It was hard for her to picture the person she had been, so shy in front of strangers and often too nervous to let the words that rumbled in her throat find their way out of her mouth. The best thing about her new life, apart from residing in such a beautiful setting with a man she loved and her beloved Bob by her side, was the feeling of contentment. Her dreams had come true; she was part of a happy family, and that was all she had ever wanted. She could live without fear for her future. It was bliss.
‘I can’t believe everyone’s arriving tomorrow! This is our last peaceful evening for a while. We need to make the most of it.’
‘You can’t fool me – you actually can’t wait, can you?’ He hugged her tight.
‘Oh, Gil, you’re right, I can’t! I’m so excited!’
He kissed her head.
Vivienne had posted the invitations a couple of months ago. When she dropped them off at the post office on a bright spring day, she’d pictured Ellen yawning, as she trod the stairs in her bathrobe and stooped low to gather the pale grey envelope from the coconut welcome mat. The postmark would reveal that it was from New Zealand and she could almost hear the squeal of her friend’s excitement.
True to form, it was a mere twenty minutes after Ellen had ripped open the envelope that Vivienne’s phone had rung in the kitchen at Tutukaka.
‘One thousand, six hundred quid, plus a six-hour stopover in Hong Kong, what do you reckon?’
‘I reckon book it, book it now!’ She laughed.
‘All right, give me a chance, haven’t had my cuppa yet.’ She tutted and put the phone down. There was no need to say goodbye, that wasn’t their way, not when they would be chatting or seeing each other again so soon.
Gil had walked into the kitchen in his standard-issue jeans and denim shirt with the sleeves rolled above the elbow. ‘Who was that on the phone, love?’ he asked, after casually planting a kiss on her cheek as he passed by on the way to the study.
‘Only Elle. She’s booking tickets for her and Trev.’ Vivienne returned to the task of uncorking the cold bottle of white wine.
‘Ah, great.’ He winked. ‘We’d better get extra cake in.’
The time had flown and here they were: the house shone, food had been bought, flowers prepped, beds made and her frock was ready. All they needed were the guests.
‘Are we mad, getting married on Christmas Day? Like we won’t have enough to deal with.’ He stroked her hair.
‘I think it’s a bit late to worry about it now,’ she said. ‘The key is not to stress about it. It’ll all just happen and there’ll be plenty of people around to do their bit. What can possibly go wrong?’ She shook her head, thinking of the last wedding that had been organised on that very spot.
‘I love you, Mrs McKinley.’ They both liked the sound of that.
‘Stop it! That’s bad luck. I won’t be Mrs McKinley for another four days, and after that you can say it as much as you like.’
She lay back with her head resting on his arm and closed her eyes; a little nap about now was always good.
*
The sound of a horn beeping roused her. ‘What’s that?’ She sat up, unsure of how long she’d drifted off for.
‘Someone on the front drive, probably a delivery. I’ll go.’ He stood up.
‘I’ll come with you. We can’t be storing things just any old where, and I don’t want you messing up my plan.’
She took his hand and they walked across the lawn, into the kitchen and out the other side of the house. Gil had just touched his hand to the front door when Vivienne peeked through it. Her hand flew to her mouth and her tears sprang.
‘Oh God! Oh, Gil!’
The two women ran towards each other, holding each other tight and not wanting to let go. It was some seconds before they spoke, easing their grip as they did so.
‘Elle,’ she breathed, ‘you look lovely.’
‘Primark.’ Her friend sniffed on her shoulder, plucking at her frock. ‘Seven ninety-nine.’
They moved apart and stared at each other, laughing.
‘I missed you so much,’ Vivienne said.
‘That’s funny, because I’ve barely given you a second thought.’ Ellen sighed before they both erupted into giggles again. ‘Actually, don’t make me laugh, I haven’t had a loo stop since Whangarei and I’m desperate.’
‘You’re a day early! We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.’ She giggled.
‘I got in a muddle. I can’t be doing with all these time and date changes, it only confuses me.’ Ellen waved her hand, dismissing this minor detail. ‘Gil, you little best-friend stealer, this is my husband, Trev. Trev, this is the one I told you about, got us over here on false pretences and nicked my mate.’
