by Mandy Baggot
Emma giggled. The text sounded terrible in class with Mr. Devlin reading it. It sounded even more ridiculous read by a Frenchman.
‘What does this mean? He talks of mouse…souris?’
‘I know,’ Emma said, unable to suppress her laughter.
‘What does it mean?’ Guy asked again.
‘Basically it means don’t put all your eggs in one basket. A mouse’s heart is not worth anything if it has but one hole to run to and if that one fails then all is over. Something like that,’ Emma explained.
‘I do not know.’
‘Everyone should have a contingency plan. In life things don’t always work out how you want them to,’ she said.
She sat up, brushed some imaginary dust from her dress and snatched the book from him. It was a shame Chaucer hadn’t written about what to do if your mum died and your dad was seeing another woman.
‘You are mad,’ Guy remarked, watching her.
‘I don’t want to go home to how things are,’ she let out. There were the words again, falling from her lips without any thought.
‘You are still sad for your mother.’
‘No. It isn’t that,’ she snapped.
‘Emma…you must tell me,’ he said.
Her breathing was erratic now. She was thinking about Marilyn and her heart was pumping the blood around her body so much faster than it should. That woman had been waiting. She had been waiting for her mother to die. Now she was sending messages to her dad. Texts ending in kisses just weeks after the funeral. What sort of person did that?
‘Emma…’
‘My mother was dying and my dad was seeing someone else. Some bitch called Marilyn,’ she blurted out.
She felt the tears coming. She willed herself not to let the emotion go. Things were going well. He liked her. She shouldn’t be this wreck of a person. Why couldn’t she just be normal? If she was normal, not a sobbing idiot, if she got a push-up bra and court shoes, she might be able to keep in touch with him when she got home. If she carried on the way she was he would move on to Tasha or Melody before the week was up.
She looked for something to wipe her eyes. Corn didn’t look like it would make a good tissue. Before she could think anymore, the air flooded out of her lungs as he wrapped his arms around her. He held her so tight against his body and rocked her like a child.
Could she let it out? Could she let him see how fragile she really was? Back in the house, just her and her dad and the threat of Marilyn hanging over her, she had longed for her mother. She spent more and more time alone contemplating how her life was going to be from now on. What she wanted. What she didn’t want. How much she hated what had happened to her. She was angry. She was mad at the world. She didn’t know what to do. Who was Emma Barron now? Who would she become?
‘I don’t want to be the girl everyone pities. The girl who likes books too much. The girl who lost her mum,’ she sobbed into his chest.
‘What do you want?’ he asked her, cradling her head with his hands.
‘I want an aim. I want something for me. Something to call my own. I’m doing these exams but I don’t know if that’s what I really want. I don’t know what I really want but it isn’t a house shrouded in death and a father already looking for a replacement wife,’ she bawled.
‘We will find a way,’ Guy said. His voice was soft, husky and warm in her ear. The words caressed her, filled her up with hope. This was a holiday romance. There was no future in it. But what he was saying soothed her. It made her feel better, gave her the consolation she needed, wrapped up her soul.
‘We will make things better…ensemble…together,’ Guy said. He interlocked their hands and her heart swelled.
‘When I am with you…everything is better,’ he told her. She felt his body contract with a shiver and he held on tight.
Chapter Sixteen
Present Day
His head was pounding and he deserved every second of the pain. He’d got back to Finnerham late. Madeleine had scolded him. Then, to placate her, he’d let her show him the products of her shopping spree at his expense. By that time he was desperate to throw himself into something…anything. The function was a blessing. He’d posed for photos next to the charity auction billboards outside the hotel ballroom. He’d done at least half a dozen interviews for television, newspapers and magazines. Then he’d hit the bar. Egged on by some of his new team mates and wanting to make a good impression he’d accepted every drink he’d been offered and bought plenty in return. Madeleine had seemed happy with the other wives and girlfriends clucking over their designer outfits and handbags. He’d wanted to blot everything out for a few hours but he should have known it was impossible. Emma and Dominic never left his thoughts.
He reached for a glass of water on the nightstand and with a shaking hand he took a sip. It wet his tongue for a millisecond and then made him feel worse.
‘Guy,’ Madeleine called from the other side of the king-sized bed.
She knew he was awake now he’d moved. He took another mouthful of water and replaced the glass.
‘Good morning,’ he forced from his lips.
‘You have too much to drink last night. There will be pictures on Facebook,’ Madeleine scolded.
‘We raise a lot of money for the charity,’ he replied, putting his head back on the pillow and hoping it would silence her.
‘I have to help you to the taxi,’ she continued.
He sighed and closed his eyes. He couldn’t remember a thing after the auction. He didn’t really care what had happened.
‘Gabriella wants me to talk about a lingerie collection,’ Madeleine continued.
He tried to think of something supportive to say but couldn’t. Not that it mattered. Whatever he said would be wrong.
‘This could be good for me. Her father is involved with a new film production company,’ Madeleine carried on.
Again, he had no idea how to respond. He coughed.
‘I do not know what is wrong. You want to move to England but since we arrive nothing is right,’ she remarked.
