I Won't Be Home For Christmas

by Amanda Prowse

  ‘Can I help you?’ the young Chinese man behind the counter asked in perfect English.

  ‘Two lattes, please, love.’ She smiled.

  ‘Of course. And your name?’

  ‘Ellen.’ He scrawled her name on a cup in black felt-tipped pen. ‘You can wait for your coffee at the end of the counter.’

  ‘Your English is very good.’ Ellen nodded at him.

  ‘Thank you, so is yours.’ He smiled back.

  ‘We’re from Bristol, England.’ She grinned. ‘Bedminster, to be precise.’

  ‘Ah well, that would explain it,’ he said sincerely. ‘I’m from Swindon, England. Toothill, to be precise.’

  ‘Well I never!’ Ellen gasped.

  ‘Yes.’ He nodded.

  ‘Are your relatives here?’ Ellen asked.

  Vivienne shifted awkwardly on the spot.

  ‘No, they’re in Swindon. Why would you think my relatives are here?’ he asked flatly.

  ‘I… just…’

  The boy laughed loudly. ‘I’m only teasing you. I have some second cousins here.’

  ‘It’s a bit different to Swindon,’ Ellen added. ‘Quite crowded. We were looking at the flats on the way in on the bus, all those little rooms squished together. People hanging out of windows, laundry being dried way up high.’

  Vivienne felt her cheeks flame and wished Ellen would find something more complimentary to say.

  ‘That’s what happens when land is at a premium. My cousin’s flat is less than one thousand square feet and it cost him about four and a half million Hong Kong dollars. That’s about four hundred grand in pounds, and it’s tiny.’

  ‘You’re kidding me.’ Ellen was fascinated.

  ‘I’m not. Imagine what that would buy in Swindon?’ He winked at her.

  ‘Can I ask you, if you were only in Hong Kong for a day, what would you go and see?’

  ‘Oh, that’s easy. I’d get the Star Ferry over to Hong Kong Island, just to see both parts of Hong Kong from the water, and then I’d jump on the bus to Stanley Market – they’ve got some great bargains there, if you like a market.’

  ‘Oh, we do!’

  ‘And then I’d probably take the funicular up Victoria Peak – you shouldn’t miss that view. And if I was feeling flush, I’d have afternoon tea at the InterContinental on Tsim Sha Tsui Street; if you get there just as dusk falls, you’ll see the lights come up on the other side. It’s a sight you won’t ever forget.’

  ‘Thank you. You take care of yourself, love.’ Ellen smiled at her newfound friend.

  Feeling much refreshed after their coffee, and having used the facilities in Starbucks, the two women hit the streets with restored energy and a determined spring in their step. It was now mid morning in downtown Hong Kong and very hot. Vivienne fanned her face with the map she’d picked up from a streetside stand. Following the suggested route, they walked behind the Hong Kong Museum of Art, across the manicured grounds and pale paving stones, until they found themselves on the waterfront. Vivienne broke into spontaneous laughter. This was the scene she had always imagined. This was the Hong Kong that existed in her mind. The wide choppy channel was awash with boats. Pleasure cruisers, junks, harbour police and vintage green-and-white Star Ferry boats, distinctive with their two-tiered passenger decks, squat central funnels and tyre fenders hanging on either side, tootled back and forth across the water. There was even a paddle steamer, which she always associated with films set in America’s deep south, slowly making its way across.

  ‘Look at this!’ She turned to Ellen, who for once had nothing to say. She was simply leaning against the wall and letting her eyes sweep across the panorama on the other side of the harbour, taking in the vast skyscraper offices of huge companies, whose names – Philips, Samsung, Hitachi – were emblazoned across the horizon, their towers of shiny glass and distinctive rooflines all catching the light of the full sun, glittering against the porcelain blue of the Asian sky.

  ‘Wow!’ Vivienne fished in her bag for her camera and began snapping away.

  The ferry trip across to Hong Kong Island was a highlight. The river breeze lifted their spirits, as they marvelled at the sights and sounds of the beautiful city. Ellen leant over to her mate, speaking extra loudly so as to be heard over the knock of the engine. ‘Look at us, Viv, up the river without a piddle!’ They both laughed.