‘It’s lovely to see you too, Elle.’ He swept her up in a hug.
‘Be nice to me.’ She pointed at him. ‘I am the chief bridesmaid, after all.’
‘Are you?’
‘You are?’ Vivienne and Gil asked at the same time.
‘Yes, I’ve decided.’ Ellen gave a nod. ‘I’ve bought those plastic flowers back out, thought I could finally put them to good use.’
Trevor stepped forward, a little overwhelmed by the incredible property he found himself in front of, and by the fact that the three of them were already well acquainted. He held out his hand. ‘Hello, Gil. Good to meet you at last.’
‘And you, Trev. You a fishing man?’ he asked.
‘I’ve been known to dabble, caught a decent pike once in the quarry not far from us.’
‘Ah, you’ll love a bit of sea fishing then. Maybe I can take you out?’
‘I’d love that.’ Trev rubbed his hands together.
‘Great. Fancy a beer?’
‘Do I ever! It’s been a long journey.’ He jerked his head towards his wife.
The two men sloped off to the kitchen. Finally, Vivienne knew what it felt like to be part of a foursome, to have her man larking around and joining in the banter. And it felt lovely.
‘I have got so much to tell you!’ Ellen roared, as comfortable as if it was twelve minutes ago that they’d last seen each rather than twelve months. ‘You’ll never believe what I found out.’
‘What?’ Vivienne leant forward.
‘You’ll have to wait; I really need that loo. Don’t worry, I know where it is. Am I in my old room?’ she yelled as she ran ahead.
‘I hope you were sat on a towel in that hire car,’ Vivienne called after her.
Ellen reappeared with her skirt bunched into her hand. ‘You can talk, you’re the one who had to wear Nicola Brown’s gym knickers.’ And she disappeared back inside the house.
‘For the love of God, how many times? It was Ribena!’ she called out, beaming and so, so happy to have her friend close.
*
With the arrival of the first guests, Aropari burst into life. Gil hit the music and there was a party-like atmosphere about the place. The four spent an unforgettable evening sitting on the deck, drinking in the view and catching up.
They were up bright and early the next day. Gil set off in a borrowed minibus and returned over six hours later with Aaron and Lizzie, and their baby daughter, Frankie and Emma and Shaun. For Vivienne, seeing her ever-growing brood piling out of the minibus was something very special. She clapped her hands and jumped up and down on the spot in excitement.
‘Hello, hello!’ She ran forward, kissing her kids and her daughter-in-law and Shaun Lewis, the boy who lived up the road and who had made Emma the happiest she had ever seen her. She was unable to stop herself from scooping baby Frankie into her arms and kissing her little face. The tiny girl reached up and tried to grab her grandma’s hair.
‘She’s such a pretty girl! And she’s grown, look at her!’ It was one thing to have seen her weekly over Skype, and to receive Elle’s updates, but to hold her grandchild in her arms was quite another. She held her close, inhaling the scent of her.
‘This is some place, Mum.’ Aaron turned a full circle, taking in the view.
‘Oh God!’ Lizzie sighed, running her hand through her dishevelled hair. Vivienne noticed the little pile of sick smudged on the shoulder of her blouse. ‘Please don’t cry, Frankie! I tried to comfort her on the plane. She’s a little unsettled.’ She and Lizzie had grown close via their weekly Skype chats and giving birth to the first grandchild, gave Lizzie a special place in the heart of the family that she relished.
Vivienne wrapped her free arm around her. ‘Lizzie, you are the best mum, ever, look at this baby! She’s perfect. You are doing a great job.’ She kissed her cheek. Aaron beamed.
Gil stepped forward and took the little girl into his arms. ‘It’s okay, Frankie, I’ve got you.’ He cradled her close. ‘There we go, little Frankie, Grandpa Gil’s got you. There’s no need to cry, life’s too short for crying. Come and look at the view – if that doesn’t make you feel good, nothing will. Reckon you’ve got farming hands there…’ His soothing tone seemed to do the trick. Frankie stopped crying.
