That First French Summer

by Mandy Baggot

  She took a step towards the set of three steps that led up to the door. Then she stopped. What was she doing? Why was she believing the word of a horrible, bitchy girl she didn’t like over the assurances Guy had given her? She shook her head, prepared to retreat. Then she heard a voice. Every hair on her body reacted to the sound on instinct. It was the voice that usually sent shivers running over her body. Now, it was filling her with dread. He was in there. He was in Tasha’s caravan, just like Melody said.

  Her eyes filled up with tears. She didn’t know what to do. From inside he spoke again, softly. Was he whispering to Tasha? Telling her he loved her?

  Fired by pure white anger she mounted the steps, flinging open the door.

  On the breakfast table were the remains of a picnic. A half-empty bottle of Merlot. Tears were leaking from her eyes now, but she couldn’t stop. She needed to see. She needed to be sure.

  She headed down the corridor to the bedrooms. Why? Why was this happening? Hadn’t she given him everything? And he was throwing it away for a trampy girl from London.

  There was only one door closed. She knew what she was going to see. Why did she need to see it? Because her heart was pleading with her, asking for clarification, begging her mind to give it a chance.

  Her hand was on the door. As every millisecond ticked by she felt her heart drop deeper into the pit of fear her stomach was creating. If this was what she thought it was she’d wasted herself. Wasted these last weeks, sharing herself, giving him not only her body, but her dreams, her hopes, her precious memories of her mother, believing in a love that had never been.

  The door flew open and there he was. Hair falling over his face, his forehead slick, his cheeks red. He was wearing only shorts. The door was ajar. She caught sight of the rumpled bed clothes, an arm and the shape of a body in the bed. He’d betrayed her. He’d slept with someone else, with Tasha.

  ‘Emma,’ he began. He reached for her. She fell back, a guttural sound coming out of her mouth. She grabbed at the walls of the corridor, righting herself, backing away as quickly as she could.

  ‘Don’t touch me!’ she screamed. She couldn’t balance. Her world was spinning on its axis and she was falling.

  ‘Emma, wait, please. I can explain,’ Guy called. He was putting on his T-shirt, hurriedly pulling it down as he pursued her.

  ‘I’ve seen everything I need to,’ she hissed. Her voice wasn’t angry enough. She wanted to yell and spit. She wanted to hit him, claw at him, let him know just how much pain he had caused her. But the tears were getting in the way of everything. She was sobbing loudly, with no control, choking on emotion so thick it felt like it was coating her entire insides.

  She burst out of the caravan into the hot air. Despite the heat there was a moment of relief. She was out of there. Away from the place where he’d cheated on her. She took a breath, tried to still, retain some dignity. She marched on down the steps and off up the path.

  ‘Emma, please let me explain,’ he repeated. He grabbed her arm, turned her, forcing her to look at him. The expression on his face was unreadable. What could she see there? There was sadness, regret, fear, shame, despair even. No, she couldn’t fall for that. He was a liar and a cheat. He had just slept with that rough girl who showed off her underwear and had no clue who Chaucer was. How could he? The only reason there were tears in his eyes was because he’d been caught.

  ‘Get off me! Don’t you touch me! You’ve been touching her, haven’t you?! Sleeping with Tasha like you slept with me! Have you asked her to marry you yet?’ she exploded.

  ‘It is not how you think. What I do here, it is…’

  ‘You’re half-dressed and she’s in that bed! That’s all I need to know! Let me go!’

  His hand was still holding her arm, the velvet smoothness of his fingers pressing onto her skin. A cheater’s touch. Well-practised, used many times on holidaymakers just like her. She could write into Cosmopolitan and tell her story when she got home. Naïve teenager falls for campsite Romeo. Stupid. Idiot. Sucker.

  ‘Come with me. I will try to explain.’ His fingers caressed her arm and all those lustful feelings began to stir inside her. She wrenched her arm away, her breathing heavy, her heart in overdrive. And then she lost control. She thumped him hard on the chest once, then again and again, one fist connecting after the other.

