‘Are the Morrisons still around?’
‘They’ve moved, gone over to Winterbourne to be nearer her son.’
‘Aaron okay?’
‘Oh, you know, love, to be discussed.’
‘I hear Shaun and Nat split up.’
‘Yes, a little while ago, Shaun’s mum told me. Shame, I like Shaun.’
‘Me too. I sent him an invite. I knew he wouldn’t come, but I wanted him to know that I wanted him here, if that makes any sense.’
‘Ooh, that reminds me love.’ Vivienne slipped her hand into the front pocket of her handbag and pulled out a slightly crumpled white envelope with a black thumbprint in the corner, and handed it to Emma.
‘What the…?’ She ran her finger over the mark.
‘Engine oil,’ she explained.
‘Ah. I know who this’ll be from then.’
She watched, as Emma slid her finger under the flap and pulled out a lined sheet of paper, still with the little rounded holes on a tattered strip on the left hand side where it had been torn from a pad. Emma’s eyes scanned the letter in her hand before her eyes crinkled and she smiled, ‘Oh bless him!’
‘Bless who?’ Michael asked, keeping his eyes on the road, but twisting his head to the left to be heard.
‘This is a note from my mate, Shaun, do you remember me telling you about him?’
‘I don’t.’
‘Yes! You must. Shaun! I’ve mentioned him before; lives down the road from my mum. Our mums have been friends since we were babies, and we went right through school together.’ She shook the letter in her hand, and read. ‘He’s saying he was chuffed to be invited to the wedding, but can’t take time off, as he’s opening his own garage, up on Sheene Road?’ this she addressed to her mum and Elle.
‘Ooh, get him with his own business!’ Elle commented, ‘he deserves it, works hard mind.’
‘And plus,’ she looked up and smiled, ‘he says he wouldn’t want to miss City’s league match that’s coming up and it would clash.’
‘Well good to know where you sit in his priorities.’ Michael shook his head, ‘Some friend.’
Emma exchanged a look with her mum, knowing exactly where she sat in Shaun’s priorities.
‘Anyway, he says he hopes we have a lovely day and wishes us every happiness for the future and he hopes that the weather holds up.’
Again, Michael tutted, before pulling his sunglasses from the top of his head and putting them on. ‘Think we might just be okay for the weather.’ He laid his hand on her thigh and gave it a small squeeze.
‘I must admit, it is lovely, isn’t it? Not having to make a Plan B in case of snow.’ Vivienne looked out of the window at the big, big blue sky.
‘We do get rain, but it tends to be short and fierce, doesn’t hang around and anyway, nothing matters, not even the weather, we have the space inside, but I’m keeping the wedding simple, don’t want anything too fussy.’
‘Oh, you have to have a bouquet, something to throw,’ Elle added.
‘I wish Aaron was coming.’
‘I’m sure he does too and Lizzie in her own way.’
‘Goodness, is that you defending her, Mum?’ Emma asked with mock indignation.
Vivienne shrugged, ‘I just think there’s more to her behaviour than we probably know about and that we should probably cut her a bit of slack.’
‘Bit of slack?’ Elle squeaked, ‘I think the girl would still rather get her hall decorated than come over here.’
Vivienne decided to change the topic, not wanting Michael’s first interaction with them to be soaking up the more dysfunctional facts about their family
‘Can’t believe it’s nearly Christmas and you’re wearing flip-flops.’
‘They call them jandals here.’
‘Jandals. I wonder why?’
‘In Australia they call them thongs.’
‘Good Lord! In my mind, a thong is something very different. I wouldn’t fancy having one of them riding up my…’ Ellen coughed.
The three laughed and carried on catching up, with Emma pausing only to place her hand in her mum’s. Four years was a long time to have been apart.
‘I missed you, Emma Lane.’
‘Soon to be Emma McKinley!’ She clapped.
‘Emma McKinley,’ Vivienne repeated. ‘Sounds very grand. Where does that name come from, Michael?’ She was doing her best to try and include him.
‘It’s from Cork, Ireland. My grandparents emigrated in the 1930s, looking for a better life.’ He offered nothing else.
