Page 24 of The Wedding Cake Wish
And then we’re all disrobing, giggling like schoolgirls andpicking our way across the grass to slide, shrieking, into the shockingly coldwater. Even Primrose takes off her sandals and perches on an over-hanging tree,swinging her feet in the river.
‘I’ve always quite fancied having a water birth,’ she jokes.
‘Don’t you dare go into labour here!’ calls Jaz. ‘This isthe most fun I’ve had in ages. Oh, my God, but it’sfreezing!’
‘It’s lovely, though,’ laughs Ellie, dipping right under sothat only her head is above the water. ‘Stop being such a wuss, Jaz, and getwet. Then it won’t feel so cold.’ She rises up from the water and splashes Jaz,giving her a thorough soaking, and Jaz squeals in mock fury, pinches her nose,squeezes her eyes shut and bobs down, disappearing right under the water.
When she emerges a few seconds later, spluttering andcoughing, I take it as my cue to do the same. As I plunge right under, thechill water sets my nerve endings zinging and when I burst back up, laughing,and see the happy faces of my friends around me, a feeling of bliss rushesthrough me.
This is so much better than sitting in a posh restaurant,playing the part of the happy bride-to-be! I’ll take a relaxed time like thisany day of the week, with all my best friends around me, fooling around andhaving fun...
‘Where’s Mum?’ I glance around as we all leave the river alittle while later and rush for our clothes. She’s nowhere to be seen. Howcould I have forgotten about her? ‘Did anyone see where she went?’
‘She was standing on the path watching us last time Ilooked, so she can’t have gone far,’ says Madison, squeezing water out of herlong hair.
‘I brought a couple of towels to sit on,’ says Primrose,pulling them out of her bag. ‘For the picnic. But you might as well use them toget dry.’
‘Maybe Marjery’s gone for a walk,’ suggests Ellie, who –like everyone – is now grabbing for a go of one of Primrose’s towels, slippingout of her wet undies and pulling her clothes back on. ‘We’ll go and find her.’
‘No, it’s okay. You finish getting dressed. I’ll go.’
Pushing my damp feet into my flats, I set off back along thepath to the road. Music and laughter is drifting over on the summer air fromsome kind of party that’s taking place on the other side of the river. When Iget to the bridge and Mum’s not there, panic rises inside me.
Where is she?
The road is deserted in both directions, so she must havecontinued along the river path, which is accessible from the other side of theroad. My heart beating faster, I cross over and hurry down the matching set ofstone steps, back to the riverbank. Peering along the path, I can see no signat all of Mum, although the path, following the course of the river, takes asharp bend to the right about a hundred yards in the distance. Quickening mypace, I’m breathing heavily by the time I finally round the bend. But there’sstill no sign of her and the path ahead is eerily deserted in the half-light.
I stand there, my heart banging against my ribs, gripped bya terrible fear. There’s a copse of trees rising up on my right, a spookypresence in the half-darkness – stark and black, like sinister guardians of theriver.
‘Mum?Mum?’ I call out urgently, then I standperfectly still, listening for a response. But all I can hear is the menacingwhisper of the trees rustling in the breeze. And then suddenly a ghostly figuresteps out of the trees onto the path in front of me, and my heart leaps into mymouth.
A second later, realising it’s her, my shoulders relax asshe walks towards me. ‘Thank goodness! Oh, Mum, I didn’t know where you’d gotto.’
‘I’m fine.’ She reaches me but instead of stopping, shecarries on, walking right past me, arms folded tightly over her stomach. ‘I wasonly away a few minutes. I’m surprised you even noticed I’d gone.’
I stare after her. There’s something about the urgency ofher walk that seems odd. ‘Mum, wait for me.’ I hurry after her, having to breakinto a little run to catch up.
‘Are you okay, Mum? Why were you in the woods? Did you getlost?’
‘No, of course I wasn’t lost. Come on, Fen. Catch up. Yourfather’s coming to collect me. He might be there already.’
I hurry after her. ‘You’re leaving? But we’re about to havethe picnic.’
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘Can’t you stay for a little while?’ We’re climbing thesteps, back to the road. ‘Look, Dad’s not here yet. So why not come and havesome food before you go?’
She shakes her head, looking determined. ‘I’ll just waithere. You go back and enjoy yourself.’
‘I’ll wait with you.’
‘You don’t have to do that.’ She looks away, at the approachof car headlights, and starts walking towards them, as if she can’t wait to beaway from the place. ‘That’ll be him now.’
‘Okay. Right, well, sorry tonight didn’t work out, Mum.Maybe we could do it again another night?’
She turns. ‘Maybe we could.’
‘You know, I’m having a brilliant time anyway,’ I tell her,running to catch her up. ‘This is my idea of heaven. Being out in thecountryside, swimming in the river with friends, just having a really relaxingtime. So even though the meal had to be cancelled, it’s turned out to be afabulous evening as far as I’m concerned.’
