchen and I pull up a chair at the table, sitting down and handing her a brush. She tentatively drags it through my shoulder-length locks, gradually getting more confident with her strokes.
‘I can’t do this with Mum’s hair,’ she confides.
‘Does she still have dreadlocks?’ I ask.
‘Yeah.’ She keeps brushing. ‘I’m going to be a hairdresser when I grow up.’
‘Cool.’
Sitting there, staring out of the window at the retreating tide, I experience a feeling of déjà vu. When I was a child, Ruth used to brush my hair for me while I sat in this very same chair. It was one of the times I felt closest to her.
Ruth is still in my thoughts when Libby and I come to swap places. Libby is abnormally quiet and I think she likes me playing with her hair. I style it in a fishtail plait for her, feeling a swell of love for this little girl who isn’t mine. When I’m done, I press a kiss to the top of her head and she looks up and smiles at me. I’ve always wanted a daughter. I try not to dwell on the sadness I feel, knowing that I’ll never have one of my own. I only see Libby for a few short weeks a year, if I’m lucky – how could she ever be a substitute for the real thing?
The Minack Theatre is built from stone on the edge of a high cliff, its stepped seats climbing backwards from the stage below. Behind the stage is the most breathtaking backdrop you could imagine: to put it simply, sea and sky. It’s a slightly overcast day, but the sun is trying its hardest to burn through the clouds and blast the grey from the normally deep-blue ocean. Fishing boats and naval ships pass by on the horizon, and colourful wildflowers and unusual-looking succulents burst out from the cracks and crevices. The sound of jaunty music coming from big speakers mingles with the babble of excited children and the cry of swooping seagulls.
Amazingly, the storytelling session is about the different types of fairy, and Libby and Luke keep glancing at us with incredulity as the exuberant performer introduces puppet versions of Spriggens, Knockers, Brownies and Hedgerow fairies, not to mention Piskies. All five fairy types have featured in our books.
I watch Libby laughing her head off, and feel wave upon wave of love.
When Van told me that Sam was pregnant, I died a little, knowing that he was about to become a father to someone else’s child. At that moment, on the plane, I thought he would be lost to me forever. I felt numb the entire time I was in Adelaide and Port Lincoln. On my return home, I found solace in Nick, but when I discovered that I was pregnant, my heart broke all over again.
I wanted Van to be the father.
And I wished that I were the mother of his child, not Sam.
Our lives would be far easier now if our children belonged to both of us and only us. That much is obvious.
But then Libby wouldn’t be Libby.
And Luke wouldn’t be Luke.
They are who they are – a combination of Van and Sam, and Nick and me – and when I think about the times I wished that Sam and Nick weren’t a part of their make-up, I feel cold all over.
It has also occurred to me, in my bleakest momen
ts, that without Sam on the scene, Van would be free to take Libby from Australia. But the very fact that I could even imagine a child losing her mother, or having to leave behind her two half-siblings, fills me with the deepest sense of shame.
I will always wish that Van and I could spend more time together, but not at the expense of our children or their other parents.
I don’t think I’ll ever be able to understand Ruth’s death or Dad’s cancer, but when it comes to Van and me, and Libby and Luke, I’m at peace with the paths we’ve walked.
I put my arms around our children and hug them close.
It absolutely tips it down on Thursday and Friday, and Saturday morning is windy and overcast, but as the day progresses, the wind dies down, and I am thrilled when we wake up on Sunday to blue skies. It’s perfect barbecue weather.
Van helps prepare the salads and marinades while the kids play together. He’s a great cook, a skill he developed during the years he worked on a tuna boat with little else to entertain him on the long, slow journeys back from the open ocean with a cage full of fish. He works on a tugboat now, which suits his current lifestyle better. He’s climbed up the ranks from deckhand to tugboat apprentice mate, and is well on his way to becoming captain one day. I’m very proud of him.
