Do You Remember? (18 page)

August 2005

‘Where’s the baby?’

‘With his mother. Where’s your lapdog?’

‘Where’s your books?’

‘Where’s your dad?’

‘With my mum. At least I have one of those.’

Tasha’s last remark cut deep and before she could control the rage, Emma lashed out. She hit Tasha around the head with the supermarket carrier bag she was holding. It contained a carton of wine and some brie and Tasha fell to the floor in a heap.

‘What happen? What did you do?’ Guy asked, suddenly appearing at her side.

‘That bitch made a nasty comment about my mum,’ Emma stated.

Tasha was crying. Loud, babyish crying that sounded ridiculous. She was glad she had hurt her. She wished she’d bought a bottle of wine rather than a carton.

‘Emma…is she
blessé
?’ Guy asked, bending down to look at the girl.

‘If
blessé
means blessed then no she definitely isn’t!’ She was shaking and she folded her arms in disgust as Guy inspected the crying Tasha as if she were something worthwhile. He took hold of her arm, almost gently and helped her to her feet.

‘Are you OK?’ he asked Tasha.

‘I can’t believe you’re fawning over her! She’s a complete cow!’ Emma blasted.

‘She hit me with the bag,’ Tasha answered. She looked only at Guy and sniffed, blinking damp eyelashes.

‘I’ll hit you with it again if you don’t stop faking it. If I really wanted to hurt you I wouldn’t have stopped!’ Emma hissed.

‘I think you should…
dire pardon
,’ Guy said.

‘What?! You want me to apologise?! No way! She made a comment about my mum. My dead mum!’ Emma shouted.

Why was he being so nice to Tasha? He said he didn’t like her and Melody and now he was acting as if Tasha was important…more important than her. He was taking Tasha’s side when he should be defending her.

‘Emma…’

‘No. I’m not apologising. Frankly, she deserved more than I gave her. Here! You can take the wine and cheese. You enjoy them…on your own!’

She launched the bag at Guy and marched in the opposite direction. She had gone four or five steps before the tears started to fall. How could Tasha have been so cruel? Bitchy banter was one thing but making a remark about her mother was below the belt. And Guy was protecting her. Why didn’t he see her point of view? Well, he could eat the wine and cheese with Tasha if he wanted because she didn’t care what he did. She had lied to her dad again to be able to see him and now he had ruined it.

By the time she’d left the campsite her chest was heaving with emotion. Why was this happening? She was leaving soon. She didn’t want to leave like this. She didn’t want it to be just a holiday romance. She loved him. He loved her. Or so she thought. They could write to one another, send emails…it was only a few months until the half-term break. She could persuade her dad to come back to La Baume.

Before she knew it she was at the barn. She didn’t know why she had walked there but it was away from the campsite and it was as good a place as any to cry.

She sat down on a hay bale and curled her legs up underneath her. What was she going to do when she got home? Despite drowning in all the books Mr. Devlin had recommended and more, she wasn’t convinced the exams were going to go as well as they should next year. Her work and concentration had slipped. She’d let them slip because she’d needed to concentrate on her mum. Spending moments with her had been the most important thing in her life and she didn’t regret that decision one bit. But would that decision cost her the life that she so badly wanted?

She looked out of the barn door at the scenery before her. Golden banks of corn, set against greener fields and the spire of a distant church. It was beautiful, it was peaceful, perhaps that’s what she needed to focus on. Being at peace with how things were. Shouldering the situation she’d been placed in.

‘You are here…I knew.’

He was standing at the small side door of the barn, his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

He’d come to find her. He wasn’t with Tasha. But she should be angry with him. He hadn’t supported her when she’d needed him too.

‘We should go. We don’t want to be…
en retard
,’ Guy continued.

‘Late? Late for what?’ she asked. She tried to disguise the interest in her voice.

‘For fun,’ he responded, a smile on his lips.

The joy in his face was infectious and she couldn’t help but mimic his expression. But then she stopped, remembered she was cross.

‘Why were you so nice to Tasha? She said something really hurtful.’

