practically running the school,’ Mike said, smiling.
The light was there again. His eyes were practically dancing. She knew he’d cared about Marilyn but back then it was too soon. She’d wanted him to mourn. He should have wanted to mourn.
‘Someone told the Head about Copacabana. I think I’m going to have my work cut out with the costumes,’ Emma said, picking up her handbag.
‘Well, Marilyn is a dressmaker. You remember the little suit she made Dominic?’
Shit. She’d forgotten that. She needed to go before she said anything else that would stir up memories. Seeing any more animation on her dad’s face would open the floodgates to the guilt.
‘What suit?’ Dominic asked.
‘It was white bloomers, a little shirt and a matching jacket. You wore it to your christening,’ Mike told him.
‘Urgh! Gross!’
She had a final look in the mirror and gave the front of her hair another flick.
‘I’d better go then. Bye, Dom,’ she planted a kiss on the top of the boy’s head. ‘I’ll see you a bit later. Be good.’ She opened the door to the hallway.
‘Were you saying that to Dom or me?’ Mike said, grinning.
She smiled at them both and then closed her eyes, shutting the door.
*
The worst thing was he didn’t even know if she was coming. He’d arrived early and asked the manager for their most private table. Here in the UK the press were crazy, even more so than in France. At the moment attention was focused on Jason Simpson and his injury. It helped that he had yet to play his first game for Finnerham. Once that happened he would be back in the media spotlight.
He’d been given the menu and without looking at the wine list he’d ordered a bottle of French Merlot. The first glass had slipped down without him even realising it. He checked his watch again. It was just after half past seven. She was late. Or not coming.
He picked up the fork and twirled it around his fingers. His hands were shaking. He didn’t know what he was going to say to her, if she came. He needed to find out the truth about Dominic. Here, together, away from the noise, he would be able to tell if what she was saying was true. He took a sip from his glass of water and topped up his wine. No matter what she told him, he could handle it better than if she didn’t turn up at all.
He beckoned the waiter and picked up the small vase on the table.
‘Excuse me. Do you have any yellow flowers?’
*
She’d splashed out on a taxi. She’d splashed out on a taxi and hidden the fact from her dad and Dominic by driving her car down the street and calling one from the end of the road. She couldn’t drive to the restaurant. Her hands were trembling and she wouldn’t have been able to concentrate. Now, having paid the cab driver she was stood opposite Café Rouge wondering if she really wanted to go in. A drop of water on her bare arm told her it was starting to rain. Judging by the black clouds converging in the darkening sky above her, a thunderstorm was imminent. They needed rain. It had been too warm for too long and the ground was parched. As if sensing the drought she swallowed, urging moisture into her mouth. What was she doing? Why was she here? Whatever she said to him was only going to make things worse one way or another. There was no chance that this meeting was going to improve anything. She was going to tell him lies. He was going to try and wriggle out of how things were left between them eight years ago. She knew what she had seen. She still felt the betrayal. Yes, she’d been seventeen; young, inexperienced in love but… she’d believed in him. She’d believed in them. Fool.
The sporadic drops of rain started to become persistent and she needed to make a decision. Despite who she knew was waiting for her, Café Rouge did look inviting with its red and gold signage and cream drapes in the window. The interior promised sanctuary from the storm, a warm glow permeating through the glass doors.
She was starting to get wet from the rain. A couple ran past her, covering their heads with a handbag and a newspaper. She couldn’t stand here forever. She stepped off the kerb and looked both ways.
Chapter Twenty
August 2005
She was a bit early. She’d thought