Chapter 27
CHAPTER 27
W e arrived at Mum’s promptly at seven without too much squawking. Even Lexi, who never normally wants to go anywhere with the family because it’s lame and embarrassing , was thrilled – and dressed inappropriately for the occasion in a black midriff-baring creation. Angus wasn’t overly keen, but Nintendo Switch in hand, he figured being at Nanna’s was almost the same as being at home, except with a different fridge and furniture.
Obviously, Matthew would rather have been at home snuffling through sports tweets and preparing himself for tonight’s viewing, but he’d stepped up and even showered.
And I was feeling relaxed from the glass of wine I’d had in preparation. As luck would have it, I’d read an article online about new research published by academics in London. They’d found people who drink wine have significantly sharper thought processes than teetotallers. That’s the spirit!
On the strength of that, I was determined to be pleasant to everyone. I felt the week had been dramatic enough without me becoming hysterical about seeing my father again for the second time in less than a week. It would be hideous, but after some awkward pleasantries and dinner, we could all go home and resume our respective lives. Eventually, Mum would see Dad hadn’t changed and would chalk it up to experience. Maybe Christmas two years from now, we’d all sit around eating prawns and laughing about it while each drinking our medicinal wine.
Despite my bravado, I was nervous. My legs could barely carry me when I stepped out of the car. Mum and Dad must have been watching through the sheer curtains, because with several metres still to walk, the front door opened and Mum hurried out, looking gorgeous in a cerulean 1960s-inspired pantsuit complete with beading and fringe work. She’d even been to the hairdressers and was sporting highlights. Mum hadn’t had highlights since the early noughties. They’d done a great job.
‘Hello, everyone!’ Mum rushed to hug us all together at the same time. Somewhat difficult, but she managed, even though she was desperately nervous and shaking.
Then I saw him.
‘Katie.’ He hugged me tightly.
Mum and Dad, together as a couple, were welcoming us to dinner. It was surreal, like I was caught in some weird Father Knows Best television programme.
I stepped back from his embrace and introduced Dad to Matthew. Once inside the house, he handed Matthew a beer and said, ‘Been watching the Ashes? The Aussies are batting tonight.’
Hey presto! Matthew and my father instantly bonded over cricket. And I was sure once cricket chatter had been exhausted (which wouldn’t be for months), there’d be the state of the economy and lack of rain to discuss. And football. Men!
We were midway through a glass of wine when Robyn walked in, dressed in a red caftan with a yellow hibiscus print .
‘What’s this?’ I asked, staring at her multicoloured hair. ‘A wig?’
‘All mine,’ she said, twirling blue strands around her index finger. ‘Got bored. Needed a change.’
I poked her rotund belly. ‘This not a big enough change for you? And what’s with the bare feet?’
‘If you must know, none of my shoes fit. Not only is my stomach bulging but my feet are getting fatter by the minute.’
‘Should I shoot them for an Insta post, reality versus postcard perfect and all that?’
Robyn’s left eye twitched. ‘I’m really not in the mood, Kate.’ She rubbed her brow. ‘But speaking of which, my antenatal post is getting thousands of likes.’
‘I noticed, but aren’t you worried about the trolls?’
‘Trolls?’ Mum interrupted. ‘I’ve read some nasty stories. People getting shot and worse,’ she tut-tutted.
‘What could be worse than being shot?’ I muttered.
‘Enough of that,’ Mum continued. ‘Bob, Robyn’s here.’
Dad appeared and he and Robyn embraced and started babbling over each other.
I followed Mum into the kitchen.
‘Everything okay?’ she asked. ‘Recovered from birthday drinks? I didn’t know what to think when you arrived home in tears. You were in a real state.’
That didn’t sound right, but then, memories of that night were hazy, especially towards the end. I only vaguely remembered seeing Mum before falling into bed.
I glanced into the dining room. ‘Mum!’ The table looked like something out of Vogue . On top of a soft sage linen tablecloth, sat iconic green cabbage plates, (definitely new purchases) white linen napkins, and elegant old-fashioned pale-pink wine and water glasses. (More recent purchases?) A magnificent display of greenery, pink wildflowers, and white daisies graced the centre .
‘Thoughts?’ she asked.
‘Stunning, though the candelabras might be overkill,’ I said, spying the elaborate pieces with three arms hosting tapered pale-green candles, at each end of the table.
‘Nothing like soft candlelight to set the mood,’ she trilled.
I ignored her remark.
‘And the cabbageware?’ Mum continued.
‘You’ve always loved Bordallo Pinheiro. I don’t know why you waited so long to buy them.’
