Emma had opted to spend the day with Ray in town; they collected the gazebo lights and had lunch down by the water’s edge in Whangarei. Vivienne managed to avoid interacting with him all day. She and Ellen had agreed a strategy: she would keep out of his way, get through the wedding day and never have to see him again, once Emma was hitched. He lived in Adelaide and she in Bristol and they were hardly likely to run into each other, and for that small compensation, she was grateful.
‘How many of those have you managed, Ellen?’ Gil called across from the kitchen as he carried a tray of silver wine coolers to the countertop.
Ellen counted out loud. ‘Fourteen.’ She shouted her response. ‘Hey, Viv, did you hear that, fourteen! One for each—’
‘Guest!’ Vivienne yelled, cutting in with urgency.
‘Only another twenty-seven to go,’ Gil said encouragingly.
‘You have got to be kidding me!’ Ellen snorted and banged the table. ‘Another twenty-seven, at my age? I don’t think so.’ She roared her laughter.
Gil stared at her and then looked at Vivienne, who shrugged her shoulders, as if she had no clue.
After the previous night’s drama, supper was a far simpler affair. Emma and Michael went down to Schnappa Rock for some time alone, no doubt tempted by the special of New Zealand Green Shelled Mussels in a Thai Green Curry sauce. They were also keen to finalise the menu and numbers with Nick and Esther who were providing the catering for the big day.
Vivienne assumed Ray had gone back to his digs, caring little where he was, as long as he wasn’t near her. She, Gil and Ellen picked at the lunch leftovers: plates of salad with slivers of cheese, slices of cured ham, pickles and fresh sourdough bread, and fruit salad for pud. The informal grabbing of plates and sitting in the sunshine, proved to be one of the nicest meals they had.
She and Gil stole surreptitious glances over the top of their wine glasses, while Ellen, as ever, provided the background music with her constant stream of chatter. She had to admit, the slightly clandestine nature of their interactions only served to heighten the way she felt about him.
Both she and Ellen were hit with a bone-deep tiredness mid evening. They wished Gil a pleasant night and very soon after completing their night-time beauty rituals and teeth cleaning, climbed between the crisp, white sheets of their twin beds.
‘I’m too tired to think straight.’ Vivienne yawned.
‘Sames,’ Ellen muttered.
‘Night-night, Elle,’ she whispered, feeling the pleasant heaviness to her limbs, as a deep sleep threatened.
‘Night-night, Viv,’ Ellen whispered back. Then, ‘Just one thing, Viv.’
She slowly turned her head towards her friend. ‘What?’ she croaked.
Ellen flung back the covers to reveal herself in the neon-pink string bikini and scanty vest that she must have secretly picked up during their Primark shop. ‘Gil and Vivienne, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!’ she shouted, leaping up and jumping on the bed, the thin triangles barely covered her modesty, as she hollered so loudly, Vivienne was sure the whole of Tutukaka would hear.
She sat up, laughing loudly despite her tiredness. ‘Don’t move!’ she instructed. ‘Let me get my camera!’
‘Not on your life!’ Ellen dived under the sheet, string bikini and all, and lay very still, and when their laughter finally subsided, a good twenty minutes later, they both fell into a deep, restful sleep.
*
A sharp rapping on the door woke her. Vivienne sat up and took a couple of seconds to remember where she was. She rubbed her eyes, as if this might speed up the process. The room was bright and a little too warm; she leapt up and opened the French doors, welcoming in the morning breeze, before scurrying back to the safety of her bed. The sound of Ellen completing her morning toilette came from the bathroom.
‘Hello?’ she called out.
Michael walked in. His chest heaved and his jaw was locked. He narrowed his eyes at her and without preamble or even a morning greeting or a smile, said, ‘I can’t find Emma. I’ve looked everywhere.’
‘What do you mean, you can’t find her?’ she repeated, thinking that there were only so many places to look.
‘I mean, I went to bed and when I woke up, her side of the bed was untouched and I don’t know where she is. All her stuff is here, including her phone.’ He scanned the room, as if hoping that she might be hiding close by.
