#corruscating

Surprise was etched on every one of his features; along the new lines framing blue eyes, in the shoulder connected to the hands, one clutching white-knuckled at the open door and the other the door frame. Her hands shook, her lip trembled against the hold formed by her teeth. His sharp features had rounded out, whilst her curves had been packed into lean muscle that threatened to no longer hold her up.

He made the first move. He pushed the door away from him, and stood aside. There was no welcoming sign of the hand or anything of the sort, but it was an invitation nonetheless. She was grateful for the lack of sarcastic remark. Perhaps he had been right; perhaps his bite had only grown worse after spending so much time with her that they had begun to take on each other's worst traits. Still, there had been a time when he might have at least joked about her having to be invited into her own house.

She swung the holdall from her shoulder onto a space by Jack's bed, giving him an affectionate pat on the head as she'd always done but nothing more She'd never been much of a dog person. The walls had painted cream, perfectly inoffensive but painful in their neutrality, but at least they served a perfect canvas for the adventurous scribblings that could be found at knee height.

She followed him into the living room, eyes still making a mental note of the changes, peppered throughout, some bolder than others. Even the frames on the wall behind the dining table had changed, and there was only one picture in which she stared back at herself. Centrally was a recent picture that made her heart pull in a way that she had no right to.

She moved away, and to the kitchen where the sound of the kettle bubbling into life, indicated he was making tea.

"Glad to see these are still here," she commented, running a hand against the notches in the kitchen which they tracked the children's heights. Here own parents had never done it and so she'd been adamant that they do it. She only knew one set, and the higher notches made her look away. All the resolve that had led her to the front door was slowly peeling away.

He flushed as her eyes settled on him instead, misreading their brown intensity as an accusation.

"Yeah...err, Mum, she...He paused to gather his thoughts, hand on the ceramic tea tin. "She, erm - I - we thought changing things up might help after - you know."

"It's okay. I didn't- I didn't expect -" She scratched at her nose, searching for words. "I didn't think you'd answer the door. I mean..." Her hands found their way into the front pocket of her jeans, her body leaning against the door frame, watching him work. "You're making me tea."

"Oh... Did you not want any?"

She frowned. "That's not what I meant. I thought you'd slam the door in my face. I thought you'd be angry. I thought - I didn't think you'd make me tea."

He thought about this as he carried on making her tea, the movements both apprehensive and automatic. He knew exactly how she took her tea; he just wasn't sure if she still took it the same way. He turned back to her.

"I think," he begun, "I think I'm relieved you're alive."

"You are?"

He scoffed as he dropped the tea bag on the side of the sink. They used to have a little saucer for this purpose, but they'd not really needed it.

"Always so disbelieving. Of course I'm angry, but I never thought of you as being off somewhere with another man, living up the dream in the sun while I was here, worried sick about you. For a long time, when someone knocked, I thought it was the police coming to tell me they'd found your body. I l always thought the worst."

She took the cup he offered her, and welcomed the distracting burn from the growing guilt whirling inside of her. He opened the fridge, and grabbed a can of Coke out of the many arranged the top shelf.

"You expecting a national shortage of Coke?" she asked, a weak smile on her face to make sure he knew she was only trying to lighten the mood, if only a little.

"You have no idea how much I wish it was beer."

His heavy tone wiped the smile off her face, and her eyes went back to the surface of her tea, rippling in her unsteady hold. She opened her mouth to speak, and closed it again. She closed her eyes. When she opened them, the sight of him standing by the counter with his inherent expectant patience, she looked for the nearest surface to put down her tea.

"This is stupid," she said, placing her cup on the counter. She couldn't look at him. "I'm sorry - I shouldn't have come back."

"Yanna, don't."

She closed her eyes at the hand wrapped around her arm, stopping her from walking out of the kitchen and then out of the door. Again.

"Just give me time to understand what's happening here," he reasoned. "I don't know what to say to you because I'm afraid of this. I'm afraid that'll you'll walk out of here again without even giving me a choice in the matter."

"What is there to choose? I left you! I left you and the kids and I didn't even bother writing a note or - anything! What kind of mother am I? What kind of wife am I? What kind of fucking person am I? I did this to you- to us, and you can't ever forgive me for that - how can you?"

His hand had left her arm and they were staring at each other again, her arms crossed in the rage she was exhibiting for the both of them - he looked very much like he might burst out laughing. He couldn't feel the way she wanted him to feel when she was stood in front of him. Alive and well again. He wanted to reach out and smooth away the frizzy dark fly-aways, and to run a hand across her cheeks and joke about her having tanned since the last time he saw her. He wanted to hold her. Above all, he had missed her.

His resolve to take a step towards her was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, and Jack barking in happiness.

