by Mandy Baggot
She nodded. That was all she had the will for. She needed to be with Dominic, holding his hand and making everything better, just like she’d always done. She caught up to Guy.
‘You’ll be fine, Dom. Remember when Grandad tripped over the garden hose? He made all that fuss and it was just a sprain,’ Emma said.
‘It hurts a bit,’ Dominic admitted, his eyes moistening.
‘It’s just the shock,’ Emma said. She hoped that was all it was.
‘Sometimes the body causes pain so it may repair,’ Guy offered. He turned his back to the door, pushing it open with the force of his body. Emma tried to help by pulling one of the doors back but her effort wasn’t needed.
‘I shouldn’t have turned so fast. I didn’t listen to you,’ Dominic moaned. He screwed up his eyes.
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Emma said. She caught Guy’s eye and hoped she left him in no doubt just whose fault it was.
‘Good footballers have to put up with the lows. We all have injuries,’ Guy told him.
‘It’s the silver car… just there,’ Emma indicated. She led the way.
‘Have you had injuries?’ Dominic asked him, raising his head.
‘Of course. Just last week, before I move to England. I bruise my foot just by hitting the ball the wrong way,’ Guy explained.
‘And did you have to stop playing for a bit?’
‘The physio say at least three days rest but…’
‘You didn’t, did you? You played.’ Dominic’s expression turned to one of boyish wonder.
‘That’s helpful, isn’t it? He’s injured and you’re filling his head with suggestions about not resting,’ Emma blasted.
‘That was not what I meant…’ Guy began.
‘He’s a child. They’re easily influenced.’
She flung open the back door and started to push objects across the seat to make room for Dominic.
‘He’ll have to sit on his booster seat, but I’ll move the seat right forward,’ Emma told him.
Guy adjusted his stance, leaning in slowly to set Dominic down. The boy tensed his body as he met the seat. Guy removed his arms from underneath him and stepped back. Dominic looked pale but that wasn’t so unusual when you’d had a shock. Guy reached forward, his fingers making contact with Dominic’s dark hair.
‘Thank you for your help,’ Emma interrupted. ‘We’d better go.’
*
Her words stung. He was being dismissed. She’d partially closed the door, stopping him from any further words or contact. This could not be. He would not let this be.
‘We must talk,’ he stated.
She shut Dominic’s door, avoided eye contact. She had almost turned her head away completely.
‘I have to get Dominic to the hospital.’
‘Emma…please…tell me.’ He reached out for her, his fingers gently grazing the skin of her forearm.
‘I have nothing to say,’ she stuttered.
‘He is my son. Isn’t he?’ He couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t skirt around the issue anymore. He thought he knew but he needed to hear it from her lips. He wanted to hear her say the words, tell him what he longed to know.
‘No, Guy. He’s not.’
*
She saw him rock on his heels as the two-letter word hit him like a lethal dart. The light went out of his eyes, his shoulders fell and his hands sank to his sides. She swallowed. She shouldn’t have been so blunt. She shouldn’t have been deliberately cruel. Had she been deliberately cruel?
And then in a matter of seconds, his demeanour altered. He lifted his head, jutted out his chin and met her eyes with his. He took a long breath and she watched his chest swell.
‘I do not believe you.’
The way he said the words burned her. He was angry. His teeth were pressed tightly together, that full mouth stretched into a furious, thin line of discontent. The dark eyelashes were hanging over his eyes, questioning and accusing.
His expression and the aura of resentment he was giving off was hurting her. She felt sick. She couldn’t bear it.
‘I need to go.’
She did need to go but whether it was for Dominic’s benefit or her own was up for debate.
‘We will talk, Emma. We need to talk,’ he said.
She closed her ears to it, shut off her mind. She tried to concentrate on the matter at hand which was getting into the car and getting away. She couldn’t go back there. She wouldn’t let him remind her of that time.
