Different Circles

"Please retain all bold and italics text as shown"

I hit a writer's block just before I completed my last submission, Full Circle, which I'd intended to be the final outing for Sarah and her family. I was also struggling with a new story idea, but when I got around to finalising Full Circle, an idea hit me. This story is about Kirstie Hunter who first appeared briefly in Cricket Match, as a very minor character. No need to read that (although I'd like you to at some point), this stands alone and anything you need to know will be here. There is a bit of tragedy at the start, which is detailed in previous stories and it's only setting the scene.

There will be a long lead-in before there is any sexual activity, so if that is what you're after, look elsewhere.

All characters are fictitious and over eighteen when involved in anything sexual, which is all consensual. Any resemblance to other persons is accidental, it is set in a fictional city in the East Midlands of England.

Flight home and reflection

I awoke confused, there was a strange humming and this wasn't a proper bed, then I realised that I was on a plane. I stretched and one of the cabin crew offered me coffee, which I accepted. I sat up, stretched again and headed for the bathroom. When I got back to my seat the bedding had been tidied up and my coffee was waiting.

I sat down grateful that I was travelling home from Australia in business class. It had been expensive, but it was worth the money on such a long flight, and I'd still been angry when I took my seat.

My mother had refused to take me to the airport, even I didn't realise how much she hated me. I shouldn't have been surprised, but I had been. I'd been invited to a conference about genetic research, I thought that it was a good idea and that I might learn something, which I had. I'd warned my parents that I was in the country, but hadn't had a response, so I turned up on their doorstep. It had been the most uncomfortable three days of my life and I'd avoided them as much as possible.

*****

A long time ago now, when I was only eleven, I'd arrived home from school only to be told, by my parents that we were leaving. I'd smiled assuming that we were going on holiday, but that idea was dashed when my mother said that we were going to Australia. "How long for?" I'd asked.

"For good, your father has a new job and there are lots of opportunities for us there."

"But my friends?" I'd asked.

"You'll make new ones." The reply was terse and simple.

"What about Grandad?"

"What about him? He'll cope, I'm sure." She made it clear that the conversation was over.

I never understood how my grandfather could have any connection to my mother. They shared similar features but that was it. My mother had always been cold towards me, it was as if I was an inconvenience, but her father was the polar opposite. I'd never doubted that he loved me, he cuddled me, nurtured me, spent time with me and made me laugh. The idea of leaving him behind and not seeing him again made me cry.

It made him cry as well when he learned of the plans. He held me so tight I thought that he might squash me. I'd had an hour with him between being told the news and leaving for the other side of the world. I cried for most of the flight, much to my mother's annoyance.

I hated Australia at first, they had strange accents, different names for things, they called me a 'pommy' and I had no friends. It didn't change for a long time; I kept to myself, kept my head down and studied hard, of course, that further alienated me. I wrote emails to grandad twice a week and he replied to every second one. Those emails kept me sane, or at least they helped.

My parents had never shown me much affection and they preferred me out of the way. It was during a biology lesson one day that the teacher talked about genetics and inheriting DNA from our parents. That fascinated me, how could a mother be so different from her father and in turn from me? I read every word that I could about the subject and that was probably what made me choose it as a career.

My mother was happy for me to go back to England during the holidays, despite having to travel halfway around the world, unaccompanied. I was used to being on my own so it didn't bother me at the time, but now I still find it hard to believe they thought that it was okay. I did it twice and loved every second that I was with my grandad. He later told me, when I'd grown up a lot that, he'd tried to keep me there with him, but my mother had refused.

I was eighteen and selecting which university to attend when I told my mother that I was interested in girls and not boys. That did not go down well, not at all. She was horrible and called me all sorts of names, my father, never one to waste words on me anyway just stopped talking to me altogether. Suddenly, she changed her mind about me studying at Oxford, something she'd point blank refused a couple of months earlier. Now, it seemed that she was happy to be rid of me.

