Do You Remember? (12 page)

August 2005

She watched him as he pulled his clothes back on. They’d lain together for over an hour until time ticked closer to her curfew. She didn’t want to go but she also didn’t want her dad coming to look for her. How embarrassing would that be? And it would spoil it. This had been such a special night. She didn’t want it ending like that, being dragged back to her too-small tent by her dad.

‘Guy,’ she said. He fastened his trousers and turned to look at her.

‘I have to go,’ she said. She’d pulled on her dress and was hugging her knees to her chest.

As the dark fell the temperature dropped.

He slipped his shirt over his arms and began to fasten the buttons as he came back to her. He sat down on the blanket and when the buttons were all done up he took her hand and brought it to his lips. His soft kiss shot a shiver through her.

‘I do not…
Je ne veux pas que tu partis
.’

She traced a line down his face, stopping at his chin and drawing him towards her. This gorgeous boy was hers. Even if it was just for the summer, he was hers.. He wasn’t a counsellor or a teacher. He didn’t bang on about the grieving process. Here, with him, that part of her life didn’t exist anymore.

‘Guy…have you…have you been with many girls?’

She didn’t know why she’d asked that. Was it because this night had been too perfect? Had he done all this before for someone else? Why would that matter? Everyone Ally had been with already had a history.

‘
Quoi?
’

‘Have you…I don’t know the words…
amour
with other girls…like this.’ She indicated the blanket.

For a moment, when he didn’t immediately respond, she thought she’d ruined everything. She didn’t really know what she wanted him to say. She was more or less certain it hadn’t been his first time. He seemed to know what to do. He hadn’t appeared nervous at all. And what he’d done had been more than
agréable
.

‘I do not know…the words,’ he began. He tamed a section of hair behind her ear. She brushed her lips against his hand.

‘Please try. In French?’

He shook his head.

‘It doesn’t matter if you’ve been with other girls. I mean you’re eighteen. You work here and…’

‘
Non
. It is…I have. But it was
pas le même
.
Pas comme nous
,’ he said.

‘Not…not like us,’ Emma translated.

‘I want to say so much but…
Je ne sais pas les mots
,’ he continued.

He rubbed his thumb over her hand, back and forth.

‘You don’t have the words?’ Emma guessed.

He nodded.

‘You are different. We are…
spécial
,’ he continued.

His answer made her heart swell. He had felt it too. Although she had tried to put everything she felt down to it being her first time, her first time with someone she cared so much for, it wasn’t just her own romanticism. It had meant something to him too. Perhaps when he’d said
amour
he’d really meant it.

She caught sight of her watch. It was a minute to eleven. She let him go, leaping up.

‘I have to go.’

‘You have to leave me here. I told my dad I was with Sally. If he sees you then…’ she began.

He silenced her with a kiss. His lips smothered hers and he drew her towards him. She folded her arms behind his neck and played with the hair at the nape. Closing her eyes she sucked in his scent and tried to imprint it on her memory. This night had meant everything.

‘Can I…see you tomorrow?’ Guy asked, adjusting the strap of her dress and leaving his fingers on her bare shoulder.

‘After your trial?’

‘In the morning…for
bonne chance
,’ he suggested.

‘You won’t need good luck,’ she assured.

He hugged her close, brushing his hand down her hair.

‘I’ll meet you by the back gate again? At ten?
Dix heures
,’ she said.

‘Emma? Is that you?’

Mike’s voice came through the canvas of their tent just a few yards in front of them. Had he heard them talking? She didn’t want him to know she was with Guy.

‘I have to go,’ she whispered to Guy.

‘
À tout!
’

He kissed her cheek and she held on to his hand as he went to walk away. He smiled at her and finally, reluctantly, she let go.

She unzipped the tent and parted the way to go in. Mike was sat in a camping chair, reading a caravanning magazine. He put it down as she entered.

‘Did you have a nice time, love?’

‘Yeah. It was good. Sally had some great music,’ Emma responded. She had to stop her face flaming or the game would be up. She needed her dad to believe in Sally so she could arrange more dates with Guy.

‘Was that a boy I heard you talking to?’ Mike asked. He looked straight at her.

‘Yes. It was Sally’s brother, Kevin. He insisted on walking me back to the tent because it was dark and…’

‘Sensible lad. Thank him for me will you,’ Mike said.

Emma nodded.

‘I’m just going to go the toilet and then…’ she said.

