Looking out of the barn she could see the rain had eased up and the sun was making a re-appearance behind the lightening clouds.
‘Ready?’ he asked her. She nodded and took hold of his free hand.
They emerged from the barn, ducking their heads as the now fat, slow-falling raindrops hit them.
‘When I am a famous footballer I will be able to give you and Luc everything. I will be like David Ginola. We will have the fast cars and the big house and we will eat out whenever we want,’ Guy told her.
‘Is that your dream? Fame and money?’ Emma asked, looking to him.
He didn’t answer straight away, seemed to ponder on it and consider what he was going to say. She had no desire to live her life in the spotlight.
‘Non. I just want to have enough. I want to give Luc… and my wife, everything I can. To make them feel…look after… loved.’
Emma brought his hand to her mouth and pressed her lips against the skin there. She held it, savouring the texture and scent.
‘Guy!’
As the voice called out she felt Guy tense. He pulled his hand away from her and looked to the woman down the lane.
‘It is my mother. You should go,’ he stated, moving away from her.
‘I think I’d like to meet her,’ Emma said, narrowing her lips and wondering how vile she could get away with being to this woman who had beaten her own son.
‘Please, Emma. You cannot. It is better this way. Please.’
He was begging her. He looked desperate. His eyes sad and sorrowful.
He didn’t wait for further reply. He took off in the direction of the woman clad in a short black dress and high-heeled shoes. She couldn’t have looked less like a mother if she’d tried.
Emma watched him all the way and as he reached the woman she clipped him across the head with her hand, shouting in French. Emma flinched, as if the blow had been inflicted on her. So much for there being nothing stronger than a mother’s love.
Chapter Forty-Five
Present Day
He had opened the mini-bar as soon as he got in the hotel suite. He’d wanted something smaller, something less extravagant but turning up and demanding a room for the night on the spot left him little choice. The honeymoon suite, of all rooms. It was mocking him.
The phone had rung five times and each time he had looked at it hoping for Madeleine. He would much prefer to listen to her cry or scream or beg than see Keith on the caller display and know he would never give up. All these years trying to move on, remembering everything but trying to block it out and finally it had caught up with him like he knew it would.
He turned off the TV and reached for the glass on the nightstand, filled with various miniatures from the mini-bar. He raised the glass to the ceiling and drank it down. As he replaced the glass his mobile phone rang again. A glance to the right and he saw it was Emma.
He snatched it up and answered.
‘Emma.’ Just saying her name had his heart rising, hope soaring.
‘Hello. I… is it OK to talk?’
*
Over her shoulder Marilyn and Mike had Dominic involved in a game of Snakes and Ladders.
‘Yes… I am not at home. I have moved out,’ he responded.
‘Oh. I don’t know what to say. What should I say?’ Emma asked.
‘Say you’ll meet me?’
‘I can’t. I have Dominic and…’
‘Chris.’
‘No. I… we… we broke up. He knows about you, about us,’ Emma informed. There was a pause on the other end of the line. She could hear his breathing but nothing else.
‘I am sorry. I am sorry for him,’ he answered.
She nodded even though he couldn’t see. She didn’t know what else to say.
‘It was what we wanted.’ There was an edge to his words and she felt the same way. So much sadness and heartache. Was any of it worth it? Were they worth it?
‘With Chris, you know, we weren’t right together. Sooner or later this would have happened. It would probably have been later but… it would have happened,’ she babbled.
‘I want to see you,’ he whispered. She closed her eyes and held on to the longing in his voice.
‘Where are you?’ she asked.
‘At the Albany Hotel.’
She took a breath and took the phone away from her ear.
‘Dad, would you be able to have Dom for a couple of hours?’ she