I don’t wear high shoes very often,’ she said quickly, trying to smooth over her embarrassment.
‘Emma’s a teacher. Always been a bookworm and now she has a whole class of students to listen to her prattle on about Shakespeare and—’ Ally said.
‘Chaucer,’ Guy interrupted, his eyes locking with Emma’s.
‘Oh yes, I’d almost forgotten about him! What a total bore! In fact, his work was boredom… on skis,’ Ally finished.
Emma swallowed and started to find her fingernails intensely interesting.
From inside the function room a gong was struck and people began to meander back towards the building.
‘Right, I’d better get back in and help seat the less capable. You two are on table two,’ Ally said.
‘On the same table? Oh no, Chris and I are quite happy to sit somewhere at the back… not with the special guests,’ Emma said in a strangulated voice. She grabbed hold of Ally’s arm before she could leave.
‘Emma! You get to look at him all evening. What’s not to like?’ Ally asked. She looked at Guy and gave him a coy little wave.
Emma’s shoulders slumped as she watched Ally trot away to schmooze with local councillors and the MP.
‘You teach? That is amazing. It is just what you wanted to do,’ Guy said, sidling up by her.
‘Yes, it was. You remember?’ Emma asked, looking up at him.
‘Of course. I remember everything.’
*
He took her hands in his and brought both of them to his mouth, touching his lips to her skin. As they made contact a spark crackled in the place his heart had vacated long ago.
Chapter Six
August 2005
It was Yazz and the Plastic Population playing, one of her favourites. Circa 1988 but still cool. And what was an Eighties disco without Yazz? Sometimes she and Ally had put white swimming caps over their heads and with a hairbrush microphone, their jeans well below their belly buttons, they’d belted out ‘The Only Way is Up’ until Ally’s mum banged on the ceiling with her Vileda super mop.
She was holding a copy of The Canterbury Tales in front of her face but she wasn’t reading it. She was watching the primal mating dance going on on the dance floor.
Tasha and Melody were the A-list girls of La Baume. They wore tiny white skirts, baggy vests that fell off their shoulders exposing brightly coloured bras, and wedged heels. They were from London and that sounded the height of cool to the local boys. Wiltshire never really attracted the same amount of attention until you let it drop you lived within spitting distance of Stonehenge. Then she was on a par with Tasha, Melody and London. Or would be if she had wedged heels and a red bra.
They were gyrating now and pulling their elbows into their bodies every time Yazz crooned the word ‘up’. And everyone was watching. The cute boy who hired out the clubs for crazy golf. The lifeguard with the tattoos who had winked at her again today. Several men over forty who should know better… and Guy. He seemed to be transfixed. His eyes were focused on the dance floor. His gaze on Tasha and her slim, tanned legs. On Melody and her ample bust.
‘Why don’t you go and dance, love? It’s one of the songs you like, isn’t it?’ Mike asked, putting down his guidebook and turning to her.
‘Not really. I mean it’s alright, but…’ Emma trailed off. There was no point explaining to her dad that dancing next to these two was akin to a Japanese kamikaze mission. She knew she’d be a laughing stock. When you were feeling fragile because your mother died, it didn’t do to line yourself up for ridicule.
‘I thought we’d go to Nice tomorrow. What do you think?’ Mike asked. He took a sip of his pint.
‘I thought you wanted to enter the darts competition?’ Emma replied, putting her book on the table.
‘Well, love, it’s your holiday too. And I know how hard you’ve been working. You don’t want to hang around the bar all day watching me lord it on the dartboard. I thought we could have a browse round the designer shops. We could have lunch there. In one of the posh places like you see on the telly,’ Mike suggested.
Nice would be nice. She knew her dad was on a tight budget but they’d hardly left the campsite since they arrived. It would be nice to explore a bit, discover parts of the real France, the scenery, the shops, the saucisson.
Emma nodded in enthusiasm and