I was elated and set off as soon as I could and grandad was delighted. I lived at the university during the term but travelled to what I treated as home every couple of weeks and in between terms. I worked during the vacation times and kept house. I cooked meals for us, did the laundry and cleaned. In return grandad spent time with me, we had fun together and he showed me his love. He was the head groundsman for the county cricket club and I'd been to the ground with him many, many times and because of that I'd come to love cricket, I'd even managed to attend games in Australia, despite my parents' hatred of the sport. So, when I was back living with him, I watched many games, it was something that we enjoyed doing together. I'd tried playing, but I lacked the skills needed, I was a boffin, not a sportswoman. And the hard ball scared me silly.

When I graduated, with honours, I decided to go on to study for a master's degree, specialising in genetics and was able to do that at the university in my home city, so I stayed with grandad. He was proud of me, supported me financially and encouraged me to go on to do a doctorate. That lead me to the company that I still work for, researching various aspects of genetics and developing new techniques.

My parents never came to visit, they never attended any of my graduations and contact with them was minimal. Just before I started working full time, I travelled back to Australia to visit them. After ten days I traded in my ticket and came home three weeks early. The reception I got on my return was one I should have got from my parents. To this day I have no idea why they are like that.

*****

Now I was on my way back. It would be good to return to my home, where I'd lived for the past fourteen years, initially with grandad and since his passing, alone. I missed him; I spoke to him often, to tell him about my work, my life, my thoughts, anything and everything. He never answered, but I felt his presence, he'd shaped me, loved me and because of him, I was who I was today. I suppose that I was lucky that I didn't turn out like my mother.

Tears and sorrow

I'd wrestled my suitcase into the luggage rack, found my seat and closed my eyes for a moment. When the train pulled away, I sipped my coffee as the urban sprawl of London passed by. I moved the newspaper I'd bought and, as it was face down, I flicked it open from the back until two pages in I spotted a headline, 'England women's cricket coach killed in tragic accident.' Being a cricket fan, I pulled the article closer and as I read, tears started to fall.

Hayley Sharp, recently appointed as the new coach for the England Women's cricket team, was tragically killed on Wednesday in a road accident. Hayley was travelling with a family friend who also suffered fatal injuries.

My first thought was that Sarah Hardy had also died, but then I realised that she would have been referred to as Hayley's wife or partner and probably made the headlines. Sarah had also been a noted cricketer and personality in her own right. I read the rest of the report which detailed Hayley's achievements on the cricket field and which concluded that Hayley was survived by her partner and daughter. I was sobbing by the time I reached the end. I closed my eyes, leaned back against the headrest and travelled back over twenty-three years.

Hayley and Sarah had grown up in my home city and started their careers at the cricket ground where my grandfather was the head groundsman and he knew them both. I was ten years old when I first read about them. They were local heroes, both tall, beautiful, athletic, blonde girls and they'd appeared in a photo shoot for a glossy gossip mag. The photos were stunning and in the final shot, they looked like princesses, or at least what I imagined princesses to look like. I'd seen them play and they were good to my ten-year-old eyes.

Grandad had told me that they were getting married at the ground in the autumn. He carefully explained that two women could get married and I thought nothing of it, I'm sure that helped me in later life when I realised that I wasn't interested in guys, at least not as partners. I pestered him to take me to the ground to see the wedding, but he was reluctant. I didn't give up and he conceded that he'd take me with him on condition that I'd have to stay in the distance because we weren't invited.

I'd spent a couple of hours making a horseshoe and attached a ribbon to it. In photos, I'd seen my gran holding one at her wedding and although grandad told me that it was old fashioned, nothing would dissuade me. On the day of the wedding, he slipped me into the ground wearing my best pink dress and I saw Hayley and Sarah as they arrived and through the windows of the function room. After the ceremony, they came outside to have pictures taken and I stood in awe; they looked beautiful and so did the three bridesmaids, I wanted to be like them. Grandad had set up some stumps that were being used in some of the pictures and I'd edged closer with him. Suddenly one of them spotted grandad and me, she beckoned us over.

I'd realised that it was Sarah Hardy and grandad said, "Congratulations to both of you, I'm proud to know you. This is Kirstie, my granddaughter, she wanted to come, she has something for you."