‘That must have been a brave thing to do, to travel to the other side of the world with no idea of what life would be like there. It’s not as if they had the internet to check it out, and it’s too far to come for a look, I would think.’
Michael nodded at her in the rearview mirror. ‘You’re right; they were great pioneers, risk takers. They bought the land at Tutukaka for peanuts, really, and started the farm. My grandfather built it up, and my dad…’ He paused. ‘My dad never saw the need to expand. He seems content to simply enjoy it as it is, just him and Tessa and the sheep, so it’s pretty much as my grandfather left it. It would drive me crazy, but that’s how Dad likes it.’ He splayed his fingers on the steering wheel before gripping it tightly.
Vivienne noted the slight edge of disapproval to his comments, as if he would have liked his dad to be a bit more of a go-getter. She and Ellen exchanged a knowing look.
Emma bounced on the seat. ‘So, for the evening do…’ And they were back to nattering and back to the wedding.
Her daughter had changed; there was no doubt about it. As well as the physical changes – a little weight loss, a sharpening of her bones under her reduced frame – there was something subtler and more significant. She seemed to have plastered this huge smile onto her face and wore it like a mask. Vivienne hoped that her girl’s happiness was true and permanent and that she had found peace.
Michael drove the sturdy 4 x 4, concentrating on the road and occasionally smiling at the two women in the back and at his wife-to-be, who had twisted round in her seat, facing her mum so they could have a proper chat. With the heightened excitement and constant chatter, Vivienne’s fatigue had faded; it was only when she sat back in her seat and looked out at the passing scenery that she yawned. Ellen had fallen asleep, caring little that she was in company, as she snored with her head thrown back. Michael chuckled at the sound.
‘It’s so lovely to see Elle, Mum,’ Emma whispered over the sleeping form of the woman who had been a constant in her life too.
Vivienne nodded.
The scenery was unlike anything she had seen before. Rolling green hills sat in the foreground, a blanket of fields, bordered by vast tree lines, with mountains as their backdrop. Sheep were dotted across the slopes like little white punctuation marks to the pages and pages of emerald green that opened up before her.
‘This is so beautiful! I’ve never seen anything like it.’ She pressed against the window, a little reluctant to snap away with her camera, preferring to commit the views to memory instead of seeing it all through the veil of a lens.
‘It’s amazing, Mum, isn’t it?’
Vivienne smiled; it really was. Emma’s Kiwi accent sounded most pronounced when she spoke about the country that had become her home. The vast, majestic landscape was made all the more incredible because of its remoteness, as if it were a secret. With only an occasional car, barely a building for miles and just the big, big sky, it could not have been more different to the crowded streets of Bedminster where they’d both grown up.
‘How lucky are you, Michael, growing up somewhere like this? It’s incredible.’
‘Not sure I always felt that lucky. Sometimes I wanted to be in the hub of things – I fancied New York or London. Thought there must be things going on, an amazing pace of life that I was missing out on.’ He again sought out Emma’s thigh with his hand. ‘Still, that’s the plan, eh, Em? New York for a few years or even China.’
<
br /> ‘Oh, that sounds… exciting.’ Vivienne felt a swirl of embarrassment at being so unaware of her own child’s plans, formulated with this stranger. It felt churlish to admit that she’d hoped they might come to Bristol; she had even considered taking a leaf out of Lizzie’s book and redecorating the spare room, just in case. It was hard to explain why this made her feel tearful.
‘You okay, Mum?’ Emma didn’t miss a trick.
‘I think my tiredness might be catching up with me.’ This was probably also true.
An hour later, Ellen roused herself, sat forward and peered out of the front window, restored by her nap. ‘This is lovely!’ she said as the car began winding its way up and down the Tutukaka cliff road, meandering down to sea level and then climbing again, skirting rocky bays and grassy banks where houses sat in glorious isolation with boats resting under carports, jet skis on trailers and pick-up trucks laden with diving paraphernalia.
‘Not far now.’ Emma rounded her shoulders excitedly and reached for her fiancé’s hand.
