The Right Time (9 page)

Liz meandered over next to Emma. ‘Look at Evie, staring into space. Something's not right with her today. What was she talking to you about earlier, outside?'

‘It was weird,' said Emma, shaking her head. ‘She wanted to know if Blake or I had done it with anyone else – since we've been together.'

Liz frowned. ‘Seriously? That's an odd thing to ask.'

‘You're telling me,' she agreed. ‘I don't know, I think she's been really shaken up by Ellen's news. Maybe it's made her suspicious of Craig.'

They both automatically searched out Craig. He was standing in a circle with their dad and a couple of their dad's old colleagues, beer in hand, scratching his belly and looking way out of his depth.

‘I don't think she's got anything to worry about there,' Liz muttered.

Her gaze drifted across to Tim, and Liz wondered if there had been anything going on . . . Nah. Not Tim. He was too much the solid family type, not the womaniser type, or even the type with something to hide. She wondered if people ever suspected Andrew . . . probably not. He was a solid family type as well. She missed having him at things like this. She often fantasised about it, imagined herself sidling up to him as he stood in a group, slipping her arm into his. Her dad would love him, they were quite similar in a lot of ways. He'd appreciate being able to have a real, muscular conversation; his other sons-in-law left a lot to be desired in that respect. One day . . .

‘Tim's still hanging around,' Emma observed. ‘I thought he wasn't staying for the whole thing?'

‘I guess he's probably waiting for the speeches, to be polite.'

‘Who's giving the toast, by the way?'

Liz shrugged, just as their father tapped his glass with a fork to get everybody's attention. ‘I'd say we're about to find out,' she said.

‘Evelyn and I couldn't be happier that you're all here to celebrate this momentous occasion with us.' He turned to gaze down at his wife. ‘Forty years with this amazing woman. The love of my life who I was lucky enough to meet before I did anything stupid, like marry someone else.'

Emma listened as her father launched into his standard speech. Oh, he'd change it around a bit, mix up the anecdotes, but it was basically the same speech every time. At least he was an entertaining speaker; all those years as a teacher, then a principal, had honed his public speaking skills. He was recounting how they had met, which certainly bore repeating on this occasion. It was at teachers' college . . .

‘Of course, I spotted her straight away, all the boys did, but she didn't notice any of us.'

Her mother was shaking her head and giving him a nudge, though there was a coy smile playing around her lips. The fact
was she had been quite the looker in her day; she was still a very attractive woman, but she'd got lost somewhere in the sixties and had a touch of the old hippie about her. Her hair was shoulder-length and grey right through, though it did suit her, and she was fond of kaftan-type dresses and tops, scarves and beads and big dangly earrings, in orange, purple and emerald. Emma would have loved to rein her in, she could be so elegant if she only refined her look a little.

‘So I had to rely on sheer wit to get her attention,' her dad was saying, and fortunately, that was something he had in spades. He was also a very handsome man, certainly he had aged well. The two of them had remained blissfully in love for forty years. It was the real thing. Emma wondered if people could see that in her and Blake.

‘We can't talk about the success of our marriage without talking about our children,' Edward continued.

Ah, he'd decided to go in reverse order this time, starting with the joke about Eddie being their favourite son.

‘. . . I can get away with saying that because he's our one and only.'

Now he would move onto Evie, what a sweet girl she had always been, what a beautiful wife and mother she had become.

‘Evie and Craig are the very picture of good old-fashioned domestic bliss . . .'

Evie was crying, which wasn't unusual in itself, she was always emotional at times like this. But she was actually sobbing. Craig put his arm around her, and then Emma witnessed something she had never seen before – Evie shrugged him off. What on earth was going on with those two?

‘Which brings us to Elizabeth. Now, have I mentioned our Liz is a doctor?'

Oh, here we go. His line got the intended laugh, with one guest calling out in response, ‘Once or twice.'

There followed a homage to Liz . . . her extraordinary intelligence, ability, compassion . . . Emma stifled a yawn.

