Do You Remember? (16 page)

August 2005

‘Whose is the baby? Is it yours?’

Melody cackled at Tasha’s wisecrack and both of them moved their jaws up and down, crushing the chewing gum against their teeth.

‘Crying a lot isn’t it? Is it sick?’ Tasha continued.

Guy’s mother was again drunk and incapable of looking after her infant son and Guy had to work teaching football skills at the campsite. Emma had offered to have Luc for a couple of hours. Apart from the screaming she quite liked having something to do. She could snatch half an hour to read and revise while he napped and it meant she had an excuse not to join in with the lame campsite games. This afternoon her dad was going to be competing in a raft race in the lagoon pool so this morning he had gone off to practise.

She ignored Tasha’s comment and parked the pram next to a picnic bench, across from where Guy was teaching football. She put Luc’s bag on the table and took her books out of it.

‘What you reading?’ Tasha asked, picking up
The Canterbury Tales
.

‘Give it back,’ Emma ordered. Tasha began to leaf through the pages.

‘Looks crap to me. It’s not even English,’ she said, making exaggerated facials at Melody.

‘Not the type of English you speak, no,’ Emma responded.

‘What’s that supposed to mean? D’you think you’re better than us just because you’ve got some posh accent going on?’ Tasha questioned, pushing her face into Emma’s personal space.

‘You said it, not me.’ She stood her ground.

‘You cow!’ Tasha exclaimed, raising her hand.

‘Tasha! What d’you think you’re doing?’

A loud male voice cracked through the situation.

Tasha dropped her hand down as quickly as she’d raised it.

A plump man with spiky blond hair and dark sunglasses, dressed in white trousers and a red and white striped short-sleeved shirt arrived on the scene.

‘What you doing? It didn’t look like you were making friends and influencing people, Natasha,’ he said, glaring at Tasha.

The girl didn’t speak and Emma used this as her opportunity to grab her book back.

‘Apologise, Natasha,’ the man ordered.

‘I didn’t do anything, Dad,’ she insisted, scowling.

‘Apologise,’ he repeated.

Tasha looked at Emma; her eyes narrowed, her shoulders back, looking defiant.

‘Sorry,’ she said almost inaudibly.

‘Good. Now I want you to go and help your mother get the picnic organised. We’re going out on the boat in an hour,’ the man told her.

‘D’you want to come, Melody? Melody can come, can’t she, Dad?’

‘You’ll have to ask your parents.’

‘Come on, let’s go,’ Tasha said, pulling Melody by the arm.

Luc’s cries seemed to intensify as Tasha and Melody left and Emma reached into the pram to lift him out. She hugged him to her chest and whispered in his ear like she’d seen Guy do.

‘Now, he’s a handsome chap isn’t he?’

The man admired Luc and put his pinky finger into the baby’s hand. Luc clung on tight and stilled slightly.

‘He’s almost due a bottle,’ Emma informed.

‘Keith Crone,’ he introduced himself, holding his free hand out to her.

‘Emma, Emma Barron.’

‘I’m Natasha’s dad and I have to apologise for her. She’s been spoilt - totally my fault - but I did bring her up to have some manners. Any more trouble from her or her sidekick and you let me know,’ he said.

‘They weren’t really trouble just…’ Emma began.

‘I’ll leave you to this little one. Handsome boy,’ Keith said. He let go of Luc and waved a hand at Emma before strolling off with a confident gait.

She’d barely had time to look in Luc’s bag for his bottle before Guy was at her side.

‘
Que voulait-il
?’

‘What?’ Emma asked.

‘The man…what did he want?’ Guy wanted to know.

‘Oh, he’s Tarty Tasha’s dad. Can you believe she took a swing at me? I actually had the Oxford English Dictionary in my bag. If she’d slapped me she wouldn’t have liked a wallop with that,’ Emma said, smiling.

Guy winced and held his left side.

‘Are you OK? Is it still your ribs?’

‘I’m OK,’ he insisted.

‘I still think you should go to the hospital.’

‘I am fine.’

‘This can’t go on and as much as I like Luc, I can’t look after him all the time because your mother’s too drunk to. What happens when I have to go home?’ she asked.

She looked at Guy, watched his expression dull, the light in his eyes dim. They hadn’t talked about what would happen to them when she left. She only had one more week. Then it was back to Wiltshire, back to the house her mother had died in and to her dad’s blossoming relationship with Marilyn, the woman who was basically dancing on her mother’s grave.

‘Can we meet tonight?’ he asked her, lacing his fingers through her free hand.

‘I don’t know. It’s difficult to get my dad to believe I’m spending all this time with a friend I made up who he hasn’t seen. He’s going to start asking questions sooner or later.’