  Stanley Market, despite being chock full of tourists like themselves, also proved a hit. The bus ride there gave them the chance to take in the calm of the coastline and to marvel at the grand residences of Stanley sitting behind high gates that overlooked the crescent-shaped bay. They trod the narrow lanes of the covered marketplace. Ellen picked up pressies for Robbie and the kids, and Vivienne chose a beautiful leather purse for Lizzie and a matching wallet for Aaron. Even her fussy, label-chasing daughter-in-law couldn’t scoff at these gifts, surely. She thought about Aaron’s words that highlighted the girl’s insecurities and resolved to try a bit harder with her.

  Time was marching on. It was three o’clock in the afternoon and they had five hours left. ‘What do you think? One quick trip up the funicular or take the train back to the airport for a freshen up and a quick snooze?’ Vivienne gave Ellen the options.

  ‘I think we can snooze all the way to Auckland, but this is our one time here, so let’s do as much as we can.’

  ‘You’re right, Elle. Funicular it is.’

  The bus dropped them at Garden Road, where they joined the end of a long queue; apparently the view from the top of Victoria Peak was so breath-taking that this jaunt was on every tourist’s list. As the line snaked inside, Vivienne was glad of the shade, a welcome respite from the searing heat of the day. She wished she could shower and change before getting on the plane, but being a novice traveller, it hadn’t occurred to her to put a change of clothes or any toiletries, bar her toothbrush, in her hand luggage.

  ‘I’m a bit sweaty,’ she confided in Ellen.

  ‘Nothing a quick spritz with my bottle of Channel No. 5 won’t fix!’ Ellen laughed, referring to the knock-off perfume she’d picked up at the market. It was only after she’d bought it and studied the label that she’d noticed the intentional typo.

  The queue moved slowly through the darkened walkway and fatigue washed over them. ‘Don’t mind admitting, I’m almost done,’ Vivienne whispered.

  ‘Me too, but we’ll sleep good on the plane. Quick drink, a bit of a natter and then eye mask and ear plugs all the way. Bonus.’

  Vivienne laughed at her friend, who had now found her stride and sounded like a seasoned traveller.

  Finally they reached the front of the queue and climbed into one of the tram-style carriages. Ellen sat by the window and Vivienne squashed up on the narrow wooden seat alongside her. The rows filled quickly and soon everyone was sitting with shoulders hunched up to their ears, breathing in, making as much space as they could. Still more people got on.

  ‘Don’t think it will be able to get up the mountain at this rate,’ she whispered out of the side of her mouth. Tiredness overcame her and, even though the ascent only took five minutes, Vivienne knew she must have dozed off, as suddenly she was aware that people were disembarking onto the platform, some twelve hundred feet above the city. Her heart raced at the thought that she might be left behind.

  ‘Oh, Elle! Quick! We’re here!’ She nudged her friend, who was leaning against the window. Pulling her handbag into her chest, she stood and was quickly engulfed by the crowd of passengers making their way to the exit. At one point, she felt her feet briefly lift from the ground, as she crowd-surfed for a yard or two. It was actually quite fun! She turned to tell Ellen, but she’d lost her in the crowd.

  Trying to look behind her was tricky; she scanned to the left and right, hoping for sight of her friend’s blonde hair. Still calm, she knew that they would wait for each other at the end of the platform before stepping out onto the viewing deck. Vivienne stood and waited, smiling like a greeter at everyone that walked past her, making
their way to the highest point, with cameras in hand, the reason for their journey.

  As the crowd thinned and she still hadn’t spotted Ellen, her smile began to fade and she felt a twitch of nerves under her left eye. She reached into her bag for her phone and spied Ellen’s nestling next to hers; remembering that Ellen had handed it to her when she’d visited the loo earlier. Vivienne swallowed and started to make her way back down the platform. As she did so, the carriage doors shut and the funicular, freshly packed to the gunnels with tourists eager to get back to ground level, started its return journey.

  It was then that she spotted her friend, sound asleep just where she’d left her, squashed next to a complete stranger and sleeping like a baby.

  ‘Elle!’ she shouted. ‘Elle!’ She tried again, waving her hands above her head as her friend slept, eyes shut and jaw slack, head lolling on her chest, dead to the world in the deepest of slumbers. Vivienne jumped on the spot, unsure of what to do. The round trip on the funicular, with queuing, had taken an hour; she tried to do the maths to work out what would happen if she got the next shuttle down and Ellen, having woken, took the next one up. She pondered how many times they could miss each other before they missed their flight to Auckland and the horrible answer was, not many.