She leapt into the driver’s seat and closed the door on him. Her breathing came out in short, rapid pants. Her hands shook as she sought the ignition.
He placed his palm flat against the window. She jumped where she sat.
‘Please, Emma,’ he called from outside.
She turned her head, let herself connect to those pools of green, looking at her with such emotion. She couldn’t look away. But she had to. With a trembling hand she started the engine. He withdrew his hand and she pulled the car away.
Chapter Fourteen
The rest of the morning blurred. He wasn’t really present at the remainder of the training session. His mouth was working, giving out instructions and praise in equal measure. His body too was there, showing his pupils how to perform football skills. But his mind… Thoughts of Dominic moved around his head like a carriage on a Ferris wheel. Up and around, down, shaking and unstable.
He couldn’t believe what Emma said. He had to be Dominic’s father. He just had to be. If he wasn’t, if she had been that close to someone else, it changed everything. It would tear up the precious memories. It would demolish all the feelings he clung to in his darkest moments. She’d whispered things to him; let him in on her innermost fears. Her grief, her jealousy, and all her insecurities. Or so he’d thought.
He sucked down some water as the parents began to arrive to collect their children. Ally had come in with the clipboard and was ensuring no one left without being marked off. He looked at his watch. He should head home. Tonight was an important function for Finnerham. There was a charity auction he was going to be paraded at. But he couldn’t go without knowing about Dominic. Not only if he was better – but if he was a Duval.
*
‘It’s making it hot and the bandage smells.’
They were home. Two hours in accident and emergency was a record. Once, when Dominic was a baby, she’d been passed from nurse to nurse and spent almost five hours there. A wailing baby with a high temperature and not one person seemed to care. She’d been terrified. She was young and naïve; terrified that she had left it too long to get medical help for her son. Mike had driven them and then Marilyn had turned up. Perfumed, preened and wearing pearls. At one in the morning. The memory sent a shot of bile into her throat. She swallowed it down.
‘Mum! How long does it have to stay on?’ Dominic called.
She came back into the room.
‘At least a week. You heard the doctor. And no football either.’
She put another cushion behind Dominic’s back and lifted his injured leg onto the sofa. Just a bad sprain, nothing torn or broken they’d said.
‘Are you hot?’ She put the back of her hand on his forehead.
‘My ankle is and the bandage is made out of that stinky stuff. It’s like the one Grandad had on his arm when he hurt it at badminton.’
‘I’ll get you a drink. Hot chocolate?’ Emma offered.
‘Coke?’
‘Dom…’
‘Please.’
‘Oh, go on then,’ she gave in.
She flicked on the television and handed Dominic the remote control.
She was exhausted. After a late night and a morning of emotional turmoil she was done in. She switched the kettle on and opened the fridge. She took out the Coke and poured some into a glass.
Her mobile phone vibrated with a text message. She looked at the sender. Chris.
Did Dom enjoy the training?
She let out a sigh. She couldn’t reply. She should c
all him. She should let him know about Dominic’s ankle but she couldn’t do it now. He would ask a load of questions and she’d feel uneasy. She still felt uneasy about what happened with Guy. He’d looked so determined, then so wounded and finally, furious. When he’d planted his hand on the window, a moment from the past had flashed before her. She had ached to say the right things. Not the truth, but the words to stop him asking. She’d never expected him to be here. He wasn’t supposed to ever be in her life again. What she’d left in France was supposed to have stayed there and what she’d taken away wasn’t meant to be shared.
A knock on the front door made her jump.
*
He should have been travelling back to Finnerham but instead he’d waited for Ally to leave the fitness centre. He was convinced a good friend would need to check up in person, make sure the boy was OK. She’d driven to a leafy suburb and parked outside a terraced home with Venetian blinds at the windows and a dark green front door. He parked across the street, not directly opposite, but close enough to see. He slunk down low in the seat, knowing his Range Rover probably stuck out like a sore thumb. He felt like a voyeur. Watching, he saw Ally knock on the door. His heart picked up pace as he waited. Perhaps this wasn’t where they lived. Maybe this was another friend of Ally’s or a man, a boyfriend.
