And Guy was protecting her. Why didn’t he see her point of view? Well, he could eat the wine and cheese with Tasha if he wanted because she didn’t care what he did. She had lied to her dad again to be able to see him and now he had ruined it.
By the time she’d left the campsite her chest was heaving with emotion. Why was this happening? She was leaving soon. She didn’t want to leave like this. She didn’t want it to be just a holiday romance. She loved him. He loved her. Or so she thought. They could write to one another, send emails… It was only a few months until the half-term break. She could persuade her dad to come back to La Baume.
Before she knew it she was at the barn. She didn’t know why she had walked there but it was away from the campsite and it was as good a place as any to cry.
She sat down on a hay bale and curled her legs up underneath her. What was she going to do when she got home? Despite drowning in all the books Mr Devlin had recommended and more, she wasn’t convinced the exams were going to go as well as they should next year. Her work and concentration had slipped. She’d let them slip because she’d needed to concentrate on her mum. Spending moments with her had been the most important thing in her life and she didn’t regret that decision one bit. But would that decision cost her the life that she so badly wanted?
She looked out of the barn door at the scenery before her. Golden banks of corn, set against greener fields and the spire of a distant church. It was beautiful, it was peaceful, perhaps that’s what she needed to focus on. Being at peace with how things were. Shouldering the situation she’d been placed in.
‘You are here… I knew.’
He was standing at the small side door of the barn, his hands in the pockets of his trousers.
He’d come to find her. He wasn’t with Tasha. But she should be angry with him. He hadn’t supported her when she’d needed him too.
‘We should go. We don’t want to be… en retard,’ Guy continued.
‘Late? Late for what?’ she asked. She tried to disguise the interest in her voice.
‘For fun,’ he responded, a smile on his lips.
The joy in his face was infectious and she couldn’t help but mimic his expression. But then she stopped, remembered she was cross.
‘Why were you so nice to Tasha? She said something really hurtful.’
Guy threw his head back and let out a tut.
‘She is… elle est agaçante! But… her father…’
‘The man I met today?’
‘Oui. He is… he go to the hotel I work at. He knows the boss,’ Guy explained.
Now she felt a bit stupid. She knew money was difficult for him. He wouldn’t want his job in danger.
‘Don’t be… what is the word?’
‘Angry?’ she offered.
‘Are you that?’
‘A little,’ she admitted.
‘You cannot. We have… Nous avons le plaisir d’avoir.’
‘A what?’
‘Musique, vin, danse, sur le bateau,’ he explained.
‘A boat? Where?’
‘Do you come?’ he asked, holding his hand out to her.
This sounded exciting. This sounded daring and different and not safe at all.
‘How do we get there?’ she asked, taking his hand.
‘Voiture.’
Chapter Forty
The ‘car’ turned out to be more of a delivery van Guy had borrowed from someone else he knew in the kitchens at the campsite. The seats were ripped, springs and sponge oozing out, there wasn’t a panel without rust and the tyres looked like they needed serious attention. But when they pulled up at the quay in Fréjus she felt like Cinderella arriving at the ball in her golden carriage.
‘This is crazy,’ she said, admiring the port and all the boats moored along the edge of the water.
‘You spend all this time here and you have not seen the town,’ Guy remarked, taking hold of her hand.
‘I don’t think my dad really knows what to do with me. The campsite is safe. He gets involved in the activities and I… sneak away to see you,’ she said, leaning forward and kissing his lips.
‘The boat… it is there,’ Guy said, pointing to a luxurious yacht moored a few feet away from where they had parked.
Emma took in the view. Pristine white and chrome with royal blue trims, the boat was more like a mini luxury liner. She could see people stood up on deck. They were laughing, glasses of wine in their hands.