Chapter 15 #2
‘Oh my god, I’m wearing perfume!’ she squeaks. ‘I did at least four spritzes after I dismounted from the horse!’
‘I know. I was joking. It was a joke.’
‘That’s not funny!’ she hisses, then gasps. ‘Listen! There it is again!’
I sit up, leaning back on my hands, groggy, tired and impatient. I wait a while but hear nothing.
‘I’m sure I heard something,’ she whispers.
‘It was probably a deer,’ I surmise, getting comfortable again and closing my eyes. ‘Try to get some sleep, Mum.’
‘All right,’ she says, lying back down. ‘But if a bear gets me, I want you to report to the press that I had an inkling it would.’
‘I wouldn’t have the chance,’ I mumble, so tired I’m already drifting back to sleep. ‘If a bear gets you, it would get me, too.’
She mutters something quietly which I can just about make out, but I’m too drowsy to really comprehend it or comment on it. It’s only when I wake up in the morning and see her dozing next to me, I think about what it was: ‘Not on my watch,’ she said.
***
The next morning, Mum grabs my arm when I’m brushing my teeth and pulls me closer to her so she can whisper in my ear, ‘A bear stole my bra.’
My mouth filled with toothpaste, I blink at her. ‘Huh?’
‘A bear stole my bra,’ she repeats through gritted teeth.
I turn to spit out my toothpaste and grab a bottle of water to wash out my mouth, before wiping my lips with the back of my hand.
She’s wearing some sort of silk kimono robe which is totally at odds with the setting, but in her defence, she didn’t pack for camping, she packed for a luxury hotel spa. Still, it’s funny.
‘Mum, what are you going on about?’ I demand to know.
‘Last night, I discreetly hung my bra on a branch near the tent so it could dry out.’
‘Why was your bra wet?’
‘I was sweating a lot on the horse in the heat!’
‘Eugh.’
She puts her hands on her hips, her mouth a hard straight line.
‘Sorry,’ I say quickly, realising that wasn’t very kind. ‘I was, too.’
‘Thank you.’ She runs her fingers through her hair. ‘My bra is gone. Gone. And I didn’t bring a spare.’
‘Are you sure you haven’t mislaid it?’ I say, glancing around at our fellow campers all packing up and chatting around morning cups of tea. ‘You didn’t get much sleep last night, I think you’re a bit delirious.’
‘Oh, so now I’ve lost my marbles, is that it?’ she snaps defensively.
‘No, I didn’t say that.’ I frown at her. ‘I think there might be another explanation, that’s all. Have you looked around the tent?’
‘I’ve looked everywhere.’
‘Maybe someone else took it by mistake.’
She snorts, gesturing at the others. ‘You think one of these people took my bra?’
‘You think a bear did!’
‘I knew this would happen. I knew it.’ She throws her hands up in the air. ‘This is all your father’s fault. This is why I don’t go camping.’
‘Because a bear might steal your underwear?’
She narrows her eyes at me. ‘This is a serious issue, Megan. How do you expect me to ride a horse over rocks without a bra? And I needn’t tell you how expensive it was, but you know I don’t buy cheap lingerie.’
I wrinkle my nose. ‘Please don’t use the word “lingerie”.’
‘What? Whyever not?’
‘I don’t know, it’s weird. It’s too . . . sexual. You’re my mum.’
‘Christ’s sake, Megan, I built my career on sexual language. My sexual language paid for your education,’ she says all haughtily.
‘Stop saying “sexual language”!’ I plead, noticing Nico emerging from his tent nearby.
Topless, he stretches his arms up over his head as he looks out over the lake, the sun pouring on his rippling shoulders, muscular back and the dip of his spine.
He turns round and sees me, breaking into a smile and giving a wave.
Tearing my gaze up from his solid chest and sculpted abs, I plaster on a smile and nod back, my mouth dry.
Mum follows my eyeline, turning briefly to wave at him, before spinning back to face me. ‘My, my. On the other hand, camping does come with quite the view. Maybe it is worth it,’ she remarks, giving me a knowing smile as heat flushes up my neck and through my face.
‘God, Mum. You really know how to make me . . . squirmy.’
‘I don’t think I’m the one making you squirmy, my darling.’
‘Argh, stop it!’ I seethe.
She cackles with laughter and then something catches her eye up over my shoulder. She stops laughing immediately, her eyes widening, her mouth falling open with a mixture of shock and horror. She whispers, ‘M-Megan,’ and points at something behind me.
At first I think she’s having me on, but the colour has gone from her face, so I decide to check.
When I turn round and look up to where she’s pointing, I gasp and stumble back to stand next to her, blinking to make sure I’m not imagining it.
There, high up in the tree, is some kind of vulture with a nude Rigby & Peller bra clasped in its beak.
We both stand still, staring at it in disbelief.
When it takes flight, its trophy flapping in the wind as it soars up and away, Mum and I slowly turn to look at each other before bursting into hysterical laughter.
Tears run down Mum’s cheeks, I have to bend over to clutch my stomach, and we don’t stop laughing until Nico comes over to ask what’s happened and if we’re okay.
Through wheezes we tell him we’re fine, desperately trying to collect ourselves as everyone else starts looking over.
Every now and then on the horse ride back to the stables, Mum and I will catch each other’s eye, smirk and then erupt into more giggles, the vision of the vulture with the bra flitting through our heads.