With glimpses of the sea through the trees, it was hard for Vivienne to get her bearings. Suddenly Michael swung the vehicle to the left and drove through a narrow gap in the hedgerow, easy to miss were it not for the two vast blue hydrangea bushes that flanked it.
‘Look at them beauties.’ Ellen gasped at the flowers, which really were something. ‘Don’t think I’ve ever seen any so handsome. Not even in the garden centre.’
‘They’re everywhere on the farm.’ Emma beamed.
The track instantly widened into a sweeping driveway that veered around in a sharp arc. A large wooden sign read Aropari Farm.
‘Aerro-pahrie,’ Vivienne tried to say it.
‘It’s Arrow-purri,’ Michael helped her out, his pronunciation was punchy with heavy accentuation on the ‘r’. ‘It means clifftop.’
‘That’s beautiful.’
Emma wasn’t lying. The drive was lined with more of the huge blue hydrangeas, which were at least five foot tall and beautifully full; it was quite magical. Either side of the driveway were lush, manicured lawns. The one to their right stretched all the way to the cliff edge.
Vivienne was quite taken aback; the size and setting of the place astonished her. At the top of the drive sat the house. She and Ellen exchanged a knowing look. No wonder Emma had described their little home in Mendip Road as crappy; compared to this, most things were.
Michael’s family home was a sprawling, single-storey, ranch-style house that seemed to go on forever, with wings and outbuildings that looked as if they’d been added at a later date. It was clad in aged Douglas fir timber that had clearly been limed to give it a lighter look. Other sections were made entirely of glass, giving a view clean through to the other side.
‘Wow! Oh my days!’ Ellen said it for them both.
Michael pulled on the handbrake and he and Emma jumped down onto the gravel of the vast turning circle, which crunched underfoot as they opened the back doors for their guests.
The wide wooden front door was set back behind a deep portico with a grey shingle roof that matched the rest of the building. Two sturdy wooden pillars supported the structure, beautiful features in themselves. The theme was continued in a wraparound terrace; the section to the right of the front door was home to two large rocking chairs with saggy patchwork cushions nestling in the seats.
‘Michael, this is really something. What an amazing home you have.’ Vivienne was quite overwhelmed.
He nodded and flexed his arm from the elbow, as if directing traffic. ‘The land goes way back, all the way up to the High Road, about four hundred and fifty acres. That’s where the sheep graze.’
‘Blimey, that’s some back garden,’ Ellen commented. ‘Great for a game of hide and seek, but I wouldn’t fancy mowing it.’
Michael lifted their heavy suitcases from the back of the car and wheeled them, one in each hand, towards the house.
‘Come and see this, Mum, it’s the best bit. And promise you’ll be careful, Ellen – I don’t want you falling off the edge.’ Emma laughed.
‘You trying to say I’m clumsy, Emma?’ Ellen put her hands on her ample hips in mock indignation.
While Michael entered the house and disappeared to the left, Emma guided them into the cathedral-like glass-roofed hallway. Both women looked up and around, taking in the grand surroundings: the slate floors, exposed brick walls and inglenook fireplaces that were big enough to walk into; large wood-burners sat in readiness for the chill of winter. In pride of place hung a huge oil painting of the farm.
To the right of the hallway were three shallow steps that led to an open-plan dining area, and beyond that looked to be the kitchen. To the left was a vast sitting room divided by huge, aged nubuck sofas the neutral leather of which was brightened up by multi-coloured jute rugs that had been slung over the backs.
‘I’ve never seen anything like it, Viv. It reminds me of the mall – you know, the glass bit by the fountain.’
‘Ssshh…’ Vivienne waved her hand at her friend and Emma visibly cringed.
‘What?’ Ellen was nonplussed. ‘I mean it in a good way. I love the mall!’
Emma grabbed her hand and with her other hand on her mum’s back pulled them to the other side of the hallway, through a large, sliding glass door and into the back garden.
The three stood in silence for a second. Emma looked from the view to the two women and back again, as if seeing it for the first time through their eyes and also keen to gauge their reaction.
