What an extraordinary turn of events, Ivy mused, one foot idly turning the head of the tap on and off. Imagine if she had decided not to go to the party after all, as had been her inclination until almost the last minute. What power these minute decisions play in our lives. Had she not gone, she may never have met Walt, and she would now not have memories of a most magical night to dream upon.
“Ivy,” her name was called up the stairs, “are you up there?”
“In the bath,” she called back.
Two sets of footsteps thundered up the stairs and the door was flung open, crashing back against the wall and leaving a small dent in the wood panelling their grandfather had spent many hours first installing and then painting by hand.
“Oops,” her sister shrugged, then immediately forgot about it.
“Is it too much to ask for a little privacy?” Ivy asked, knowing even as she spoke the words that their intention was less than heartfelt.
Her mother perched on the closed toilet seat lid and her sister knelt on the floor by the bath, trailing one hand in the water and stirring up the bubbles.
“Tell us everything,” she said.
“Begin at the beginning,” her mother added.
So Ivy told them the story of how it came to be that she met Walt, and everywhere they had been and everything they had done and seen and talked about in the less than 24 hour period since.
And when she had finished June and Pat were silent for a moment, and then her sister clapped her hands together, sending bubbles flying, and said “how magical!”
And their mother concurred.
Chapter five
All the way home Walt was greeted with smiles from people he passed. They couldn’t help it; one glance at his face and the infection spread rapidly. Their lips twitched up at the edges and the corners of their eyes crinkled, as if without any conscious signal from the brain.
In fact, without much of an effort at all Walt spread goodwill all over the village that night. One man he smiled at, (the one in the blue shirt and brown pants), normally walked home exhausted after his days work and keen for nothing else but to get home, open a beer and sit in front of the TV for four hours watching mindless programmes before bed. After seeing the look on Walt’s face he instead greeted his wife in the kitchen with a nibble on the ear and a pinch on the bum that led to other things, and nine months later that pinch blessed them with a beaming bundle they named Joy.
And the tired lady pushing one baby in a pram and toting another on her hip, normally she was so drained at the end of the day she couldn’t wait to shove the kids in their cot’s and drink down half a bottle of cheap white wine (anything would do as long as it was chilled). After passing Walt and being infected with his happiness that night she found herself instead slowing down and enjoying time with her children. She lingered over their baths, letting them splash to their hearts content, and she read them two bedtime stories then stood in the doorway and felt her heart melt with gratitude and contentment as she watched their sweetly sleeping faces. Then she went and poured all the wine down the sink.
At the home Walt shared with a flatmate named Jeff, he showered quickly then found himself restlessly prowling from room to room. He tried sitting down to watch some TV, but after twenty minutes he couldn’t have told you the name of the programme let alone anything that had happened since he’d been watching. He heated up some leftover meatloaf from the fridge but couldn’t eat it, on account of a severe attack of the flutters in his stomach. At nine o’clock he thought he would try to sleep, thinking surely he’d be tired after the night before. But no, he couldn’t sleep, which was why when Ivy answered the doorbell just before eleven o’clock she found Walt standing there, a bunch of crimson Sweet Williams dangling from one hand, hair damp from a light drizzle in the air. He pushed it off his forehead and away from his eyes.
“Hey,” he grinned, and thrust the flowers at her.
“Oh they’re beautiful,” she said, inhaling their sweet scent, eyes closed as if enjoying the experience but actually so she could gather her thoughts and try and contain the excitement she’d felt as soon as she’d seen him standing there.
She must have some kind of magic, she thought, because for the last two hours she’d been lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, desperately wishing she could see him again.
And now he was here.
“Can I come in?”
“Of course.”
She stepped to the side and let him through.
“Wow, nice place.”
“Thanks, my grandfather pretty much built it from scratch, with some help from the odd tradesman.”
“He’s a handy guy,” Walt said, admiring the large room he had just stepped into. “This is amazing.”
The whole downstairs was large and open plan and predominately white, although the floorboards were some kind of beautifully restored timber. The furnishings were shades of cream and pale blue, and effort had been made to establish a nautical theme, with a driftwood coffee table the central feature of the lounge.
“Did he decorate it as well?”
“No that was my grandmother. She had a love affair with all things from the ocean.”
“A woman after my own heart.”
“Don’t think I’m not happy to see you,” Ivy said, “because I am, ridiculously so, but is everything ok?”
“Never been better,” he said, wandering around the room and admiring objects. Blue glass balls in a bowl, green sea lanterns, dried starfish and shells.”Why?”
“I just wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon.”
He crossed the room and took her hands in his, dropping one again to push a tendril of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear and running his fingers lightly across her cheekbone and lingering by the corner of her lips for the briefest of moments. “I missed you,” he said. “The hours since I last saw you have been the longest hours of my life.”
“I missed you too,” she admitted, “terribly.”
“I was rather hoping you’d say that.”
