Jennie Ensor - The Girl in His Eyes

Twenty , he counted, touching the shallow end. He glanced around the pool. For a few anxious moments, he couldn’t see Emma. Then he caught sight of her floating on her back in the shallow end. He swam over.

‘I’m dying,’ she said melodramatically. ‘I did six lengths. My arms are like lead.’ She stayed floating, looking up dreamily through the roof.

He laughed.

‘You’ve become a regular little mermaid, Em. Remember how you were when we first started? You couldn’t manage one width without stopping. I can hardly believe it’s the same girl.’

She righted herself, her eyes on his face. No smile. Pensive. Thinking about the boys at school, perhaps. Or Mandy, or netball. Or her father shagging some hot babe he met at a tango class.

‘Watch out!’ He grabbed Emma’s ankles and set off, pulling her along. She screamed and thrashed. When he let her go she retaliated, sending a shower of spray over him.

‘Can we go now?’ she said a few minutes later, a sad look clinging to her face. ‘I’m frozen.’

It was after 2.30pm by the time they got back to the car. He waited for Emma to fasten her seat belt. He had no intention of wasting time in McDonald’s and cheap boutiques, not this time. He had a better idea.

‘How about we go back to my place?’ He raised an eyebrow encouragingly. It was too good an opportunity to miss. Suzanne was away, immersing herself in her New Age rituals – there would be no one to disturb them. They’d have some time alone together, at last, away from prying eyes.

‘I don’t know. Can you drop me at home? I’ve got homework to do.’

Her reply stung him. He hadn’t expected that. And he hadn’t told her the news from the model agency yet. If he didn’t do something quickly, he was going to lose her. All his plans would be dashed.

‘Isn’t there a film you’d like to see? How about a movie? There’s a Blockbuster near my place. It has every film you could possibly want.’

Emma had mentioned how much she liked horror films. Jane had banned her from watching anything that might give her bad dreams, or interfere with her impressionable young mind, since she’d found her and Mandy together on the sofa watching Scream . But she didn’t seem tempted by his offer. She stared into her lap, her hands gripping her knees. The nail polish had chipped on a couple of nails.

‘You trust me, don’t you, Emma? You know I’m not going to turn into a bogeyman or anything?’

He said it jokingly, and waited for her to smile back. But she didn’t. Time for the trump card.

‘I haven’t yet told you what Monica said.’

She looked up at him, interest rekindling in her eyes.

‘She said, if I send in some shots of you, she’ll take a look at them. She promised to do what she can for you.’

‘I wouldn’t be too young for them?’

‘That’s no problem at all. This agency is looking for younger girls especially, they want to get new talent on board. You’re their ideal age.’

Emma’s focus on him was instant and unwavering. Her eyes widened, ready to swallow it all. She wanted so much to believe. He explained more about the agency. As he talked, Monica and the agency were becoming almost real. Monica was his friend back in Montreal and they had stayed in touch – she was a senior director at the Bright Young Things agency, and one of its key people. She looked at the most promising applicants and had final say over whether to sign new girls.

‘I’ve got a new Nikon at home,’ he added quickly, ‘it takes great photos. I’ll take some shots of you, if you like. I know what sort of thing they’re after.’

Emma dipped her head again, eyes on her hands. His heart went out to her. She seemed stricken, unable to make a decision.

‘What do you say?’

‘OK, then.’ She looked up, her face earnest. ‘Do you really think she can help me?’

He breathed again. Thank you, God .

‘Absolutely, sweetie. Monica is the best there is. If anyone can get you started in the modelling game, she can.’

He drove as fast as he could without looking like he was in a desperate hurry – not slowing enough over speed bumps and racing to get through traffic lights. Time was slipping away. Emma chewed on a Mars bar, humming the pop song from the TV.

‘Can we still get a film?’

They were waiting at yet another set of traffic lights. He met her eyes, surprised.

‘Of course. I thought you didn’t want to, though.’ It would take up valuable time, he thought. Then again, it might help to put her in the mood.

‘Can we see Ginger Snaps ? It’s meant to be really scary. Mandy’s seen it.’

Fortunately, the store had a copy of the film. Emma insisted on him buying a huge bucket of popcorn too.

‘It’ll rot your teeth,’ he said. He’d never seen anyone get through as much junk food as this girl. But, right now, he would be happy to buy whatever she asked for.

Paul swung the car into the driveway, narrowly missing Marmaduke who scarpered under the side gate as if his life was in danger. The creature had been sitting nonchalantly in the middle of the driveway, cleaning itself. It beat him why Suzanne was so dotty about the stupid animal. One day she would find it squashed flat, a marmalade-coloured rug.

He inserted his key into the lock and hesitated.

What was he doing, bringing Emma here? Suzanne would flip out if she knew what was on his mind – so would Laura, and Jane, too. He was risking losing all he had – a wife and kids, his house and car, sixty grand a year plus commission. Not just that. He was risking prison and all its horrors.

Then he pictured Emma, lying beside him, naked. How could he simply let her out of his life with nothing special ever having taken place between them? He wasn’t an ordinary man. He needed more than Suzanne and the sanitised version of sex she provided.

He pushed open the door. Emma followed behind him.

‘You’ve got a nice place.’

‘Thanks.’

The girl hovered at the sideboard, picking up framed photos and replacing them. He took a can of Fosters and a bottle of Coke out of the fridge and put them on the coffee table. Then he switched off his phone and set up the Blu-ray player.

‘Stop nosing about, come and sit down over here.’ He patted a cushion on the sofa. ‘It’s the best place to watch, or you’ll get a sore neck.’

She gave him a look but did what he said. He went over to the window. No sign of anyone.

‘I’ll draw the curtains. The film will be scarier in the dark.’ And he wouldn’t have to worry about the neighbours peering in either. He sat down beside her, leaving a reasonable gap. ‘OK, are you comfortable? Take off your trainers, if you want. And turn off your phone, will you? We want the full cinema experience.’

The room reverberated with bass from the rear speakers. The extra-wide flat screened TV and integrated sound system was top-of-the-range home cinema, no comparison to the cruddy old thing Emma had to watch at home.

‘Too loud?’

Emma shook her head. She’d kicked off her trainers and was slumped back on the sofa, one yellow-socked foot resting on the edge of the coffee table. She dug into the popcorn with one hand and gripped her glass of Coke with the other, taking an occasional slurp through the straw.

He tried to keep looking at the screen, but his gaze was being drawn back to Emma. She had a fresh, sweet smell after her usual long, post-swim shower. Her eyelashes curled upwards, incredibly dark and thick. Her lips, soft and plump, enticed him. Her long, glossy hair was tucked behind her delicate ear. Inside it he could see dark, spiral caverns like a seashell’s. He wanted to put his lips to her ear and softly breathe into it.