Ellie and Liam arrive first, with Thomas and Ciara. I wrestle four-month-old Ciara away from her mother and we head outside to the patio. Van puts up the umbrella so Ciara is under the shade, and then we watch as a panicked Liam runs after two-year-old Thomas down the steep hill.
‘This is how it’s going to be for the whole day, isn’t it?’ Ellie says resignedly as Van turns around to bang on the annexe window.
‘Libby!’ he calls. She and Luke have turned the space into a playroom and it’s currently full of Lego.
‘Yeah?’ she calls back.
‘Can you come and babysit for a bit?’
I expect to hear grumbling, as I’m sure I’d get from Luke, but she pops her head around the side of the building a moment later, a cheeky grin on her face. ‘How much will you pay me?’
‘Does your mother pay you?’ he asks drily.
‘No.’ She shrugs and grins.
‘You said you’re missing Jake, so go and play with Thomas.’
Aside from Libby’s half-sister, Brittney, who’s now seven, Sam also has a son from a third relationship, Jake, age two. She’s still with Jake’s father and Van says he wouldn’t be surprised if there were more children on the horizon. Apparently, Libby is a brilliant older sibling.
She yells over her shoulder at Luke. ‘Let’s roll down the hill!’
I shake my head with despair as my son tears out of the building.
‘Come on, Thomas, you want to roll down the hill with us?’ Libby asks, bouncing on her feet.
‘At least the tide’s out,’ Van comments.
‘Do you remember trying to wash off that mud?’ I ask, prompting him to flash me a rueful smile. I go back to something he said a moment ago. ‘Did Libby tell you she’s missing Jake?’
‘Yeah, a bit. Although I imagine Sam is missing Libby more. Libby plays with Jake all the time – Sam says she’s a godsend.’
I don’t like to think of Libby pining for her siblings back home – I know she’s very close to Brittney, too.
I’d hoped for siblings for Luke, not just for now, but for when he’s older, with children of his own. I never had aunts and uncles – both my parents were only children – and my grandparents on either side died young. I’m glad I can consider Nick’s parents a part of my own extended family, because the only blood relative I have now, aside from Luke, is my mother.
‘You okay?’ Ellie asks me when Van and Liam retire to the bottom of the hill to catch the kids.
‘Lost in my thoughts,’ I murmur, stroking my fingers across her daughter’s super-fine, light-brown hair. I bend down and inhale. ‘Mmm.’
Ellie smiles and glances downhill at Van, her expression becoming pensive. A car crunches onto the gravel driveway, diverting me. I go to see who it is.
‘Hello!’ I cry, opening the gate and greeting Ed as he climbs out of his car. ‘It’s so good to see you.’ It really is. I’ve missed him this week – I didn’t even know how much until now.
‘Hey, you too,’ he replies with a smile as we kiss each other’s cheeks. He’s wearing shorts and a yellow polo shirt that really brings out the colour on his arms.
‘Who’s this?’ he asks, bending down to peer at the baby I’m still holding.
‘Ciara.’
‘Ellie’s daughter,’ he realises. ‘I couldn’t see her properly last weekend when she was in the carrier.’
‘I know, I snaffled her today before Ellie could lock her up again.’
‘She’s gorgeous.’ He nods at my hair. ‘Very Princess Leia.’
I laugh. ‘Libby’s work. She’s taken to styling it every morning. I can’t say no.’
I currently have two blonde buns fixed to either side of my head.
‘Suits you,’ he says with a grin, moving past me to the boot of his car. He brings out a six-pack of beer and a bottle of Prosecco.
‘Ooh,’ I joke warily, taking the bottle from him. ‘This could be dangerous.’
He grins and I’m disturbed to acknowledge that the edgy feeling has started back up.
It’s the dimple, I tell myself, remembering my teenage crush on Drew. I always was a sucker for one.
‘How’s work been this week?’ I ask.
‘Fine,’ he replies, slamming the boot.
‘Missing me yet?’ I josh, jigging Ciara in my arms as she starts making chatty baby noises.
‘I’m just about coping,’ he replies drily.
