And then the server crashed, so we had to twiddle our thumbs for half a day while they got it back up! The order nearly went sideways can you imagine the loss?
Emma caught herself, once again, halflistening to Andrew. They were at a little tearoom right across from her office in Manchester. He was rambling about some new project at work, while she watched his fingers fidget with a napkin, wondering why after six months together she still hadnt met his family.
She was thirty that age when youve stopped flirting with romance and started craving a bit of certainty. Andrew was a decent bloke hardworking, attentive, reliable. A month ago hed popped the question in that very tearoom where theyd first met. Emma said yes, but a nervous knot settled in her stomach.
Whenever she tried to bring up his parents, Andrew slipped away. Hed change the subject to the weather, or claim something urgent had come up. Emma chalked it up to shyness perhaps he was embarrassed about his modest upbringing, or simply wasnt used to sharing personal details.
Listen, when am I finally going to meet your parents? Emma asked, pushing her cooling latte aside.
Andrew tensed. The napkin in his hand turned into a crumpled wad. He met her eyes, and a flicker of concern passed through them.
This weekend, well go, he said after a pause.
The joy that flooded Emmas chest drowned out all doubts. At last! She could already picture stepping into Andrews family home, his mother hugging her, calling her dear, and the three of them sipping tea with scones around a big oak table.
The days leading up to the weekend were a whirlwind of preparation. Emma scoured the three biggest shopping centres for the perfect presents. For Andrews mother she bought an elegant silk stole and a bottle of French perfume. For his dad she picked up a highquality tool set that any bloke would drool over. For his sister Lucy she snagged a stylish handbag she herself had been eyebathing for months.
On Saturday morning Emma rose at six to beat the rush. Shower, hair, a touch of makeup. She chose a sleek beige kneelength dress and classic heels you can never go wrong with a little timeless chic. In front of the mirror she twirled, appraised the result, and thought, Perfect. This is how a future daughterinlaw should look.
Andrew slipped into the car in silence. Emma turned the engine over and eased onto the motorway. The radio crooned something gentle, while roadside cafés and petrol stations flashed by the windows. Emma smiled, daydreaming about the meeting, while Andrew kept a tightlipped stare.
Whats with the sour look? Emma asked, giving him a quick glance. Nervous?
Emma, its just Andrew clenched his fists on his knees. Dont worry if anything goes pearshaped, alright?
She frowned, shifting gears.
What do you mean pearshaped? What could possibly go wrong?
Theyre particular, he muttered, turning his gaze to the window. Just keep that in mind.
Emma was about to prod further when the satnav announced a left turn. The village they were heading for was tiny maybe a dozen houses stretched along a single lane. The road weaved between sagging fences and garden patches. The GPS finally stopped in front of an ageing timber house with peeling paint on its shutters.
Emma killed the engine and looked around. The yard was a mess grass growing wild, a stack of firewood in one corner, rusty tools scattered by the outbuilding. She forced a smile. It wasnt about wealth; it was about people.
On the porch three figures waited a frazzled older woman in a wellworn robe, a man in a stretchedout Tshirt, and a twentysomething girl with a sour expression.
Well, look whos finally here, Andrews mother said, appraising Emma with a thin smile.
Emma stepped forward, extending her hand.
Good afternoon. Im delighted to finally meet you.
The mother gave a limp handshake. The father merely nodded. Lucy crossed her arms, narrowed her eyes, and said nothing.
Emma turned to the boot to fetch the gift bags. She popped the lid, leaned in for the parcels, and at that moment a loud hissing filled the air.
From behind the house burst a massive white goose. It was the size of a small dog, with a long, twisting neck and menacing eyes. The bird swooped straight at Emma, beak open, wings flaring.
What the Emma leapt to the side, dropping the perfume bag.
The goose didnt pause. It barreled at her with a fury she hadnt expected from a domestic bird. Its wings slapped her legs, its beak pecked at her calves. Emma staggered, tried to shut the car door, but the goose pursued her relentlessly.
Andrew! Emma shrieked, dodging another lunge.
Andrew took an unsure step forward, only to be cut off by a boisterous laugh.
Oh, she didnt pass the test! Andrews mother roared, clutching her belly with mirth. Look, look! Gos has hauled her out in the open!
Lucy snorted, clearly delighted by the spectacle.
A real woman wouldnt be scared of a goose, she taunted. Shes cowering like a mouse in a fancy dress.
Andrews father whipped out his phone and started filming, his face lit up like a kid at a fair.
Andrew, do something! Emma shouted, fighting the bird, which kept coming back for more pecks and wingsmacks.
Andrew swung his arms weakly at the goose. For a second the bird was distracted, but his mother called out sharply:
Dont interfere! Let Gos handle it! He knows the bad ones!
Andrew froze, stared at his mother, then at Emma, and obediently stepped back, retreating to the porch where his family lingered.
Emma leaned against the car, the goose cornering her. Her dress was smeared, her shoes slipping on the uneven ground, red bite marks decorating her calves. She looked at the smug family mother, sister, father filming and felt a chill settle in her bones.
They were humiliating her on purpose. It wasnt a mishap; it was a test. A cruel, mocking trial set up by Andrews clan to put her in her place. And Andrew just stood there, doing nothing.
With a sudden burst of panic Emma dived back into the car. The goose pecked at the window for a few seconds longer, then lost interest and strutted away across the yard.
Andrew approached the vehicle, rapped on the window. Emma lowered the glass a few centimetres.
Emma, calm down, please, he said hurriedly. Its just a little family tradition. A quirky rite of passage for brides. Mum always does it.
Emma stared straight into his eyes. Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Inside, hurt, anger, and 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, Emma repeated, slipping the engagement ring off her finger and pushing it through the tiny opening in the window. Take it.
Youve gone mad! Andrew tried to open the door, but it was locked. Emma, dont be foolish! Lets talk this through!
Theres nothing left to say.
She turned the key, the engine growled, the car shuddered. Andrew lingered, clutching the ring in his fist. Emma reversed, backed out of the drive, and sped toward the exit. In the rearview mirror the familys silhouettes lingered on the porch, still chuckling.
The first few miles she drove on autopilot, barely registering the countryside. Her hands trembled on the wheel, her heart thudded in her throat. Tears welled up, but she brushed them away. Shed cry later, at home; for now she just needed to get away.
That evening her phone rang off the hook. Andrew called again and again, sent apologetic texts, begged for another chance. Emma read them but didnt reply. Once she answered, heard his hurried, guilty voice, and instantly hung up.
A week later she blocked his number on every messenger, deleted the photos of them together, tossed away the little keepsakes his Tshirt, the book hed lent her, the coffee mug.
Life slipped back into its usual rhythm: work, coffee with friends, the gym. She tried not to dwell on the incident, though sometimes, as she drifted off to sleep, the gooses angry eyes and the familys cackles replayed behind her eyelids.
A month later a friend mentioned something shed heard over the grapevine. Andrew had married a village girl his mother approved of straight away. No geese, no tests.
Emma listened, feeling a lightness rather than pain. That goose, that family, their cruel humour had shown her the truth before shed tied her life to theirs. She brushed her finger over where the ring had been, smiled, and thought how right it all turned out to be.
