look stunning. Ally waved and headed over in Emma’s direction.
‘Ooo Em, you look fab! I said that dress would suit you, didn’t I? Hello, Chris, what are you doing with that champagne? You’re not a champagne man now, are you? It’s a free bar tonight. We have five different lagers, fill your boots,’ Ally announced, holding her hand out to indicate the bar area.
‘Good stuff, I’ll get on over there then! Here, more for you, Em,’ Chris said. He handed Emma his half-started glass of bubbly and hot-footed it over to the bar.
‘Where on earth did he get that suit from?’ Ally asked. They both looked as Chris itched around the waistband of his trousers while he waited for his pint.
‘Oh don’t! He’s self-conscious about it enough as it is,’ Emma answered with a giggle.
‘Right, well, while he’s busy getting lager and scratching, come and meet the hottest specimen of manhood I’ve seen since the chef on my last cruise,’ Ally announced, taking Chris’ glass from Emma and grabbing her by the arm.
‘Oh, Ally I thought you were happy with Jonty,’ Emma exclaimed as Ally led her along.
‘He’s never here! Him being a pilot is a pain in the rear! One day it’s Germany, the next it’s Fuerteventura… wherever that is. And I’m pretty sure he’s spending intimate cabin time with Claudette the trolley dolly. He talks about her all the time… when he’s with me! No, no future in that one. He couldn’t even get me any air miles,’ Ally said.
‘Right, so who’s the next victim?’ Emma asked.
‘Well, remember I told you about the footballer, the French one, the one I thought would look like Quasimodo…’
‘Guy,’ Emma said. The name almost caught in her throat.
‘Emma, you have got to see him! He’s divine! He looks like something that’s been sculpted. Firm jaw, Roman nose, eyes the colour of a Grolsch bottle and a mane of hair any racehorse would be proud of,’ Ally described, her voice full of excitement.
‘But he isn’t here, is he? I mean he cut the ribbon this afternoon, didn’t he? He’ll be halfway back to wherever footballers spend their nights, won’t he?’ Emma asked. As the words came out of her mouth, her eyes scanned the room like an assassin looking for its target.
‘Of course he’s here! He’s here all weekend! No football, most of the players are away on international duty. Tomorrow he’s spending all day teaching football to the local kids. Well, I can tell you I am going to be keeping a very close eye on his ball skills,’ Ally said with a giggle.
‘I should really go back to Chris. He doesn’t really know anyone else here…’ Emma began, holding back from Ally’s determined walk across the function room.
‘Don’t be daft; he’ll have a pint to talk to by now. Ah, here he is. Just look at that! Isn’t he perfection?’ Ally said. She sighed.
And there he was. Guy Duval. Her Guy. The Guy who stole her heart.
Dressed in a blue-black suit, his thick glossy hair sat just on his shoulders, he was engrossed in conversation with a wizened woman in a tangerine-coloured frock coat.
‘Ooh God, he’s been pounced on by Kathleen Dobbs! She’s the chairwoman of the Fair Trader Association and hell, doesn’t she talk! Are they talking French? Emma? Is that French they’re speaking?’ Ally hissed at her friend.
She couldn’t be here in this moment. She couldn’t let Ally try and introduce them. Suddenly she longed for the familiarity of Chris and his down-to-earth normality. While Ally was busying herself scrutinising Kathleen Dobbs’ wrinkled mouth, Emma fled back across the room, trying to avoid elbowing guests’ glasses out of their hands.
She didn’t stop until she found Chris. He was leaning on one of the pillars festooned with ribbons, one hand wrapped around his pint glass, the other at the collar of his shirt, scratching.
‘There you are! Thought you’d deliberately deserted me in a room full of posh people for a second,’ Chris said. He smiled at her.
‘No, no, Ally just dragged me off to meet some woman from the Fair Trader Association. You know what she’s like and this is her big night,’ Emma said. She didn’t dare to look anywhere except at Chris. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing up. It was like she could sense him.
‘Well, she’s heading this way with someone in tow,’ Chris announced.
Emma buried her nose in her champagne glass and waited for the inevitable.
Chapter Five
‘Emma, Chris, this is Kathleen Dobbs