Now he felt guilty. How he was behaving wasn’t Madeleine’s fault. Even after a year she barely knew him. That was his fault. Their relationship was built on his success as a footballer and her desire to be in the spotlight. If his success should diminish he knew she wouldn’t stick around. The worst thing was, that thought didn’t bother him. They were seen together, they attended all the important parties together and they slept together. That was the sum total of their relationship. Making love with Madeleine was like taking part in an advanced yoga class followed by a spin session. It was all positions and deep breathing followed by sweating, shouting and shuddering. It was all about the physical. Emotions never came into it. Maybe that was his fault too.
‘I am sorry,’ he offered.
‘I don’t want you to say you’re sorry, Guy. I want you to show me,’ she stated.
A slender hand reached out for him, tracing its way down his back, stopping at the very bottom and teasing down his underwear.
He closed his eyes tight and bit his lip.
Chris let out a noise any warthog would be proud of. A flailing arm crossed over to Emma’s side of the bed and hit her in the cheek. She resisted the urge to shout. Instead she placed his arm back down on the sheet and slipped out of the bed.
She’d called him last night and practically begged him to come over. She’d made a meat and potato pie, got in a case of lager and some wine and spent the evening looking attentive when he talked about his day. She even managed a laugh when he told at least half a dozen jokes she’d heard before.
She needed routine. She needed to be reminded of the life she had. The normal, everyday life she’d been living for the last eight years. This was where she belonged. This was the life she’d chosen. She’d chosen Dominic and her home and later she’d realised that teaching really was what she wanted to do. She was good at it. She would learn and grow through teaching. She would pass on her passion for li
terature to children; give them something to lose themselves in if life got too hard.
She made her way downstairs and headed for the kitchen. It was almost seven. Dominic would usually be awake. She could only assume the painkillers had made him drowsy. The dishes from the night before greeted her. There were also eight cans of lager and three wine bottles, all empty. No wonder she had a headache.
She turned the kettle on and opened the cupboard to get the tea bags out. That’s when the note fluttered down and landed on the worktop.
There it was. The invitation. A one line note she had to make a decision about. She smoothed her finger over the black, handwritten words, his name. Did she owe him anything? Definitely. Did he know she owed him anything? No. He’d betrayed their trust. He’d promised her everything and he’d let her down. They’d had a few weeks together but she’d believed him when he said he was going to be her world. He’d sworn he would. She had to make him believe he wasn’t Dominic’s father. But what happened then? Once he believed that would he leave them alone? And did she want him to?
She closed her eyes and breathed in. A moment of stillness and she was transported back to La Baume. The fine hairs on her arms all stood up to attention, almost feeling the heat of the French sun. For a short time she had been so very happy. She’d been released from all the pressures in her life. There had been too many pressures for a seventeen year old girl. Guy had relieved her of that worry. She had believed in him and his dreams. All he’d wanted to do was better himself and she’d had no doubt that he could. He wanted to learn everything. He saw the world as a globe of adventure. He wanted to travel, work hard, learn, see everything. His enthusiasm had been infectious and she’d got caught up in the fantasy. That’s what he’d been. A delicious, teenage fantasy.
She heard Dominic coming down the stairs, moving a lot faster than someone with a bad foot should move. She pocketed the note into her dressing gown.
‘Hey, Mum,’ he greeted with a smile.
‘Morning. How’s your ankle?’ Emma asked, standing up and giving him a hug.
‘It’s alright. Can I take the bandage off? And can I have a fried egg for breakfast?’
Chapter Seventeen
‘I’m going to meet him.’ She’d whispered the words so quietly even she hadn’t heard them.
‘Emma? Is that you? You’ll have to speak up. I’ve got the coffee machine guy here sorting out the cappuccino issue. He’s pumping and grinding with lots of long metal instruments, but he is hot! Think Kevin Bacon when he was younger,’ Ally responded.
Emma shook her head. She’d debated about telling Ally and now she wished she hadn’t made the call. She wasn’t in the mood for her friend’s exaggerated humour.
‘I’ll leave you to him.’
‘No! Tell me what’s going on. How’s Dom?’
‘He’s tentatively playing bowling on the Wii with Chris. I’ve banned him from real sport for a while.’
‘Good idea. Despite running a wellness centre, there are days when I can see that exercise definitely isn’t for some people. There’s a chap signed up for Boxercise I’m going to have the oxygen on standby for,’ Ally continued.
Emma didn’t respond. She’d made the decision to meet with Guy but it wasn’t sitting well. In fact every time she thought about it she felt sick.
‘Did you say you’re going to meet him?’ Ally asked, suddenly translating the words she claimed not to have heard.
‘Yes…at least I think so.’
‘Well, I think it’s a good plan. If you want a ring on your finger and a nice white dress to waltz down the aisle in then you need to give the ex the heave-ho and get him gone. Not that he isn’t hot, because God he is hot but…’
‘What makes you think I want to get married?’ Emma interrupted.
‘I know you keep turning Chris down, but that’s because you’re waiting for the grand gesture. The grand gesture you deserve. Knowing him, he’s probably been saying the words over a pan of spaghetti hoops or in the ad break for Formula One.’
