Do You Remember? (14 page)

August 2005

‘Please, Luc, please stop crying!’

She’d fed him again, changed his nappy, rubbed his back, sang to him and shaken some daft toy elephant at him. Nothing was working. He was red in the face and his little fists kept pumping up and down as he wriggled in his pram. He wasn’t too hot - she’d kept him out of the sun. He wasn’t too cold - that was impossible in almost thirty degree heat. What else could be wrong with babies? Was he ill?

It was after lunchtime. Guy had been gone for over three hours and if she didn’t get back to her dad soon he’d be getting her name announced over the camp sound system like a lost child.

She pushed the pram forward and meandered along the lane back to the campsite. For the majority of the time Luc had been well-behaved. He’d gurgled, she’d fed him, he fell asleep, she read. It was only in the last hour he’d started to get grumpy and loud.

She was about to look at her watch again but a figure moving up ahead caught her eye. She squinted her eyes and saw it was Guy.

Stepping up the pace with the pram, she waved a hand. She was so looking forward to seeing him. The trial was bound to have gone well. He was such a talented player, the team would see that.

‘Hey!’ she greeted, approaching him. The expression on his face made her pull up to a stop. It told her everything she needed to know. She didn’t know what to do or say but she knew she had to say something. She needed to know for sure.

‘What happened?’ she asked tentatively.

‘They say
non
,’ he stated.

There was a sharp intake of breath and it took Emma a while to realise it was hers. It was a shock. She had taken Guy getting into the team as a safe bet. She hadn’t even considered he wouldn’t. He had pinned everything on it. It was his dream. He loved football. He was brilliant at it and he wanted to make money from it. OGC Nice was the nearest, best team. But it surely wasn’t his only option. She wanted to study at Portsmouth, stay near to her dad, but she was also considering Cardiff and York. That was it! He could just try somewhere else, like she was.

‘Well, never mind. They aren’t the only team, are they? I don’t know anything about football but back home there are loads of teams in the Premiership, at least five or something around London. There must be other teams you can try out for,’ Emma said. She kept her voice upbeat. She would make him realise this wasn’t the end of the road.

He shook his head and Luc continued to cry.

‘What? You can try other teams. They are bound to be looking out for talented new players. It will be Nice’s loss,’ she continued.

‘You do not…
tu ne sais pas.
’

He put his arms into the pram and lifted up his brother. Emma watched as he began to sing in French, a low, sing-song tune she’d never heard. Within seconds, Luc was contented. His eyes were drooping closed and when Guy put him back down he was verging on sleep. He rocked the pram back and forth to make sure.

‘I want to understand,’ Emma told him.

Again he shook his head. Now she was worried. Why wouldn’t he tell her? What on Earth had happened at the football club to make him think his whole idea of a career was over?

And then it was like someone had turned out all the lights. The sky blackened, the clouds converged and with the loudest crack of thunder Emma had ever heard, a storm broke, sending shafts of rain sheeting from the sky.

Their skin already soaked, Guy pointed to a barn just across the field. It was their nearest form of shelter. He set off; sprinting with the pram and Emma struggled to keep up. The ferocity of the rain was tearing into her, making it almost impossible to run. Her hair clung to her face as she tried to duck the elements. Hailstones battered her thighs, her sandals slipped, her feet squelching as she hurried along. The barn was less than a hundred yards away but it felt like a hundred miles. Every step seemed to take all her strength. The corn that had been so light and soft against her skin on their picnic was now scratchy and sharp. It irritated her calves and scraped her thighs. Finally, with stones slipping in and out of her shoes, she ran into the barn behind Guy and Luc.

She was out of breath, her legs covered in scratches and her dress practically transparent. She watched Guy rock Luc’s pram back and forth, lulling him off to sleep. The baby hushed again as Guy repeated the French song.

The rain outside looked like a sheet of moving opaque glass. It teemed down, unstopping, crushing the ground, moving field and path, relentless.

‘I want to…
Je veux casser quelque chose,
’ he shouted. He let out a roar, kicking a bale, then turning to assault another.

‘Guy,’ she started.

He picked up one of the bales and threw it across the barn. It hit the corrugated wall and broke apart, sending strands of hay to the floor. He sank to the floor, pulling his knees into his chest and began to sob.