  She felt her heart race and a dry-mouthed panic setting in.

  6

  Vivienne fastened her seatbelt and as soon as she caught her friend’s eye started laughing again. ‘I can’t believe you! I nearly lost you in Hong Kong! What would I have said to Trev and Robbie?’

  ‘I wasn’t lost, just napping.’ Ellen shifted to get comfortable in her seat.

  ‘Napping? I’ve seen bears in hibernation sleep less soundly. I stood there like a lemon waiting for you to come back around and, blow me, when you did, you were still snoring like a good ’un. I never even got to see the view! I queued for a bloody hour, went all the way up there and didn’t get further than the platform.’ She tittered.

  ‘Funny thing is, Viv, it wasn’t your shouting or the man nudging me that woke me up.’

  ‘It wasn’t?’ Goodness knows, she’d tried her hardest to get Ellen’s attention.

  ‘No. Truth is, I farted, that’s what did it.’

  ‘Good God, no wonder everyone got off! You’re as bad as Bob.’

  Ellen laughed to herself and patted the blanket around her legs as they prepared for take-off. ‘Just think, next time we touch the ground, it’s to see your Emma married.’

  Vivienne nodded, feeling a wave of excitement at the fact that Emma was waiting for her and she was getting married! This excitement was tempered with a measure of nerves. Supposing Michael’s family was hoity-toity? How would it feel staying with them, and how would Ellen fare? She shook her head, reminding herself that Emma was many things, but tolerant of rudeness was not one of them. So long as she felt comfortable, it would all be fine.

  The two weary friends, with their Hong Kong adventure behind them, slept for the majority of the eleven-hour flight to Auckland, snoring through two meals and a couple of safety announcements. Having got on to the plane with little idea as to whether it was day or night, they both needed the rest furnished by their eye masks, blankets and bed socks.

  When the cabin lights were switched on and the flight attendant announced that they would be landing in one hour, Vivienne sat up straight and ran her fingers through her hair. She then queued for the loo, keen to clean her teeth and wash her face, wanting to look her best before seeing Emma for the first time in four years.

  She wobbled in the tiny cubicle, trying to find her footing, and practised her smile in the mirror. Rubbing her palm over her T-shirt, she tried in vain to remove the creases and then spritzed her underarms with deodorant and her décolletage with perfume. It was a poor substitute for a shower but made her feel a little better nonetheless.

  Tiptoeing her way back up the aisle, she eyed the mess that surrounded Ellen: her blanket lay in a tangle on the floor, there were magazine wrappers and discarded cups in the seat pocket and she was sprawled rather inelegantly over Vivienne’s seat as well as her own. Vivienne smiled fondly at her friend, who created this sort of homely chaos wherever she went.

  As the plane began its descent, Ellen leant over, her voice no more than a whisper. ‘You okay?’

  She nodded. ‘Yep.’

  ‘We are already having quite an adventure, aren’t we?’

  ‘We are that, Elle.’

  ‘Not bad for two girls from Bedminster.’

  ‘Not bad at all.’

  ‘We’ll have lots to talk about when we’re sitting in Pedro’s – this will feel like a dream.’ Ellen smiled.

  ‘It already does.’

  Ellen took her friend’s hand inside hers, resting them together on the arm between the two seats, as they touched down on New Zealand soil.

  *

  The wait for the luggage seemed interminable. The thought that her daughter was standing in that very building while she was stuck in another part of it, unable to see her, was almost torturous. Come on! Come on! Vivienne chanted silently as the empty carousel squeaked around, waiting for its load.

  ‘Excited?’ Ellen grinned at her.

  She could only nod, already feeling the lump of emotion gathering in her throat.

  Her suitcase was one of the first.

  ‘You go. Go!’ Ellen ushered her on with her hand. ‘I might be an age, just go see your girl. I’ll catch you up in a bit.’

  Vivienne smiled at her friend and practically ran towards the exit, dragging her large suitcase on wheels behind her, relieved that it had made it all the way there from London, despite the break in Hong Kong.