‘Is that what you think?’ She tried to steady her voice but she couldn’t keep the wobble out of it.
‘I think if Chris gets all dressed up, not in that terrible suit he had on the other night. If he takes you out somewhere swish, gets the right flowers – you know, not ones from the garage – and gets down on one knee, you should snap him up. He’s honest, he’s hard-working and he loves Dominic. It takes a special person to take on someone else’s child,’ Ally finished.
Fury bubbled up inside her. Suddenly she was absolutely rage-ridden. She couldn’t speak. Her head was throbbing. She wanted to slam the phone down.
‘Emma?’
‘You think…you think…Chris will do,’ Emma stammered over the words.
‘I like Chris.’
‘You like him so much you couldn’t remember his last name on Friday night.’
‘Emma, I…’
‘You think because I have a high mortgage, an average-paid job and an illegitimate son I should get Chris down the aisle because that’s what I deserve. A kind, hard-working man who’s putting up with my kid.’
‘I didn’t say that! Emma…’
‘Well you’re wrong, Ally. I say no to marrying Chris because he deserves someone so much better than me!’
With that statement made Emma replaced the phone and put her hands to her mouth, aching all over. Tears were slipping from her eyes already. When the kitchen door opened she hurriedly turned away and grabbed for the kitchen roll.
‘Emma?’ Chris said, looking at her.
The sleeves of his rugby shirt were rolled up to his elbows, he had a sheen of perspiration on his forehead and the Wii remote still in his hand.
‘I’m fine. I’m fine. Just Ally and her latest boyfriend. The pilot. She thinks he’s getting more than duty free from one of the air stewardesses.’ She wiped her eyes and put on a smile.
‘And it’s upset you that much?’ Chris asked. He didn’t sound convinced.
‘Well, she’s a good friend and I don’t like to see her messed about. She deserves someone nice, someone who’ll look after her,’ Emma added.
‘She’s lucky to have you worrying about her.’ He put his arm around her and drew her into a hug. She let herself be warmed by his affection, closed her eyes and remembered.
‘Dom’s whipping me at bowling. You going to come and play?’ Chris asked, letting her go.
‘Yeah, in a second. Just got to iron his uniform for tomorrow,’ she answered.
‘Alright. But don’t leave it too long because he’s getting better with every turn,’ Chris told her, grinning.
She smiled as he left the room again. Then she let the expression drop as she whipped up the phone.
‘Hi, Dad. No, Dom’s fine. His ankle’s much better today. Listen, I know it’s really short notice but would you be able to babysit tonight?’
‘The reason we come here is because the management know just how to treat people like us.’
‘No paparazzi,’ Madeleine remarked, nodding.
‘No paparazzi and no one without a significant profile. Last week an actress from Hollyoaks was asked to leave. Word is she had less than five thousand followers on Twitter.’
‘The shame!’
Guy wanted to smash his head against the table and see what the management would do about that. He had endured four courses of food already at the over-priced quay restaurant and almost two hours of inane conversation about dress designers and California hot spots Gabriella and Daniel were going to visit on their summer holiday.
Daniel was just about bearable. But his colleague had consumed a bottle of red wine on his own and now Guy suspected the reason he kept disappearing to the toilets was for more than urination.
He hated drugs. Despised what they did to people. Those who thought they took them just for recreation were fooling themselves. They didn’t just wreck your physicality, they poisoned your mind.
Daniel returned to his seat and beckon
ed the waiter to bring more wine.
‘How about a Merlot, Guy?’ Daniel suggested.
‘Non, no, not for me. I will stick with water.’
‘Guy had far too much to drink last night,’ Madeleine told the couple.
‘Didn’t we all? Cracking night, wasn’t it?’ Daniel remarked.
‘The food was a little overcooked,’ Gabriella said, sipping at her glass of champagne.
‘But we did raise a great deal of money for charity,’ Guy added.
‘Charity begins at home in my opinion. A lot of these so-called charities are just for people with no get up and go. You work hard, you make your own luck and the money rolls in. That’s what we do, don’t we, babe?’ Daniel said snaking an arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders.
Guy picked up his dessert fork and rolled it around his fingers. If he thought the management would turn a blind eye he would stab it right through Daniel’s cocaine-speckled hand.
‘So, what’s on the cards for tonight? Casino?’ Daniel suggested.
‘That sounds fun. It is so long since we did that,’ Madeleine said, turning to Guy.
‘I cannot tonight,’ he responded.
‘Why not?’ Madeleine’s voice was sharp.
‘I have to speak at the fitness centre. There is a…an exhibition this evening, all different sports. Some of us are talking about what sport means to us,’ Guy said. He held onto his water glass and tried to look convincing.
‘God that sounds dull! Rather you than me, mate. Oh well, another time. Shall we order dessert? What was that one with the truffles?’ Daniel asked his wife.
‘I can’t remember what it was called but I do remember it was the most expensive dish on the menu,’ Gabriella said with a laugh.
Guy forced a smile. Idiots. Was this what his life was to be from now on?
Chapter Eighteen
August 2005
‘And now, the moment you have all been waiting for…Marco the Magician. Applause!’