‘And just look at our beautiful Emma, standing over there. Always so immaculate, so poised, never a hair out of place.'

Was that the best they could ever say about her? The highest
compliment? That she was pretty? Praising your children's good looks was a bit self-congratulatory, it seemed to Emma. She actually resembled her mother most strongly, that's why her dad was always making such a fuss about her looks. But she had been born with this face, and while she did work hard at looking her best, Emma didn't see that as an accomplishment, it was just good grooming. Her parents never talked about what she did, her achievements, her successful career; she doubted they even thought of it as a career.

‘And finally we come to Ellen, our eldest, the girl who made parents out of us in the first place. I don't think a day has gone by that she hasn't made us proud. A career teacher in the public school system, she has the kind of integrity and commitment and values that have resulted in the two exemplary individuals we are proud to call our beautiful grandchildren, Kate and Sam. And now you'll be pleased, and no doubt relieved, that I'm going to shut up and hand the proceedings over to Ellen, who is going to propose the toast for us.'

Ellen had been standing over to one side, and she moved in closer beside her parents. ‘I met Mum and Dad in the usual way,' she began. ‘I was quite young, inexperienced in the ways of the world. So I thought I'd better hook up with some people who knew what they were doing . . .'

‘Ellen always gets asked to speak,' Emma muttered aside to Blake, who had come to stand behind her as the speeches began. ‘I give presentations to hundreds of people all the time, but am I ever asked?'

He just squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. It didn't matter anyway. Emma slipped her hand into her clutch purse and felt for her engagement ring. She hadn't worn it here, of course, or she would have spoiled the surprise. She had planned the precise moment to make the announcement, just after the toast, as her parents prepared to cut the cake. Once the cake was cut everyone would disperse, and she didn't want their announcement to seem like an afterthought. They were going to step up to the front, and Emma was going to say, ‘Actually, before we go on, Blake and I have some news.' The buzz would be immediate, everyone would be guessing babies, weddings . . . Emma had pictured herself, one
hand in Blake's, while her parents held her free hand in both of theirs, their eyes shining, bursting with anticipation.

But as she stepped forward, her arm linked in Blake's, and the words came out of her mouth, she saw the expression on her mother's face, her lips set in a grim line, her eyes with that look she used to get whenever they had visitors and one of the children went to take a piece of cake before the guests. Her eyes were saying,
Don't you dare
, but barely perceptibly; only her children could read that look.

Emma froze.

‘What the news, darling?' her father prompted.

She stirred, glancing around at all the eyes on her, though avoiding her mother's. ‘Um, well,' Emma swallowed. She took a breath. She could do this, she was going to do this. She had every right.

‘Blake and I are engaged.'

She didn't really hear the happy cry and burst of applause, she only saw her mother's forced smile as she lifted her glass with everyone else.

‘Well, let me be the first to say it's about time, because I'm sure I'm not going to be the last,' her dad declared, but he said it with a twinkle in his eye. ‘To Blake and Emma.'

‘Blake and Emma.'

‘Well, we'd best get this cake cut,' her mother said briskly.

The guests swarmed around Emma and Blake, congratulating them, but it was all a blur. As soon as she was able, Emma extracted herself from the throng and darted towards the kitchen. As she went through the door, she felt a firm hand on her arm. Emma turned and her mother propelled her into the kitchen, bringing her face close. ‘Honestly Emma, how could you?'

‘What?'

‘Don't play innocent,' she said, her voice low. ‘All these years, no word of getting married, and then you decide to spring it on us today. How could you do that to your sister, with everything she's going through?'

Emma could feel tears stinging her eyes. ‘I don't know what you mean.'

‘Of course you do, you knew exactly what you were doing,'
she said, releasing her arm. ‘Rubbing your poor sister's face in it. I hope you're happy.'

Emma turned away and rushed to the back door as she heard her name called. But she didn't stop, she pushed on the door and disappeared outside.

‘Mum, what did you say to her?'

Evelyn turned to see both Ellen and Liz looking expectantly at her.

‘Say to whom?'

