And then the server crashed, we spent half a day waiting for IT to get it back up! The order almost fell through, can you imagine the loss?!
Emma caught herself halflistening to Andrew again. Theyd parked themselves in the little café opposite her office. He was going on about some new project at work, while she kept watching his fingers fidget with the napkin, thinking that after six months together she still hadnt met his family.
She was thirty, the age where youre done with the flirtandrun games and just want something solid. Andrew was a good bloke hardworking, thoughtful, reliable. A month ago hed popped the question right there in the same café where they first met. Emma said yes, but a knot of anxiety settled in her chest. Every time she tried to bring up his parents, hed steer clear either changing the subject to the weather or saying something urgent had come up. She chalked it up to shyness maybe he was embarrassed about his familys modest means or just wasnt used to opening up.
Listen, when am I finally going to meet your parents? Emma asked, pushing her cooling coffee aside.
Andrew tensed up. The napkin in his hand turned into a crumpled wad. He looked at her, a flicker of worry flashing in his eyes.
Well go this weekend, he said after a pause.
Joy burst through Emmas chest, washing away the doubt. Finally! She could picture herself stepping into Andrews family home, his mother pulling her into a hug, calling her dear, them all sharing tea and scones around a big table.
The days leading up to the weekend she spent hunting for the perfect presents. She trekked through three shopping centres for gifts. For Andrews mum she bought a luxurious cashmere stole and a designer perfume. For his dad a toolbox that any bloke would drool over. For his sister a chic handbag shed been eyeballing herself.
On Saturday morning Emma rose at six to get everything done. Shower, hair, a touch of makeup. She chose an elegant kneelength beige dress and classic pumps you can never go wrong. She gave herself a spin in front of the mirror, smiled at the reflection. Perfect. Thats how a future daughterinlaw should look.
Andrew slipped into the car in silence. Emma turned the key, pulled out onto the motorway. The radio played something soft, the countryside whizzed by with roadside cafés and petrol stations. Emma smiled, rehearsing the upcoming meetandgreet, while Andrew kept a tightlipped stare.
Why so glum? Emma asked, glancing at him. Nervous?
Just dont mind if something goes pearshaped, okay? Andrew clenched his fists on his knees.
She frowned, shifted gears.
What do you mean pearshaped? What could possibly go wrong?
Theyre particular, he muttered, turning his gaze to the window. Just keep it in mind.
Before Emma could press further, the GPS announced a left turn. The village they were heading for was tiny maybe a dozen houses along a single lane. The road wound past crooked fences and garden patches, finally stopping at an old wooden house with peeling paint on the shutters.
Emma turned the engine off and looked around. The yard was overgrown, grass everywhere, a pile of firewood in a corner, rusted tools by the shed. She forced a smile. It wasnt the wealth that mattered, it was the people.
On the porch three figures were already waiting an elderly woman in a worn dressing gown, a man in a stretchedout Tshirt, and a young woman in her midtwenties with a sour expression.
Here you are, Andrews mother said, giving Emma an appraising look.
Emma stepped forward, extending her hand. Hello, its lovely to finally meet you.
The mother gave a weak shake, the father just nodded, and the sister crossed her arms, squinting.
Emma turned back to the car to fetch the gift bags. She opened the boot, reached for the parcels, and at that moment a loud hissing sound filled the air.
From behind the house a massive white goose burst out. It was the size of a small dog, long neck, angry eyes. It barreled straight at Emma, beak open, wings flapping.
What the Emma leapt aside, dropping the perfume bag.
The goose didnt stop. It swooped at her with a fury she hadnt expected from a domestic bird, claws raking her calves, beak pecking at her shins. Emma tried to shut the car door, but the goose kept harrying her.
Andrew! she shouted, trying to dodge another swipe.
Andrew shuffled forward, but a booming laugh erupted from the porch loud, raucous, full of schadenfreude.
Oh, she didnt pass the test! Andrews mother cried, clutching her stomach from laughing. Look, look! Gosh has caught her out!
His sister snorted, clearly enjoying the spectacle. A real woman wouldnt be scared off by a goose, she taunted. Look at her, trembling in that fancy dress.
Andrews father fished out his phone and started filming, a grin spreading across his face as if this were the best entertainment of the month.
Andrew, do something! Emma pleaded, still being pecked and wingbuffeted.
Andrew moved again, waving his arms uncertainly. The goose paused for a heartbeat, then his mother barked at him: Dont interfere! Let Gosh sort it out! He knows the bad folks!
Andrew froze, glanced at his mother, then at Emma, and stepped back, retreating to the porch where the rest of his family lingered.
Emma slumped against the car, the goose cornering her. Her dress was splattered, red marks dotted her legs, her heels slipping on the uneven ground. She stared at Andrew, his mother, his sister, his father still filming, and a chill settled deep inside.
It was no accident. It was a test a cruel, mocking trial staged by Andrews family to put her in her place. And Andrew just stood there, doing nothing.
With a sudden burst of energy Emma dove back into the car. The goose pecked at the window for a few more seconds before losing interest and strolling away, head held high.
Andrew walked over, knocked on the window. Emma lowered the glass a few centimetres.
Svet, calm down, please, he said hurriedly. Its just a little family tradition. A quirky test for the bridetobe. Mum always does it.
Emma stared directly into his eyes, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. Inside, hurt, anger, disappointment boiled.
There wont be a wedding, she said softly, but clearly.
Andrew blinked, as if he hadnt heard.
What? Emma, what are you saying? It was just a joke
No wedding, she repeated, sliding the engagement ring off her finger and pushing it through the tiny opening in the window. Take it.
Youve gone mad! Andrew shouted, trying to open the door, but it was locked. Dont be foolish! Lets talk.
Theres nothing left to say.
She turned the engine on, the motor purred, the car shuddered. Andrew stood there, clutching the ring in his fist, bewildered. Emma put the car in reverse, pulled away, and the silhouettes of his family on the porch lingered in the rearview mirror, still laughing.
The first few miles she drove on autopilot, not noticing the scenery. Her hands trembled on the wheel, her heart pounding in her throat. Tears welled up, but she brushed them away. Shed cry later, at home now she just needed to get away.
By evening her phone blew up with calls. Andrew kept texting, apologising, begging for another chance. Emma read them, but didnt reply. Once she answered, heard his hurried, guilty voice, and hung up immediately.
A week later she blocked his number on every app, deleted photos of them together, threw away trinkets that reminded her of Andrew his shirt, his favourite book, the mug.
Life slipped back into its old rhythm: work, meetups with friends, the gym. She tried not to think about the goose, but sometimes, as she fell asleep, she still saw its angry eyes and heard his familys laughter.
A month later a mate mentioned shed heard the news: Andrew had married a village girl his mum liked straight away. No geese, no tests.
Emma listened, feeling a light relief. The goose, the familys cruel chuckle had shown her the truth before shed tied herself to them. She ran a finger over the spot where the ring had been, smiled, and thought, everything turned out as it should.