“We have to be quiet though,” she said, “everyone else is asleep.”
“Sorry” he stage whispered, “I can go if you want?” but it was a hollow offer and he knew she wouldn’t take him up on it.
“No,” she said firmly, “don’t you dare.”
“What the lady wants –” he sat down on one of the couches, spread his arms along the back and grinned at her cockily, “- the lady gets.”
“I better put these in some water,” Ivy said, taking the flowers and heading for the kitchen at the south end of the room. He jumped up to follow her, and while she rummaged in the pantry to find a vase he perched on a stool at the breakfast island.
“I promise I’m not stalking you,” he said.
“The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.”
“I don’t normally turn up at girls doors late at night when I barely know them.”
“I should hope not.”
“There’s just something about you. You’ve wormed your way under my skin.”
“That sounds disgusting,” she said, but actually it was the most romantic thing she’d ever heard. She took her time arranging the flowers, nervous. It was the first time a man had ever visited her at the house and she had no clue what was expected of her.
“You’re stalling aren’t you,” he said.
She should have known he’d be on to her as he could read her mind so easily. She put the flowers on the windowsill where her mother would appreciate them the next morning, and turned with a confession.
“I’m new to all this,” she said.
“All this what, exactly?”
“You know. Men, dating, relationships and the like.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s true.”
“You mean to tell me you’ve never dated before?”
“I’ve had dates,” she said, not adding that she could easily count the number on one hand, “ju
st nothing that –” she trailed off.
”Go on.”
She took a deep breath, “- nothing that ever felt anything like this.”
And they were the sweetest words he had ever heard.
“What are we going to do?” he said. “I don’t want to be apart from you.”
“You can stay here tonight, if you like,” she said, and he knew that they were the bravest words she had possibly ever spoken. He could see the effort it took, the confidence she had to muster.
He crossed the kitchen and stood in front of her, not touching but for all the effect it had on her he may as well have been. She felt every nerve in her body tingle, and she had to clasp on to the counter behind her to stop her knees from collapsing.
“If this is going too fast for you we can slow down,” he whispered.
But she knew that there was no slowing this ride now that it had started. Something had begun the moment he’d whispered in her ear. A key had been turned, a button had been pushed and a lever had been pulled, and now there was no stopping until a destination had been reached.
“Outside,” she whispered.
He was confused, hurt, “you want me to leave?”
“Of course not.”
“I don’t understand.”
She took another deep breath. She’d never been one for brazen talk. “I’m not ready to be alone with you, in my bedroom. I mean, I want to, I just –”
“It’s ok, I understand. We don’t have to rush anything. We have all the time in the world.”
She had known he would understand.
“But outside?” he asked again. “It’s raining, you wouldn’t want me to get sick would you?”
“Follow me” she said, and led him by the hand out the door off the back of the kitchen. It was dark and he tripped over the doormat, banging his elbow on the door frame.
“Son of a bitch,” he swore, rubbing it. “Did I forget to mention I’m clumsy?”
“Wait here,” she put a hand on his chest to halt him, and while he waited she went out onto the enclosed deck and lit the lanterns and candles in glass jars.
“Ok that’s it,” Walt said, following her out once his eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting. “I’m moving in. This place just keeps getting better and better.”
Ivy looked around, proud, trying to see things afresh as he would be seeing them for the first time. The deck was enclosed but with sweeping big windows amongst white wooden beams that looked out towards the sea. White cane chairs and tables offered places to rest and admire the view, and bright blue garden pots planted with small lemon trees were lined along the wall. A fan hung from the ceiling and, just as inside the house, various ocean debris lay dotted around. Down the far end of the deck he could see a hanging seat and boxes piled high against the wall.
“Moving somewhere?”
“It’s wedding stuff. Decorations for the tables and gifts for the guests. There’s no room at June’s house so granddad let her store it here.”
“Does she live far from here?”
“No not at all, five minute drive, if that. Her husband to be, Craig, owns Neptune’s café in the village and they live in a small flat above it.”
“It’s a small world alright. I often eat there, they do a mean BLT. Is he the tall blond guy, wears jeans all the time, girl customers always falling all over him?”
“That’s him.”
“He seems nice, always friendly.”
“Yeah he’s wonderful. June is the envy of many girls in this village I can tell you.”
“You?”
“What?”
“Do you envy her?”
“Oh no, not for the reason you’re thinking. Don’t get me wrong, Craig is great, but he’s not my type.”
While they talked they had wandered down to the hanging seat and he waited while she made herself comfortable amongst the many cushions then he went to climb up beside her but stumbled and pushed the seat away instead, sending it swinging wildly.
“I told you,” he said, “clumsy.”
“I’ll help you,” she laughed and steadied his arm while he safely got up and nestled in beside her.
It felt like the most natural thing in the world for him to put his arm around her shoulders and pull her in close, and he placed his lips on her hair as he asked,
“So what is?”
“What is what?”