The door opened a crack and he saw her. A look of relief seemed to cross her face when she greeted Ally, as if she was expecting another caller. Had she expected him? If she had, that told him everything he needed to know.
*
‘God, you look bloody awful… on skis. It’s broken, isn’t it? It’s broken and you’re going to sue Ultra Leisure,’ Ally spluttered when Emma opened the door.
‘Oh it’s you!’ Emma exclaimed. Relief wrapped around her words.
‘Is it in a cast? Please don’t sue the leisure centre, Em. I’m really enjoying the job and it’s great money…’
‘Come in,’ Emma said, opening the door wider.
‘What can I do? There must be something I can do. How about free membership… for life,’ Ally said. She wrung her hands together.
‘It’s not broken. It’s just a bad sprain. He’s fine,’ Emma told her.
‘Oh thank God! I was totally panicking. For a minute I thought I was going to get fired and have to hang on to Jonty for a bit longer until I found another job!’
‘And you’re also relieved Dominic isn’t going to be on crutches for weeks.’
‘Oh, Em, of course. I mean that goes without saying,’ Ally said quickly.
Emma let out a breath and put her hand to her forehead, pinching her eyebrows. She could feel the beginnings of a headache.
‘Are you alright? You look a bit pale.’
‘Yeah,’ she replied. She didn’t know what else to say. She couldn’t think straight.
‘I’ve brought Dom some chocolate. All that the vending machine could offer apart from sports drinks; I thought he might have had enough sport for one day. I could murder a coffee,’ Ally stated.
Emma nodded.
‘I’ll go and give it to him. Then you can tell me all about it,’ Ally said. She reached for Emma’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
*
Emma was sure Ally thought she was a moron. What was it about her and this man? She was a strong, independent woman. A teacher and a pillar of the community. She marked GCSE homework, she taught Shakespeare and last term she’d even headed up an abseiling experience. She was not someone who should fall apart over a man… a boy from her past.
‘Let me get this straight then. You told him, that he wasn’t Dom’s father and he didn’t believe you,’ Ally recapped.
‘Sshh, Ally I don’t want Dom to hear any of this. It was bad enough earlier. I shut the car door and luckily his leg was hurting him so he didn’t ask any awkward questions but…’ She picked up her cup of coffee and cradled it to her chest.
‘He isn’t Dom’s father. You’re really sure?’
‘Haven’t we been through this?’
‘And you’d tell me the truth about this, wouldn’t you?’
Emma lifted her chin, looked her friend directly in the eye.
‘That was a really stupid thing to say. I’m sorry,’ Ally backtracked. ‘That was a bit of me circa back then.’
‘I just really don’t need this happening. I’ve got pressure at school, I’ve got Chris proposing every month, I’ve got Dad’s internet dating to worry about and—’
‘Why are you worried about Mike’s internet dating? He’s a grown man. It’s about time he had a bit of fun, isn’t it? What was the name of that girlfriend he had years ago? The one that looked like she’d stepped off the pages of Woman’s Weekly? All light perm and acrylic jewellery,’ Ally commented.
‘Marilyn.’ The word scorched her mouth.
‘That was it. He hasn’t had anyone serious since then, has he?’
‘She wasn’t serious. She was an interfering, busybody who took advantage of a grieving widower,’ Emma spat.
‘Right. Best left in the past then. Like you and the Gallic hunk?’
‘There was a question mark.’
‘What?’
‘You put a question mark at the end of your sentence.’
‘Yes Ms Grammar, I did. Is there one?’
‘I don’t want him here. My life is different now. He hurt me and I’d forgotten him.’ Liar.
‘But?’
As Emma put her coffee cup back on the table the letterbox rattled. The sound made her release her grip too soon. The cup circled on its axis, then tipped, spilling the remainder of its contents.