‘You haven’t seen her?’ he quizzed, more irritated than concerned.
‘No.’ she shook her head. ‘Maybe she made her bed and has gone for a walk?’ Vivienne knew it sounded illogical, but it was the best she could come up with given her current level of lucidity. ‘What time is it?’
‘It’s nearly seven.’ He didn’t need to check his watch and had clearly been counting the minutes since waking. He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘She didn’t come to bed and she hasn’t slept on the sofa. No one has seen her. I asked Dad before he went out to do his rounds.’ He drew a fractured breath, obviously worried. ‘This isn’t like her.’
Vivienne looked up at him, surprised yet again by how little he understood of her daughter’s true nature. With her bursts of energy, her love of spontaneity and her penchant for doing the unexpected, this was exactly like Emma. She knew she was just as likely to be found chanting in a wood or sitting on the beach watching the sunrise.
‘Did you check she hasn’t gone to where Ray is staying?’ This was her first reaction, unpalatable though the idea was, even saying his name left a bitter aftertaste, as a bubble of jealousy ringed her thoughts.
‘I already called him. She’s not there. He said he’d head over.’
Oh good…
He snorted with frustration. ‘I would have thought she might have left a note.’
‘She’ll turn up, love.’ She smiled, ignoring the flip of worry in her gut, not so much at her daughter’s absence, but at just how little this man seemed to know her. ‘I’ll get dressed and we can make a plan, okay? Call her friends…’
He nodded at her, smiling briefly. ‘Okay.’ He paused. ‘She hasn’t really got any friends here, only me. And anyone we know in Auckland would have called me, I’m sure. Plus she wouldn’t have got that far, I don’t think.’ He was clearly flustered.
‘Oh.’ She found it heart-breaking to hear confirmed that Emma, arriving freshly minted from her travels and her six months in Auckland, might not know anyone in Tutukaka. She wondered how many of the people she had invited to the wedding, were her friends, and how many would leave her a crumpled envelope of congratulations, with or without a sticky thumbprint in the corner.
As Michael shut the door behind him, Ellen came out of the bathroom. She was fully dressed, thank goodness.
‘What was that all about?’ she asked.
‘Michael can’t find Emma. Her bed wasn’t slept in and she didn’t leave a note or anything and her phone is still here, apparently. She’s not in the house and he’s getting fretful. He’s looked everywhere.’
Ellen opened the bathroom door wide. ‘Not quite everywhere.’
Vivienne craned her neck and saw an unmistakeable mop of blonde hair poking over the top of the bath.
‘Emma?’ She raced into the bathroom and there was her girl, curled up in the big tub with a pillow under her head and the blankets from their beds under and over her.
‘It’s not as comfortable as it looks,’ Emma whispered.
‘Why are you hiding in here?’ She looked Emma in the eye. ‘Michael is really worried – that’s not funny.’ She adopted her stern voice, the one that used to see her kids come running when they’d misbehaved. She had a sudden image of the two of them standing in front of her in their school uniforms, both blaming the other when a fight in the sitting room had resulted in a smashed ornament and a nasty purple egg on Aaron’s head.
‘I snuck in last night and you were dead to the world, so I chatted to Elle for a bit and she made me a bed in the bath.’
‘Why are you avoiding Michael?
I don’t understand.’ She was trying to make sense of it all when Emma sat up in the bath, placed her head on her raised knees and started to cry.
‘Oh, Emma! Don’t cry love. Come on, this is the day before your wedding, you can’t be crying.’ She instantly felt guilty for her earlier tone.
‘I think you better get out of the bath and talk to your mum, Emma.’ It seemed that Ellen was already better informed than she was.
‘I don’t want to see anyone,’ Emma managed through her tears.
‘You don’t have to. I’ll go and tell Michael that you’ve turned up and you are chatting to your mum in private. He’ll understand. Take all the time you need.’
‘Thanks, Elle.’ Emma nodded and flung off the blanket, then clambered from the bathtub and came into the bedroom to sit on the end of her mum’s bed.
Ellen winked knowingly at her best friend and left the two of them alone.
