Chapter 28
DAWN
The busking world will be in mourning when I announce my new intention to be some kind of admiral.
I can now envision it, a life at sea, perhaps commanding my own fleet.
What freedom to be on the water! What joy to be part of a crew with one set goal.
I wonder if there’s some kind of sailing course I can sign up to while I’m here.
I’ve proven today once again that there’s no need for MS to deter any physical-activity ambitions I might have.
Perhaps I should push back my flight a few days and give it a go. Why not?
Megan went through a phase of saying that when she was little.
It made us laugh because she didn’t know what it meant so would say it willy-nilly.
Why not, why not. ‘Good night, Megan,’ I’d whisper as we closed her bedroom door having just put her down and she’d say, ‘why not’ back and we’d have to stifle our giggles as we crept away.
It was so sweet.
She was in her element on that raft today, the moment that god-awful horn blared, a fierce resolve took over her and I’m telling you, I knew we were going to win.
Kudos to Henry for getting her up on that thing and involved in something so silly.
Before this trip, I never would have expected her to be a part of such an event, but as soon as she decided she was going to do it, there wasn’t any hesitation on her side, she really threw herself into it.
The girl has grit.
I think she may get that from both of us.
Megan and I are in good spirits on our way back to the hotel, completely drenched but flushed with joy, having celebrated our win with a coffee and fresh pastry, the melt-in-the-mouth kind you can only get in France.
Despite being energised from the win and adoring crowds, I found myself flagging as we sat in the shade of the café afterwards, the fatigue creeping through my limbs until I could no longer ignore it.
Nico was keen to get back anyway because there’s plenty to be done before the black-tie ball tonight and, as much as he trusts his staff, he wants to oversee all the last-minute details.
Bless him, he’s so nervous about it, I can tell, but it’s going to be fabulous.
For a start, the chateau is a fairy-tale setting for a ball with its long driveway through the vineyard and the striking white turrets; and with all the string lights that have been hung for the evening as well as the extravagant yet elegant arrangements of flowers dotted around the place, there will no doubt be a sense of magic the moment a guest arrives at the door.
And Nico tells me the band has been one of the most expensive elements of the evening, but that it is a big name and known to create a brilliant party atmosphere.
He thinks it’s the band that has helped sell so many tickets, but I think it’s more than that.
I think that we all want a great night with food and drink and dancing, but when it comes down to it, everyone really just loves the idea of going to a ball in a castle.
‘See you later,’ Megan says to Nico, smiling shyly as he leaves us in reception to go tick off the rest of his list.
When he’s disappeared round the corner, I notice her quickly turn and stealthily check her appearance in the mirror, seeming disappointed at the result.
But she shouldn’t. She may not have a perfect face of make-up and, yes, her hair is still damp and tangled from the sea water, but she looks radiant.
I consider telling her that. I will tell her that.
Everyone likes to hear that. It will be one of those treasured precious mother-daughter moments.
‘You look radiant,’ I say, beaming at her.
She frowns at me. ‘Are you being sarcastic?’
‘No! I mean it! You really do.’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Yes, you do.’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ she mutters as she passes me on her way to the stairs.
I was right. What a moment to treasure forever.
Deflated by the failure of my bonding attempt, I follow her upstairs and make my way to my room, remembering something I’ve been meaning to ask her as we get our keys out.
‘What are you wearing tonight for the ball?’
She hesitates. ‘Uh. I . . . I’m not sure. I’ve got a couple of dresses I could throw on.’
‘Black-tie dresses?’ I check, peering at her.
She shrugs. ‘No, but I figured that wouldn’t matter.’
‘What?’ I balk at the suggestion, putting my hands on my hips as I swivel to face her down the corridor. ‘What do you mean? It’s a black-tie event. You can’t show up in any old dress. That’s against the rules!’
‘Whose rules?’ she asks, bemused at my reaction.
‘The . . . ancient rules of civilisation!’
Her lips twitch as she fights a smile. ‘Right, of course, those ancient black-tie rules.’
‘Megan, I won’t have you appear at a black-tie event in some flimsy summer dress and sandals,’ I state, feeling very passionate about all this. ‘How do you think that’s going to look to Nico? He’s put a lot of effort into tonight.’