"You wouldn't believe the day I've had, Petey. The queues at Tesco's were absolutely ridiculous - why have all those checkouts if you're not going to bloody well open them - and then little madam here decided that she was going to have a strop - didn't you? Of course you did. Go say hi to Daddy first and then-"

The resemblance to her son was uncanny as she straightened up to look into the kitchen to find her daughter-in-law, except her eyes were quick to change to anger. Her face was thunderous.

"Oh, the nerve of you!"

"Mum, please-"

"Oh no, she doesn't. Oh, no!"

Yanna might have been disturbed by this reaction, but she had been preparing herself  for it since the idea of returning first took root. No, her eyes were riveted on the little girl who had paused in the doorway, hazel eyes wide as she took in this stranger, her newly acquired sweets clutched tightly to her chest.

"Pete, your Mum's right," Yanna said, carefully manoeuvering around the child. "I shouldn't - I'll just - I'll -"

She was cut off by the appearance of the boy in the doorway.

"Mum?" Eyes framed by round plastic frames, narrowed, widened and then crinkled into a smile. "Mum! You came back! Dad was right! He said you'd come back!"

Hands wrapped around her waist, and it took a few moments - ("You told him what? How on Earth could you have possibly known that!")- before her own reached down and wrapped themselves around him, holding him close. He felt like everything in this house; exactly the same but with little differences that made her ache at the thought of what she had missed.

"Where did you go?" he asked as he pulled out of the hug, to look up at his mother's face, curiosity and happiness all milling into one. "Did you bring me anything? Dad always brings back something when he goes. You missed so much! I've got loads to show you - Dad helped me put this box together for you, and I made you Mother's Day cards and Easter nests and you need to open your Christmas present and-"

"And you need to slow down," she interrupted, tugging on his chin, pointed like her own, rather than square set like his father. "Weren't you just in the middle of something?

He looked at the shopping bags on the floor where Jack was sniffing around intent on finding a prize, then  at the door, and then back at his mother. She looked just like he remembered her, before Kelly came along and everything changed. She looked bright.

"How about you finish helping your grandma, and I promise, hand on heart, that I won't move from that chair until you're done."

"Promise?" he asked, pushing his glasses up his nose.

She copied the gesture on her own. "Promise."

Ignoring her mother-in-law, Yanna took a seat, and tried even harder to ignore the yellow floral now covering the tan soft leather she knew lay underneath. Opposite her, on the carpet, sat the little girl, trying desperately to prise open her loot. Her increasingly frequent glances to the hushed voices coming from the kitchen proclaimed imminent tears.

"Do you need help there?" Yanna said, drawing the little girl's attention. She drew her sweets closer to her chest at the Yanna's outstretched hand. "Here, let me help. I promise I won't eat any."

Her curiosity and her desire to have sweets, propelled her towards Yanna, and she stayed leaning against the older woman's leg, watching to see where she had been going wrong in her techniques and to make sure promises really kept.

"Here you go sweetheart."

The little girl had the sweets in hand before she'd finished the sentence. Once at least two strawberry shaped mallows had been ingested, the little girl turned back to the big girl.

"Who you?"

"I'm..." She'd been expecting it, but the question still threw Yanna off-kilter. She put on her best smile. "I'm your mummy."

"Don't have a mummy. She left."

"Yeah, but she's back now," her brother informed her as he paused in the living room, the last of the shopping bags clutched in each hand. He looked to Yanna for confirmation of this fact. "Aren't you Mum?"

"William - I..."

"You left, but you came back. You're back. Right?"

He was his father's son, stubborn in his resolve when he saw it to be the only reasonable thought logical, especially when it came to family. Especially when it came to his mother. He'd known she'd come back. The few agonising moments before she nodded, and her face split into a smile were worth it.

"Right."

The little girl still leaning on her leg was confused. "Mummy came back?"

Yanna picked her up and lifted her up onto her knee. "I'm your mummy, Kelly. You have one - you have me. I left when you were this small, but now I'm back. If that's okay with you and your daddy."

"Daddy," Kelly called, as she turned at the sound of her father's footsteps. "Daddy, Mummy's back."

"I can see that."

Kelly slipped off Yanna's lap to run to her father, who picked her up with his usual extra lift that made her giggle when her tummy wasn't feeling sick. Together, they looked at the woman still sat in the yellow armchair. "Daddy; where she sleep?"

"Wherever she wants, princess," Pete smiled. "Daddy's been pretty lonely since Mummy left, so maybe Mummy will stay with Daddy tonight and Kelly will stay in her bed for once."

"No! Kelly sleep with Daddy!"

"Me and Mum will camp out in the garden then," William said. "Like we did before you left." He took a seat on the arm of the chair, and was grateful she was the one who reached out for his hand before he had to. "I missed you, Mum."

Yanna couldn't help it; the feelings overwhelmed her and she found herself crying, head resting on her son's lap as he cautiously placed a hand on her head, exchanging a worried look with his father.

"I'm sorry, baby," she mumbled, "I'm so sorry."

"Mum, don't cry."