Vivienne placed a pillow behind her head, budged up along the wall and patted the space beside her. Emma climbed up and sat next to her, with her back against the other pillow, nestling next to her mum.
‘I can’t remember we snuggled up like this, probably when you were a teenager,’ Vivienne reflected.
‘No, I think it was when Fergus left,’ Emma reminded her.
‘Oh yes, Fergus.’ She smiled at the memory of the bespectacled lad with his chip fat powered van. ‘Right, Em, what’s going on here?’
Her daughter took a deep breath, as if preparing to perform. ‘I love Michael,’ she said.
‘Yes, and he loves you.’ She was glad to get the preliminaries out of the way.
‘He is everything I have ever dreamt of, Mum. He is smart and sensible and he makes plans and knows where he is heading.’
‘They are all wonderful gifts, that’s true.’ She was still struggling to see the problem, so far.
‘But it was something you said – that you can only go with what feels right or feels wrong and everything kind of figures itself out from there.’ Emma paused and wiped her nose.
‘I did say that, and it’s true. And what I most want is for you to be happy, that’s the main thing. And if what makes you happy is being here in Tutukaka with Michael working hard towards your future, then that’s it.’
‘And this is the most beautiful place I have ever been.’ Emma confirmed, ‘but…’ She bit her lip.
‘But what, love?’
‘I am not like Michael.’ Her tears fell afresh.
‘Well, that’s okay! You don’t have to be like him. Some of the best relationships are between people who are polar opposites. They each bring such different things to the table that they fill in each other’s gaps and it makes things interesting, keeps it fresh.’
‘But what if I don’t bring anything? Literally nothing!’ She patted the sheet over her legs.
‘That’s not possible. You are the kindest, loveliest girl and he loves you, everyone does. Making someone happy is the biggest gift you can offer.’ Vivienne knew she was treading a fine line between supporting her child and helping her figure out the solution, without overly imposing her own thoughts and concerns.
Emma pulled up her knees under the sheet and rested her folded arms on them. ‘I don’t know anyone here, Mum. It was different in Auckland; I met people through Hai, but now Michael’s at Whangarei Hospital, I can’t exactly go and hang out with him at work to meet his friends… it’s so quiet.’ She turned to look at her mum. ‘I miss having a best friend around, like you and Elle. People who’ve known me forever, who I don’t have to be on my best behaviour with. Seeing you and Elle here together, it’s brought it all back. And I know it sounds stupid, but one of the things I miss most about Bristol is people coming and knocking for me, school mates and people I grew up with. You know, just being able to chat in the street. It made me feel at home.’
Vivienne gave a knowing sigh. ‘I love that too, and you will have that here when you’ve been here a little longer. So are you saying the problem is that you’re lonely?’
‘A bit. Yes.’
‘Well, if that’s the case there is no reason to worry Michael by hiding from him, but it’s certainly something you need to talk to him about.’
‘I guess.’ Emma plucked at the sheet.
Vivienne sighed. ‘But if the problem is Michael, then that’s a whole other conversation,’ she paused, ‘I think you’re suffering from a muddle of things, Em – pre-wedding nerves, and you and Michael are only just starting out in so many ways, getting to know each other, you are having to settle into a new place, and it must be strange to have your dad here. It’s a lot for you to deal with. A lot for anyone to deal with,’ she corrected.
Emma nodded. ‘It is all of that, but also…’
‘What, love?’
Emma’s tears came again. ‘It’s not only my loneliness that’s the problem, Mum. I…’ she swallowed, ‘I don’t know if I want to marry Michael!’
Vivienne rubbed her daughter’s back. ‘Is this what we call a case of the jitters?’ She struggled to find the right response, aware of the weight that might rest on her opinion.
‘I don’t think so. I don’t know!’ Emma bawled.
‘Don’t cry. It’s okay.’ She spoke softly, belying her rising sense of panic and worry. ‘No one is going to make you do anything, Emma. This has to be your decision and it has to be the right one.’ She remembered Ellen’s words about her own mum’s reaction to her getting engaged to Ray all those years ago. ‘You were smitten. For her to wade in with any opinion, either way, would have caused problems between you and your mum.’
