who beat him black and blue. The woman who’s drunk from morning ‘til night when she should be looking after a new baby! A baby she shakes when he won’t stop crying!’ Emma blasted.
Guy’s mother raised a hand and Emma held her position, stuck her chin out in defiance and waited for whatever was to come. This woman was a mother and she was hurting her children. She would give anything to have her own mother back. She wasn’t afraid of her.
Guy intercepted the blow, catching the fist on his shoulder.
‘Emma? What’s going on here, love?’ Mike asked, arriving at her side, drinks in his hands.
Emma opened her mouth to start to speak but caught Guy’s expression. He was silently begging her to keep quiet and say no more. There were just a couple of days left here. She needed to keep things normal. They could get through this and soon it would all be a bad memory. They’d have a new life.
‘She insults me!’ Guy’s mother screeched. She added words in French that sounded violently rude.
‘I will come,’ Guy spoke quickly.
‘Love?’ Mike said. Her dad’s questioning look, coupled with the fury in Guy’s mother’s eyes were making it so hard to bite her tongue. If she told the truth now maybe there would be another way out. If she explained the graveness of the situation to her dad. He was a good man. If he knew they were in danger then…
‘You stay away from my son!’ Guy’s mother shouted at Emma, taking ownership of the pram.
‘Maman…’
‘Emma, love, what’s going on?’ Mike tried again.
Guy put his hand on the pram, pulled it from his mother.
‘Nothing, Dad. Nothing’s going on,’ she answered as Guy and his mother made their way to the exit.
‘You’re shaking, love. Do you know that woman?’ Mike inquired.
‘No. She was drunk, that’s all,’ Emma replied. She watched Guy and his mother leave the clubhouse. The woman was swaying and staggering, yelling at Guy as he pushed the pram.
‘Emma?’
‘I’m fine, Dad, honestly.’ She smiled at her father. ‘Shall we join in with bingo?’
*
‘Well, despite our initial reservations about the band I thought they weren’t too bad. The finale was good. You can’t beat a Beatles medley,’ Mike said. He chuckled.
Emma smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. She was thinking about Guy. She’d been thinking about him all evening. He hadn’t come back. God knows what his mother was doing to him. She shuddered.
‘Getting a bit nippy in the evenings now, isn’t it?’ Mike remarked, unzipping the tent.
Emma nodded as convincingly as she could manage.
‘You alright, love?’ Mike asked, turning back to face her.
‘Just a bit of stomach-ache. I might pop to the shower block for the toilet,’ she said, putting a hand to her midriff.
‘Do you need some tablets?’ Mike offered.
‘No thanks, Dad. You go in. I won’t be long.’
She just needed some space. She didn’t want a blow-by-blow account of the Beatles/Stones/Jackson Five tribute band or the bingo in five different languages.
‘Alright, love. I’ll see you in a bit,’ Mike said. His head disappeared into the canvas and she let out a breath of relief. She closed her eyes and let the French night wrap itself around her, revelling in the cool air as it cloaked her.
And then a pair of strong arms were around her, pulling her backwards, away from the tent. She wasn’t afraid; the grip was familiar and more than welcome.
When Guy spun her around, under the shelter of the tiled entrance to the shower block, he didn’t speak, just sought her lips with his.
She threaded her hands through his hair, easing his head downwards, wanting to fill herself with his taste. Finally, both out of breath, they separated their mouths and looked at each other for the longest time.
‘Did she hurt you?’ It was all that was important, nothing else.
He shook his head. ‘Non.’
‘And Luc?’
‘He is fine. Asleep. He will need milk soon. I cannot stay,’ he said, looking at his watch.
‘I… I’m sorry for what I said to her. I wasn’t thinking. I was just so angry and…’
‘Sshh. It is OK. She is not important. Just a few days and we will be somewhere else. Somewhere… mieux.’
She saw the release in his breath, heard the hope and promise in his tone.
She smiled. ‘Tell me about St Etienne. Is it as beautiful as it looks in photographs?’
Chapter Fifty-One
Present Day
Despite how they had arrived at this current situation, Emma was excited for the weekend. The last trip she’d been on involved thirty schoolchildren