‘
S’il tu plait
,’ Guy said, rubbing his finger against Luc’s cheek and watching him gurgle.

She wanted to meet him. Should she really be worried about what her dad thought? At the moment he was quite content to live his life to the full. He didn’t really have the time to worry about what she was getting up to. He had raft races and Marilyn.

‘OK,’ Emma agreed.

‘Thank you,’ Guy said. He leant forward, kissing her lips and making her sway with the feeling that gave her.

‘You’d better go back to the football. We’ll be right here,’ Emma said, nodding her head in indication of her planned reading.

He kissed Luc’s cheek and squeezed her hand before hurrying back to his pupils.

Present Day

‘There’s a distinct lack of tuna in this tuna roll. I’m going to have to have a word. I know we’re not supposed to be serving stuff like Heston, but it is meant to rival the sandwich shop on the corner. I thought we might be able to steal some of their custom. We won’t be if our tuna rolls are just bread that was shown the fish but didn’t quite start a relationship.’

Ally placed the offending item back on its plate and reached for her pastry. She raised her eyes from her food to Emma and shook her head at her.

‘You look pasty and sleep deprived. What’s been happening?’ she asked.

‘Guy and I…oh I don’t know.’

‘You do know and you’re meant to tell me. That’s how the whole best friend thing works.’

‘We want to try.
I
want to try,’ she began.

‘Things have moved on. Tell me more,’ Ally encouraged.

‘It’s all such a mess. I don’t really know what’s going on. We met, we decided we had to see if our feelings were going to lead anywhere but I said we must make sure we do the right thing. He has a partner, I have Chris.’

Ally didn’t speak.

‘I was supposed to tell Chris. Not about Guy necessarily, but end things, make a clean break…’

‘You couldn’t do it,’ Ally guessed.

Emma shook her head.

‘Well, maybe that’s telling you something in itself,’ Ally suggested.

‘You don’t understand,’ Emma said, reaching for her coffee.

‘Listen, I know you say the bond the two of you had eons ago in France was tight, but we’re in 2013 now. You’re judging the situation on that first flush of romance suddenly being rekindled…’ Ally started.

‘He phoned me. Something’s happened to him but I don’t know what. He was crying and I haven’t heard from him since,’ Emma carried on.

‘Second thoughts. He’s had a change of heart. He’s realised what I’m saying. Sometimes you have to count the chicken that’s keeping your bed warm at night, not the one who frantically ruffled your feathers when you were seventeen, no matter how great it was at the time.’

‘You’re doing it again. You’re trying to make me stay with Chris. Why?’ Emma queried, her eyes meeting Ally’s.

‘Because he’s been there for you and Dominic and before him, the longest you’d ever been with anyone was four months.’

Ally held her gaze until Emma was forced to look away. Of course, Ally was right. Chris had been there. He seemed to be able to take the rough with the smooth. He was a rock in so many ways but…he wasn’t Guy.

‘Now we’re going to this football match in an hour and I’m not going to be able to avoid him. After the game there are sandwiches and tea with the team and Chris and Dom will be there. It’s going to be so awkward,’ Emma explained.

‘I can’t help you if you’re not going to be honest with me,’ Ally stated. She pulled a raisin out of her cake.

‘What d’you mean? I am being honest with you. You’re the only one I am being honest with!’

‘Who’s Dominic’s father?’

‘I told you.’

‘No you didn’t. You fed me a story about turning into some sort of teenage nymphomaniac and having it away with half our year. I was around at the time. And I wasn’t permanently drunk on cider,’ Ally continued.

She was starting to shake and she tried to hide it. She put her coffee cup down.

‘He
is
Dominic’s father, isn’t he?’ Ally stated.

Emma shook her head. There was no way she could tell Ally any more. She had told her too much already.

‘Tuna rolls, my favourite!’ Chris enthused as he and Dominic approached the table.

‘Don’t,’ Emma warned her friend. She was rescued from having to answer by Dominic bundling into her.

‘Hey, Aunty Ally!’ he greeted, hugging her.

‘Hello, Dom. How’s your ankle?’ she asked, ruffling his hair up.

‘It’s fine now. I played football at school yesterday and scored two goals,’ he said proudly.

‘That’s my boy. Super stuff – on skis,’ Ally replied.

‘We’re going to watch Finnerham later. Guy’s going to be playing,’ Dominic said.

‘He might not be, Dom, you don’t know. He might be injured,’ Emma interjected.

‘Is he? Did you hear the team news?’ Chris piped up.

‘No. I just…well, we don’t know the team yet do we?’ She stopped herself from talking any more.

‘How’s your dad’s internet dating going?’ Ally asked, swiftly changing the subject.

