That First French Summer

by Mandy Baggot

  ‘I can’t believe it. Are you sure?’ he asked her.

  ‘No. I’m not sure. I’m not sure at all… but I don’t know what else to do,’ she admitted.

  He continued to stroke her hands and she let out an uneasy sigh. Just having him hold her hands reminded her of the depth of feeling they’d had for each other. Their few weeks in the late summer of 2005 had felt like a lifetime. It still did.

  ‘This is not something to be sad about. This is something to celebrate,’ Guy told her.

  ‘No. It isn’t. I need to speak to Chris. God, what am I going to say to him?’

  Chris was so nice. He’d done everything right for her and Dominic for the last eighteen months and now she had to tell him it was over. It was going to shatter him. Or did he know already? Deep down did he know she was never going to accept his proposal?

  ‘Everything will be OK,’ he assured. He reached across and pushed her hair behind her ears.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, shaking her head.

  ‘I know,’ he said, squeezing her hands.

  His reassurance was just what she needed to hear.

  ‘I never stopped loving you,’ Guy told her.

  The words hit her hard as she absorbed every one, ingesting exactly what they meant. She reached for him, cupping his face with her hand and drawing it closer to her.

  ‘I missed you so much,’ she whispered.

  ‘Emma…’

  She inched forward until they were eye to eye, both breathing hard, waiting for the perfect moment. She couldn’t hold off any longer. She tentatively touched his lips with hers. The response was instant. He drew her towards him, his lips luxurious against hers, deepening the kiss with every second that passed. This wasn’t going slow; this was quickening her feelings with every touch. She knew they should stop but it had been so long since she had felt this way. She tried to still in the moment, memorise the way his fingers felt entwined with hers, the velvet smoothness of his lips…

  From outside the bell rang, jolting her back to reality. When she broke away she was breathing hard and flushed.

  ‘I… I have to go,’ she told him.

  ‘I know,’ he responded, taking her hand.

  ‘I don’t know what happens next,’ she admitted.

  He nodded, straightened the collar of her blouse.

  ‘We make things right, like you said.’

  ‘It isn’t going to be easy.’

  The thought of ending her relationship with Chris and his reaction to it terrified her. He wouldn’t know why and she wouldn’t know what to tell him. Apart from the truth. This wasn’t just about Guy. This was about everything that had happened to her. Chris was a good, straight, honest person and she just… wasn’t.

  *

  ‘I know,’ Guy responded.

  He had no idea what he was going to say to Madeleine or even how to start that conversation. He had to concentrate on the fact Emma was going to give him a second chance and they were going to put the past behind them. A second chance was all he wanted, all he’d thought about since he saw her again. The past wasn’t important; it was the future that mattered. And his was with Emma, he was positive of that.

  But he couldn’t deny the voice inside his head telling him that when he broke the news to Madeleine she wasn’t going to accept it. She never gave up anything without a fight.

  Chapter Thirty

  August 2005

  ‘Please, Luc, please stop crying!’

  She’d fed him again, changed his nappy, rubbed his back, sang to him and shaken some daft toy elephant at him. Nothing was working. He was red in the face and his little fists kept pumping up and down as he wriggled in his pram. He wasn’t too hot – she’d kept him out of the sun. He wasn’t too cold – that was impossible in almost thirty-degree heat. What else could be wrong with babies? He was so so small, weighed hardly anything at all. Was he ill?

  It was after lunchtime. Guy had been gone for over three hours and if she didn’t get back to her dad soon he’d be getting her name announced over the camp sound system like a lost child.

  She pushed the pram forward and meandered along the lane back to the campsite. For the majority of the time Luc had been well-behaved. He’d gurgled, she’d fed him, he fell asleep, she read. It was only in the last hour he’d started to get grumpy and loud.

  She was about to look at her watch again but a figure moving up ahead caught her eye. She squinted her eyes and saw it was Guy.

  Stepping up the pace with the pram, she waved a hand. She was so looking forward to seeing him. The trial was bound to have gone well. He was such a talented player, the team would see that.