I laugh and turn towards the gate, but the hairs on the back of my neck stand up at the sight of Van on the patio, staring at us with an odd look on his face. He smiles and comes forward to shake Ed’s hand, and they exchange perfectly pleasant greetings.
‘I’ll stick these in the kitchen,’ Van says, taking possession of the six-pack. ‘There are some more on ice – want one?’ he calls over his shoulder at Ed.
‘Sure, thanks.’
Ed goes over to say hi to Luke and the others, but something makes me tag after Van.
‘You okay?’ I ask once we’re alone. Ciara doesn’t count, although she’s still making noises and I’m not entirely convinced they’re happy ones.
‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ he replies, not meeting my eyes as he takes the Prosecco from me.
‘Are you sure?’ I force out the question.
It’s a while before he looks at me, but when he does, the tension I’m already feeling racks up a notch. His expression is impenetrable. What is he thinking? I’m not sure I want to know. If Van becomes possessive around Ed, it’ll make things incredibly difficult.
‘I’m fine,’ he repeats quietly.
‘Van…’ I murmur, jigging Ciara a bit more purposefully. ‘Please don’t worry. We’re just friends.’ As soon as the statement is out of my mouth, I regret it. I can’t believe I just put it out there like it’s an issue. But how can I not address his fears when he’s looking at me like this? It’s not anger, or jealousy, it’s something else.
‘I know you are,’ he says, shaking his head and glancing at Ciara, who definitely needs her mummy now. ‘Sorry, I just felt a bit strange, seeing you guys coming in through the gate.’
‘Strange how?’
He shrugs and looks away.
I touch his arm. ‘Please try to explain.’
‘I don’t know. Like someone had walked over my grave.’
I stare at him with dismay and then Ciara starts to cry in earnest.
‘I’m all right. Really,’ he says firmly, kissing my temple. ‘Take her back to Ellie. I’ll be out in a sec.’
I don’t want to leave him, but I do.
Brooke arrives soon afterwards, so I’m distracted with welcoming her, but I’m attuned to where Van is at all times. He actually seems okay, and when he fires up the barbecue
and starts grilling the meat, Ed and Liam hang with him, drinking beers and chatting. The kids have taken Thomas into the annexe and we can keep an eye on them through the window, and Ciara has fallen asleep in her pram, so my friends and I are able to sit in the sunshine and catch up on each other’s news. I have to bite my tongue to stop myself from asking Brooke what she thinks of Ed. They said polite ‘hello again’s, but are yet to have a proper conversation.
Van laughs at something Ed says, drawing my attention back to him.
He seems relaxed and happy, which in turn relaxes me.
It’s strange – the boy I grew up with was often jealous and possessive, but the man before me is more mellow. When did he change? Somehow I’ve missed seeing that happen. I’ve missed so much.
It occurs to me, in a surreal way, that I might not know Van very well. When I calculate the time I’ve actually spent in his presence since those years we lived together as children, I’m shocked to discover that it amounts to less than eight months.
I wonder if Van and I would’ve changed if we’d had more time together, if we’d been able to live like a normal couple. Would we have grown into different people than we are now? Or are we who we were always meant to be?
In my efforts to get Brooke and Ed talking, I end up sitting between Van and Ed, with Brooke opposite Ed. Thomas is secured to a chair with a booster seat at the end between Van and Ellie, and Libby and Luke are on a picnic rug, but it’s still a squeeze around the bench table with six adults.
‘What do you do, Brooke?’ Ed asks conversationally.
‘I’m an interior designer,’ she replies.
‘Do you run your own business or…?’
‘That’s the plan,’ she says. ‘I’ve got to start from scratch now that I’ve moved back, so if you know of anyone…’
‘I’ll keep you in mind,’ he says. ‘Have you got a business card?’
‘Yes, in my purse. I’ll get one for you later.’ She smiles and I knock Ed’s knee under the table.
Nice one, pal.
He knocks mine in return.
Back off, buster.
I try to keep a straight face.