‘Oh he’s done with all that. He’s back with an old flame,’ Chris said. He winked at Emma. Her stomach turned. Her dad was back with Marilyn. They’d bumped into each other again. That had led to dinner and now there was talk of joining a darts team. All that in a few days.

‘Well, good for him. Is it good for him?’ Ally asked, looking to Emma.

She shrugged. It was all she was capable of.

‘We’ll find out tomorrow. He’s invited us to dinner,’ Chris told.

‘But we haven’t said yes yet. I might be…’

‘Not more marking.’

‘Well I
am
a teacher.’ She couldn’t keep the harshness from her tone. She followed it up quickly. ‘Sorry.’

‘Jonty’s promised me Italian tonight, no expense spared,’ Ally told the group.

‘I thought you’d broken up with him. Didn’t he like someone else?’ Dominic butted in.

‘Dom!’ Emma exclaimed.

‘You said!’

‘I’m sorry, Ally,’ Emma said.

‘That’s OK. He’s still in the dog house. I’ll make sure his credit card takes a real pounding on tiramisu.’

He hadn’t slept since the night of the fashion show. He was back to prowling the house, working out at three in the morning, anything to get out of lying down and closing his eyes. He’d never in a million years thought he’d see Keith Crone again – anywhere but in his nightmares.

He’d never known his occupation; just that he had money and lots of it. Knowing that Madeleine and Gabriella were going to be working with him on their lingerie label turned his stomach. This was where it was going to start all over again. He’d never be free.

‘Hey, Guy…you want something? Big game today,’ Daniel asked, standing in front of him.

Guy put his boots down and faced his team mate.

‘
Non
.’ He shook his head.

‘You sure?’ Daniel checked.

‘I said no,’ Guy barked, standing up and squaring himself towards Daniel.

‘Alright, man, chill out. You know where I am if you change your mind.’ Daniel backed off and Guy turned his attention to the number eight shirt hanging on the hook above the bench. It was his. Finally he had what he wanted and he couldn’t enjoy any of it.

Today
was
a big game. It was at home against the top of the league team, Irwell Rovers. He needed to perform. He needed this to be his best game yet. So far, although he hadn’t played badly, he was yet to score a goal for his new team. And he knew Emma would be watching.

She’d called and text and he hadn’t answered. He couldn’t. There was so much he wanted to say but he just didn’t know how to say it. As much as he wanted a fresh start, as much as he longed to be with her, he didn’t want to bring pain back into her life. And that’s what would happen. He’d hurt her before. He didn’t want to do it again.

‘This is it, Dom. This is how the rich and famous watch football. From a glass-fronted box,’ Chris announced, leading the way into the private suite.

Emma had shrunk into herself from the moment they left the car and entered the huge stadium. She wasn’t overawed by the size of the building or the number of people working there who seemed to accumulate the further they moved into the inner sanctum, she was just wary, on guard. She didn’t want to bump into Guy. She was concerned for him. She wished he would just send her a message to let her know he was OK, but she didn’t want to see him today. Not now.

The suite was as luxurious as Chris had promised. A manned bar at the back of the room where they had entered, leather sofas, chrome and glass coffee tables adorned with magazines to suit every taste and a spread of food laid out at one side.

‘We don’t have to actually watch the game here though, do we? Don’t we have seats out there?’ Dominic asked. He moved through the suite, bypassed the luxury and headed straight towards the wall of glass at the other end of the room. There were the stands, so many seats, in white and royal blue, matching the Finnerham colours. And then there was the pitch itself. So lush and green despite the hot conditions they were experiencing. It was a grassy oasis that would soon be scuffed up by more than a score of football boots.

‘Nah, mate, of course we have seats! Can’t exactly cheer them on from here, can we? They’d never hear us,’ Chris said, laughing.

Emma stood in front of the glass, looking down at the pitch. She’d never seen Guy play a full game of football. Not a proper one. Ever. He’d been good at the campsite but what did she know? To be where he was today, a star at Finnerham and playing for his country, he had to be better than good. He had to be one of the best.

‘Want a drink?’ Chris offered, putting his arm around her shoulders.

‘No. I’m fine,’ she said, moving out of his embrace and approaching Dominic.

‘D’you think I’ll play for Finnerham when I’m older, Mum?’ Dominic asked. He looked up at her, waiting with bated breath for her response.

‘Is that what you want?’

‘Footballers earn loads of money. I could buy you and Chris a bigger house and some new cars,’ he said, grinning.

‘Money isn’t everything, Dom. It’s more important to be happy,’ Emma replied.

‘Wouldn’t a new car make you happy?’ He smirked.