‘Sit down a minute, love.’ He indicated the other chair by the table.

This wasn’t good. The last time he’d ordered her to sit down like that was when he gave her her mother’s cancer diagnosis. She sank down into the portable chair and held her breath.

‘So, how are things, love? How are you feeling?’ Mike began.

Oh no. He was starting to sound like the Macmillian nurse. Why was he asking her this now?

‘I’m fine, Dad.’
Actually I’ve just had sex
the voice in her head said. Did she look like she’d had sex? She certainly felt at least five years older and far more experienced. Did it show? She was quite sure she didn’t want her dad sensing from a flush how much her thighs ached.

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

‘I know things are tough, love. We’ve had it hard for a long time, haven’t we?’

She didn’t know what to say. For whose benefit was this conversation?

‘I’m fine, Dad. Really fine,’ she said with a little more insistence.

‘I was just thinking maybe you’d like to talk it over with someone. Someone who knew your mum,’ Mike suggested.

‘I’ve been talking to the counsellor the hospital gave us,’ Emma reminded.

‘I know you have, love, I know. I just thought talking to someone who wasn’t a medical professional might be more…casual. And if they knew your mum then…’

‘Who do you want me to talk to, Dad?’

He needed to get to the point. She didn’t like the way this conversation was going.

‘Well, do you remember your mum’s friend Marilyn? They used to go to knitting club together before she got sick,’ Mike started.

No. No, no, no. He couldn’t do this now. Not when they were on holiday together. Her mum was barely cold in her grave and although she knew something was going on between him and Marilyn, he couldn’t bring her into their lives now.

‘I don’t remember her.’ Her voice came out robotic.

‘Yes you do, love. She’s about your mum’s height and build, with reddish hair and…’

‘I don’t remember her. Why would I want to talk to her?’ she snapped.

He couldn’t be doing this. He couldn’t be. Did his wife’s memory not mean anything to him? All the wonderful feelings she’d experienced with Guy that night were being drowned, dampened down and spoiled.

‘Well, she’s a very nice lady and we’ve become quite close. She’s been helping me come to terms with losing your mum,’ Mike continued.

Anger boiled in her stomach. If she said anything now she was sure it would be coated in flames. She just wanted him to stop talking. To shut his mouth and not say anything else. She shifted in her seat.

‘I thought when we got home we might have Marilyn round for dinner. A nice roast or something.’

Oh my God! He’d gone all out. He was going to invite Marilyn into their home, into her mother’s house, to sit in her mother’s seat or maybe even make the same onion and herb gravy they’d always had with Sunday lunch. This couldn’t be happening. She didn’t want this to happen.

She clenched her teeth together. She didn’t trust herself to say anything. She needed to work out how to deal with it.

‘Would that be alright, love? If Marilyn came to lunch some time? You could have a talk to her then, couldn’t you?’ Mike carried on.

Was there no stopping him? Wasn’t her silence speaking volumes? She was trying hard to keep the murderous expression off her face but she certainly wasn’t smiling and doing cartwheels.

‘I really need the toilet,’ Emma stated, rising from her chair.

‘Right, sorry, of course you do.’

‘Then I’m going to bed,’ Emma added. She wanted to make it clear there would be no further discussion about this tonight. And if she had her way it would never be talked of again. Wait until she told Ally about this. She’d let her friend into her suspicions before they left for France. Wait until she told her it was true!

‘Yes, love, of course it’s late,’ Mike said, looking at his watch.

‘I won’t be long,’ Emma said, parting the doors of the tent.

‘Don’t forget the torch,’ Mike said, holding it out for her.

She wished the toilet block was on the other side of the complex, not thirty five steps away from their tent. She swished the torch from side to side, pretending it was a scythe whipping across Marilyn’s neck. That woman was no friend of her mum’s. That woman was trying to step into her mother’s shoes by latching onto her dad. There was no way she could let that happen. She would stop it. Somehow. It wasn’t right. Although her mum was gone from the world, she was still very much in her heart. Why wasn’t she still in her dad’s?

She wanted Guy. She wanted him to hold her and touch her and make everything better. He’d done that tonight. He’d taken her up to the stars and that’s where she wanted to stay. With him. Just with him. If Marilyn was going to be at home she would just have to run in the opposite direction.