‘He’s a natural.’ Emma smiled as she stepped into her mum’s arms. They stood there, holding each other tight. ‘It’s so good to be back,’ she murmured.
‘I missed you.’ Vivienne kissed her.
‘I missed you, when I wasn’t redecorating the house or working as Shaun’s favourite receptionist at the garage.’
‘Oi, firstly, I did most of the redecorating and secondly I’d like to sack her,’ he informed Vivienne, ‘she’s rubbish at the job, but she won’t let me, turns up day after day. I can’t shake her off!’ He was a cheeky boy that Shaun Lewis. Emma thumped him playfully on the arm.
Vivienne was glad that they were making the little house in Mendip Road their own. ‘How’s your mum, Shaun?’ she asked.
‘Sound. Sends you her best.’
Vivienne smiled. She had always liked Mrs Lewis.
‘Shaun, come and grab a beer!’ Gil called from the kitchen.
Vivienne watched him walk into the house.
‘Are you all set then?’ Emma asked.
‘I think so.’ She paused. ‘This doesn’t feel too weird?’ Vivienne checked her child’s expression, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hide the truth.
‘What, that my would be father-in-law is about to become my actual stepdad and my ex-fiancé, who will be my step-brother, is pitching up any day now to celebrate by my side on the exact spot where we were to be married, while I’m here with my new man?’ She shook her head. ‘Nah, it’s fine, Mum.’
They both chuckled.
‘When is Michael getting here, anyway?’ Emma asked casually.
‘Not until Christmas Day. He’s working.’
‘Of course he is.’ She smiled. ‘Do you see him much?’
‘Maybe once a month.’ She held her daughter’s gaze.
‘Can I ask you something?’ Emma bit her nail.
‘Of course!’
‘Now you’ve got to know him, maybe better than I ever did, can you see me being married to him?’
She thought about how best to phrase her response. ‘I have got to know him and I am fond of him, but as a life partner for you? Not in a million years.’
They both resumed their hug, thinking about what might so easily have been.
‘I think he might have clipped your wings, Em.’
‘I think I might need them clipping sometimes,’ she whispered.
‘Never.’ Vivienne held her tight. ‘Are you happy?’
‘Oh, Mum, happier than I ever thought possible. I’ve found where I want to be.’
‘Mendip Road, Bedminster?’
‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘Next to Shaun.’
‘He’s a good man.’
‘He is,’ Emma smiled, ‘and I’m hoping he’s going to be a good dad, too.’ She took her mum’s hand and placed it on the slight swell of her stomach.
Vivienne placed her hand over her mouth, as she cried, ‘Really?’ It was the most wonderful news.
‘Yes, really.’ She beamed. ‘I’m thirteen weeks pregnant.’
‘Oh you clever, clever girl!’
*
It was a beautiful summer’s day, Christmas Day. Ellen and Emma took turns styling Vivienne’s hair and applying her minimal make-up. The wedding was to be a mainly family affair, but Nick and the team from Schnappa Rock, who were part catering the event, were all invited, as were Aropari’s neighbours, whose land bordered theirs and whose friendship Vivienne and Gil had come to value over the last year.
They had agreed to exchange their Christmas gifts that evening. It was to be both a wedding and a Christmas celebration, with chilled sparkling Kiwi wine flowing freely, exquisite canapés served on round platters and, quite incongruously, carols on the stereo.
The vast wooden table had been positioned on the main terrace at the back of the house and was draped with starched white linen and white-cushioned garden chairs. At each place setting were a set of sparkling crystal glasses, a pale rose-coloured linen napkin and a shallow glass bud-vase filled with sprigs of gypsophila and a single frond of berried spruce in a nod to the season.
‘There you are Michael! Happy Christmas, love.’ Vivienne jumped up from in front of the mirror and gave her stepson a hug. He had made an effort and looked lovely in a cream linen shirt and dark trousers; he was still, however, in his jandals. ‘You must be exhausted. Long shifts?’
