to Luc as if he were a life force, the strength and purity he needed to pick himself up and refocus after his mother’s tirade.
‘I...’ He paused, seemed to recollect. ‘He is OK,’ he stated. He eased Luc from his chest to let Emma see.
She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have the words. Instead she put her arm around him, drawing them both against her.
Chapter Fifty
‘What do you think of the band, love?’
The band were terrible. They were French musicians somehow amalgamated into a Beatles/Rolling Stones/Jackson Five tribute band. One minute they were dressed as Sixties mods, the next they were donning white spangly suits with flared trousers and afro wigs.
‘Hideous,’ she replied.
Mike laughed and nodded, taking a glance at his mobile phone.
‘Waiting for a call?’ Emma asked, her head lifting out of Chaucer. She knew the answer. He’d been looking at the display all night. He was obviously waiting for Marilyn to ring.
‘No. Not really. Well, I thought perhaps…’
She interrupted quickly, not wanting to hear.
‘Could I have another drink?’
‘Coming right up,’ Mike said, picking up their empty glasses and leaving the table.
Now her dad was gone she could concentrate on watching Guy. He was clearing glasses and wiping down the tables. He did this most evenings but tonight he seemed to be spending an awful lot of time around Tasha’s table. He would take a tray of used glasses to the bar, wipe a table or two on the way and then stop back at Tasha’s table. He was smiling at her, laughing, exchanging body language not usually kept for someone you didn’t like. He hadn’t even looked her way once. She thought what had happened earlier had brought them closer, proved how much they needed each other. This was the man she was going to marry and now he was flirting with someone else. Was he? Or was she overreacting? He couldn’t be seen with her all the time. It could scupper all their plans. He was doing his job, being nice to the holidaymakers and keeping his distance so as not to arouse suspicion.
Her attention snapped away from Guy when a shattering crash reverberated around the room. All eyes turned to where a woman had staggered into a large table, knocking the contents of it on the floor. Glasses were smashed, plates were in pieces and the woman was trying with desperation to get on her feet. It was Guy’s mother. Drunk again. In charge of Luc.
Before she could think about it she was moving. Heading not for Guy’s mother, but for the pram.
‘Get your hands off me! I said I am fine! Leave me!’ Guy’s mother screeched, her arms flailing about in an attempt to relieve herself of two people who were trying to assist her.
Emma could smell the alcohol on her from yards away. The woman’s cheeks were ruddy, her eyes wild, her black hair falling out of what was now a loose chignon.
‘What are you doing here, Mother?’ Guy asked, taking hold of her arm.
‘What am I doing here?! What are you doing here? You are meant to be with David,’ she blasted.
At the mention of the name Guy froze. He raised his head slowly, but his eyes darted around him as if to see who might have heard. It was a mere split second before his eyes found Emma’s.
His skin blanched and he seemed to plead with her with his eyes.
‘I said, what are you doing here, Guy? Answer me!’ she bawled.
‘I am working,’ he responded. His voice was weak.
‘For a few Euros? Pfft! You will keep the arrangements I have made for you. I have made promises,’ she carried on.
‘I need to be here tonight,’ Guy said. He wasn’t looking at her now. He was hiding his eyes away, shifting on the spot.
Luc let out a cry of discontent and Emma put her hands on the pram handle, rolling it gently back and forth.
‘You will come with me now. You have a job with me,’ she ordered.
‘I cannot. I have to be here,’ he replied.
Without further debate, she struck out, swiping a hard hand against the side of his head.
‘Stop it!’ Emma yelled out at volume. The entire clubhouse seemed to quiet in an instant until the only sound to be heard was a dull murmur of hushed voices.
‘You! You are the girl he has been with. The one keeping him from his job,’ she sneered. The woman stepped away from Guy, took a wobbly stride towards Emma.
‘And you’re the so-called mother