“Your type.”
“Oh.” She realised she’d never actually thought about it before. She’d had so few romantic encounters in the past that the fact she might have a ‘type’ had never occurred to her.
“I don’t honestly know,” she said.
Which was not the answer he’d wanted to hear and she knew this as soon as she said it as she heard a small sigh in the back of his throat but he swallowed it back down before it could escape.
‘Well,” she said, “call me odd but I quite fancy blond men with red facial hair. They also have to be terrible at dancing, because I don’t really go in for that kind of thing.”
He smiled. “Go on.”
“Well, obviously he must love dogs –”
“Obviously.”
“- and as for peas, well, I’m afraid if he likes them that’s a bit of a deal breaker. Can’t stand the little green things.”
“Really?”
“No. I love them.”
“That’s disappointing, but continue.”
“If he can catch fish for tea that’s a bonus.”
“Ah, well, you’ve lost me there see. I can’t catch fish to save myself.”
She nestled in closer, inhaled the scent of him; a mixture of wet wool from his rain dampened jersey and something else she couldn’t put her finger on. Crisp.
“That’s a shame,” she said. “I was just beginning to like you.”
“Oh ha ha,” he tickled her in the ribs causing her to convulse and cry out for him to stop.
“It’s nice to know you were paying attention though,” he told her. “That’s a rare quality in a girl,” and then quickly angled his body away to avoid the outraged poke she aimed his way.
“I’m kidding.”
“You’d better be.”
They enjoyed the silence for awhile and the view of the moon over the ocean. Each was lost in the sensation of being near the other; the feel of their body beside their own. Their scent, the sound of their breathing.
“I don’t want this night to ever end,” she whispered and he pulled her closer, wrapped both arms around her and held her like he would never let her go.
Chapter six
“Ahem.”
Ivy surfaced slowly from sleep, her senses taking stock of the fact that she was still safely ensconced in Walt’s arms, and she gave a happy little sigh and burrowed her face into his chest.
“Ahem.”
Her eyes flew open.
“Granddad,” she said, “you gave me a fright.”
Her grandfather stood in front of the seat, eyebrows raised, coffee mug in hand, newspaper tucked under one armpit.
“I’m used to this sort of behaviour from your sister,” he said, “but I never expected it from you,” and he shook his head as if gravely disappointed.
Before she could answer Walt stirred beside her, “I assure you sir that nothing untoward happened. Her virtue remains intact.”
“Walt!” she was so embarrassed that he had mentioned her virtue to her grandfather.
“What? I was protesting your innocence.”
“Yeah, well granddad –” she said, climbing off the seat and kissing her grandfather on the cheek, “- was only kidding.”
“Morning sunshine,” her grandfather said, and Walt saw a look of affection pass between the two of them.
“Is mum up?” Ivy asked.
“Preparing breakfast as we speak. I hope you’re hungry, she’s cleaned out the contents of the fridge and is frying it all up in the same pan. It’s anyone’s guess what we’ll end up with”
“I take it she kn
ows Walt’s here,” Ivy guessed, as normally they were a muesli or piece of toast kind of family.
“My girl, half the village knows. Your mother saw you two snoozing out here this morning and the grapevine has been running hot. Your sister and Craig are on their way over to join us.”
Ivy groaned and nudged Walt with a foot. “See what you’ve started?”
“Me? You fell asleep first. I didn’t want to disturb you. You’re cute when you sleep, although you snore a little.”
“I do not!”
Her grandfather watched this exchange and realised in an instant that the Ivy he knew had gone, drifted away from him in the night, but this wasn’t a bad thing. That Ivy had been innocent, unworldly, untouched by love. He could see from the colour on her cheeks and the glow in her eyes that this had changed, and she had fallen for this man. He experienced a moments fleeting sadness, but just a moment. He wished her grandmother could have been here to see her granddaughter blossom. All he wanted from the days he had left in this world was to see his daughter and his granddaughters happy.
“I’ll go help her,” Ivy said.
“Good girl. It’ll give your young man and I a chance to get acquainted.”
“He’s not my young man.”
“Aren’t I?” Walt asked, pretending to be sad.
“Jury’s still out,” she said, “Play your cards right and we’ll see.”
As she went back inside her grandfather watched Walt stare after her with all the longing of a kid pressed against a candy shop window. He sat down in one of the cane chairs, placing his coffee on the small table beside it. Walt shook himself out of his revere and joined him, sitting in a chair on the other side of the table.
“You have an amazing house sir,” he said.
‘Call me Leo, and thank you.”
“I understand you built most of it yourself?”
Leo nodded and held up his gnarled and aged hands. “With these two hands. Took me nearly a full year. I can’t take credit for the design though, that was Ivy’s grandmother Ruby,” his eyes closed briefly in memory. “She knew exactly what she wanted. Stood over my shoulder while I built it and made sure I got it just right.”
When Stars Collide Page 3