‘Yes, but I wouldn’t have missed today, not for anything.’ He shuffled his feet, a little nervous. ‘I am so glad Dad is happy. And it’s down to you.’
Vivienne patted his arm. His words were generous and heartfelt. ‘Oh thank you, Michael. I think it’s going to be a right old day for tears and if I start now, there’ll be no stopping me.’ She waved her hand in front of her face, trying to stop the slide of her make-up.
‘Hey, Em.’ He walked over to where Emma stood with a powder brush in her hand and the two exchanged a sincere, lingering hug.
‘Hey, you.’ She smiled.
‘Are we good?’ he asked, shyly.
‘We were always good, Michael, good mates.’
‘Yep.’ He nodded.
Ellen and Vivienne exchanged a look and Ellen started singing under her breath. ‘If you like pina colada…’
Michael gave Ellen a wary look. ‘I better go see the old man.’ He indicated with his thumb and left them to it.
‘Elle!’
‘What?’ She laughed.
As the sun dipped in the late afternoon, Vivienne slipped into her dress. The simple cream-linen shift skimmed her slim figure and over her arms she draped the pale pink, silk pashmina she’d picked up on that memorable day in Stanley Market.
‘Oh! Look at you!’ Ellen, the chief bridesmaid, was unable to contain herself. ‘My beautiful best friend. I am so proud of you.’
‘I’m proud of you too.’ She managed with a catch in her throat.
Vivienne beamed at her, before taking Aaron’s arm and walking slowly out into the garden, towards the deck where the registrar stood. The whole space was edged with vintage terracotta flowerpots tied with natural raffia, crowded with semi-dried blue and pink hydrangeas with fresh two-tone roses dotted throughout the display, a stunning variety with large creamy-coloured centres and delicate petals edged in dusky pink. Sprigs of eucalyptus, rosemary and thyme not only gave the centrepieces height and much needed splashes of green, but the scent was intoxicating. The whole effect was stunning.
Gil looked great in his pale suit and open-neck shirt, if a little nervous. His hands fidgeted, trying to find the right position.
He reached out and helped her climb onto the raised deck. As their hands joined, she felt it once again – the thunderbolt.
Standing on the deck with the sun shining overhead, casting its
golden rays over Aropari, Vivienne took a deep lungful of Tutukaka air, in the magical place that she now called home. It was a world away from where her story had started on the sloping banks of the Malago River.
As she prepared to marry the man she loved, with all the people who loved her standing close by, Vivienne knew it was time to stop hiding from the world, time to stop being afraid. She had finally chosen to live a different life, one where she valued her own happiness.
The registrar’s words rang around the garden.
‘Will you love her and treasure her for the rest of your days?’
‘I will, every day.’ Gil squeezed her hands that sat neatly inside his own.
‘And will you love him and treasure him for the rest of your days?’
‘I will,’ Vivienne managed with tears in her eyes, ‘cross my heart.’
We hope you enjoyed this book!
And if you haven’t already read the other stories in Amanda Prowse’s No Greater Courage or No Greater Love sequences, read on or click the following link for a preview of Perfect Daughter
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For more information, click the following links
Author Note
About Amanda Prowse
About No Greater Love
About No Greater Courage
Also by Amanda Prowse
From the editor of this book
An invitation from the publisher
Author’s Note
I Won’t Be Home for Christmas is a work of fiction and I have taken the liberty of stretching (if not snapping!) the rules and laws when it comes to the length of stay that a visitor visa to the country would normally permit. For all visa and visitor entry requirements please visit www.immigration.govt.nz before planning any trip.
Thank you x
Preview
Read on for a preview of Perfect Daughter
Wife. Mother. Daughter. What happens when it all becomes too much?
Jackie loves her family. Sure, her teenage children can be stroppy. Her husband a little lazy. And providing round-the-clock care for her Alzheimer’s-ridden mother is exhausting. She’s sacrificed a lot to provide this safe and loving home, in their cramped but cosy semi with a view of the sea.
I Won't Be Home For Christmas Page 25