Then the server crashed and we were stuck half a day waiting for it to be rebooted! The order almost fell through can you imagine the loss?
Eleanor Whitaker caught herself once more listening to Andrew halfheartedly. They were in a small tearoom opposite her office in Shoreditch, his voice drifting over another project at work. She watched his fingers fidget with a napkin and realised that after six months together she still hadnt been introduced to his family.
She was thirty, an age when the romance of endless flirtation has given way to a craving for certainty. Andrew was a solid sort diligent, attentive, reliable. A month earlier he had proposed in the very tearoom where they first met. Eleanor said yes, but a knot of anxiety settled deep inside.
Whenever she tried to steer the conversation toward his parents, Andrew slipped away a comment about the weather, an urgent call, a sudden need to leave. She chalked it up to shyness; perhaps he was embarrassed by his modest upbringing or simply unused to sharing his private life.
Andrew, when will I finally meet your parents? Eleanor asked, pushing her cooling cup of tea aside.
Andrews shoulders tightened. The napkin in his hand turned into a crumpled wad. He met her gaze, a flash of worry flickering in his eyes.
Well go this weekend, he said after a pause.
Relief rushed through Eleanors chest like a tide. At last! She imagined stepping into his parents cottage, being embraced by his mother, being called dear, sharing tea and scones around a big oak table.
The days leading up to the weekend were spent hunting for the perfect presents. She scoured three shopping centres for gifts that would impress. For Andrews mother she bought a luxurious silk scarf and a bottle of French perfume. For his father a highquality toolbox any man would drool over. For his sister Lucy, a chic handbag shed been eyeing herself.
On Saturday morning she rose at six, gave herself time for a shower, hair, makeup. She slipped into a sleek beige kneelength dress and classic heels the kind of timeless elegance a future daughterinlaw needs. In front of the mirror she twirled, assessing the result. Perfect.
Andrew got into the car in silence. Eleanor turned the engine over, merged onto the M25. Soft, melancholy music drifted from the radio as roadside cafés and fuel stations flickered by. She smiled, picturing the upcoming meeting, while Andrew kept his jaw clenched.
You look gloomy, Eleanor said, glancing at him. Nervous?
Eleanor, its just Andrew clenched his fists on his knees. Dont worry if something goes wrong, alright?
She frowned, shifting gears.
What do you mean goes wrong? she asked. What could possibly go wrong?
Theyre particular, he muttered, turning his head toward the window. Just be prepared.
Before she could probe further, the satnav announced a left turn. The village they were heading for was barely a hamlet a handful of houses lined a single lane. The road wound past leaning fences and overgrown gardens until it stopped at an old timber cottage, its shutters peeling.
Eleanor killed the engine and stepped out. The yard was untended grass everywhere, a stack of firewood in the corner, rusty tools by the shed. She forced a smile; it wasnt wealth she cared about, but the people.
On the porch three figures waited: an elderly woman in a faded housecoat, a man in a stretchedout Tshirt, and a twentysomething girl with a sour expression.
Finally youre here, said Andrews mother, Margaret, eyeing Eleanor with a measuring glance.
Eleanor stepped forward, extending her hand.
Hello. Its a pleasure to finally meet you.
Margaret gave a halfhearted shake. James, the father, merely nodded. Lucy crossed her arms, stared, and said nothing.
Eleanor turned back to the car to fetch the gift bags. She opened the boot, reached for the parcels, and at that moment a loud hiss split the air.
From behind the cottages side a massive white goose burst out. It was the size of a small dog, neck twisted like a rope, eyes gleaming with malice. The bird barreled straight at Eleanor, its beak wide open, wings snapping.
What the Eleanor leapt aside, dropping the perfume bag.
The goose didnt pause. It lunged with a fury Eleanor had never imagined a farm bird could muster. Its wings slapped her calves, its beak nicked her shins. She tried to close the car door, but the beast pursued, giving her no respite.
Andrew! she shouted, ducking another vicious swipe.
Andrew stepped forward uncertainly, just as a boisterous laugh erupted from the porch.
Oh, it didnt pass the test! Margaret cried, clutching her belly with laughter. Look, look! Little Gosh has exposed her!
Lucy sneered, relishing the spectacle.
A real woman wouldnt be scared of a goose, she said contemptuously. Shes trembling in her fancy dress.
James fished a phone from his pocket and started recording, his face lit with mirth as if this were the best entertainment of the month.
Andrew, do something! Eleanor pleaded, trying to fend off the relentless bird.
Andrew moved forward, hands outstretched, but Margaret snapped at him.
Dont interfere! Let Gosh handle it! He can smell bad people!
Andrew froze, eyes flicking between his mother, the goose, and Eleanor. He stepped back, then turned and walked toward the porch where his family stood.
Eleanor pressed her back against the car, the gooses beak still thudding against the glass. Her dress was speckled with mud, her shoes slipping on the uneven ground, crimson marks blooming on her calves. She stared at the family mother laughing, sister smirking, father filming and a cold dread settled deep inside.
It wasnt a random prank. It was a test, a cruel, humiliating trial set by Andrews family to put her in her place. Andrew stood by, doing nothing.
With a desperate shove, Eleanor dove into the car. The goose pecked at the pane a few more times before losing interest and sauntering away, proud as a rooster.
Andrew approached the window, knocked lightly. Eleanor lowered the glass a few centimetres.
Eleanor, calm down, please, he said hurriedly. Its just a tradition of ours. A little character test for the bride. Mum always does it.
Eleanor met his eyes. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel. Anger, hurt, disappointment boiled inside.
There will be no wedding, she said quietly, but firmly.
Andrew blinked, as if he hadnt heard.
What? Eleanor, what are you saying? It was just a joke
No wedding, she repeated, sliding the engagement ring off her finger and holding it up through the crack. Take it.
Youve gone mad! Andrew shouted, trying to open the door, only to find it locked. Dont be foolish! Lets talk!
Theres nothing left to say.
She turned the key, the engine roared, and the car lurched forward. Andrew stood there, bewildered, clutching the ring. Eleanor backed out, the familys silhouettes lingering on the porch, still chuckling.
The first kilometres she drove in a daze, the countryside rolling past unnoticed. Her hands trembled on the wheel, her heart thudding in her throat. Tears welled, but she brushed them away. She would weep later, not now.
That evening her phone rang incessantly. Andrew called over and over, left messages begging forgiveness, pleading for another chance. She listened once, heard the hurried, guilty tone, and hung up.
A week later she blocked his number on every app, deleted every photo of them together, tossed away his Tshirt, the book hed lent her, the coffee mug.
Life slipped back into its routine work, brunches with friends, the gym. She tried not to think about the goose, but sometimes, as she drifted to sleep, its angry eyes flashed behind her lids, accompanied by the echo of his familys cruel laughter.
A month later a friend mentioned a rumor shed heard: Andrew had married a village girl his mother approved instantly. No geese, no tests.
Eleanor listened, feeling a strange lightness. The goose, the humiliation, the familys mockery had shown her the truth before she ever tangled her life with theirs. She brushed her finger over the spot where the ring had sat, smiled, and thought, Everything fell into place.