With that, I'd stepped forward and handed Sarah the horseshoe with 'Good luck' on it. "I think that you two are amazing. I'd like to play like you and I made this for you."

She thanked me, spoke to Hayley and they both bent down to hug me, I was crying with joy and then somehow Grandad and I were being photographed with them. A few minutes later grandad and another man, Graham, were talking and drinking beer. Graham lifted me onto his shoulders so I could see what was happening as more photos of the wedding party were taken. It was later that grandad explained who 'Graham' was.

The events of that day stayed with me for a long time, they were still with me, I'd watched their cricket careers and more recently I'd seen Sarah on various TV shows, for some reason I felt close to them both.

Now Hayley was dead, a freak accident and I felt as if a part of me had been stolen. I was a scientist, a well-respected scientist and yet I felt all sorts of emotion; loss, anger and sadness.

Funeral

I had to go, so I dressed smartly in black. No matter how much people may have wanted to celebrate a person's life, I wanted to mourn the loss of a woman who had been one of my heroes and in some ways a role model. I arrived early and parked before heading into the crematorium. It would be a double service for Karen Churchill and then Hayley. I knew that Karen had been a bridesmaid on that magical day and I wanted to pay my respects to her as well; she was a teacher and it was obvious from the number of school pupils that were arriving she was or at least had been, popular.

I was staggered when I saw just how many mourners there were; pupils and teachers from Karen's school, some, obviously, family members and lots of other men and women of all ages, some of whom I recognised. It seemed that cricketers had come from a long way away to pay their respects and mourn their teammate, opponent or inspiration. The services were wonderful and I sobbed through both.

There was to be a gathering at a local hotel to allow mourners to meet and for some reason, I felt compelled to go. It seemed that my rational, scientific brain was asleep as regards this event. I stood alone and watched, clutching a mug of tea. It was clear that the two families were grief-stricken, but they seemed to be hanging together. I kept my distance until there was a brief moment when Sarah was standing alone and I stepped forward feeling an urge to speak to her.

"Ms Hardy, I wanted to say how sorry I was about Hayley. I guess that you don't remember me, I was at your wedding."

She looked puzzled, clearly not sure who I was, "I'm Bill Hunter's granddaughter, the Groundsman? I gave you a horseshoe at your wedding. I've followed the two of you since then and I'm really sorry about Hayley." My eyes were moist yet again as I spoke.

It was obvious she recalled the event and she smiled, the first I'd seen from her that day. "I do remember you and we were touched by your gift; I still have it. Didn't your parents emigrate? I'm sure your grandfather told me that."

"Yes, we did, but I'm back and that's a story for another day. Today is not about me. Once again I'm sorry." I couldn't manage anything else and turned away in tears. I felt stupid and headed for my car. When I got home, I thought about Hayley and Sarah, the wedding day, the games I'd seen them play, then I opened a bottle of wine and settled down to watch the wildlife documentary series that Sarah had starred in and laughed out loud at the part where Sarah discussed giraffes with her daughter Chloe. I felt yet another connection to that family.

Three years later - Lecture

I walked over to the lecture hall taking the chance to enjoy fifteen minutes of lovely, warm summer weather. At least the weather was good I thought, last night's date had been a disaster. She was a divorced teacher and mother of one who was a year older than me and, according to her profile and photo on the dating app very attractive. When she arrived at the bar, I didn't immediately recognise her she was so different from the picture. She was nice enough, but after about thirty minutes of conversation, she admitted that she wasn't sure that she was gay, but was fed up with men and wanted to try something different. That set off alarm bells, I didn't want to be a part of anyone's experiment outside of my laboratory and I called things to a halt. Maybe one day I'd find that someone.

The hall was filling with students as I set up my laptop and checked that the images I needed were displayed properly on the huge screen. I set out my notes on the lectern, just in case I lost my train of thought midway through and then I looked over the audience. It didn't seem that long since I'd been one of them.

Partway through my lecture, I saw a girl sitting in the second row who looked familiar, but I couldn't place her.

