It was years ago, and I still recall how the whole thing unraveled. Wed been waiting all morning for the mainframe at the office to come back online after it crashed; half a day passed before the technicians finally got it running again. The order nearly fell through, and I can still picture the losses wed have faced.
Ethel found herself, once more, listening to Edward halfheartedly. They sat in a little tea shop opposite her workplace, and he drifted on about a new project at the firm. She watched his fingers fidget with a napkin, and the thought struck her that after six months together she still hadnt met his family.
She was thirty, an age when the whimsical games of romance no longer appealed and what one wanted was certainty. Edward was a good sort of manhardworking, attentive, reliable. A month earlier he had proposed right there in the same tea shop where theyd first met. Ethel had said yes, yet an unease settled deep inside her.
Every time she tried to bring up his parents, Edward would steer the conversation awaytalking about the weather, suddenly remembering an urgent matter. She chalked it up to shyness; perhaps he was embarrassed about his modest upbringing or simply unused to sharing his private life.
When will I finally meet your parents? Ethel asked, pushing aside a cup of cooling tea.
Edward tensed. The napkin in his hand crumpled into a tight ball. He lifted his gaze to her and a flicker of worry passed through his eyes.
This weekend well go, he said after a pause.
Joy burst through Ethels chest, washing away all doubts. At last! She imagined stepping into Edwards family home, his mother clasping her in an embrace and calling her dear, them all sharing tea and scones around a large oak table.
The days leading up to the weekend were spent in preparation. She prowled three shopping centres for the perfect gifts. For Edwards mother she bought a costly silk shawl and a bottle of French perfume; for his father, a quality set of tools any man would covet; for his sister, a stylish handbag she herself had been eyeing for ages.
On Saturday morning Ethel rose at six, hurried through a shower, hair styling, makeup. She chose an elegant beige tealength dress and a pair of classic heelsalways a safe bet for a future daughterinlaw. In front of the mirror she twirled, inspected herself, and thought, Perfect.
Edward slipped into the car without a word. Ethel turned the key, pulled onto the Aroad while a soft ballad drifted from the radio. Roadside cafés and service stations flickered past the window. She smiled, dreaming of the meeting, while Edward kept a tightlipped silence.
Whats the matter, you look grim? she asked, casting a quick glance his way. Nervous?
Just, Edward clenched his fists on his lap. Dont worry if anything goes wrong, alright?
She frowned, shifting gears.
What do you mean goes wrong? What could possibly go wrong?
Well, theyre particular, he muttered, turning toward the window. Just keep that in mind.
Ethel wanted to press further, but the GPS announced a left turn. The village they were heading for was a tiny hamletno more than a dozen houses strung along a single lane. The road weaved between crooked fences and garden plots, finally stopping before an old wooden cottage whose shutters were peeling.
She turned off the engine and looked around. The yard was overgrown; grass grew in wild clumps, a pile of firewood loomed in a corner, and rusty tools lay beside the shed. Yet she forced a smilewealth mattered little; people mattered more.
On the porch already stood three figures: an elderly woman in a threadbare dressing gown, a man in a stretchedout shirt, and a twentysomething daughter with a sour expression.
Here you are, the woman said, eyeing Ethel with a measuring glance.
Ethel stepped forward, extending her hand. Good afternoon. Its a pleasure to finally meet you.
The mothers handshake was weak, the father merely nodded, and the sister crossed her arms, squinting as if deciding whether to bother replying.
Ethel turned back to the car to retrieve the gift bags from the boot. She opened the trunk, leaned in, and at that instant a sharp hissing filled the air.
From behind the cottage burst a massive white goose, as large as a small dog, its neck twisted and eyes gleaming malevolently. It lunged straight at Ethel, beak wide, wings flaring.
What on earth Ethel leapt aside, knocking a perfume bottle from her hand.
The goose didnt pause. It barreled at her with a fury she hadnt expected from a barnyard bird. Its wings slapped at her legs, its beak clamped painfully on her calves. Ethel staggered, tried to shut the car door, but the bird pursued her relentlessly.
Edward! she screamed, trying to dodge another swipe.
Edward took an uncertain step forward, only for a boisterous laugh to erupt from the porchdeep, resonant, full of cruel delight.
Ah, she didnt pass the test! shrieked Edwards mother, clutching her belly with laughter. Look, look! George has exposed her!
Edwards sister snorted, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. A real woman wouldnt be scared of a goose, she mocked. Shes practically cowering in that pretty dress.
His father pulled out his mobile and began filming, his face lit with mirth as if this were the best entertainment of the month.
Edward, do something! Ethel shouted, trying to swat the bird, but it kept coming, pecking at her shins, thumping her thighs with its wings.
Edward moved again, waving his arms weakly at the goose. For a heartbeat the bird hesitated, then Edwards mother shouted sharply, Dont interfere! Let George handle it! He knows the bad folk!
Edward froze. He looked at his mother, then at Ethel, and silently stepped back, retreating to the porch where his family stood.
Ethel pressed her back against the car, the goose cornering her. Her dress was stained, her feet bore red bite marks, and her heels slipped on the uneven ground. She stared at Edward, his mother, his sister, his father with his phone, and a cold dread settled deep inside her.
It was no accident, no misunderstanding. It was a testan ugly, cruel trial staged by Edwards family to put her in her place. And Edward, helpless, did nothing.
With a sudden surge she scrambled into the car. The goose pecked at the glass a few more times before losing interest and waddling away, proudly strutting across the yard.
Edward approached the car, knocked on the window. Ethel lowered the glass a couple of centimetres.
Ethel, calm down, please, he said hurriedly. Its just a family tradition, a sort of initiation for brides. My mother always does it to test character.
Ethel met his eyes directly. Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Inside her swirled hurt, anger, disappointment.
There will be no wedding, she whispered, clearly.
Edward blinked, as if the words hadnt reached him. What? Ethel, what are you saying? It was only a joke
No wedding, she repeated, slipping the wedding band from her finger and sliding it through the tiny opening in the window. Take it.
Youve gone mad! Edward protested, trying to open the door, but it was locked. Dont be foolish! Lets talk this through!
Theres nothing left to say.
She turned the key, the engine growled, the car shuddered. Edward stood there, bewildered, clutching the ring. Ethel put the car into reverse, backed out, and drove toward the exit. In the rearview mirror she caught the silhouettes of his family on the porch, still laughing.
The first kilometres she drove on autopilot, the countryside slipping by unnoticed. Her hands trembled on the wheel, her heart thudded in her throat. Tears welled, but she brushed them away. She would weep later, at home; for now she just needed to get away.
That evening her phone rang incessantly. Edward called again and again, sent messages apologising, pleading for another chance. She read them but never replied. Once she answered, his frantic, guilty voice filled the line, and she hung up immediately.
A week later she blocked his number on every messenger, deleted the photos of them together, tossed away the small relics that reminded her of Edwarda Tshirt, a book, his coffee mug.
Life drifted back to its usual rhythm: work, coffee with friends, the gym. She tried not to think about the incident, yet at night the image of that goose and the cruel laughter of Edwards family resurfaced.
A month later a friend mentioned a gossip shed heard: Edward had married a village girl his mother approved of straight away. No geese, no tests.
Ethel listened, feeling a strange lightness rather than pain. That goose, that family, their malicious amusement had shown her the truth before she ever truly tied her life to theirs. She ran a finger over the spot where the ring had been, smiled, and thought how right it all turned out in the end.