  ‘Hey!’ she greeted, approaching him. The expression on his face made her pull up to a stop. It told her everything she needed to know. She didn’t know what to do or say but she knew she had to say something. She needed to know for sure.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked tentatively.

  ‘They say non,’ he stated.

  There was a sharp intake of breath and it took Emma a while to realise it was hers. It was a shock. She had taken Guy getting into the team as a safe bet. She hadn’t even considered he wouldn’t. He had pinned everything on it. It was his dream. He loved football. He was brilliant at it and he wanted to make money from it. OGC Nice was the nearest, best team. But it surely wasn’t his only option. She wanted to study at Portsmouth, stay near to her dad, but she was also considering Cardiff and York. That was it! He could just try somewhere else, like she was.

  ‘Well, never mind. They aren’t the only team, are they? I don’t know anything about football but back home there are loads of teams in the Premiership, at least five or something around London. There must be other teams you can try out for,’ Emma said. She kept her voice upbeat. She would make him realise this wasn’t the end of the road.

  He shook his head and Luc continued to cry.

  ‘What? You can try other teams. They are bound to be looking out for talented new players. It will be Nice’s loss,’ she continued.

  ‘You do not… tu ne sais pas.’

  He put his arms into the pram and lifted up his brother. Emma watched as he began to sing in French, a low, sing-song tune she’d never heard. Within seconds, Luc was contented. His eyes were drooping closed and when Guy put him back down he was verging on sleep. He rocked the pram back and forth to make sure.

  ‘I want to understand,’ Emma told him.

  Again he shook his head. Now she was worried. Why wouldn’t he tell her? What on earth had happened at the football club to make him think his whole idea of a career was over?

  And then it was like someone had turned out all the lights. The sky blackened, the clouds converged and with the loudest crack of thunder Emma had ever heard, a storm broke, sending shafts of rain sheeting from the sky.

  Their skin already soaked, Guy pointed to a barn just across the field. It was their nearest form of shelter. He set off, sprinting with the pram and Emma struggled to keep up. The ferocity of the rain was tearing into her, making it almost impossible to run. Her hair clung to her face as she tried to duck the elements. Hailstones battered her thighs, her sandals slipped, her feet squelching as she hurried along. The barn was less than a hundred yards away but it felt like a hundred miles. Every step seemed to take all her strength. The corn that had been so light and soft against her skin on their picnic was now scratchy and sharp. It irritated her calves and scraped her thighs. Finally, with stones slipping in and out of her shoes, she ran into the barn behind Guy and Luc.

  She was out of breath, her legs covered in scratches and her dress practically transparent. She watched Guy rock Luc’s pram back and forth, lulling him off to sleep. The baby hushed again as Guy repeated the French song.

  The rain outside looked like a sheet of moving opaque glass. It teemed down, unstopping, crushing the ground, moving field and path, relentless.

  ‘I want to… Je veux casser quelque chose,’ he shouted. He let out a roar, kicking a bale, t
hen turning to assault another.

  ‘Guy,’ she started.

  He picked up one of the bales and threw it across the barn. It hit the corrugated wall and broke apart, sending strands of hay to the floor. He sank to the floor, pulling his knees into his chest and began to sob.

  She hadn’t expected anything like that and she wasn’t sure how to react. Boys didn’t cry. Not the sort of boys from her school. They didn’t show emotion at all if they could help it. Should she try and comfort him? Would he want that? It sounded as if his heart was breaking. She stepped slowly towards him, thinking if her attention wasn’t wanted he would let her know in time, before she made an idiot of herself.

  She got all the way over to him, not knowing if he’d even noticed her move. He had his head buried in his knees and he was rocking backward and forward. She put her arms lightly on his shoulders, still trying to gauge his reaction. The instant he felt her touch him he clung to her. He pulled her into him and wept on her shoulder. He was shivering. Their clothes were saturated, their hair dripping and Guy’s hands were like ice on her back.