She hadn’t expected anything like that and she wasn’t sure how to react. Boys didn’t cry. Not the sort of boys from her school. They didn’t show emotion at all if they could help it. Should she try and comfort him? Would he want that? It sounded as if his heart was breaking. She stepped slowly towards him, thinking if her attention wasn’t wanted he would let her know in time, before she made an idiot of herself.

She got all the way over to him, not knowing if he’d even noticed her move. He had his head buried in his knees and he was rocking backward and forward. She put her arms lightly on his shoulders, still trying to gauge his reaction. The instant he felt her touch him he clung to her. He pulled her into him and wept on her shoulder. He was shivering. Their clothes were saturated, their hair dripping and Guy’s hands were like ice on her back.

‘What is it, Guy? This isn’t just the trial, is it? This is something else,’ Emma said, brushing her hand down his hair and letting the water fall away with every stroke.

He shook his head, still continued to sob.

‘Please, Guy, you’re scaring me. I want to help. Let me help,’ Emma begged.

‘I cannot…’ he started, lifting his head and wiping at his eyes with his fingers.

‘You have to! If I’m special to you you’ll tell me,’ she urged.

He locked eyes with her and she didn’t just see the sadness, she felt it.

He took hold of the bottom of his t-shirt and slowly began to pull it away from his body, towards his head. Emma could see it was wet and clinging but that wasn’t why he was going slow. As he pulled it over his head she let out a gasp. His chest and abdomen were covered in a patchwork of bruises, scratches and marks. She cried out and reached for him. This time he shifted back.

‘What’s happened to you? Who did this?’ Emma questioned, biting her nails. She was shivering now, both from the cold of her clothes and from what she’d seen.

‘I have to…
C’est
pourquoi que je dois a quitter. C’est pourquoi que je dois améliorer pour moi et pour Luc,
’ he told her.

‘This…is why…
sortir
…leave. This is why you have to leave, for you and for Luc,’ Emma translated. Once she finished the sentence the reality of what he was telling her hit her like a bullet.

‘Your mother…she did this?’

She couldn’t believe it. A woman. A mother. Guy’s mother had done…what? Beaten him? Why? What for? It was sickening. She started to shake.

‘No,’ she said, shaking her head. Guy gave no response, just pulled his t-shirt back down and wiped at his wet face with his hands.

‘She couldn’t…you’re her son and…’ Emma continued.

Guy nodded. ‘At the football…we had to see the doctor…
test d’aptitude
. He see this. I have to make a lie.’

‘They didn’t let you into the team because of what she did to you? Why didn’t you tell them the truth?’ Emma urged him. She reached for his hands and held them tightly in hers.

‘I cannot.’

‘This isn’t the first time she’s done this, is it?’ Emma asked. She could feel herself boiling with anger, just like she had when her mother passed away. She’d been so angry then, Mike had feared for her sanity as well as the breakables in the house. None of it had been just or fair. The same was happening here with Guy. What had he done to deserve this?

‘I have to stay…a little bit. When I have money,
assez d’argent
and the job, I will take Luc and we will go,’ he explained.

‘That’s why today was so important,’ Emma said, understanding.

‘
C’est l’alcool et la façon dont mon père a quitté,
’ Guy told her.

‘No. Don’t make excuses for her. What she’s done to you is not OK. It’s not,’ Emma insisted.

‘I have to look after Luc,’ Guy said. His eyes went to the pram.

‘Come here,’ Emma beckoned, opening her arms to him.

He shook his head, folded his arms across his chest. It was if he was ashamed of what had happened to him.

‘Guy, please. I can help you…we can sort something out. I could…I could talk to my dad,’ Emma suggested. He might not be her favourite person at the moment but he was all she had. Her gran said he’d been born sensible. He would know what to do.

‘
Non
!’ Guy exclaimed. His horror at that suggestion was evident.

‘OK, stupid idea. You’re right,’ she backtracked.

‘
Je me déteste
,’ he spat.

‘No, don’t say that,’ she begged.

‘
J’ai mériter cela
!’ He punched the bale next to him.

‘I don’t know what that means. Please, Guy,’ she said, taking hold of his arms.

He broke again. Sobs racked his shoulders and this time he let her gather him into her arms.

‘Sshh, it’s OK. It’s going to be OK. I promise,’ she whispered, stroking his hair.

Present Day

‘Guy? Is that you?’

