Chapter 2: The Last Supper

When I felt I had spent enough time hidden away, I got out of bed and resolved myself to join the others. On the way down, I stopped off at the bathroom on the west side of the north wing. After washing my face with a splash of alarmingly cool water, I caught a glimpse of my sandy blonde hair and realised that it had gotten rather tussled from my nap. I briefly considered fixing it properly but settled, after quick consideration, on a simple pat-down with the hand.

Most of the girls and mum were gathered in the kitchen, fervently discussing something or other and the boys had begun to congregate in the lounge room. Cory and Matthew had become completely absorbed in a conversation about Matthew’s brand new television. All of the families of the people here were relatively well-to-do, except for Alison’s of course, so it's hardly a surprise Matthew’s had picked up the latest technology. I couldn’t understand the considerable envy Cory was expressing, however. The theatre was far superior to some small box viewed in the home! Here in this cabin, it was best to read books, to converse deeply and to enjoy wine. That’s what I planned to spend my night doing, anyway.

Andrew sat next to Matthew, chiming in on their conversation and Jacob sat on his own with a one person gap between himself and Cory. It didn’t look like he was able to join in on their conversation. I was not touching that - time to go to the kitchen!

I approached Alison as she talked with the others. She turned to smile warmly at me.

“If it’s flower arrangements you want, you really can do no better, Christine!” Sybil enthused.

“It’s Christina,” Christina corrected flatly. “We really haven’t thought that much about it yet. The wedding’s not for another two months.”

“What do you mean? You haven’t even thought about flower arrangements yet?” Sybil seemed offended to the point of fainting upon hearing this. 

My mother looked between the two and, sensing the potential for conflict, decided to comment. “I’m sure Christina wants to discuss these things with her own mother and sisters, right Christina?”

“I just don’t see what the big fuss is about.” Christina said and Sybil looked like someone had just vomited on her shoe. “They’re just flowers. If they’re brightly coloured, everyone’ll be happy.”

Christina has always been a somewhat gloomy person. At first, I hadn’t understood what drew Andrew to her so much. Beautiful as she was, her personality could sometimes be frightful. When Andrew announced their engagement, Mother didn’t mind. The “Horton” family name seemed to act as some kind of enchantment, bewitching her into enthusiastic compliance. I needed some more convincing and the beginning of our relationship was rocky because of it. I did feel guilty. Christina was simply a different person than most I knew, and Andrew really did love her. Sybil probably just needed some time to adjust too. 

“Well, I hope you consider it more over this trip!” said Sybil only somewhat indignantly, which was a grand achievement for her considering the horror she demonstrated with her previous expressions. “You only get to get married once, you know.”

“Like you’d know, Syl,” Iris teased. “When was the last time you had a boyfriend? Primary school?”

Iris, like my mother, had a penchant for not letting tensions lie in a conversation. Unlike my mother, however, Iris seemed to have a genuine knack for it. Sybil rolled her eyes at her sister and chanced a quick glance in my direction but I ignored it as best I could. Luckily, nobody seemed to suspect anything. Because Sybil and I used to date, I often felt somewhat apprehensive around her, despite how short lived and how long ago that relationship was. Not many people, not even Iris, knew about it. It was in my best interests to keep quiet with my new fiance standing right next to me. I looked at Alison and smiled. I trust Sybil to keep the decorum that’s becoming of a young woman but I still felt a flit of anxiety from time to time in moments like this.

“Sybil is a fine girl and she’ll meet the right man when the time comes,” my mother proclaims, triumphantly.

“Thank you, Mrs Cross,” Sybil says in exaggerated relief. My mother smiles back at her. “I don’t need to rush into anything right now. I’m only 23!”

“Don’t think like that! While it's true you should wait for the right man, you can’t wait too long. Just think, if you stay single for too many more years, you might find it impossible to marry!” my mother had meant this kindly, but Sybil flinched for a microsecond in response. “Oh, but I’m sure your wedding would have the best arrangements!”

Rebecca, who was standing on the other side of Alison from me, leaned in close to her and whispered something, no doubt something devilish, and Alison had to hold back her laughter. I felt a pang of jealousy but held it back. Girls were simply close like this sometimes. There was no reason to worry. Still, they had known each other for so long that they could communicate by a means that I had no method to understand. One couldn’t help but find themselves a little alienated at times.

Mother turned her attention to Alison now, perhaps the noise her and Rebecca had made alerted her to their presence. “Speaking of weddings, do you think your family's farm would be able to provide some fresh produce when you and Walter get married?”

Alison considers this question for a while, before responding with a great big smile. “Of course! You know, it’s primarily a cattle farm, but we do keep a lovely veggie garden.” I understood this as a joke, being very familiar with Alison’s personality. I was half surprised she didn’t say something along the lines of “Well we could provide plenty of milk and eggs!”

“Maybe we could use one of your prize chooks, Hen.” I say teasingly.

Alison spins around, hand on her chest and mouth open in an exaggerated display of mock offense. “And who, dare I ask, would you have me sacrifice!?”

“The fat one,” I say, grinning widely.

“Not Louise!” Alison cried. “She still has so many eggs left to lay. She’s too young to become chicken nuggets!”

Mother, being more conservative than I was, always felt just a little bit uncomfortable when Alison was joking around near her. When she was sober anyway. After a couple of glasses of wine, she joined in on the revelry. She let herself smile this time though.

“Perhaps we’ll have to look elsewhere for catering,” she breathed.

Alison beamed at her. “Don’t worry, Mrs Cross. We’ll make sure everything is perfect!”

The two of them continued into a sincere conversation about the wedding. It warmed my heart to see my mum and fiance getting along so well - made me hopeful for the future. I imagined a day when the five of us: mum, Andrew and Christina, Alison and me could all sit together and talk as a family. I imagined kids running around and Mother both struggling with and loving being a grandmother. The thought made me wish we could get married tomorrow instead.