“Vivienne Bryson…Viv—” Her eyes widen. “Oh…no, I um.”
“It’s okay. Your reaction is pretty standard whenever I tell people who my mother is.”
“Oh, no love. Don’t be daft. I’m sure I’m thinking of the wrong Vivienne. Braebeach is a big place.”
“Thanks for being so kind, Liz, but I think we both know you were thinking of the right one. I’m not completely blind to how my mother behaved in the past. I can deal with it.”
Mum’s lips press together in a hard line as if she wishes she could take everything back. Then her hand falls on top of Cal’s. She gives it a squeeze and a tight lip smile. They share this strange moment as if they’re talking to each other using their minds. Then from out of nowhere, Mum pipes up, “More tea?”
“Oh, no, thank you, Liz. I haven’t finished this one yet.” Calla’s eyes aren’t as alive as they were when she arrived until Mum says, “It’s okay, Calla. We don’t judge anyone here, my love.” I can tell Cal appreciates her words, and she replies with the sweetest shy smile. I can’t help myself now. When Mum goes to refill the kettle, regardless of anyone wanting tea or not, I kneel beside her, “Okay?”
Cal straightens herself up and plasters on another smile. “Yeah, I’m fine,” and in typical Cal style, she mouths, “Your mum is fabulous.” Christ, I love this girl. Her resilience is infectious.
A few hours later, the kitchen is full. Brett and Max turned up thirty minutes late, which didn’t impress Bernieone bit, in fact, he gave them a warning about having to up their game once we got on the road.
Dani is here of course. She’s in my bad books and knows it. I tried to speak to her about the stunt she pulled by asking Jade to join us at practise last week, but in true Dani style, she denied all knowledge. I dropped it and instead took a certain amount of pleasure in Dani trying, and failing, to sweet-talk Mum. She should know from her first experience; my mum doesn’t suffer fools gladly.
What I’m most happy about is how Mum has taken to Cal. They’ve talked non-stop and seem to agree on most things. From what I can tell, Dani isn’t happy about having her nose pushed out of their bonding session.
So here we are, stuffed into our kitchen. Mum runs around supplying tea while Cal plates up the cake. They make quite the team, and there’s an amazing energy in this tiny space; all the people I love or at least like, are here. While business gets done, I can’t help but focus on my girl. She reminds me of a butterfly spreading natural joy. She laughs with everyone, continually smiles and lights up the room. Occasionally, she glances my way, a small smile to her face, a slight blush to her cheek. She is gorgeous and all mine.
Bernie makes a big deal out of the band sitting at the tiny kitchen table in a line. He sets out the four separate piles of paper, one for each of us, and on each stack is a bunch of coloured post-it markers. We take the brand-new Mont-Blanc pens he insisted on buying us and turn over the first wedge of paper to find our first dotted line to sign. We decided we didn’t need Mr Bovey here in the end—signing is just a formality—but he has painstakingly written notes for each of us; what to read over and where we sign. This is the easy bit.
While we scribble our first signatures, Mum gets her phoneout. “Wait, Ashton, I want to mark the occasion.” We huddle in together, pens poised to the paper while she takes several photos, and Cal is doing the same just behind her. Probably because she doesn’t want to steal Mum's thunder. Typical Cal. Then, of course, Bernie and Dani want to get in on the act, so there’s more posing before we get on with the job in hand.
It takes a while to read the handwritten notes on each corner and sign each page, but we get there. When we do, Bernie holds up his finger. “Nearly forgot.” He steps outside the kitchen for a minute, only to return with a case of Champagne—Verve something, I’m not sure, but our first taste is when Bernie shakes the bottle and soaks us with the spray. Mum shouts, “I spent all morning cleaning this bloody kitchen,” and we all stop; scared stiff she’s got the hump. Thank God she’s the first to burst into laughter before we all follow suit.
We’re drenched, but once our glasses are filled for real, Bernie makes a short speech.
“Here’s to you, Koolum Law. I’m so glad we found you. Buckle up boys, you’re going to rule the world.”
Shouts and hollers fill the room, and I take Cal into my arms, holding her against my body. Briefly, our eyes connect before I kiss her beautiful lips. Suddenly, music blares from every corner of the room. Everyone is too busy dancing around the table to notice what we’re doing.
“This is it,” I say to Cal.
“This is it,” she repeats. You’re going to smash it Ash; I know you are.”
“Only if you’re beside me.”
“I might not always physically be there, but” she lays her palm over my heart, “I’ll always be here for you.”
Again, I kiss her, I can’t stop until Bernie breaks up theparty. “Enough you two. You're missing out on valuable drinking time.”
For an older guy, he knows how to pack his drink away and I’ve noticed him eyeing Mum up. Whatever he’s thinking, he can stop right now.
I’m relieved when Bernie’s phone chimes, he looks up at me, then back to it, then back to me. “I’ll be back, Ash; I have to get this.”
He heads out into the hall, the only people who notice are Cal and me. The other five, which fully includes my Mum, are having a fantastic time getting drunk.When Love Takes Over, a David Guetta track, blasts through the speaker. The room goes wild and I’m surprised when Mum sings the chorus. She’s pretty cool, but I had no idea she knew the words.
When we spill through from the kitchen into the hall, we find Bernie trying to finish his phone call. He keeps telling us to pipe down, but by this time, we’ve all had a few. We whisper sing while jumping around, and he can’t help but laugh. Even Dani seems relaxed. I like this side of her. She usually looks as if a broom handle has been stuck up her arse, but this Dani is actually enjoying herself. It also makes her the loudest person in the room, which is why Bernie takes the call outside.
We’re dancing to another classic, a club is being suggested, and Mum insists on leaving the youngsters to celebrate when Bernie finally returns. The first thing he does is turn off the music. We look at him like he’s an alien.
“Guys, I have something to say. It’s big, okay, so I want you sitting. I can’t afford for our artists to injure themselves at this point.”
“Fuck, Bernie, what is it?” Brett asks.
Admittedly, we’re a little worried. Bernie is trying to pull it together, and the colour has drained from his face.