Present Day

She nursed the coffee cup in her hands and offered him a smile. He smiled back and took another mouthful of the dark, rich blend. When she’d talked of Dominic she’d finally opened up. The love for the boy shone in her eyes, lightened up her whole expression. He could tell her son meant everything to her. She had put aside all her plans to focus on the boy. University had come, but later. Her life had taken a back seat. Dominic had been, and still was, centre stage.

‘Does he do well at school?’ Guy asked her.

‘What?’

‘Dominic. Does he do well at school? He is a good footballer. Sometimes children are good at one thing and not the other.’

‘He’s very bright. He loves English. One of his creative writing pieces won a local competition.’

The pride in her voice was evident.

‘He takes after you,’ Guy told her.

‘Oh no, he’s much brighter than I ever was,’ she insisted.

She’d had a love of books and writing but she’d never been an A-grade student. She’d been average and she’d had to work hard to be average. It was her passion that had always driven her to succeed, not a natural ability.

She looked at her watch. It was half past eleven. They were the only people left in the restaurant. She needed to get home.

‘It’s late. I should call a taxi.’

‘I can take you,’ Guy offered.

‘But you’ve been drinking. You can’t drive.’

‘I have a car…a driver,’ he said. He picked up his iPhone and held it up as if to explain.

‘Your own chauffeur. You must have made it,’ she stated.

He shrugged.

‘I can easily get a taxi,’ she insisted.

She didn’t know much about chauffeur-driven cars but one thing she was almost certain of was you usually sat in the back seat. She wasn’t sure sitting in the back seat of anything with Guy was such a good idea.

‘I can easily take you home,’ he responded.

She let out a sigh that she hoped he didn’t hear. It would be ridiculous to create a fuss. She may as well accept the lift.

He made a call on his phone, then gestured for the waiter to bring the bill.

When it arrived, Emma opened her bag. Before she could remove her wallet Guy waved her action away.

‘Do not think of taking out money,’ he ordered.

‘But…’

‘
Non
,’ he interrupted.

She ignored the insistent tone and stood up as Guy got out a credit card and beckoned the waiter with the chip and pin machine.

She looked out through the restaurant windows at the front of the building and saw it was raining. It had been so hot lately thunderstorms were forecast almost every day. She wished she’d thought to bring a jacket.

‘Shall we go? Sean will only be a few minutes,’ Guy told her.

She nodded and followed him towards the exit.

As he pushed open the glass door a loud crack of thunder boomed from above them and Emma jumped with fright. Rain was pelting down on the ground and a bright flash lit up the night sky.

‘Are you OK?’ he asked, touching her arm. They’d stopped short of the street and stood in the entrance underneath the restaurant’s canopy.

‘Yes. I just wasn’t expecting that,’ she admitted. The storm had already cooled the air and her arms started to pimple.

‘You have no coat,’ he observed.

‘I’m fine,’ she lied through chattering teeth.

‘Here,’ he said. Before she could protest he had taken off his jacket and slipped it around her shoulders. He straightened out the collar and made sure it was comfortable. She looked up at him. He was so close to her. His fingers fastened the three buttons, just touching her blouse, making the silk graze her skin. Her resolve was close to breaking. She could feel it happening. He reached up to touch her cheek and instinctively she shut her eyes.

The sound of a car pulling to the kerb and stopping in front of them broke the moment. Emma snapped open her eyes and took a half step back.

‘It’s my car,’ Guy said, stating the obvious.

She nodded. He stepped out into the rain and opened the back door. The rain soaked him instantly, turning his shirt translucent, flattening his dark hair against his head.

‘Emma,’ he called, indicating the open door.

She put her bag over her head to shield it from the rain and hurried across the pavement to the waiting vehicle.

She dived into the car and slid over the cream leather seats leaving space for him. The rain was hammering against the roof of the car like it could break through the metal at any second. She had only heard something as harsh as the sound once before.

Guy leapt into the car, pulling the door closed behind him. He shook himself, spraying drops all over the seats, the door and the floor. He was saturated.

‘Sean, we need to go to 14 Windsor Avenue. It’s a mile from here,’ he called through the intercom.

Emma tried not to look as Guy undid the top two buttons of his shirt and fanned the material in an attempt to remove the water.

‘Wow, it is wet,’ he remarked with a laugh. Emma laughed too and watched him shake his head. It sent a flurry of moisture everywhere, a few specks landing on her face.

‘Stop!’ she said, wiping at it.

He smoothed his hair back behind his ears and turned his body towards her.