‘Whoa! You need to relax. It’s the letterbox. Probably the useless freebie paper with the coupons for Dominos that make their extortionate pizzas almost worth buying,’ Ally suggested.
Emma got to her feet, ignored the fallen cup and walked from the kitchen. What had landed on the doormat wasn’t the freebie paper. It was the page of a notepad.
Instinctively she knew who it was from. She bent down to pick it up. The paper was folded in two, her name written on it, a line underneath. She opened it up, reading the words.
Tomorrow night. 7.30 p.m. Café Rouge. Guy
Chapter Fifteen
August 2005
‘I have to go,’ Guy whispered. ‘I have work.’
Emma opened her eyes. The warm sun on her face, the rays seeping into her skin always made her drowsy. Lying next to him, usually wearing her most flimsy outfits, was heaven. She felt so safe, so content, so happy.
This was their third date. After she’d almost drowned in the river they’d spent a second date together on the beach. She’d told her dad she’d met a new girlfriend called Sally. Sally came from Brighton (it sounded cool and was far enough away from Wiltshire not to continue the relationship when she got home) and she was studying for her A levels too. Mike seemed happy enough with the lie and had yet to ask to meet the girl. If he did ask she would think of something. She could probably find a willing teenage holidaymaker to pay.
Now, on date number three, they were lying in a honey-coloured field of corn having spent the afternoon walking through the French countryside, stopping to play ball now and then and chasing butterflies.
‘What time is it?’ she asked, reaching for his hand and the watch on his wrist. She hadn’t noticed the watch before. It looked expensive.
‘It is cinq heure,’ he informed her. He took his arm away.
‘Five. Where do you have to be at five? There’s a game show tonight in the clubhouse but that’s not until eight,’ she said.
‘I know. I have to work before, at the hotel and ma mere… she needs my help,’ Guy told her.
‘With your brother?’
‘Yes. I have to work for him now,’ Guy said. His beautiful eyes dimmed, his lips downturned and Emma reached up to take his face with one hand.
‘You’re a good big brother,’ she stated. She softly brushed his forehead with her fingers, savouring the way his skin felt to touch.
‘I want to be,’ he replied, moving his lips to kiss the tips of her fingers as they travelled to his cheek.
‘I want to stay here forever,’ Emma stated.
As soon as the words left her lips she inwardly cursed herself. Why had she said that? Stupid idiot! This was their third date. He was gorgeous and she was lucky he was spending time with her! She’d gone and blown it! Everyone knew boys didn’t like stupid girls who thought three dates meant always!
‘There is a… how you say… un monde entier,’ he responded.
‘What does that mean?’
‘The… land… the place…’
‘The world?’
‘Yes, oui, the world is big place. I want to see more than here,’ Guy told her.
‘I know what you mean. Until I came here I hadn’t seen much more than the inside of our house for months. We thought my mum would want to go places, live her last days doing things she’d always planned to do. In the end she was just too sick to do anything but lie there and wait to die,’ Emma explained.
She felt the pain in her gut, rising up into her throat, bringing the emotions with it. She was so fed up of crying. And boys on third dates were not interested in emotion. Well, actually, Ally had convinced her that all boys were interested in at all was getting into your underwear. And once they’d accomplished that, the relationship was pretty much doomed. Unless you wanted to give him a blow job. That was going to guarantee you at least six months together if you did it right.
‘I am sorry for your mother,’ he said. He brushed his hand through her hair and brought his lips down onto her cheeks in turn. It felt nice. It felt reassuring. Perhaps there might be a fourth date after all.
‘We should read the Chaucer. If you want to be teacher you should work hard,’ Guy said. He picked up her copy of The Canterbury Tales and opened it up where the page was marked.
‘I hold a mouses wit not worth a leke, That hath but on hole for to sterten to,’ Guy read.
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?’