alone greet him. He wasn’t here. It was his imagination. He couldn’t be here in the present. He belonged in the past.
‘How are you? Long time no see,’ the voice continued.
Guy put the used paper towel into the bin and raised his head.
‘I’m sorry. Have we met before?’
His voice hadn’t come out convincing at all. It had sounded faint and uncontrolled.
Tasha’s father, Keith Crone, let out a raucous laugh, holding his sides for effect. He looked no different. Dyed blond hair, thick black designer glasses and his rotund form squeezed into a fashion that made him look like a cross between Humpty Dumpty and Elton John.
Bile was rising in Guy’s throat as the man continued to laugh. He needed to get out of here.
Keith stopped laughing, took off his glasses and studied Guy. His scrutiny made him turn away.
‘You’ve turned into quite the young man, haven’t you?’ Keith remarked.
‘Where have we met before? If you just remind me then…’
He didn’t know how to handle this. He wanted to wipe his memory of everything and perhaps he could. Maybe if he just didn’t acknowledge it, it would disappear.
‘You need reminding, do you? I’m disappointed by that,’ he responded, putting his glasses back on his face.
He didn’t know what to say so he just stood there, stock still, waiting for something to happen. Silence descended and all he could hear was Keith’s breathing.
‘Still got my lodge in La Baume, you know. Had it modernised just last year. I was sorry to hear about your mother. Lovely lady,’ Keith said. He nodded as if to indicate reverence.
He was so close to retching he could taste it in his mouth. His stomach contracted over and over and beads of sweat were forming on his brow.
‘Listen, I think you and me could have quite a lot to talk about, don’t you?’ Keith said. He pulled his jacket aside and reached into the inside pocket.
Guy stepped back, pressed his body against the porcelain of the basin.
‘I’d like to have lunch. My treat. Call my secretary to arrange something,’ he said. He held out a business card.
Guy just looked at it. He might as well have been holding out a poisoned apple. His eyes were focused on the card but he couldn’t move.
Keith stepped forward and pressed the card to Guy’s chest. At once, Guy cowered, lifted his hands to shield his head.
‘What you doing? I’m not going to hurt you. Keith wouldn’t do that,’ he said in soft tones.
Guy pushed past him and made for the door, every inch of him screaming out for escape.
*
Marry me. Just two little words but they meant so much. They had meant so much back then. Back then they had actually meant everything. She toyed with the ring, rolling it around her fingers, letting the light dance off the stone and the slim golden band. What would have happened if she’d stayed? How would things have turned out? Would they still be together? Would there be more children? Or would their love have died out? Were the feelings she was having now just because she’d backed out too soon? Was it a case of getting the passion out of her system?
Her mobile phone began to ring. Emma checked her watch. It was almost eleven. She stood up and picked it up off the side. Guy.
‘Hello.’
There was no greeting back, just the sound of background noise. There was laughing and shuffling and what sounded like bar room conversation.
‘Guy? Are you OK?’
Still there was no response. Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe it was his girlfriend, Madeleine Courtier, wondering who ‘Emma’ was in his list of contacts. She swallowed and braced herself for an onslaught and accusations.
‘Guy,’ she tried again.
Someone was definitely there. She could detect breathing in the foreground.
‘Guy, please. Are you OK? Has something happened?’ Now she was worried.
‘I love you, Emma.’
The words were barely out before an anguished sob took over. Her chest heaved and she pushed the phone closer to her ear.
‘Guy, are you hurt? Where are you? I can come to you if you want me to.’
She would have to call her dad or Ally to be with Dominic but whatever this was it was serious.
Still he cried and her heart started to fall apart. She wanted to reach down the phone to him, to put her arms around him and make whatever this was, better.
‘Guy, you’re frightening me. Tell me what’s happened,’ she begged.
‘I have to go,’ he whispered through the tears she could hear were there.
‘No,