‘Do you remember that storm in La Baume?’

She nodded. ‘There was no warning. One minute we were in brilliant sunshine, the next the heavens opened.’

‘We ran for the barn and…’

As he spoke the memories overwhelmed her, grabbed at her heart, pounded her chest, overloaded her mind. All she could see was the boy she adored, sat next to her, dripping wet, gorgeous, just as he was.

She had no idea who moved first but their lips met and she had her first taste of him in eight years. There was nothing slow or tentative about it. Passion and desire ripped through her body as she caught his face in her hands and begged him to deepen the kiss.

She felt his fingers brush the skin on her shoulder as he ran a trail down to her elbow, skimming the flesh so lightly. That scent, that same scent of citrus and Merlot and the freshness of the rain filled her senses. It was carrying her away, back to a time when she’d been able to let loose, when she hadn’t been a mother, when she’d been a teenage girl falling in love for the very first time. But that wasn’t who she was now. And she was with Chris.

A thump of realisation wrenched her back into her seat and away from Guy.

‘Oh my God. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have…’

‘Don’t be sorry,’ he said. He moved to take her hand but she withdrew it. The car came to a halt.

‘I have to go.’ She picked up her bag and opened the door.

‘Emma, wait,’ he begged.

She shut the door of the car and rushed up the path to her house. She didn’t look back.

He tried to compose himself but his heart was still racing. He hadn’t felt that way in so long. He’d kissed her. She’d kissed him. It had been sweeter than he remembered. He put a finger to his lips, hoping to feel her still on him.

He pressed the intercom. ‘Just give me a minute, Sean.’

He couldn’t leave things this way.

She rushed into the house almost unable to breathe. What had she done? How could she have been so stupid? He had led her on again. He had reminded her of their past and taken advantage of the situation. She had kissed him.
Kissed
him. She had cheated on Chris! She closed her eyes and leant against the front door. She hated herself.

‘Is that you, love?’ Mike’s voice called from the living room.

She opened her eyes quickly and tried to calm down. She needed to get a grip and quickly. No one had to know about this. It was a mistake. A big mistake but a mistake none the less. She’d made mistakes before and put them behind her. This would be no different.

‘Yes…yes, Dad, it’s me,’ she answered, moving towards the lounge.

She blew a breath out and put her hand on the door. Smiling, she greeted Mike.

‘Hey, Dad.’

‘Hello, love. How’s Ally?’ Mike asked, turning off the television.

Ally. Of course. She told him she was going to Ally’s.

‘Oh, you know, she’s a bit upset but she’s getting there. A couple of bottles of wine and some chocolates and the world seemed slightly better.’ She began to undo the buttons of the jacket and it was then she realised it was Guy’s.

‘Whose is the jacket?’ Mike asked as Emma fought to get it off.

‘Jonty’s. The pilot. Ally’s ex-boyfriend. I went out without a coat and she insisted I took it so I didn’t get wet getting in and out of the cab,’ she said.

‘Looks expensive. I always thought those pilots earned good money,’ Mike said. He stood up from the sofa.

‘Dom OK?’ Emma asked.

‘Oh yes he’s fine. Ran me ragged on the Wii. We snowboarded and kick-boxed and every other punching sport under the sun. He went up about half eight and I checked on him about ten and he was out for the count,’ Mike informed.

‘Thanks, Dad. Thanks for babysitting,’ Emma said.

‘Anytime, love. You know that.’ He picked his anorak up from the chair and headed out of the room.

‘I’ll give you a ring in the week. You can tell me how your search for the perfect woman’s going,’ Emma joked.

‘You may mock, but I’m finding the internet dating to be an eye-opener…what’s this?’ Mike asked. He stooped down and picked something up from the doormat.

Emma’s heart stopped as she watched her dad pick up a piece of paper.

‘It’s got your name on it, love. Didn’t you see it when you came in?’ Mike asked. He passed the note to her. She took it and held it in her hand. She didn’t need to look at the writing to know who it was from.

‘I…didn’t put the hall light on,’ she answered.

‘Right, well, I’ll get off then. I’ll see you, love,’ Mike said. He opened the door.

‘Bye, Dad. Thanks again,’ Emma said.

Mike waved his hand. She made sure he made it to his car and then she shut the door. She flipped open the note.

My phone is in the jacket. I’ll call in at the school tomorrow.

She closed her eyes and squeezed them up tight.