Guy threw his head back and let out a tut.

‘She is…
elle est agaçante
! But…her father…’

‘The man I met today?’

‘
Oui
. He is…he go to the hotel I work at. He knows the boss,’ Guy explained.

Now she felt a bit stupid. She knew money was difficult for him. He wouldn’t want his job in danger.

‘Don’t be…what is the word?’

‘Angry?’ she offered.

‘Are you that?’

‘A little,’ she admitted.

‘You cannot. We have…
Nous avons le plaisir d’avoir
.’

‘A what?’

‘
Musique, vin, danse, sur le bateau
,’ he explained.

‘A boat? Where?’

‘Do you come?’ he asked, holding his hand out to her.

This sounded exciting. This sounded daring and different and not safe at all.

‘How do we get there?’ she asked, taking his hand.

‘
Voiture
.’

The ‘car’ turned out to be more of a delivery van Guy had borrowed from someone else he knew in the kitchens at the campsite. The seats were ripped, springs and sponge oozing out, there wasn’t a panel without rust and the tyres looked like they needed serious attention. But when they pulled up at the quay in Fréjus she felt like Cinderella arriving at the ball in her golden carriage.

‘This is crazy,’ she said, admiring the port and all the boats moored along the edge of the water.

‘You spend all this time here and you have not seen the town,’ Guy remarked, taking hold of her hand.

‘I don’t think my dad really knows what to do with me. The campsite is safe. He gets involved in the activities and I…sneak away to see you,’ she said, leaning forward and kissing his lips.

‘The boat…it is there,’ Guy said, pointing to a luxurious yacht moored a few feet away from where they had parked.

Emma took in the view. Pristine white and chrome with royal blue trims, the boat was more like a mini luxury liner. She could see people stood up on deck. They were laughing, glasses of wine in their hands. There were waiters with trays of food, jazz music was playing. Harry Connick Jnr. or someone like him. She froze when she saw what people were wearing. The women were in cocktail dresses, the men in short-sleeved shirts and smart trousers. She looked down at her tangerine coloured sun-dress and her white pumps.

‘Guy, I can’t go to a party…that party, dressed like this. I look under-dressed…not posh enough…too casual,’ she said, hoping he would understand.

‘Your dress?’ he asked, looking confused.

‘Yes. It isn’t good enough,’ she said.

‘You are with me…my…
mon invite
,’ he told her.

‘But…’

‘Come on,’ he urged, pulling her forward.

She let herself be tugged forward because there was nothing else she could do. This party was obviously important to him and she didn’t want to ruin it just because she was self-conscious and concerned over party etiquette.

There was a walkway from the edge up onto the boat and two men dressed in dark t-shirts and trousers were checking names on a list.

‘Guy, are you sure this is OK?’ Emma asked as he hurried her on board.

‘
Oui
! Do not worry…Guy Duval
et ceci est ma invitée
,’ he greeted the men at the top of the gangplank.

The list was duly checked and there they were, on board the boat amongst some of the most extravagantly dressed people Emma had ever seen.

‘Champagne?’ a waiter offered. Emma hesitated. Guy took two glasses from the tray and gave one to her.

‘What is wrong? We are here for fun?’ he asked.

‘I know but…who are these people? How do you know them?
Do
you know them?’ she whispered, following Guy through the boat.

‘The man who owns the boat. He is…
quelqu’un que je connais
.’

‘Someone you know,’ Emma translated.

Guy nodded and drank some champagne. He took hold of her hand and led her off down the boat towards a middle-aged man who was centre of attention.

‘
Bonsoir, David
,’ Guy greeted, butting right into the conversation.

The grey-haired man turned his attention to them and his face lit up like a Christmas tree.

‘Guy! I’m so glad you could make it! This is Guy everyone. Another little friend of mine. Fine worker. Always punctual, always a delight,’ David introduced, squeezing Guy’s shoulder with affection.

‘David, this is…
ma copine
, Emma,’ Guy said, stepping back a little.

‘Hello,’ Emma greeted.

‘
Petite amie
?’ David queried.