  ‘What is it, Guy? This isn’t just the trial, is it? This is something else,’ Emma said, brushing her hand down his hair and letting the water fall away with every stroke.

  He shook his head, still continued to sob.

  ‘Please, Guy, you’re scaring me. I want to help. Let me help,’ Emma begged.

  ‘I cannot…’ he started, lifting his head and wiping at his eyes with his fingers.

  ‘You have to! If I’m special to you you’ll tell me,’ she urged.

  He locked eyes with her and she didn’t just see the sadness, she felt it.

  He took hold of the bottom of his T-shirt and slowly began to pull it away from his body, towards his head. Emma could see it was wet and clinging but that wasn’t why he was going slow. As he pulled it over his head she let out a gasp. His chest and abdomen were covered in a patchwork of bruises, scratches and marks. She cried out and reached for him. This time he shifted back.

  ‘What’s happened to you? Who did this?’ Emma questioned, biting her nails. She was shivering now, both from the cold of her clothes and from what she’d seen.

  ‘I have to… C'est pourquoi que je dois a quitter. C'est pourquoi que je dois améliorer pour moi et pour Luc,’ he told her.

  ‘This… is why… sortir… leave. This is why you have to leave, for you and for Luc,’ Emma translated. Once she finished the sentence the reality of what he was telling her hit her like a bullet.

  ‘Your mother… she did this?’

  She couldn’t believe it. A woman. A mother. Guy’s mother had done… what? Beaten him? Why? What for? It was sickening. She started to shake.

  ‘No,’ she said, shaking her head. Guy gave no response, just pulled his T-shirt back down and wiped at his wet face with his hands.

  ‘She couldn’t… you’re her son…’

  Guy nodded. ‘At the football… we had to see the doctor… test d’aptitude. He see this. I have to make a lie.’

  ‘They didn’t let you into the team because of what she did to you? Why didn’t you tell them the truth?’ Emma urged him. She reached for his hands and held them tightly in hers.

  ‘I cannot.’

  ‘This isn’t the first time she’s done this, is it?’ Emma asked. She could feel herself boiling with anger, just like she had when her mother passed away. She’d been so angry then, Mike had feared for her sanity as well as the breakables in the house. None of it had been just or fair. The same was happening here with Guy. What had he done to deserve this?

  ‘I have to stay… a little bit. When I have money, assez d’argent and the job, I will take Luc and we will go,’ he explained.

  ‘That’s why today was so important,’ Emma said, understanding.

  ‘C'est l'alcool et la façon dont mon père a quitté,’ Guy told her.

  ‘No. Don’t make excuses for her. What she’s done to you is not OK. It’s not,’ Emma insisted.

  ‘I have to look after Luc,’ Guy said. His eyes went to the pram.

  ‘Come here,’ Emma beckoned, opening her arms to him.

  He shook his head, folded his arms across his chest. It was if he was ashamed of what had happened to him.

  ‘Guy, please. I can help you… we can sort something out. I could… I could talk to my dad,’ Emma suggested. He might not be her favourite person at the moment but he was all she had. Her gran said he’d been born sensible. He would know what to do.

  ‘Non!’ Guy exclaimed. His horror at that suggestion was evident.

  ‘OK, stupid idea. You’re right,’ she backtracked.

  ‘Je me déteste,’ he spat.

  ‘No, don’t say that,’ she begged.

  ‘J’ai mériter cela!’ He punched the bale next to him.

  ‘I don’t know what that means. Please, Guy,’ she said, taking hold of his arms.

  He broke again. Sobs racked his shoulders and this time he let her gather him into her arms.

  ‘Sshh, it’s OK. It’s going to be OK. I promise,’ she whispered, stroking his hair.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Present Day

  ‘Guy? Is that you?’

  He’d been surprised to see Madeleine’s car in the driveway when he’d parked. He’d hoped to have the rest of the afternoon alone to go through his schedule. He wanted to spend some time with Emma. Proper time. But first he had to tell Madeleine it was over. He swallowed at that thought. He needed to do it quickly for both their sakes.