‘Mum!' Ellen groaned. ‘Cut it out. What did you say to Emma?'

‘Nothing . . .'

Her daughters just stared at her.

‘I only said, or
suggested
, that maybe this wasn't the best time to make her announcement.'

‘Why not?'

‘It didn't seem very sensitive to me, in light of recent developments.'

‘Mum . . .' Ellen sighed, pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose.

‘I'll go,' said Liz as she headed for the back door. She pushed it open and walked through, and as the door swung back behind her with a familiar thwack, Liz was overcome by a wave of nostalgia. Summer holidays, the heat, the cicadas, the smell in the air, same as it ever was, she thought now, breathing it in. The backyard had been their playground, their own private world when they were little. It was huge, a developer's dream, you could probably fit half-a-dozen townhouses back here. Thank God her parents would rather be carried out in their respective boxes than see a developer get their hands on the place.

Liz slipped off her shoes and left them on the back verandah. She wanted to feel the cool, spongy grass under her feet as she wandered down into the depths of the yard towards the ancient jacaranda, where she could just see the back of Emma's head through the foliage.

‘Hey Em,' she announced, so she wouldn't startle her.

Emma didn't respond, didn't turn around. Liz circled the tree
and came to stand in front of her. Emma was perched on a lowlying bough, her back straight, her legs crossed elegantly, dabbing at her cheeks with a white lace handkerchief.

‘Are you all right?' Liz asked her.

She sniffed. ‘Sure. Why wouldn't I be? I'm engaged,' she said flatly.

‘Congratulations,' Liz offered.

‘She hates me. My own mother despises me.'

‘She doesn't hate you,' Liz sighed, leaning against a higher bough. ‘You know Mum, she just worries about everyone's feelings.'

‘Well, she wasn't too worried about mine just then.'

‘It's okay, Len is putting her back in her box right now.'

Emma barely nodded, staring down at the grass at her feet.

‘So show me the ring,' Liz tried next.

She folded her arms, tucking her hands out of sight. ‘What makes you think I have a ring already?'

‘Because I was nearly blinded a moment ago when you had your hand up to your face.'

Liz detected a hint of a smile as Emma lifted her hand and held it out for her sister.

‘Oh my God, that is a ring,' Liz declared.

It had to be close to a couple of carats but it was dead classy, a simple, brilliant-cut whopper set in platinum.

‘I know, isn't it beautiful?' Emma sighed. ‘It's Tiffany, exactly the ring I've wanted for as long as I can remember.'

‘So you picked it out together?'

‘No,' she denied. ‘Blake surprised me. The whole thing came totally out of the blue.'

‘So how did he know what ring to get you?' asked Liz.

Emma waved her hand dismissively. ‘This is
the
Tiffany setting. It's all I've ever wanted. Blake knew that.'

Just then Ellen appeared around the perimeter of the tree and walked over to join them. ‘I'm really sorry about that, Emma.'

She shrugged. ‘It wasn't your fault.'

‘Mum was just trying to protect me,' Ellen explained. ‘You know what she's like. But I told her she was being ridiculous, it's not like I'm anti-love and marriage all of a sudden. Good news
is good news, there's barely enough of it to go around without playing it down.'

Emma lifted her eyes then to meet Ellen's. ‘I wasn't trying to –'

‘I know, and I told Mum that,' Ellen assured her. ‘I'm really happy for you, Em.'

She gave her a small smile. ‘Thank you.'

‘So can I see the ring, please?'

Her face broke into a proper smile then, as she held her hand out and Ellen took it. Ellen gave a low whistle. ‘Oh my God.'

‘Let me see, let me see.' It was Evie, trotting down the yard towards them, breathless as ever.

‘It's all right, Evie, take your time, we're not going anywhere,' Liz assured her.

She gasped when she laid eyes on the ring. ‘Oh, Emma, it's so beautiful, it's the most beautiful ring I've ever seen!'

‘Isn't it?' Emma said proudly. ‘It's exactly the one I've always wanted.'

‘So how long have you been planning this?' asked Ellen.