  ‘Liar! Cheat! You’re a bastard! I hate you! How could you? How could you?’

  At first he accepted the blows, allowed her to hurt him but then he stopped her, blocked her attack by taking her arms.

  ‘Emma, look at me, please,’ he begged.

  She was sobbing again, her eyes red and misted, her mouth agape, trying to suck in air to keep her functioning.

  ‘I love you,’ he told her.

  The declaration had her yelping as it pulled at her soul. She shook her head at him.

  ‘Emma, ‘he whispered, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

  ‘I never want to see you again. I’m going home,’ she stated. She waited a moment for the news to sink into him and then she ran. It was over.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Present Day

  ‘Guy, stop. Where are we going?’

  Emma hurried her step to prevent being dragged over. Guy was still holding her hand, marching her along the quay front. They were being stared at by everyone they passed. Every other couple walked steadily, enjoying a romantic walk, soaking in the gentle pace.

  ‘We are going where they are not,’ Guy replied. He tugged her to the right and stepped up onto the gangplank of a boat.

  ‘What are you doing? You can’t just go up on someone’s boat,’ Emma hissed.

  ‘Not someone’s. Mine.’ He began to mount the walkway, leading her behind him.

  ‘What?’ She looked at the boat. There was something familiar about it. The white veneer, the blue hull – she’d been on this boat before. The summer they had met.

  Guy was unfastening the gate at the top of the walkway. He was agitated, his hands fumbling with the lock. She had no idea what was going on. Seeing Tasha again had been a shock and if the woman had seen Guy recently and he hadn’t told her, that was suspicious. What was she supposed to think? He looked like he was either going to spontaneously combust or crumple into a heap on the deck.

  ‘You remember this boat? I brought you here. To one of David’s parties,’ Guy said. He was pacing down the boat, past the cabin, and she hurried to remain in step.

  ‘Yes, I remember. It was the night you asked me to marry you. How could I forget?’ she responded. He looked over his shoulder at her and gave a nod. He finally stopped walking when they’d reached the back of the boat. He put his hands on the chrome rail, looking out to sea.

  ‘I should have told you the first moment we met again. The first chance I had. But I knew, if I did, that would be the end,’ he said.

  *

  He had no idea how to get the words out. No matter what he said, however he constructed the sentences, the truth was going to shatter their happiness. But all told, that was what he deserved. He didn’t warrant her love, her life. He had to keep paying for what he did. He had to be punished for hiding so many disgusting secrets.

  He screwed up his eyes, blinking away the tears. His throat was so dry and Emma was gazing at him, looking so beautiful. He was about to bring her world down and crush his own.

  ‘Is it Tasha? Have you…’ Emma started.

  He shook his head with vigour. ‘No, never.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  No. Of course she didn’t understand. Because he’d hidden it from her from the start.

  ‘You remember I worked for David. The man who owned this boat.’ She nodded.

  ‘My mother arranged it. She knew him from his hotel she worked at cleaning. I’m not sure she knew what was involved but… I don’t know… maybe she did and she did not care.’ He paused, wet his lips. ‘To begin with it was just serving drinks behind the bar, chatting to the customers, making sure th
ey were happy, having a good time. But then I saw what they did one night. I went into that room. I had no idea, you must believe that. I did not know.’ He wept, more tears escaping. ‘David, he promised me if I kept quiet he would pay me much more money and he would not tell my mother. It would be our secret. All I wanted was to save for the future. He was very rich and very persuasive.’ He pulled in a breath, dropped his head before continuing. ‘I had no choice. I would go home and we would have no money because my mother had drunk it all away and Luc would cry and… it was hundreds of Euros. I’d never seen that much money and I kept thinking if I just didn’t say anything it would pay for so many things. Things for Luc, food…’

  ‘What is it, Guy? Whatever it is you can tell me.’