  Once she’d cleared customs, her heart rate increased, as she rounded the walkway and found herself in an airy concourse a little smaller than the ones at Heathrow and Hong Kong. She bit her lip and scanned the crowd, spying Emma on her first sweep. Letting her case fall behind her, she rushed forwards. Emma did the same and mere seconds later her daughter was in her arms and just like that, it was as if they had never been apart. Vivienne inhaled the scent of her; no longer a disembodied voice on the end of a line, she was real, a solid thing beneath her trembling hands. They cried in unison.

  ‘Oh, Emma!’ she breathed, as her child locked her hands behind her neck and held her tight. ‘I missed you so much!’

  Vivienne ran her hand over Emma’s slender back, recalling the countless times she’d palmed circles on it as Emma had heaved with a sickness bug or needed comforting; the times she’d laid her toddler daughter over her shoulder and carried her to her bed; the teenage years and beyond, when she’d patted and soothed her broken heart, taking her into her arms as Shaun Lewis handed her over on the doorstep. It felt wonderful to be holding this beautiful human whose shape was as familiar to her as her own.

  ‘I missed you too, Mum!’ Emma coughed, her eyes wet with tears.

  Vivienne pulled away and took in her child’s dark tan, her hair, bleached blonde at the front by the sun, and her almost transparent white vest that showed off her inkings, now all the more striking against her bronzed skin. ‘My beautiful girl,’ she said, marvelling at their being there together.

  ‘Mum, this is Michael, my fiancé.’ Emma beamed, impatient to introduce them. Clearly the novelty of using the word hadn’t remotely worn off.

  The young man stepped forward. In her mind, Vivienne had envisaged someone slight, with a build similar to Fergus or Hai, but Michael turned out to be tall and broad, with large features and a ready smile. He dwarfed them both. She reached out to pull him to her for a hug, but he simply clasped her hand and shook it – warmly, nonetheless. He was blonde with hazel eyes and Vivienne couldn’t help but picture their beautiful Kiwi children.

  ‘It’s really lovely to meet you, Michael.’ It felt odd that this man to whom she was about to become attached, related, was such a stranger, from a place where the landscape and customs were so different from what she knew.

  ‘Likewise.’ He smile
d before going to retrieve her luggage, which was still lying on the floor.

  ‘What do you think?’ Emma whispered, full of anticipation.

  Vivienne was chuffed that she clearly wanted her approval. ‘Gorgeous, Emma, really gorgeous.’

  Her daughter threw her arms around her neck once again. ‘I can’t believe you are here.’

  ‘Me either.’ She beamed at her girl.

  As Michael re-joined them, Ellen came into view, running along the concourse and shouting and waving. ‘Emma! Oh, Emma, we’re here!’ Her large beach bag hung off her arm, as she crushed Emma to her. ‘Look at you. Oh, love, you look wonderful! Fancy it being summer here while we’re all freezing at home, isn’t that funny?’

  ‘It is.’ Emma laughed.

  ‘Now…’ Ellen turned to Michael, who was eyeing her with trepidation. ‘You must be the young man in question, and I wanted to ask, what kind of a doctor are you?’

  ‘Elle!’ Vivienne tutted at her friend.

  ‘I’m just curious, that’s all.’ She turned back to the tall man. ‘I was only saying to Viv a while back, some doctors aren’t all they seem, they buy stertificates off the internet and aren’t proper doctors at all.’

  His eyes visibly widened. ‘What? No… I am a proper doctor. A urologist. I specialise in kidney function.’

  ‘So you did go to university?’

  ‘Yes. For a long time, and I’m still learning, but now I do it in a hospital.’

  ‘A bit like learning on the job?’ Ellen pushed.

  ‘Yes, exactly like that.’ He shot a quizzical look at Emma, clearly wary of her mother’s strange friend.

  Ellen nodded, convinced and happy, as she turned to Vivienne. ‘Pina coladas for Emma it is then.’

  ‘I don’t like pina coladas,’ Emma said, as if this might be relevant.

  The first hour of the drive from the airport was spent in a chaotic, noisy bubble, with Vivienne, Ellen and Emma firing rapid questions at each other and often not even waiting for the answers. Emma’s Bristolian twang became more and more pronounced as the words flowed and each of the three struggled to make themselves heard.