‘It’s hard to know what advice to give you, my love. But I do know this: a marriage isn’t something to enter into lightly. You have to be as sure as you possibly can be. And if you have any doubts,’ she let this trail.
‘I know that, Mum.’ She took a deep breath and seemed to calm a little. ‘The thing is, and I know this makes me sound like a loon, I think I have presented a face to Michael that might not be truly mine.’
‘What do you mean?’ She caressed the flicked-up ends of her daughter’s fine blonde hair.
Her words came slowly. ‘I don’t think I’m always myself in front of him. I’ve been realising that more and more since you’ve been here. You know how much I like kidding around, planning things, having fun, just like you and Auntie Ellen, and… Michael’s not like that. I think you’ve noticed that, haven’t you?’
She glanced sideways at her mum, but Vivienne kept her thoughts to herself.
‘And last night, when he and I went out to dinner together, at Schnappa Rock, suddenly it all seemed a bit…’ She swallowed. ‘A bit overwhelming.’ She paused. ‘The food was amazing and that was lovely, but he was talking about his work schedule and how we needed to fit hiking around his rota and he was tasting the wine and all I could think about was how much I wanted to run up the jetty on the Marina, rip my clothes off and jump in and I knew he would have been horrified. I had to hide my thoughts from him, and that made me quite sad.’
Viv gave her a gentle hug of encouragement.
‘And after we got back here last night, I started thinking about how I often dilute other thoughts and ideas because I know that’s what he wants to hear. I want so badly to be the person he loves that I think I might have been hiding the real me, and I’m worried that if the real me comes out, he might not like it. I don’t think he wants a wife that’s going to strip off and run up the jetty.’
Vivienne felt a terrible sadness at hearing her child’s words. ‘The thing that bothers me most about what you’ve just said, is that you would even consider trying to change yourself into what someone else wants you to be. You should never, ever try and shrink any part of you to fit what you think a man, or anyone else, might want. Never! Not your body, your thoughts, your ideas, your plans or your dreams. Nothing. And if you are doing that…’ She gulped the incendiary words that hovered in her throat.
‘I can’t marry him, Mum. Can I?’ Emma turned and
looked at her and there was a beat of stillness while they both understood the enormity of her statement.
‘I don’t know, but I do know the person you marry has to love all of you, including your crazy…’
The door opened and in walked Ellen.
‘How are we doing?’
‘We are having a good chat.’ She nodded over Emma’s shoulder.
‘I don’t think I can marry him, Elle, at least not right now. I need a bit of time to think about what I want and I think we need a bit of time as a couple to get to know each other; properly get to know each other, the real us, without having to hide anything. Mum said some things that got me thinking and it doesn’t feel right, no matter how much I pretend that it does. I think I was panicking a bit because I’m thirty-one—’
‘Oh, ancient.’ Ellen cut in.
‘I just wanted my life to be sorted by now, I wanted to know the plan.’ Emma sighed.
‘Well, we’d all love that, Emma, but I’m afraid life doesn’t come with a book or a timetable, you can’t just flip to page one hundred and fifty-five and find out what happens next.’
‘I wish we could sometimes,’ Vivienne said.
‘Ooh no, don’t be daft!’ Ellen pulled a face. ‘That’d be awful. It’s the not knowing what’s coming up next that makes things exciting.’
‘I think Mum’s right, I’ve been hiding what makes me me…’ She stumbled on her next words. ‘And… and I’m not sure Michael would want the real me.’
‘Oh Lordy! Is this my fault?’ Vivienne hated the thought.
Ellen gave her a sideways look. ‘I would say so, yes.’
‘Ignore her, Mum.’ Emma smiled briefly. ‘It’s no one’s fault, it’s just how it is. But I must admit, I don’t know what to say to him. I’m scared.’ She closed her eyes, as if imagining the conversation.
There was a knock at the door and Michael walked in. ‘What on earth’s going on? I was worried sick when I woke up and you weren’t there! Where have you been?’
I Won't Be Home For Christmas Page 19
