Starting at his feet and working my way upwards, I nodded appreciatively at his smart brogues, well-cut dark grey suit and pristine white shirt. ‘You look fabulous!’ I exclaimed, laughing. ‘And you haven’t changed a bit!’ I added, pointing at his reassuringly rotund tummy.
But on raising my eyes to his face, I discovered that his expression was now one of combined confusion and terror. It was difficult to know which emotion had the upper hand, but at that moment I had the distinct impression that, had he been several stone lighter, he would without hesitation have legged it into the street.
My hand went to my mouth and I felt myself blush. ‘I’m so sorry, Felix,’ I said, aware that I had completely misjudged the situation and spoiled things from the off with a presumptuous hug and an inappropriate reference to his size. ‘I was just so pleased and excited to see you after all this time.’
Still flustered, and now with an unmistakably sweaty sheen to his balding brow, Felix nevertheless managed a wobbly smile and waved a hand. ‘Not at all, not at all,’ he said breathlessly. ‘Just a misunderstanding.’
I nodded. ‘It’s just that I’ve been thinking about you rather a lot over the past week – you know, remembering the laughs and feeling nostalgic about our schooldays. I was forgetting that it’s all much more unexpected and out of the blue for you.’
He looked at me for a moment before removing a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and mopping his forehead. And then, his composure apparently recovered, he laughed. ‘Completely unexpected and totally out of the blue,’ he agreed, the broad grin now back in situ. ‘Because, you see, I’m not actually Felix.’
Chapter 5
As we waited for the lift, Kevin Bailey – the man I had so enthusiastically embraced and body-shamed – explained that he had been Felix’s friend for just over six years and his business partner for three. They had, he told me, worked together for several years in a large London accountancy firm, before deciding to go it alone in Cheltenham in early 2014.
I nodded along thoughtfully to this information, wondering, in light of their decision to relocate together, if perhaps Kevin and Felix were more than just friends and professional partners. Felix had claimed to have dated a couple of girls whilst at university, but he had never really talked about them or introduced them to me – or to any of our mutual friends so far as I knew. Nor had he ever produced any photographic evidence of them. So maybe, I mused, my mother had in his case been right. It was a theory which was certainly lent weight by the effusive manner in which Kevin spoke about him. Felix was, he said, the most reliable of friends and the perfect work colleague. I agreed wholeheartedly with the first assertion and was delighted to discover that Kevin’s opinion of him was so in line with my own.
In all his conversation, Kevin reinforced my first impression of him as both good-natured and good-humoured. He was clearly intrigued and amused that I had known Felix at school, and I was grateful for his ability to quickly shake off the awkwardness of our first encounter, and also for his kindly attempts to help me to do the same.
I had the opportunity to assess Kevin, and to form all these opinions, thanks to what felt like an interminable wait for the lift to the second floor. And something else I concluded about him, after twice suggesting that we perhaps take the stairs, was that – just like Felix – he wasn’t a fan of walking when there was the possibility of a ride. It was therefore a good five or ten minutes before we finally stepped out of the lift and he genially ushered me through the doorway of Bailey and Davis.
‘Just take a seat here, Dorothy,’ he said, as we entered a small outer office. ‘Felix should be free at any moment.’ He pointed towards four grey-cushioned chairs positioned along one wall next to a large, rather chaotic-looking pot plant. Immediately opposite the chairs was a desk, on which sat two in-trays, a pot of pens, a telephone, a keyboard and a computer, the screen of which was currently blank. ‘I’m afraid Linda, our secretary, has flu so isn’t with us today,’ he continued sadly. ‘That’s one of the reasons you were kept waiting for such a long time. She’s been off since last Wednesday, and I won’t lie, it’s been a struggle. We had a temp in yesterday and I think we’ll have to get him back tomorrow.’
‘Oh no, so I’m dropping by when you could really do without the bother,’ I said, feeling suddenly guilty.
He shook his head and laughed. ‘A potential new client is never a bother, Dorothy.’
I felt myself redden at this and was just debating whether to break it to Kevin that this particular visit was one hundred per cent social, when one of two white doors adjacent to Linda’s desk opened and a woman and two men emerged. The group were mid conversation and didn’t acknowledge either Kevin or myself.