She put an arm around me. ‘Waiting for the right occasion.’
Together, we carried roast chicken, crispy baked potatoes and sides including green beans, cauliflower and carrots.
Robyn and Dad composed themselves, and we all sat down.
‘I almost forgot the gravy.’ Mum disappeared into the kitchen and returned moments later with a silver gravy boat. ‘And for you, my darling,’ she said, stopping behind Lexi, ‘my famous vege kebabs.’ She placed a small platter in front of her.
Lexi grinned. ‘Best nanna ever.’
Dad poured the wine and water, and between us, Mum and I served everyone.
‘Mum told me you left Nanna and ran off with another woman,’ Lexi said to Dad after she’d polished off two kebabs. ‘Where is she now?’
‘Enough, Lexi,’ I warned.
‘What? You asked Nanna and she didn’t know either. I’m only trying to help.’
‘It’s okay, Lexi,’ Dad soothed. ‘I’ve always loved your nanna. In fact, we weren’t much older than you when we met. Only fourteen.’
‘See, Mum,’ Lexi beamed. ‘Nanna and Pop fell in love just like Romeo and Juliet.’
Matthew gulped his beer and looked at me. ‘I’m definitely out of this conversation loop. ’
Robyn held up her hand. ‘Ditto.’
‘But you and Mum didn’t start dating until you were at least sixteen, did you, Dad?’ I said firmly.
His face pinched in confusion. ‘No, we?—’
‘That’s right, love,’ Mum cut in. ‘Sixteen, but still children. In hindsight, perhaps we rushed into a relationship and marriage too young.’
‘I’ve always loved you, Pip,’ Dad declared, eyes misty. ‘We just went our separate ways for a time.’
And? I itched to say. Did Miss Inspirational die? Did she get a better job and eclipse you? What? But that conversation didn’t go anywhere.
Lexi turned to me. ‘How come you’re not freaking out about Auntie Robyn’s hair?’
‘I did not freak out about your hair. It’s actually growing on me now I’ve had time to adjust.’
‘A pixie cut suits you,’ Matthew agreed.
‘Did you know babies can be born with teeth?’ Robyn spluttered. ‘What’s the story with that? I’m not showcasing my baby on Insta if they have teeth.’
‘So, you’re a social influencer, Robbie?’ Dad put his knife and fork down. ‘What exactly does that mean?’
Mum cleared her throat. ‘It means Robyn has a reputation for being an expert in certain areas and can pressure people.’ She sipped her wine. ‘Isn’t that right, love? You post photos of yourself on the internet?’
Robyn frowned. ‘It’s not just photos of me, and I don’t pressure people.’
Mum nodded. ‘You’re trendy though?’
‘You mean she’s a trendsetter,’ I said. ‘Robyn can sway followers to buy the products she endorses.’
Lexi sniggered. ‘Trendsetter? How old are you, Mum? Auntie Robyn’s an innovator. ’
Dad looked to Robyn, bewildered. ‘That’s your job?’
She nodded. ‘I get paid to promote vitamins, honey, picnic rugs. It’s lucrative and fun.’
‘Except for the trolling,’ Mum added.
Robyn clenched her jaw. ‘Except for the trolling.’
Dad smiled and turned to Mum. ‘It’s lovely being here tonight with everyone, Pippin-Poodle.’
‘Sure is, Bobby-Boy.’ Mum had a faraway look in her eye.
Who were they talking to? Their pet dogs? They weren’t holding hands but still did a great impression of lovesick teenagers. Every time Dad opened his mouth, Mum giggled and flirted.
Then it was Lexi’s turn to hold court. ‘I want to be taken seriously at school.’ She’d managed to charm both Dad and Matthew into believing she had cut her hair only to avoid being mistaken for an airhead. ‘And, Pop, you wouldn’t believe the random school sport colours. I mean seriously, who ever made up the colour yellow needs a bullet. It’s so unflattering.’
‘Yellow’s better than lime!’ Robyn chimed in.
I sat at the table dumbfounded while Lexi explained to the table the hardships of peer group pressure. Mum guffawed like a fool. At least Angus had the sense to put his head down and play his NS.
Meanwhile, Matthew ate another helping of chicken and vegetables. ‘Beautiful dinner, Pip,’ he said. ‘You’ve outdone yourself tonight.’
Mum smiled and reached to hold Dad’s hand.
Yes, it was a lovely meal, but I felt uneasy. Mum was blissfully unaware of the fate that was to befall her when Dad left her a second time. For the moment though, they were simply merry morons. Sure, they’d been divorced a hundred years and were virtual strangers, but that didn’t stop them.
