alive? She took a sip of her Orangina and picked up her book. It was Dracula by Bram Stoker. Another cheery read. At least this book wasn’t written in old English.
‘Vampires?’
Emma looked up and smiled, seeing Guy stood at her table. He was dressed up. He wore black trousers and a pale pink shirt that highlighted the darkness of his hair.
‘Is that the same word in French? Vampire?’
‘Oui,’ he replied, sitting down.
‘You can’t stay here. My dad’s here. He’s gone to make a phone call and…’ Emma started. She didn’t want her dad seeing Guy. Although Mike had seen them dancing together the night they first kissed, she didn’t want him to know she was involved with a boy. He would make a stupid comment about it. He would probably think, if she had a boyfriend, that it was OK for him to be moving on. It wasn’t OK. And Guy was hers. She didn’t want to share the knowledge of him with anyone.
‘Will you have dinner with me?’ he asked her, leaning forward across the table.
‘Dinner? Tomorrow? Like another picnic?’ Emma asked.
‘Non. Tonight. Dinner. I know a place,’ he whispered.
Her heart soared. A proper dinner. At a restaurant. Not barbequed sausages, lukewarm beans and a bread roll like her dad had been serving up all week. Her lips were moistening just thinking about it.
‘You can come?’ Guy asked her.
‘I… I don’t know. I want to, but…’ She looked out into the lobby and watched Mike on the phone. He was smiling. A wide grin crossed his mouth and then he let out a laugh that creased his entire face. He looked nothing short of joyful. It was wrong.
‘At nine? Meet me at the back entrée,’ Guy told her.
She looked up at him. His hair fell over his eyes and he smiled.
‘I’ll be there,’ she answered.
Looking to check no one could see, he moved his hand across the table and touched her fingers with his. A spark of electricity left her stunned and sent a current running through her. It reached places that she hadn’t known she could feel, inactive until now.
‘À bientôt.’ He left, made his way across the dance floor to the bar area.
A warm glow was filling her up, rising through her body as she watched him. And then it froze. She saw Tasha and Melody approach him. Tasha touched his arm. Her long, false-looking nails – painted red – were lying on his skin.
Emma swallowed, tried to get rid of the angry feeling that had invaded. It was spoiling the glow, putting out the fire. Tasha laughed. She threw her head back so her wavy blonde hair bounced about and took a step closer to Guy.
Emma dug her fingers into the tabletop. She hated those girls. They were so confident and uncaring and Tasha was touching her boyfriend. Well, they had had three dates, that made it official in her world. What else could she call him if not a boyfriend?
‘Alright, love? Oh what’s this? A magician? Smashing,’ Mike said, settling back down in his seat.
She didn’t reply. She was too busy watching Tasha’s every move. She was still holding Guy and now her fingers were moving up and down his arm as they spoke. What were they saying? He’d told her he hated the girls. He thought they were superficial and pathetic. So why was he talking to them?
‘Do you want another drink?’ Mike asked.
Why was he letting Tasha hold his arm? Why wasn’t he brushing her off? She wished she could stop looking but she was transfixed. Like someone watching a horror movie. She didn’t want to see what was going on but she had to.
‘You alright, love?’
Mike had leaned across her line of vision. She moved in her seat to watch Guy remove Tasha’s arm and wave his hand in goodbye.
‘Emma?’ Mike tried again.
‘Sorry, Dad. What did you say?’ She held onto her glass and tried to will the heat from her cheeks.
‘Is everything OK?’ Mike asked.
‘Yes. Just trying to get a better view, that’s all,’ she lied, turning her attention to the stage.
‘Another drink?’ Mike offered again.
‘Oh no thanks, Dad. Actually, Sally’s asked me to go to her caravan. She’s got a load of snacks and some board games we’re going to play,’ Emma told him.
‘Is she not here for the show?’
‘No, she’s having a late dinner with her parents. She said I could go round about nine… if it was alright with you.’
‘What’s the number of her caravan?’
‘Er… I’m not sure…