‘I’ll talk to Nigel Fort in the morning,’ said the woman. She was petite and blonde and was cradling two box files in her arms. I watched as she listed slightly to the right in an apparent attempt to maintain her balance whilst adjusting a laptop bag which was slung over her left shoulder. Neither of the two men seemed to notice, and I frowned at them, disappointed that they didn’t offer to help.
The older man, grey-haired and not much taller than the woman, nodded and said something about assets. The other, who was younger and towered over his two colleagues, lowered his head and made a comment about European liabilities.
Having zero interest in their conversation, I peered inquisitively through the open door of what I assumed to be Felix’s office, wondering whether he was going to come and fetch me or if I was expected to go straight in. I checked my watch. Well over an hour had passed since my train had pulled in to Cheltenham Spa, and despite my nerves, I was now increasingly impatient to see him.
‘Is it OK for me to go in, Kevin?’ I asked quietly, nodding my head towards the office.
He glanced into the corridor at the departing group of three, who were continuing their discussion in a series of murmured exchanges whilst waiting for the lift. He nodded and smiled. ‘Of course. And if I don’t see you before you leave, it was great to meet you. And I hope to see you again soon,’ he added, before opening the other white door and disappearing from view.
I watched as he closed the door behind him, and then, taking a deep breath and experiencing some unexpected last-minute butterflies, I positioned a smile on my face, walked towards Felix’s office, tapped lightly on the door and peered gingerly inside.
I found myself looking into a small but light room. The magnolia walls were bare, save for two certificates, which I was unable to read without my glasses, and an aerial view of what I assumed to be Cheltenham. A desk was positioned facing away from one of the sash windows which fronted the building, and a filing cabinet, a small conference table and three chairs were the only other items in the room. Felix himself was nowhere to be seen.
My smile dropped momentarily, before it occurred to me, somewhat bizarrely, to check behind the door, just in case he was planning to leap out and surprise me. I smiled at the ridiculousness of the idea, but decided to look nevertheless.
I leaned slowly forward, craning my neck and inching my way around the door. ‘Felix?’
‘Dorothy.’
I gasped at the sound of my name and turned to discover the younger of the two men I had seen walk to the lift now standing just a few feet from me and looking puzzled. It took me two blinks and a second sharp intake of breath to realise that he was Felix.
I put a hand to my chest and laughed in a mixture of delight and relief. ‘Oh my goodness, Felix.’ I wagged a finger at him and rolled my eyes. ‘You gave me such a shock. I didn’t realise you were you! You are so…’ I looked him up and down, taking in the dark blue suit, honed physique and short dark hair, which was so completely – and, in my experience, uncharacteristically – under control. I laughed again and was about to complete my sentence with ‘gorgeous these days’ and perhaps a playful nudge, when we made eye contact and something in his expression, and a recollection of my unfortunate initial encounter with Kevin, caused me to reel myse
lf in and say, ‘Wow, it’s been such a long time, hasn’t it?’ instead.
‘It has,’ he smiled, gesturing for me to enter his office. ‘Have a seat.’ He pulled a chair away from the conference table and placed it in front of his desk. ‘Can I get you a tea or a coffee?’
‘Er… no, no, I’m fine, thank you,’ I replied, taking the seat he had positioned for me.
He nodded, walked to the other side of the desk and sat down, tapping a sheet of paper to his right. ‘Linda tells me that you’re working in graphic design and have been running your own Bristol-based company in partnership with Katherine Morgan since 2013,’ he said, reading from the sheet. ‘That’s great. Bristol is a beautiful city, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, yes, it is.’ I smiled uncertainly at him, slightly thrown by Linda’s internet research and feeling suddenly uneasy – far more uneasy than when waiting with Kevin for the lift, in fact. I had spent the week since calling Felix’s office thinking a lot about this moment. I had wondered what his reaction to seeing me might be and had guessed alternately at surprised, entertained and amused, but always, ultimately, delighted.