Then their lips smacked. Shuddering, I felt my hand reach for the table jug, compelled by the urge to pour cold water over them. I sighed loudly instead.
After an eternity, they disengaged and beamed contentedly.
Dad clinked his glass against Mum’s, like in countless American movies where the father, as head of the family, says he has an important, life-changing announcement to make. Then Dad actually said, ‘Thanks for coming tonight. Your mother and I would like to say—’ and when he looked at Mum, I knew.
Finally, I realised what this evening was about.
‘—we’re getting married.’
‘Pardon?’
‘Katie, your father and I are remarrying. What do you think?’
I couldn’t believe my ears. ‘So you’re not dying? Of cancer?’
Dad threw me a strange look. ‘No.’
‘It might sound sudden,’ Mum continued. ‘But we’d like to get married before Christmas?—’
‘What?’ I said, spitting the word out.
‘Before Christmas,’ Mum repeated.
‘Stop saying that.’ I pushed my plate forward and leapt up out of my chair, almost pulling the tablecloth and one of the candelabras with me. ‘Of all the ridiculous things to do, Mum, why do you have to get married again?’ I was circling the table, pacing. ‘It didn’t work out the first time, remember?’ I glared at Robyn. ‘Say something.’
She shrugged.
‘It did,’ Mum insisted. ‘We were married eighteen years.’
‘Yes, eighteen years – twenty-five years ago,’ I fumed. ‘You’ve been divorced longer than you were married. Why do you want to tie yourself down again?’
‘The past is the past. We can’t change what we’ve done but we can change what we do now. We’re mature adults now and I love your father, and he loves me. We’re getting married, Kate, whether you agree or not. ’
Strangely, as I was having this conversation with Mum, I imagined the exact same scenario being played out with Lexi in a matter of years – Lexi defiantly standing before me, saying, I’m in love with Spike/Luke/Hunter (insert appropriate name). We want to be together. We are getting married . It gave me chills.
I eased myself back into the dining chair. ‘Only a week ago, Mum, you said, and I quote, “It’s not as if I’m going to do anything silly” and yet here we are. Married before Christmas? How is that even possible?’
Matthew raised his glass. ‘Congratulations.’
‘Stop,’ I shouted, suddenly feeling nauseous. I couldn’t see any reason for Mum to marry again. What did she have in mind? A minister? A reception at the local town hall? Speeches? Bridesmaids? The whole shebang?
Then, to my horror, I quickly found out.
‘Lexi, darling, I’d love for you to be my bridesmaid.’ The words were out there, hanging, for the entire world to hear before I could catch them, put my hand over Mum’s mouth and shoot her, or at least kick her very hard in the shins or head. I was numb.
Seconds later Dad said, ‘Angus, your nanna and I would like you to be our ring bearer.’
‘Ring bearer?’ I spluttered.
‘Can I choose my own dress, Nanna?’ Lexi purred.
‘Yes, darling, you can wear whatever you like.’
No. No. No. Why was she saying this? To torment me? I looked around for hidden cameras because surely this was a joke.
I gulped for air. ‘This has gone far enough.’
Clearly impatient, Mum’s voice was sharp. ‘I really don’t see what all the fuss is about. Your father and I are getting married – accept it.’
I scowled at Mum, then Dad. ‘Be reasonable. It’s Christmas. For starters, you’ll never find a venue or celebrant at such short notice.’
‘Kate has a point,’ Robyn chimed in.
I turned to her. ‘At last!’
‘Oohh, I’m going to be a bridesmaid, I’m going to be a bridesmaid,’ Lexi sang.
‘Lex, you’re not going to be a bridesmaid because there isn’t going to be a wedding. Full stop. End of story. Now, please be quiet. I have a headache.’ Which I did. Of all the absurd… my parents remarrying.
‘And I get a ring,’ Angus said. ‘What’s a ring bearer? Do I get lollies?’
I was about to explode. ‘Shush, Gus.’
‘Katie,’ Dad said finally, ‘if you and Robyn are truly against it, we won’t get married.’
‘Bob!’ Mum shrieked.
‘No, love. If it’s going to upset everybody, it’s not right. The whole idea of us remarrying is to bring the family closer together, not tear us further apart.’
‘The most sensible opinion I’ve heard all night,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you live together and see how it goes? Then, if it works out, maybe in a year or ten, you can think about getting married.’
‘Actually, I think it’s wonderful,’ Robyn said, her eyes sparkling. ‘A Christmas wedding. Think of the posts. It will be ah-maaa-zing!’