‘Nico understands that we didn’t come here thinking we’d be attending a black-tie ball,’ she points out, but I can tell from the way she shifts her weight from one foot to the other that she’s suddenly not so firm on her stance.
‘Dad should have given us some kind of warning. Who brings a dress suitable for black-tie events just in case?’
I stare at her. She stares back at me.
She lifts her eyes to the ceiling and sighs.
‘You brought a dress suitable for black-tie events just in case,’ she surmises wearily.
‘When packing a case, I always ensure I am prepared for everything, my darling, and may I recommend that from now on in life, you think along the same lines,’ I advise. ‘Then you’d never find yourself in this worrying position again.’
‘Mum, it’s fine, there’s no need to—’
‘Here’s what we’re going to do,’ I interject before she can insult me by arguing her case any further, ‘I am going to have a nap because for reasons beyond my control, my ailing body needs a brief time-out—’ she looks momentarily pained at that and I wonder if I should not speak so frivolously about it, but then again, all I ever do is speak frivolously about it because to talk seriously about it would be utterly heartbreaking ‘—and while I do so, you are going to research some shops around here that might stock something you like. When I awaken, we shall go to those shops together and pick you something. Does that sound good?’
‘It sounds unnecessary.’
‘That wasn’t my question.’
‘Mum, if you need to rest, I don’t want you to—’
‘I’m factoring in a rest, but more than anything I want to go shopping with my daughter. I wasn’t there when you picked out your school prom dress or . . . or your wedding dress,’ I remark before I can stop myself, the regret and bitterness and sadness in my voice impossible to veil.
‘No,’ she says, a flash of resentment crossing her expression, ‘you weren’t.’
I swallow, fighting hard not to look away from her. ‘So, let me do this.’
Megan takes a moment to consider it.
‘Come on. We can buy you something outrageously expensive and gorgeous that will make you feel fantastic and confident and sexy and will make Nico fall to his knees and beg you to marry him right there and then.’
‘God, Mum, what is wrong with you?’ she hisses, urgently checking that no one’s around us to overhear while I smirk. ‘That’s not . . . don’t . . . ugh. You’re so annoying.’
‘I’m also observant, being a writer. And you’re one, too, so I know that you know exactly how he looks at you.
Deny it all you like for appearance’s sake, but we both know I’m right, so please let’s not waste any more time pretending that you don’t want to spend the afternoon with your mother, picking a gown that will blow everyone away, most of all yourself.
You didn’t believe me just now when I said you looked radiant.
You deserve to feel beautiful, Megan. Let me help make that happen. ’
With a bowed head, she relents, nodding. ‘Okay.’
‘Wonderful!’ I exclaim. ‘I’ll see you in a couple of hours, then. Some of the shops may close over lunch, but we’ll be first through the door when they open.’
‘Sounds good,’ she says, as I return my attention to unlocking my door. She stops me as I push it open. ‘Mum?’
‘Yes, darling?’
‘Thanks,’ she says quietly, and then disappears into her room.
I got my treasured moment after all.
***
The French boutiques really do know how to make choosing a dress feel like you’ve stepped into a scene of Hollywood standards.
Everywhere we’ve gone, the staff have been welcoming and glamorous, and I must say I’m a big fan of the waif-like woman who greeted us at the air-conditioned shop we’re currently in.
She’s dressed head-to-toe in black with the air and grace of either a former model or ballerina with her sharp cheekbones, sleek glossy hair and excellent posture.
When I explained the situation on arrival, she nodded along with a stern expression, eyed Megan up and down and said loftily, ‘We will find you a dress’, as though we’d be the ones in trouble should they fail.
Today has been something. After an invigorating morning on the water, winning a national race of great prestige, I’m having the pleasure of shopping with my daughter, the sort of special occasion that you think you’ll never get again once they hit their teens, except perhaps in the lead up to their wedding day.
I didn’t get the chance to do that, but then I never asked.
I knew she’d rather go with someone like Marisa.
I realise now that I should have given her the choice to say no to me, even if it would have been hard for me to hear.
She should have had the reassurance that no matter how much we’d drifted apart, no matter how many fights we’d had or how heavy the blame we’d placed on the other’s shoulders over the years, her mother still wanted to be there when she chose her wedding dress. That’s how it should go.