Do You Remember? by Mandy Baggot Read Free Book Online Page B

broad beans much but who does?’ Emma said, smiling at him.
    ‘I have
pique-nique
- is this how you say? Food - in a…
panier
,’ Guy said, producing a wicker basket from behind his back.
    It was so big Emma wondered how she hadn’t noticed it before now. Except she hadn’t been looking at anything but him and the tight, white, t-shirt he was wearing, above a pair of jeans, cut off at the knees.
    ‘Gosh,’ Emma said, admiring his organisation.
    ‘I thought we could sit by the river. We could fish if you like…I do not know…or read the Chaucer,’ Guy suggested. His cheeks reddened.
    ‘That sounds nice,’ she said sucking in her stomach and trying to stand tall.
    ‘To fish?’
    ‘All of it.’ She blushed.
     
    ‘Why do fish eat bread? I mean it isn’t what they normally eat, is it? They eat bits of yuck from the bottom of the river bed, don’t they?’ Emma remarked watching Guy dangle a makeshift rod into the fast-flowing water.
    ‘They think it is yuck. It looks like the yuck…on skis,’ Guy told her. He looked up and smiled.
    It was a beautiful spot. They had walked no more than ten minutes away from the site, off the track and onto grass near a river. It was hidden, from the track like an almost secret snake of silver, running through the land.
    ‘Do you come here often?’ Emma asked. She let out a laugh at her own comment.
    ‘Why do you laugh?’ he asked, carefully stepping back up onto the bank and sitting down next to her.
    ‘Nothing, just a silly saying that’s all. So, do you come here a lot?’ Emma asked.
    ‘
Oui
, when I have the time. I work every day at the campsite and at a hotel near here. Then I help my mother. She has a new baby and … how you say … 
nous n’avant pas beaucoup d’argent
,’ Guy told her.
    ‘You don’t have much money,’ Emma translated.
    ‘
Oui
.’
    ‘Neither do we. That’s why we’re camping and not in one of the luxury lodges. My mother… she died a few weeks ago,’ Emma admitted.
    She’d tried to keep the pathetic, weak and sad tone out of her voice but had failed. The grief always took her by surprise.
    ‘That is why you look so sad. Why you keep the beautiful smile hidden away,’ Guy said, reaching up and gently stroking her hair back behind her ear.
    ‘I wish I was beautiful…like Tasha and Melody,’ Emma mused. They had high fashion outfits and accessories she could only dream about.
    ‘The
prostituées
from the campsite? You do not be like them, they are
stupides
,’ Guy told her.
    There was real anger in his tone, an irate look in his eyes at the mention of their names. She wouldn’t talk about them again. Not if it prompted a reaction like that.
    ‘Well, I haven’t really spoken to them or anything but they seem to … ’ Emma began.
    ‘They talk of nothing but boys and hair-changing and they spit their horrible chew gum on the Astroturf,’ Guy told her.
    ‘You’re a very good footballer,’ Emma said, changing the subject. She was secretly glad the other girls’ multicoloured undergarments hadn’t won any favour with him.
    ‘I have trial next week, for OGC Nice. If I can get the time off work,’ Guy informed. Pride coated the words and Emma felt her chest swell in admiration.
    ‘Are they a big team? Sorry, I don’t know much about football. Well I know the basics but … ’ Emma started.
    At this moment she wished she knew much more about it, like the offside rule for a start and how many players made a team.
    ‘It is big team, yes. If they like me this could be a big … how you say … big
opportunité
,’ he said, dipping the fishing rod back in the river.
    ‘What does your father do?’ Emma inquired.
    ‘Tsk!’ Guy spat, shaking his head.
    The displeasure in his voice shocked her and she averted her eyes from him, worried she had spoiled the date. They hadn’t opened the picnic basket yet and he hadn’t tried to kiss her again.
    ‘He is dead to me,’ Guy responded. The way he said the words