‘
Oui
,’ Guy responded.

‘Well it’s delightful to meet you, my dear! Wonderful. Help yourself to anything you like. Guy will look after you I’m sure,’ David said. He smiled briefly at Emma then turned his attention back to his group of friends.

Guy smiled at her and led her to the side of the boat where there were some free seats. They sat down and Emma drank some champagne, the bubbles light on her tongue and fizzy up into her nose.

‘He must be very rich,’ Emma remarked, still absorbing all the decadence and luxury surrounding them.

‘
Oui
, he is,’ Guy said, nodding.

‘So what work do you do for him?’ Emma asked.

‘He has parties…at the hotel I work at,’ Guy explained.

‘You’re a waiter or something?’

‘
Oui
,’ he said, nodding again.

The boat’s engines kicked into life and squeals of excitement rose up from the deck. Emma knelt up on the seat to look over the side at the water below. The yacht was nothing like the ferry back to England.

‘But tonight I do not work. Tonight we have fun,’ he said. He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist as the boat left the harbour.

She’d had at least five glasses of champagne and she knew it wasn’t the slight sea breeze buoying the boat along that was making her dizzy. She swayed to the left and fell into Guy’s arms, giggling.

‘We should dance,’ she said, linking her hands behind his neck.

‘We should,’ he agreed, putting his hands on her hips. He rocked her back and forth in time to the music and she let herself melt into him. The alcohol was running through her, making her head spin and her heart race but, she liked the feeling. She was slightly out of control and she liked being that way when she was with him. It felt nice, doing something she shouldn’t, but feeling safe because he was there.

The boat pulled back into the quay but nobody moved to disembark. Emma raised her head from Guy’s shoulder and looked at the sky. It was pitch black. What time was it? She took a look at her watch. It was almost one in the morning. Normally, panic would have washed over her. Her dad would be worrying, but right now she didn’t care. He had Marilyn. He would probably be in his sleeping bag on the phone to her like he was the other night. It made her want to puke. Or perhaps it was the boat motion doing that. She lurched forward, suddenly feeling as if there was no air.

‘Emma,’ Guy said, steadying her.

‘I’m OK,’ she insisted, breathing in and stabilising herself.

‘We should go,’ he said, letting her lean on him. He headed towards the rear of the boat and the exit off.

‘Going already, Guy?’ David asked as they prepared to descend to shore.

‘
Oui
,’ he responded.

‘Work tomorrow. Don’t be late,’ he reminded.

He nodded in response and turned his focus back to Emma.

When they got back down onto solid ground she did feel a lot better. Why had she drunk so much? Because it was free obviously and it had been reckless and fun. She laughed and put her arm around Guy’s shoulders.

‘You have fun tonight?’ he asked her.

‘Yes. Lots of fun,’ she replied, smiling at him. He smiled back at her then indicated the bench by the water. They sat down and Emma shivered. The balmy evening had turned into another chilly night.

‘I don’t want to stay here forever,’ he began. ‘You know this.’

‘I don’t know why. I love it here,’ she responded.

‘It isn’t about the place. It’s about the…
les gens
…the people.’

Emma looked up at him, her eyes willing him to continue.

‘
Ma mère et Luc
…he needs a better life. My life, it has been difficult. I do not want this for him,’ he explained.

‘I know you want to leave, because of what your mother did and something should be done, but you can ask for help. There must be someone. I mean if you’re on your own where will you go? What will you do? Here you know people, you have work…’

‘I want to play football, Emma. I know I can do that. Very well. For a good team, for France.’ His reply was passionate.

‘I know you do and you will but…’

‘AS Saint-Étienne are holding trials. I want to go there. Without my mother, without this place, I can make it work,’ he insisted.

‘You will take Luc with you? But how will you manage?’ Emma asked, her eyes wide.

‘I want you to come with us,’ he stated.

Something happened to her at that moment, something exploded inside her and her body was filled with shock, delight, excitement, anxiety all at once. She felt nauseous, grabbing the wooden bench to stop herself from swaying.

