Palmer, she was aware of Guy getting up from his chair. A quick glance at her watch told her the session was due to begin at any moment.
Without really looking she could tell he was navigating the table, slipping his way through the bustle of chattering mums, grans and dragged-along partners towards her. Towards
her
!
‘Emma.’
She knew he’d spoken but she couldn’t raise her head. She also knew he was wearing shorts. She’d caught a fleeting glimpse of bronzed thigh when she’d dropped a sheet of name stickers on the floor. Seeing his face would be too much.
‘And your name is Bradley, isn’t it?’
‘Brandon.’
‘Sorry, Brandon,’ Emma said.
She wrote the name in her best and slowest teacher’s handwriting.
‘Emma,’ Guy attempted again.
‘B-R-A…is it Brandon with an O-N or Branden with an E-N?’ Emma queried, raising her head to look at the freckle-faced boy.
‘O-N…I think,’ he responded a look of puzzlement on his face.
Guy let out an exasperated snort of irritation and out of the corner of her eye she saw him head off towards the main gym hall.
‘Shall I check with my mum? She’s in the car park,’ Brandon stated.
‘Thanks for taking over with the signing-in. Here, cappuccino,’ Ally said, sitting down next to Emma.
They were in the gallery café that overlooked the hall, together with at least half of the excitable mothers from the signing-in process. They now had their noses pressed up against the glass pretending to be watching their children.
‘I don’t like cappuccino,’ Emma reminded.
‘Sshh, I know. Right now, the brand new, state-of-the-art coffee machine only wants to dispense cappuccino. I’ll have to call the guy I guess,’ Ally said, gulping her drink.
‘What’s the matter? Isn’t he good-looking enough?’
‘What?’
‘Sorry.’
‘What’s the matter? You aren’t hung-over, are you? You didn’t drink any red wine last night, did you?’
‘What is it with everyone being so concerned about me drinking red wine?’
‘Oh would you look at him? I wish I was young enough and brave enough to put shorts on. I wouldn’t mind brushing up on my ball skills,’ Ally remarked, steaming up the glass with her breath as she moved her chair forward.
Emma looked too. There was Guy at the front of the hall, bouncing a football on his knee and talking to the children. His thick, dark hair was springing over his eyes with every movement. His chest was taut as he trapped the ball against it and deftly brought it down to his feet. She swallowed and turned her attention to Dominic.
He was looking at Guy like he was some sort of sporting god. His eyes were wide in concentration and he picked up a ball and tried to replicate the footballer’s moves.
‘So, did Chris enjoy the party?’ Ally asked.
She could almost taste brie in her mouth. The scent of the memory engulfed her mind.
‘Emma…’
‘I never told you about the boy I met in France? You know, when I went there, after my mum died,’ Emma stated, turning away from the view and facing her friend.
‘That was years ago.’
‘He was special.’
‘He can’t have been that special or you would have told me about him.’
‘I wanted to tell you. I wanted you to make a voodoo doll of him.’
‘I did make a lot of voodoo doll men didn’t I?’
‘It was Guy,’ Emma said.
‘What was Guy?’
‘The guy was Guy. Guy Duval,’ Emma explained.
Ally was mid-swig and the hot coffee seemed to catch in her throat. She coughed.
‘What are you telling me here? That you and that gorgeous Gallic hunk were once intimately acquainted?!’
‘Yes…eight years ago,’ Emma stated.
‘Oh my good God! You and …
that
!’ Ally exclaimed, taking another long look at Guy who was dividing the children into teams.
‘He wants to talk and I don’t want to talk and he keeps cornering me and I don’t know what to say to him,’ Emma admitted.
‘Well, what does he want to talk about?’
‘Dominic I
Without really looking she could tell he was navigating the table, slipping his way through the bustle of chattering mums, grans and dragged-along partners towards her. Towards
her
!
‘Emma.’
She knew he’d spoken but she couldn’t raise her head. She also knew he was wearing shorts. She’d caught a fleeting glimpse of bronzed thigh when she’d dropped a sheet of name stickers on the floor. Seeing his face would be too much.
‘And your name is Bradley, isn’t it?’
‘Brandon.’
‘Sorry, Brandon,’ Emma said.
She wrote the name in her best and slowest teacher’s handwriting.
‘Emma,’ Guy attempted again.
‘B-R-A…is it Brandon with an O-N or Branden with an E-N?’ Emma queried, raising her head to look at the freckle-faced boy.
‘O-N…I think,’ he responded a look of puzzlement on his face.
Guy let out an exasperated snort of irritation and out of the corner of her eye she saw him head off towards the main gym hall.
‘Shall I check with my mum? She’s in the car park,’ Brandon stated.
‘Thanks for taking over with the signing-in. Here, cappuccino,’ Ally said, sitting down next to Emma.
They were in the gallery café that overlooked the hall, together with at least half of the excitable mothers from the signing-in process. They now had their noses pressed up against the glass pretending to be watching their children.
‘I don’t like cappuccino,’ Emma reminded.
‘Sshh, I know. Right now, the brand new, state-of-the-art coffee machine only wants to dispense cappuccino. I’ll have to call the guy I guess,’ Ally said, gulping her drink.
‘What’s the matter? Isn’t he good-looking enough?’
‘What?’
‘Sorry.’
‘What’s the matter? You aren’t hung-over, are you? You didn’t drink any red wine last night, did you?’
‘What is it with everyone being so concerned about me drinking red wine?’
‘Oh would you look at him? I wish I was young enough and brave enough to put shorts on. I wouldn’t mind brushing up on my ball skills,’ Ally remarked, steaming up the glass with her breath as she moved her chair forward.
Emma looked too. There was Guy at the front of the hall, bouncing a football on his knee and talking to the children. His thick, dark hair was springing over his eyes with every movement. His chest was taut as he trapped the ball against it and deftly brought it down to his feet. She swallowed and turned her attention to Dominic.
He was looking at Guy like he was some sort of sporting god. His eyes were wide in concentration and he picked up a ball and tried to replicate the footballer’s moves.
‘So, did Chris enjoy the party?’ Ally asked.
She could almost taste brie in her mouth. The scent of the memory engulfed her mind.
‘Emma…’
‘I never told you about the boy I met in France? You know, when I went there, after my mum died,’ Emma stated, turning away from the view and facing her friend.
‘That was years ago.’
‘He was special.’
‘He can’t have been that special or you would have told me about him.’
‘I wanted to tell you. I wanted you to make a voodoo doll of him.’
‘I did make a lot of voodoo doll men didn’t I?’
‘It was Guy,’ Emma said.
‘What was Guy?’
‘The guy was Guy. Guy Duval,’ Emma explained.
Ally was mid-swig and the hot coffee seemed to catch in her throat. She coughed.
‘What are you telling me here? That you and that gorgeous Gallic hunk were once intimately acquainted?!’
‘Yes…eight years ago,’ Emma stated.
‘Oh my good God! You and …
that
!’ Ally exclaimed, taking another long look at Guy who was dividing the children into teams.
‘He wants to talk and I don’t want to talk and he keeps cornering me and I don’t know what to say to him,’ Emma admitted.
‘Well, what does he want to talk about?’
‘Dominic I
Similar Books