  ‘We were so poor, Emma and my mother… you know she hit me and…’

  She reached for his hands, but he wrenched them off the boat rail and shoved them into his pockets. He didn’t want to hurt her, but to accept her love and affection now was wrong. She needed to know the truth, then she could make a choice. Although he was more or less certain what she would do. It was what anyone would do.

  *

  He’d pulled away from her, dropped his eyes. Now she felt sick. The couple of mouthfuls of wine she’d had were swirling around in her part-empty stomach, mixing up a nausea she would have to swallow down.

  ‘I learned what they did. I saw it one night. The men and the boys. It was a members’ club. A group of rich men who got together to do things… with boys.’

  Her belly went into spasm. What was he saying? She couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t heard it right. Boys? Men? A club?

  ‘I… I don’t understand.’ The words fell from her mouth as her hands reached to console her stomach.

  Guy was crying now. Audibly crying. She reached for the rail, brought herself down onto a bench. She couldn’t think. His words were rolling around in her mind. What did they mean? What exactly was he telling her?

  ‘Emma, this all started before I met you. The job at the campsite was what I loved, playing football and teaching the children but the money wasn’t enough. My mother, she started me at this terrible hotel, she introduced me to David. I had to begin to make money for myself and for Luc. This was easy. I didn’t acknowledge it. All I had to do was pretend it wasn’t happening. I tell myself it is just a job. I zone out, I concentrate on serving drinks, that is all. And when I get the money in my hand I forget about everything else. I forget about how I got it, what they were doing. I was earning my way out of Fréjus,’ he carried on.

  ‘What are you saying? You saw them doing things to boys?’ Her voice was shaking. She couldn’t believe what he’d said. She needed him to spell it out because she was folding inwards.

  ‘Yes… the men in the club… with the boys,’ he responded.

  ‘Men having sex with boys? Is that what you mean, Guy? Men having sex with underage boys?’ She let out a painful sound that had her putting her knuckles to her mouth to absorb it.

  She turned her face towards him then, saw the tears falling out of his eyes. She knew then it was true. She could see it written in his expression.

  ‘You knew it was going on and you still went to work there! You let it go on,’ she said, forcing the words out.

  ‘It wasn’t like that. It was a job, that is all. Just a job,’ he repeated.

  ‘A job! It’s disgusting! Those men were paedophiles! How could you?! I…’ She couldn’t say any more. Visions of what he’d seen, what he’d turned a blind eye to were forming in her mind. She was seeing a shabby room, photographic equipment, a group of rich men, drooling over young boys forced to pose for their pleasure. Her stomach contracted and she lunged her head over the rails, vomiting into the water.

  ‘I know it was wrong. I knew it then, but I needed the money, Emma. If I’d carried on just working at the campsite it would have taken me years to get away. I saved up thousands in just a few months. It was going to be our start together.’

  He was rubbing her back as she hurled and she recoiled from his touch, forced herself away across the boat.

  ‘So what happened then? Did you join in? Didn’t they want you? Were you too old for them?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. I did not.’

  ‘I can’t listen to this… I just can’t,’ she said, steadying herself against the rails. Her mind was whirring with what this meant. The whole situation was bizarre and frightening and repellent and she didn’t know what to do.

  ‘Please, there is something else,’ Guy began.

  ‘Something else? I don’t want to know… I can’t know any more… I can’t take any more,’ she cried. She was terrified of hearing her worst fear. That these men had touched him, taken pleasure from him. Was that what he was telling her? Had they offered him more money to join their club, be one of those poor boys?

  ‘You brought me to a party here! David was here then! Why? Why would you bring me somewhere like that?’ she shrieked.

  ‘Because I wanted him to know that I had a life. I had you. I was not like them. I could not and would not do any more than I was doing for him. It was enough that I saw and knew what they did. But he didn’t like that.’