When I concluded there were quite a few questions, a few showed that they hadn't been paying attention and a few more raised very valid points. I dealt with them and as they started to leave, I gathered my things. I heard someone call and looked up, the call was repeated, "Hey Sharp, I'll meet you outside and we'll grab a coffee." The girl I'd spotted earlier and who looked familiar raised hand in acknowledgement and suddenly I realised who she reminded me of.

I walked over to where the girl and two of her fellow students were packing away laptops. "Excuse me, this sounds crazy, but I heard that other young lady call you Sharp and you look very familiar."

The girl, actually she was a gorgeous young woman, tall, slim with long blonde hair and a face that I knew from years ago. "Yes Doctor, I'm Chloe Sharp, but I'm afraid I don't think we've met."

There was a catch in my throat, but here goes, "Are you, by any chance related to Sarah Hardy?"

The look on her face was one of complete confusion. I'd been going to ask if she was related to Hayley Sharp, but I wimped out.

Still confused she answered, "That's my Mum. Do you know her?"

I took another deep breath, "Then, are you Hayley Sharp's daughter?" Tears were filling the corners of my eyes, I knew the answer and followed it up with, "I'm sorry I don't want to upset you."

There were tears in her eyes as she looked down and I knew that I was correct. Her friends asked if she was okay.

"Yes, I'm fine. Catch up with Shirley, I'll call you and maybe find you later. I need to speak to Doctor Hunter."

"Look I'm sorry, I don't mean to..." I trailed off.

She looked at me squarely, "Yes, Sarah Hardy and Hayley Sharp are my mum's, but Hayley..." her response tailed off as well.

"I know about Hayley. You look just like her when she was your age."

"How did you know her? You're too young to have been at school or university with her."

"I was at their wedding. I'd like to buy you a coffee and I can explain."

Meeting

I took a taxi to the cricket ground and when I cleared security, headed to the rear of the main grandstand. I'd been here so many times it was all very familiar. The receptionist escorted me to the lift and told me to turn right on the second floor and look for Room 23. I wasn't sure what to do when I reached the door so I knocked and someone shouted, "Come in."

There were five people in the box, all female, they were on the terrace beyond the open sliding glass door. The private box was at the opposite end of the ground from the Pavilion and to the right of the wicket, so wide mid-on or third man for those of you who understand cricket.

Chloe waved and raised a finger which I assumed meant one minute. She said something to the others, before heading over. "Doctor Hunter, welcome. I'm glad you were able to come."

I laughed, "I think maybe Kirstie would be more appropriate today, don't you?" She laughed as well and took my arm to lead me over to the others.

"I'd like you to meet Doctor Hunter, but call her Kirstie. She's a genetic researcher and was at my Mum's wedding. This is Olivia, Sarah's partner, my sister Constance, her friend Grace and a family friend, Faith."

They all nodded, smiled and muttered their welcomes. I hoped to be able to remember their names and muttered, "Hello, nice to meet you all." Olivia suggested a coffee and we went over to the buffet.

"We have tea, coffee or something stronger if you'd prefer and there will be some hot food, some breakfast soon." There were several bottles of alcohol on the counter, wine and beer in the glass-fronted fridge.

"I think just coffee for now." I took a mug and tasted it. If the rest of the food and drink was as good as the coffee, it was going to be a good day.

"So, you're the young girl with the horseshoe?" I nodded. "Then we've met before, I was one of the bridesmaids." I must have gone pale as I suddenly realised who Olivia was and felt ashamed that I hadn't made the connection.

"Oh no. You're Karen's partner?" She nodded, "I'm sorry, I'm...."

Olivia put her hand on my arm. "It's okay. Karen and I were two of Sarah and Hayley's bridesmaids. You were at the funeral, Sarah told me. It was kind of you to go."

"No, it wasn't kind, I had to go, I felt compelled. I was a little girl and those two were heroes, like princesses. I remember being in awe of how beautiful you all looked that day. Hearing about that accident left me feeling broken, I have no idea how the rest of you must have felt. I'm sorry."