Vivienne took a deep breath and let her eyes travel the length of the lush, close-cropped lawn that was bordered by yet more massive blue hydrangeas as well as clumps of tall, pretty grasses and spiky-tendrilled tropical plants with fiery orange centres. It was, however, neither the planting nor the dainty wood-lined path that wound its way across the lawn that had rendered her silent. A hundred feet from the back door was a huge raised deck. Unadorned planks of wood had been slotted together to form a sturdy platform at the edge of the grass and on it sat another pair of comfy-looking chairs and a wide wicker sofa. On the floor was a thin green quilt, resplendent with a Maori design of looping gold arcs and swirls that formed leaf-like patterns against a brown background. Matching pillows were scattered around. But even this impressive terrace wasn’t what had stopped the words in Vivienne’s throat and caused her to stand wide-eyed at the sight that greeted her.
The deck sat on the edge of a cliff. The women advanced cautiously, looking from left to right at what lay below. It was a bay, as beautiful as any Caribbean shoreline they had ever imagined. The sea was choppy, with sunlight highlighting the foaming crests that bobbed and swelled. To the right of the bay, grey, jagged rocks rose high out of the water, becoming smoother as they formed the cliff face on top of which Aropari sat. To the left of the bay were rolling hills covered in scrubby, wind-resistant bushes and long, lush grass that swept down to the edge of the water, and beyond the hills was another bay, where Tutukaka marina sat in a sheltered basin. Both sides of the inlet were peppered with gnarled, pale trees whose spiky foliage gave the place an almost arid feel, a striking contrast to the vivid green landscape and the dark, moving sea. It was as if two worlds had collided and they were at a vantage point, able to see both. The narrow beach had a jetty, entirely exposed at low tide, off which were moored two boats: a wooden clinker-built rower and a twin-engine speedboat.
‘What do you think, Mum?’ Emma asked eagerly, her hands clasped under her chin.
‘I think this is the most beautiful place I have ever been.’ She spoke the truth. She walked up onto the deck and closed her eyes, letting the sun kiss her face and the warm South Pacific breeze dance over her.
Ellen was uncharacteristically quiet, as if she too was quite overawed by the inspiring landscape in front of them.
‘Just think, in four days I will be marrying Michael, right here on the deck and with this view!’ She threw her arms wide and squealed.
‘I tell you what, Emma, this migh
t not be a church, but I reckon it’s as close to heaven as you can get on earth.’
‘You won’t hear any arguments from me on that score.’ The man’s voice was deep, his speech slow, measured.
Vivienne turned to face him, but her eyes, dazzled from the sun, cast him in shadow. She placed her palm to her forehead and blinked a few times, until he came into focus. As her eyes adjusted, they fell upon a tall man in his mid fifties, wearing jeans and a pale blue T-shirt. He was unshaven, with close-cropped grey hair and the beginnings of a moustache and beard. She felt her face break into a smile; it wasn’t forced or considered but was simply her natural reaction at seeing this person to whom she felt an instant, powerful connection. Her heart beat a little too fast and she was suddenly conscious of the fact that she had been travelling for what felt like days and was in dire need of a shower. She surreptitiously teased her fringe with her fingertips.
‘Mum, this is Michael’s dad, Gilbert. Gil. Gil, this is my mum, Vivienne, and her bonkers friend, my Auntie Ellen.’
‘Oi, less of the bonkers if you don’t mind.’ Ellen stepped from the deck and took the hand Gil offered. ‘Hello, love. This is one lovely house you have here and that view, oh my word.’
‘Thank you.’ He gave a small nod of his head and then turned expectantly towards Vivienne.
She stepped from the deck and held out her hand, which Gil took into his.
‘Vivienne.’ He spoke her name slowly and this too made her smile.
7
The two women were delighted with the beautifully decorated, spacious room for their stay, tucked away to the south of the main hallway. It was light and airy with wide twin beds and a luxurious bathroom. French doors opened onto their own small terrace where there was a bistro table and two chairs.
‘Reckon I could get used to this!’ Ellen laughed as she removed items from her open suitcase and placed them in drawers or hung them up, hoping the creases might drop out of her dresses and skirts so that they wouldn’t need ironing. ‘Emma seems happy.’
I Won't Be Home For Christmas Page 11