  ‘How can I believe you?! All this time and you never said a word. Why didn’t you tell me what you were doing? We could have gone to the police and put a stop to it. What they were doing was vile and illegal!’ Her stomach was only just holding things together. She couldn’t get the images out of her mind. Men and boys and Guy serving drinks to them like it was normal.

  ‘I needed the money!’ he yelled. ‘I was desperate, Emma! I wasn’t using the money for luxuries! I needed the money just to get by and to get out of there. If not for that job I might still be there, an alcoholic like my mother was, perhaps dead!’ He let out a sob, palmed his hands against his face.

  *

  He could see from her eyes it was over. She couldn’t look at him, had separated herself from him on the other side of the boat. But he couldn’t stop now. He had to tell her the whole truth. She deserved to know who he was and who he wasn’t.

  He blew out a breath, ran his palms over his face to wipe the tears away. ‘The day we were leaving. When you came to Tasha’s caravan… I was not with her.’

  She lifted her head from looking at the floor. There was so much fear and pain in her expression. He was sure what he was going to tell her was only going to make things worse rather than better. But it was honesty. They had never started with honesty and even if they were going to finish, at least it would be a truthful end.

  ‘I wanted to leave with you so much. I loved you so much. Every word I said to you, every plan we made, everything we talked about, I meant everything, Emma,’ he began. He saw her lips tremble. Perhaps there was a chance. If he was brave enough now to give her the whole story. Perhaps the memories he carried with him would relent if he finally let them go.

  ‘David called me. He told me some of the group were coming to the hotel early. He asked me to collect the keys.’ He paused, shook his head. ‘To collect the keys from Keith.’

  He closed his eyes, transferring himself back to that time, that moment when everything had been turned on its head.

  ‘I’d been playing football with the kids. I’d taken off my shirt.’ He opened his eyes, looking at her. She was waiting to hear what he was going to say and he still felt so much shame.

  ‘There was no answer when I knocked on the door. I went in and he called to me and there he was… in the bed.’

  He watched Emma put her hands to her mouth again. He knew she was caught between wanting him to stop talking and needing to hear the truth. He hated himself, had hated himself for so long, he was under no illusion that she wouldn’t feel the same. He had nothing to lose now.

  ‘Before I could do or say anything he had taken photos, of me, with no shirt. I asked him for the keys and he just laughed. He said we both know what you’re really here for. But I wasn’t. David had set me up. He knew how much I needed the money
and he thought I would… but I didn’t do anything, Emma, I swear it to you!’

  *

  He looked haunted. That was the only word she had for the way he looked now. The wind had risen and it was blowing his hair, his shirt rippling against his body. She was holding her breath, biting her tongue, internally begging God not to let this be what she thought it was. Was he telling her the truth?

  She’d seen the bed but she hadn’t seen who was in it. Guy hadn’t been with Tasha, it had been Keith.

  ‘No!’ The word came out long and gut-wrenching as she sank to her knees, bowing into herself.

  ‘I didn’t do anything, Emma. I wouldn’t do that. I know I took the money for keeping their secret and I know that was wrong but I wouldn’t do anything else… nothing like that.’

  Every ion was crying out in pain. She felt it like a thousand hammer blows on every inch of her body. She just wanted it to stop. She didn’t want to know it, she wanted to un-know it.

  ‘I walked out as soon as I realised the situation. I was leaving. Nothing happened. Then you were there and you were hurt thinking I had been with Tasha and…’

  She couldn’t respond. All she could do was hug herself and rock, praying she could disappear, just be evaporated into the night, never to remember his words again.

  ‘Please, Emma, you have to believe me.’

  She felt him sink to the floor beside her, heard the tears in his tone. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know whether she could say anything. All those years she had spent thinking she couldn’t be hurt any more and he had hurt her all over again, even deeper.

  ‘Madeleine was going to work for him, for Keith. I met him at a fashion show and he started to bring it all up again. He wanted to see me…you know… and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He is trying to blackmail me over my involvement with the group and all I could think about was not the press or the football club when they found out, but you.’