  He entered the kitchen, found Madeleine sitting at the central island leafing through a magazine.

  ‘Hi. I thought you were out for the day. I am back in time for the dry cleaning,’ he said, looking at his watch.

  ‘Something amazing has happened!’ Her eyes were animated, her expression almost manic with excitement.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked. What was it? This could be very bad. She was behaving as if something life-changing was about to occur. It couldn’t be…

  ‘We have been invited to Suzanna Okino’s fashion showcase tonight! All the major labels will be there and the press. Gabriella’s even got us five minutes with a lingerie manufacturer about developing our line,’ Madeleine bubbled. She got down off the chair and moved towards him.

  ‘This could be the launch of my career as a fashion designer, Guy! Lingerie to start and then a whole clothing line,’ she said, placing her hands on the lapels of his jacket.

  ‘That is…’ He didn’t really know how to react. He had never seen her so enthusiastic about anything. She was glowing. She was glowing and smiling. He wasn’t used to it. These days he mostly got sneers and orders.

  ‘It’s the best thing that has happened to me. I cannot wait to go. We should get there early. Gabriella wants us to run through our pitch. It’s only five minutes with the manufacturer but he’s well thought of and… we just need to get a start with someone,’ she continued. She kissed his cheek and then his mouth, linking her arms around his neck.

  He held her back. The closeness felt so wrong.

  ‘What is it? Is everything OK?’ she asked. She stepped back, observed him more closely.

  ‘Yes… of course,’ he said, putting a more upbeat expression on his face.

  ‘This is what I wanted so much, Guy. The chance to own something, build something. I know you think I exist only to shop but every moment spent in boutiques was research. Perhaps maybe not the Vivienne Westwood but the rest…’

  ‘I’m pleased for you,’ Guy told her. He took her hand and held it in his.

  He was pleased for her. This was a good thing. When he told her they needed to break up, she would have a focus now. It would not be so hard for her.

  ‘What shall I wear?’ she asked him, holding his hand in the air and spinning a circle.

  ‘I don’t know… you are the fashion expert,’ he responded.

  He couldn’t tell her tonight.

  *

  ‘How’s your steak?’ Emma asked.
/>
  Chris looked up from his meal, horseradish sauce at the corner of his mouth. ‘Great. Gorgeous, just like you.’ He laughed then and poked in a couple of chips.

  This was awful. She’d barely touched her meal. Her stomach was too full of guilt, regret and worry to add food to the mix. She poured some more water into her glass.

  ‘How was work?’

  ‘Work? Taxi-driving the world around? It was same as. Mrs Bootle paid me fifty quid again to drive her around for an hour passing all the places she used to visit with Mr Bootle when he was alive.’

  ‘Again? Oh ,that’s really sad,’ Emma said.

  ‘I thought that at first, but it makes her happy. When I look in that rear-view mirror, she’s there, smiling away in the back. God knows what those two got up to at these places. We went past the library, which is innocent enough, but then she had me up that dirt track to the side of the recreation ground.’

  ‘Perhaps they had a dog and used to go for walks,’ Emma offered.

  ‘She had a right twinkle in her eye,’ Chris said, grinning.

  Just like he had at that very moment. She swallowed. How did you start a conversation like this? She wasn’t sure she could even open her mouth to begin.

  ‘Listen, Em, I’ve been thinking…’ he started.

  He was going to propose. He thought the sirloin steak and the wine was a sign for him to try again. Why hadn’t she thought of that? He would have no idea the real reason behind buying his favourite food. She couldn’t let it happen.

  ‘I’ve got some pudding. I got treacle sponge. I’ll get it,’ she said, rising from her seat.

  ‘What? But I haven’t finished and you… you haven’t started,’ Chris said. He indicated her plate, hardly a mouthful missing.

  ‘I’m not very hungry. I had one of those huge macaroni cheese things at the school canteen,’ she lied.