‘She’s too attached to the old one, Dom. That’s the thing with women. They get emotionally attached to everything. I’d have a new car though and a holiday villa … Italy I reckon. You could actually set your sights on Inter Milan,’ Chris suggested.

Emma turned away. Today was going to kill her.

Despite telling Daniel he didn’t need anything to see him through the game; he’d taken on board three energy drinks. Now he was buzzing. This would be the game where everything came together. He would earn the respect of the team and the fans, justifying the price Finnerham had paid. He had to focus. He had to clear everything else from his mind and concentrate on the match.

‘Right! Listen up!’ The manager prepared to give his team talk and Guy was all ears. He’d listen to everything that was said and he’d replicate that and more. He was going to end the day a winner if it killed him.

‘All that food in the suite and he wants a pie,’ Chris said. He shook his head and nudged Emma’s shoulder. Dominic was digging into a meat and potato pie with brown sauce using a flimsy plastic fork.

‘It’s the experience. Dad took him to the greyhounds once. He ate three hotdogs, a tray of chips and a bag of pick and mix,’ Emma replied.

‘Pick and mix. That brings back memories,’ Chris said, nodding.

‘They’re coming out!’ Dominic announced, his excitement clear for all to see.

Emma looked to the tunnel and both teams, led by the referee and his assistants, began to emerge onto the pitch. The roar of the fifty thousand plus crowd started to heighten until it turned into a frenzy of excited cheering, clapping and singing along to the tune they’d started running out to this season, ‘Hall of Fame’ by The Script.

Dominic was juggling with his pie, desperate to get his scarf in the air. He was out of his seat, jumping up and down as the Finnerham players ran onto the grass, applauding their fans and warming up.

Emma didn’t see anyone but Guy. He was in the middle of the line of Finnerham players running out, clapping the crowd’s vocal appreciation. Her heart soared to see him. She didn’t know exactly what was going on but he was here and he was OK enough to play. Something in her settled slightly and she realised just how worried she’d been. They were three rows back, not close enough to jump the barrier but near enough to feel connected. The game was a sell-out. So many other people in the stadium, it would be impossible for them to share anything. And they shouldn’t.

Just as that thought passed through her mind, Dominic started calling.

‘Guy! Guy!’

‘Dom, he won’t be able to hear you,’ Emma said, touching his arm.

‘Yes he will! Guy!’ Dominic carried on.

He thought he could hear his name being called. It wasn’t unusual. Fans called for photos and attention all the time, but this voice he recognised. He turned to the stands and saw Dominic. The boy was leaping up and down, swirling a scarf in the air and waving, his other hand holding a cardboard container. He was yelling his name.

Then he saw Emma. She was wearing a pretty pale pink t-shirt, her hair pushed back behind her ears. He felt his chest contract at the sight of her and the guilt that he hadn’t responded to her messages coursed through him. Dominic yelled again and he raised his hand, waving with enthusiasm.

The referee blew his whistle, indicating which way the teams were kicking and Guy gave a final wave at Dominic before he jogged off to get into position. Seeing the boy so animated gave him another boost. Dominic was another reason to get things right.

Despite not being a football fan, being so close, Emma couldn’t help but get involved with every second of the match. Within ten minutes, Finnerham had gone one goal down. A free-kick just outside the box had resulted in the Irwell winger delivering a powerful shot that flew into the top corner. But the shock of losing the lead so early had spurred Finnerham into action. Just before half-time they had drawn level thanks to a penalty Daniel had slotted home.

Dominic had been a ball of energy the whole way through. He had drunk two bottles of Coke and had another meat pie and now, just five minutes before the end, he was asking for more sweets.

‘Chris,’ he begged.

‘No, Dom, there’s five minutes left. I know what will happen, I’ll get to the counter and I’ll miss a goal. Shit! That was close!’ Chris exclaimed as a Finnerham shot fizzed past the post.

‘Language,’ Emma told off.

‘Sorry. Sorry, Dom, don’t repeat that,’ Chris said, putting his fingers to his mouth and chewing his nails.

‘I can’t watch,’ Dominic said. He hid his eyes in his scarf as Irwell set about an attack.

He knew time was running out. He’d clocked the scoreboard. Four minutes remaining, plus perhaps two minutes added time for injuries. There’d been a slight delay when one of the Irwell players was treated after a heavy tackle. It was now or never and the team were getting tired. They’d played well but Irwell were strong. That was why they were top of the league.

Josh made a run and Guy saw nothing but space in front of him. Screaming from the bottom of his lungs he sprinted off, heading for the penalty area.

The cross came over and he leapt up into the air. His head made contact with the ball first then the elbow of the Irwell defender. As the crowd screamed with joy and the ball shot over the line, past the stranded goalkeeper, everything in Guy’s world went black.