Jennie Ensor - The Girl in His Eyes

He revved the engine until its powerful rumble turned heads in the car park, and drove fast towards Putney, squeezing into gaps between cars and accelerating through the lights before they turned red. Emma liked going fast too. A half smile came to her lips as he stepped on the gas.

As he slowed for a red light, he glanced at her. She seemed perfectly relaxed. Her legs stretched out in front of her, so sexy in that tight denim. If only he could put his hand on one for one second. Just a fleeting touch, she’d hardly notice.

‘Nice jeans, Em,’ he said.

Emma was staring out of her window, lost in her own world. His hand on the gearstick loosened. He held his breath and imagined what would happen next. His hand would land on her thigh, like a stupid moth that had lost its way. He would feel the warmth of her flesh below her jeans. He would move his hand to her zipper, then touch the soft fabric of her panties…

No, not yet. He pressed his hand into the gearstick.

The traffic became heavy. They crawled past litter-strewn pavements, mums with pushchairs and shopping bags, sour-faced youths in wool balaclavas. He looked at Emma again. The ache was stronger than ever. He wanted to stop the car, hold her in his arms, and kiss every inch of her.

‘Can we go to that shop, Paul?’ Emma’s voice was bright, expectant.

‘What shop?’

‘On the right. We’re passing it now.’

He looked to where she was pointing: Claire’s. It had a gaudy, uninviting exterior.

‘Okay, but we mustn’t be too long.’

Emma trotted ahead, clutching her tiny handbag, then turned. ‘Do you have any money? Mum gave me five pounds but it might not be enough.’

Oh, those angelic, imploring eyes. This girl really knew how to turn it on.

‘Don’t worry, sweetie,’ he said. ‘Wait till we get inside, I’ll see what I’ve got.’

The shop was too hot and too bright and heaving with teenage girls. Pop music blasted through the speakers. He couldn’t put up with this for long.

Emma positioned herself in front of a stand of garish earrings and began trying one pair after the other.

‘I want these ones – they’re six ninety nine.’

He handed over some coins.

‘Okay,’ he said as they left the shop. ‘Let’s head back. Jane will be wondering where we are.’

She looked so glum, he put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. ‘How about an ice cream?’

‘Can we go to McDonald’s?’

‘Alright, if we’re quick.’

It was hard to say no to her. And why should he?

The place was packed. He left her to find a table while he waited in the queue, trying to ignore the medley of odours reaching his nostrils.

‘Here you go.’

Emma seized the huge paper cup and slurped the chocolate milkshake through two straws.

‘I went for a trial last week,’ she announced cheerfully, pushing away her empty cup. ‘For the school netball team. The under-thirteens.’

‘How did it go?’

She gave him a toothy grin. ‘I got in. Mr Kingly said I’m one of the best players in my year.’

‘That’s fantastic, Em. I hope I’ll be invited to see you play sometime.’

Her cheeks flushed. She was so eager to please, so craving approval. It wasn’t surprising, after her cretin of a father had walked out.

‘So, you’re enjoying school more now?’

‘Yeah, it’s alright.’ She giggled. ‘I quite like art, now – I’m getting really good marks.’

‘Maybe you’ll go to art school when you’re older. You could be another Picasso, or someone like that Damien Hirst guy who made the diamond skull.’

‘I’d like to be a fashion designer when I grow up,’ she said coyly. ‘Or a model.’

‘You could do some modelling first, then go to college and study fashion.’

‘I’ve already tried out for an agency.’ A shy smile. ‘My mum doesn’t know. I sent in some pictures a friend took. They said I showed promise but I was too young for them.’

‘There’s nothing to stop you trying other places. You’d make a great model, I bet.’

Emma began preening her hair, a dreamy expression on her face. ‘I love watching America’s Next Top Model . I’d do anything to be on a show like that.’

As they got up to leave, an idea came to him. ‘I could help you, maybe,’ he said. ‘I know a woman who works at a model agency. She’s pretty high up. I could mention you to her.’

Emma’s eyes widened. ‘Really?’

She’d nibbled at the bait. One day, he might pull her in.

The journey back to Jane’s was hassle-free. As they were pulling up outside the house, a red-brick terrace in one of the less desirable streets of Putney, Jane’s face appeared in the gap between the curtains. Moments later, the front door sprang open and Jane was greeting Emma with hugs, as if she’d been kidnapped by armed guerrillas. Guilt at leaving her offspring, most likely. No sign of any suspicion, not a whiff.

‘Hi, Paul.’ Jane smiled at him quickly then turned her attention to Emma. ‘Did you have a good swim, darling?’

Emma mumbled something.

‘Emma swam really well,’ he said. ‘Even better than last time.’

‘That doesn’t surprise me. She’s quite capable at lots of things when she puts her mind to it.’ A sideways glance at her daughter, who frowned in reply and scuttled upstairs. ‘Paul, you’ll stay for a coffee, will you?’

He followed Jane into the kitchen. She’d put on a little make-up but her hair was still all over the place, grey peeking through the brown dye. She had great bones in her face and a decent figure, but she’d stopped bothering to look after herself, which was handy. If Jane had been a well-maintained blonde, Suzanne might have viewed his visits differently.

‘She was OK today?’

‘Yes, she was fine – much chattier this time. And she was swimming up and down like a fish, I almost had to drag her out of the pool. So, did you find what you wanted at Brent Cross?’

‘I’ve ordered a lounge suite. I just hope the kids don’t wreck it inside a month.’ Jane put two mugs on the table and rifled in her handbag. ‘Sorry, Paul, I’m dying for a fag. You don’t mind, do you? I need to wind down. Toby was a little terror today.’

He did mind, but he could hardly stop Jane smoking in her own house.

‘When did you start smoking again?’

‘A couple of weeks ago – it was stress at work that did it. Sometimes I think I might jack it all in and go on the dole instead. The kids don’t have a father anymore, and they scarcely have a mother.’ She began to laugh, a deep belly laugh, and took another puff of her cigarette. ‘I feel guilty about asking Emma to mind Toby when I’m away. She’s good with him, she helps him with his homework and all sorts. I know she resents it sometimes though. She’s been starting fights with him, which is a worry. And she gets lonely too, and she misses her dad.’ She turned away to exhale smoke. ‘I should have let him visit at Christmas, I suppose. But we’d made plans already, and Yasmin was with him.’

‘That would have been awkward.’

‘You’re not joking. I would’ve given the little slut a piece of my mind if she’d come anywhere near the kids.’

There was something endearing about Jane, although she dressed like a bloke and was a real slob around the house. The fruit in the bowl was often mouldy, and the same magazines and scraps of paper were left lying around for weeks. But she always spoke from the heart, even if it got her into trouble. She’d never sit there thinking of what to say so as not to hurt your feelings – as Suzanne did – or how best to get someone where you wanted them – as he did. With Jane, it was all out there: take it or leave it.