He’d been surprised to see Madeleine’s car in the driveway when he’d parked. He’d hoped to have the rest of the afternoon alone to go through his schedule. He wanted to spend some time with Emma. Proper time. But first he had to tell Madeleine it was over. He swallowed at that thought. He needed to do it quickly for both their sakes.

He entered the kitchen, found Madeleine sitting at the central island leafing through a magazine.

‘Hi. I thought you were out for the day. I am back in time for the dry cleaning,’ he said, looking at his watch.

‘Something amazing has happened!’ Her eyes were animated, her expression almost manic with excitement.

‘What is it?’ he asked. What was it? This could be very bad. She was behaving as if something life-changing was about to occur. It couldn’t be…

‘We have been invited to Suzanna Okino’s fashion showcase tonight! All the major labels will be there and the press. Gabriella’s even got us five minutes with a lingerie manufacturer about developing our line,’ Madeleine bubbled. She got down off the chair and moved towards him.

‘This could be the launch of my career as a fashion designer, Guy! Lingerie to start and then a whole clothing line,’ she said, placing her hands on the lapels of his jacket.

‘That is…’ he started. He didn’t really know how to react. He had never seen her so enthusiastic about anything. She was glowing. She was glowing
and
smiling. He wasn’t used to it. These days he mostly got sneers and orders.

‘It’s the best thing that has happened to me. I cannot wait to go. We should get there early. Gabriella wants us to run through our pitch. It’s only five minutes with the manufacturer but he’s well thought of and…we just need to get a start with someone,’ she continued. She kissed his cheek and then his mouth, linking her arms around his neck.

He held her back. The closeness felt so wrong.

‘What is it? Is everything OK?’ she asked. She stepped back, observed him more closely.

‘Yes…of course,’ he said, putting a more upbeat expression on his face.

‘This is what I wanted so much, Guy. The chance to own something, build something. I know you think I exist only to shop but every moment spent in boutiques was research. Perhaps maybe not the Vivienne Westwood but the rest…’

‘I’m pleased for you,’ Guy told her. He took her hand and held it in his.

He was pleased for her. This was a good thing. When he told her they needed to break up, she would have a focus now. It would not be so hard for her.

‘What shall I wear?’ she asked him, holding his hand in the air and spinning a circle.

‘I don’t know…you are the fashion expert,’ he responded.

He couldn’t tell her tonight.

‘How’s your steak?’ Emma asked.

Chris looked up from his meal, horseradish sauce at the corner of his mouth. ‘Great. Gorgeous, just like you.’ He laughed then and poked in a couple of chips.

This was awful. She’d barely touched her meal. Her stomach was too full of guilt, regret and worry to add food to the mix. She poured some more water into her glass.

‘How was work?’

‘Work? Taxi-driving the world around? It was same as. Mrs. Bootle paid me fifty quid again to drive her around for an hour passing all the places she used to visit with Mr. Bootle when he was alive.’

‘Again? Oh that’s really sad,’ Emma said.

‘I thought that at first, but it makes her happy. When I look in that rear-view mirror, she’s there, smiling away in the back. God knows what those two got up to at these places. We went past the library, which is innocent enough, but then she had me up that dirt track to the side of the recreation ground.’

‘Perhaps they had a dog and used to go for walks,’ Emma offered.

‘She had a right twinkle in her eye,’ Chris said, grinning.

Just like he had at that very moment. She swallowed. How did you start a conversation like this? She wasn’t sure she could even open her mouth to begin.

‘Listen, Em, I’ve been thinking…’ he started.

He was going to propose. He thought the sirloin steak and the wine was a sign for him to try again. Why hadn’t she thought of that? He would have no idea the real reason behind buying his favourite food. She couldn’t let it happen.

‘I’ve got some pudding. I got treacle sponge. I’ll get it,’ she said, rising from her seat.

‘What? But I haven’t finished and you…you haven’t started,’ Chris said. He indicated her plate, hardly a mouthful missing.

‘I’m not very hungry. I had one of those huge macaroni cheese things at the school canteen,’ she lied.

‘Sit down, Em,’ Chris urged.

She didn’t want to sit down. She wanted to stand up and do something, anything to make this feeling leave her. Now she wasn’t only worried about what she had to say, she was also concerned about what Chris wanted to talk about.

‘Please,’ he urged.

She had no choice. She sunk back down into the chair, setting her eyes on the meal rather than him.

‘I know why you’ve been down lately.’

No. He couldn’t know. He just couldn’t. His statement was enough to make her raise her head and look at him.

