Sweet Home Summer: A heartwarming romcom perfect for curling up with. Michelle Vernal
a few degrees warmer there in the summertime than it does here, I dare say.’ Mary swung her gaze from the road in her daughter’s direction, and the car swerved accordingly.
‘I’m fine Mum, keep your eyes on the road, and it was winter over there. Well, as close to winter as California gets.’ Isla had been heartened when she’d stepped outside Christchurch Airport’s terminal building to see the cloudless blue sky. It was a perfect Canterbury summer’s day, and it felt like she was being welcomed home. She opened the shoulder bag resting on her lap and felt around inside it until her hand settled on the book of affirmations that her counsellor at Break-Free, Rita, had given her when it was time to leave. It was comforting to know it was there and she knew too, thanks to her time at the lodge, that whatever happened next, she would be okay.
The drive to Bibury was long, and she sat listening as her mum told her she was worried about Bridget living on her own especially since she’d had that fall a month back. ‘If your dad hadn’t called in on her – well, it doesn’t bear thinking about. You know what your gran’s like though, she refuses to admit she’s getting old and she was back taking her morning constitutional, as she calls her walk within the week.’
Isla did know what her gran was like, tough and stubborn being the first two words that sprang to mind.
‘It’ll be strange not having you at home now you’re back, but it’ll be a relief to know you’re keeping an eye on Mum for a bit too. She always seems invincible and then to realize she’s not, well it scared me.’
Isla nodded, she struggled to think of her gran as anything other than a force of nature too. Mother and daughter knew only too well that were Isla to move back in under her parents’ roof there would be fireworks before long. So, staying with her gran was the perfect solution. Isla and Mary got along like a house on fire in small doses, but both were secretly relieved when Bridget diplomatically suggested Isla stay with her. ‘If Isla’s there with me, it’ll mean you’ll stop running across the road like a headless chook on your tea breaks Mary, to check up on me.’ Yes, it was a win-win situation for all.
‘It’s not like it used to be, Bibury you know,’ Mary announced, her orange face earnest. She’d been keeping up a steady monologue since they’d exited Christchurch. Isla felt a sense of sadness that her old stomping ground of the Garden City would be one she’d no longer recognize when she returned to explore Christchurch beyond the airport. She’d kept track of the post-earthquake rebuild online and had been amazed at the change to the cityscape. Over the ensuing years since the ground had shaken with an unfamiliar wrath, the familiar had been cleared to make way for the new, not because of progress but because of necessity.
They’d been driving for over an hour now, having passed Castle Hill with its otherworldly moonscape, and the road they were on was nearly empty as the car began to wind through Talbots Pass. Isla tried to fight off the fatigue that hovered after the flight and look lively as her mother’s voice intoned.
‘You only have to read the police report in the Bibury Times to know crime’s on the up.’ Mary’s sigh was heavy with the weight of it all.
‘Did Sheree Davies get her knickers pinched off the washing line again then?’ Isla asked with a smirk to lighten the sombre mood Bibury’s crime spree had evoked.
Mary shot her a sideways glance through suspiciously thick eyelashes, and the car veered over the centre line.
‘Mum! Keep your eyes on the road.’ The hairpin bends of the mountain pass had always made her nervous. ‘Have you got false eyelashes on? And what’s with the tan?’ she asked to distract herself.
‘They’re both the latest thing from Revlon,’ Mary said batting her lashes.
She took her position as a Revlon Consultant very seriously. Isla wished the same could be said of her driving.
‘And you’re as bad as your father telling me how to drive. Trust you to bring up Sheree’s knickers, Isla. That was years ago and anyway I don’t know why she was so bothered, she still has trouble keeping the bloody things on according to my hairdresser, Marie.’ Her face grew pensive. ‘I wonder if Sheree was the one Marie’s ex–hubby was up to no good with, she’d never say if she was. What do you reckon on the cut she did me? I thought it was on the short side and your dad said I looked like one of those sheep that shed their wool sporadically of their accord.’ She frowned and her hand flew up to the back of her newly shorn head to pat it.
Isla bit back a giggle; her dad could never be called a charmer. It was embarrassing the way he’d squeeze Mum’s bum in public, but that he was also kind and generous and loved the bones off his wife, there could be no doubt. Besides, she thought looking at her mum properly, the back was indeed a little short. The top bit was still as full and curly as ever. Isla’s earliest memory was of her mother looking like an alien, porcupine with a headful of heated rollers. Looking at her now, she reminded her of someone, who was it?’
‘Mum! I’ve got it you look like—’
‘Like Olivia Newton-John when she sang Physical. That was the photo I took in to show Marie.’ Mary’s face was alight with hope. ‘That was one of Olivia’s timeless looks, in my opinion. It never gets old.’
‘Um … oh yeah.’ That hadn’t been what she had been about to say. God help her, her mother had been a fan of Olivia’s since her Grease days. There was no chance of her ageing as gracefully as her idol though, Isla thought with a fond sideways glance. She wouldn’t put it past her to start wearing a headband and leotard to that dancing in the dark thing she reckoned was the new Zumba.
Nothing ever changed in Bibury, and where once it had irritated Isla, now she found the idea of returning to all that sameness comforting. Marie had been cutting hair in Bibury since she was a baby and Sheree must be well into her sixties by now. Age, it would seem, hadn’t managed to slow down Shag-around Sheree, as she was known at the Pit, or her free and easy ways.
‘The garage was broken into last month.’
Ben’s garage? Isla was suddenly wide awake.
‘They made off with cigarettes. The police caught the little buggers, apparently just kids passing through from Greymouth.’ She made a tut–tutting ‘what are the youth of today coming to’ sort of noise.
Isla’s shoulders relaxed on hearing no one was hurt. The memory of the time Ben had broken his ankle attempting to rollerblade around Bibury High’s netball courts at her insistence flitted before her. He’d been stoic not wanting her to worry as he sat where he’d crashed to the ground. She’d seen the pain in his eyes though. It had hurt her as much as him while she sat squeezing his hand waiting for the O’Regan kid who’d been kicking a ball about nearby to fetch Ben’s dad. A trip to Greymouth hospital had followed, and he’d wound up in surgery, a plate and screws being placed along the back of his shin bone to hold the shattered bones together. He’d said it was worth it to have her at his beck and call for the weeks after as he sat propped up on his bed, foot elevated. She’d tossed a grape at him when he said that and he’d reached out and pulled her to him for a kiss. They’d only broken apart upon hearing his mother’s exaggerated throat clearing from the doorway. Isla shooed the image away; had she really once been that young and carefree?
She closed her eyes, ignoring her mum’s questions as to what her plan was now she was back. The simple answer was she didn’t have one. She felt like the prodigal child. The Andersons would be pleased to know she’d remembered at least one parable from all those Sunday school classes they’d taken her to. Giving up on getting a reply, Mary moved on to other topics, and Isla found herself drifting off despite her mum’s chatter. She was woken with a sharp elbow to the ribs.
‘Isla, we’re home, and your dad’s going to dislocate his shoulder if you don’t give him a wave back. He finished early so he could be home to greet you.’
Isla waved back at the burly man in the t-shirt and stubby shorts who stepped forward to wrap his daughter in a bear hug the instant she got out of the car. And when he boomed. ‘You found yourself then,’ she was too knackered