‘I do not do this well.’ He put a hand into the pocket of his trousers and took out a small box. He dropped down onto both knees in front of her and opened the lid.

‘
Épouse-moi?
Marry me?’

Her jaw had dropped. She couldn’t believe this was happening. All this time she had been convincing herself it was just a summer romance, a wonderful love affair, frantic, deep but short-lived. And here he was proposing to her with the most gorgeous ring. A real ring. Like her mother’s engagement ring they buried with her. Gold and sapphire, understated but beautiful.

‘Guy…’ she started. She actually didn’t know what she was going to say. What did this mean? Could this really happen? Marrying him? Staying in France? Giving up school and her plans? She was only seventeen.

‘
J’taime
, Emma,’ he told her.

She could see how nervous he was. The box was shaking in his hands and his words were tinged with fear. What was he afraid of? What he was asking or what her answer would be?

‘I love you too, Guy,’ she answered, smiling.

‘So…’ He inched the box a little closer to her.

‘Yes!’ she exclaimed, putting him out of his misery. ‘Yes, I’ll marry you.
Je t’épouserai
. Is that right?’ she asked, laughing.

He laughed and nodded his agreement, then paused. She watched him take a breath, as if he was composing himself.

‘You are…sure?’ he guessed at the word.

Was she sure? At the moment, seeing him on two knees, having had half a dozen glasses of champagne, wanting some adventure, wanting to be something other than the daughter of a dead person, she was sure. Right now it seemed the most straightforward decision she had ever made. He loved her. She loved him. That was all they needed, wasn’t it? As for her dad, well, he had Marilyn now.

‘I’m sure,’ she replied, nodding.

Guy took the ring from the box and slipped it onto the correct finger. It was slightly too big but it wouldn’t fall off unless she shook her hands vigorously. It looked good there. It looked right.

‘You are happy?’ Guy asked, looking up at her, still on his knees.

‘Yes. I am. Very happy.’ She pulled him towards her and kissed his lips. At that moment, she’d never been happier.

She was still looking at the ring as they drove into the campsite. Guy stopped the van and along with the engine, everything silenced.

‘I have this planned before I meet you. I was going alone, then with Luc when he arrive and now…’ He put his hand to her head, stroked her hair with his thumb. ‘I just need this last week and I will have enough money to begin.’

She leaned across the seat and caught his lips with hers, kissing him. He deepened the kiss and she clung to him.

‘I will look after you, Emma. And you must still study. I will work,’ he told her.

‘I don’t want to leave you tonight,’ she said, groaning in annoyance.

‘You must. Your father, he will be concerned,’ Guy said.

‘I love you.’

‘I love you.’

She wrapped her arms around him and held his body close, breathing in the aroma of lemon, champagne and sea breeze.

‘Goodnight,’ she said, opening the door of the van.

‘
Bonne nuit
,’ he responded.

The campsite was so quiet at this time. Just the hum of the insects in the bushes and the glow of the path-lighting lamps disturbed the night. Before she reached her tent she could hear voices and see activity. There were torches and a group of people. Was that a policeman? Oh, God! Had her dad called the police?

Her instinct was to hide and run from this awkward situation but she decided it would only make it worse. He was obviously worried about her. She should have called him.

‘Emma! Oh my God, Emma! She’s here! She’s here!’

Mike greeted her with a bear hug usually reserved for a returning war hero. He squeezed her so tight she couldn’t breathe.

‘I’m sorry I’m late. I lost track of time and…’ She surveyed the people looking at her. Campsite security, the woman from three tents along and the lifeguard with the tattoos. No police.

‘I’m sorry everyone, for causing a panic but all’s well that ends well, eh?’ Mike suggested to the search party.

‘I’m really tired, Dad. I’m going to go to bed,’ Emma said, unzipping the door of the tent.

Listening to her father apologise again for inconveniencing everyone in the middle of the night, she looked at the ring on her left hand. What was she really going to do? She couldn’t actually tell her dad, could she? He wouldn’t believe her. He wouldn’t understand how she felt about Guy. No, it was best to keep it a secret…and just disappear.