‘You’ve been a bit out of sorts since the beginning of August. Since the anniversary of your mum dying,’ Chris spoke.

Her throat tightened and she felt that familiar lurch inside. Thoughts and memories still triggered that surge of loss so easily.

‘I just want you to know…I understand. You can talk to me about it. You know I was ten when I lost my dad. I’ve been there and I still miss him. There’s times - birthdays, Christmas, anniversaries - when it still feels fresh,’ he continued.

Why was he doing this? Why was he doing this now? She almost wished he’d propose. This was worse. He was feeling sorry for her, showing empathy, bearing his soul, talking about his dad. She didn’t deserve his compassion. She didn’t deserve anything.

‘I…’ she started.

‘You don’t have to say anything, Em. I just want you to know I’m here. I’m here and there’s no pressure,’ he said. He reached across the table and took one of her hands in his.

She was despicable. He was a wonderful, wonderful man and she was so lucky to have him. What was she doing pretending she could go back to being a teenager with Guy? It was impulsive, impossible, irresponsible love. There was no place for that in her life. Her life was with Chris. It
should
be with Chris. He was stable. Dominic needed stability.

‘No pressure?’ she queried, wiping a lone tear from her cheek.

‘Yeah, I mean the proposing thing. I knew the other day, when I said it; you weren’t going to say yes. But that’s OK. I want you to know that’s OK,’ he carried on. He was rubbing her fingers, just like Guy had, but the feeling couldn’t have been more different. It was comforting. She felt content. But that was
all
she felt. Nothing stirred within her. There was no passion, no rise in body temperature or blood pressure, just the sensation that he cared for her. Was that enough? Could that be enough? It should be, shouldn’t it?

‘It isn’t OK though, is it?’ she mumbled, half to him, half to herself.

‘Hey, I know I’m punching above my weight with you. I mean look at you! Beautiful and clever and me, well…I’m nothing special,’ he said. He shrugged.

‘You
are
special,’ Emma jumped in.

‘What I am is lucky. Lucky to have you and Dom and I’ll take that. Marriage or no marriage, I’ll take it,’ he told her, squeezing her hand.

She couldn’t speak. She didn’t know what to say. He
was
a special person. He was funny, hard-working, honest, caring and fantastic with Dominic. The list went on and on. But what the list didn’t cover was heat, passion, that intense connection on every level. She had never had that with Chris. Chris was the favourite little black dress you could always rely on. Guy was the bright red expensive frock you could only just fasten up but when you did, it made you feel alive.

She nodded. That was all she could do. Now wasn’t the time. She couldn’t do it. She didn’t know if she really
should
do it. There was so much at stake. Chris had been a constant; Guy had been back a few days. You couldn’t make any decision based on that.

‘Did you mention treacle sponge?’ Chris asked, letting go of her hand and picking his knife and fork back up.

‘Yes.’ She stood up, glad the atmosphere was broken.

‘Dom’s going to be buzzing in the morning by the way,’ Chris remarked, before Emma moved to the kitchen.

She looked at him, waiting for an explanation.

‘Put tickets to Finnerham’s next game under his pillow. Mate of my boss only has a box there! Me, you and Dom in executive seats, food, drink - the lot - next Saturday.’

Guy’s team. Watching Guy’s team. Watching Guy - with Chris and Dominic. She couldn’t think of anything worse.

‘Oh, well, I don’t know whether I’ll be able to come. We’re going to need some extra rehearsal time for
Copacabana
and I was thinking of getting the students in on Saturdays,’ she said as fast as she could.

‘Come on, Em! It’s free food and drink and sitting in the warm if you want. I know you’re not a football fan but there’ll be other wives there…well, partners…you know, girlfriends you can talk to. Dom would want you to come,’ Chris urged.

Yes, when Dominic saw the tickets, Chris was going to move even further up to hero status and nothing else would be talked about for the rest of the week. She couldn’t get out of it. Not even the school production was going to cut it when Chris had obviously pulled strings to get the opportunity.

‘I’ll work something out. Maybe we can start the week after,’ she said. She smiled at him, then turned away.

‘Magic! I can’t wait to see that Guy Duval in action. If they’ve really paid all that money for him like it said in the papers, I’m expecting him to score at least once,’ Chris commented.

She left the room and closed the door. Resting her body against the back of it she closed her eyes. What was she going to do?