But what I now realised, as I took in the well-groomed professional sitting opposite me, was that every one of those imagined encounters had been with a younger, rounder Felix: a Felix thoroughly unconcerned by his appearance or what life might throw at him; a Felix who protested and partied with equal relish; a Felix whom I could read like a book and knew inside out. I had never once pictured meeting a well-presented thirty-six-year-old accountant, burdened by quarterly deadlines and a lack of secretarial support. Most significantly, I was stupidly unprepared for meeting a man with a decade and a half of life experiences behind him of which I had no knowledge and in which I had played no part whatsoever.
I looked at him, searching his expression for something familiar and relatable – for a starting point. He was still smiling at me and there was no hint of awkwardness or nerves about him, but I couldn’t help feeling that that was due to professional confidence, rather than any sense of personal connection. As far as he was concerned, I thought, my own smile fading slightly, this was an appointment, not a reunion. And although I just about physically recognised the slick corporate type sitting opposite me, there was no sign of the friend I had grown up with.
I cleared my throat, deciding, in the absence of feelings, to stick to the facts. ‘Felix, I hope there hasn’t been a misunderstanding, but I came here today to see you socially, as an old friend, not as a prospective client.’
‘Oh,’ he said, maintaining a smile but clearly surprised. ‘I must admit I had thought maybe it was a mixture of both.’
‘I’m sorry, that’s entirely my fault. I should have waited until you got back from holiday and then spoken to you on the phone first, but I was in a bit of a hurry to see you because…’ I hesitated. Nine days ago, inviting him to spend a Saturday with me had seemed a reasonable proposition, on the basis that we would pick up exactly where we had left off fifteen years earlier. But as I sat opposite the accountant, with my Felix nowhere to be seen, the purpose of my visit seemed increasingly ridiculous.
He looked at me, his smile now a little fixed, with perhaps just a hint of impatience as he waited for me to complete the explanation regarding the timing of my visit. I took a deep breath. ‘I was in a bit of a hurry to see you because I wanted to invite you to come to Becca’s wedding with me in Devizes. And it’s only three weekends away, on the fifth of August. So, as I say, I was in a bit of a… hurry.’
I whispered the conclusion to my sentence. The idea sounded even more preposterous out loud than it had in my head, and I said nothing more. Having no clue what his reaction might be to the invitation, or how I might influence it, I reasoned that there was no point in wasting my breath on any attempts at persuasion or mitigation.
He frowned and his cheeks went a little pink. ‘Becca’s wedding?’ he queried. ‘You mean Rebecca, your sister?’
I nodded.
‘Well,’ he said, shifting in his chair and offering me an anxious, and now quite clearly forced, smile, ‘that is a very kind offer, Dorothy, and thank you for thinking of me, but, er, I’m afraid I’m actually away that weekend. Nevertheless, as I say, thank you. I’ll be sorry to miss the day, but do send Rebecca and her partner my very best wishes.’
I nodded, deciding that, on reflection, I could have guessed his reaction after all – namely one of suppressed alarm as he attempted to manage the obvious fruitcake sitting opposite him.
I waved a hand. ‘Don’t worry, I realise it was short notice. And I know the invitation might seem a little weird,’ I added, attempting to explain, ‘but I was inviting you because I told my grandmother that we were dating.’
I paused, wondering if that might qualify as the worst attempt ever at trying to persuade a person who thinks you’re mad that you’re not mad after all. And I knew without a doubt that if there was a panic button under Felix’s desk, he was now pushing it madly with his knee.
Above desk, he was still smiling, whilst at the same time nodding slowly, manfully feigning comprehension.
‘I thought she was dying, you see,’ I continued, focusing on the window, now resigned to the doomed nature of the visit and feeling strangely free of any sense of consequence, ‘and I didn’t want her to die unhappy, and she was unhappy at the thought of me being single, so I told her that we were a couple. Then she recovered and I should have told her that we weren’t a couple any more, but instead I told my mother that we were still very happy together. And Nanny Flo overheard me telling my mother that, and so now she thinks you’ll be at Becca’s wedding in two weeks’ time. I’d like to be able to tell her the truth, but the problem is that she’s still very frail and I’m worried about what might happen if I now spring it on her that I lied about going out with you. So my idea was to take you along to the wedding and then later, when she’s stronger, to tell her that we’d split up. But now I’m here, I realise…’ I shrugged and shifted my gaze to the framed certificates hanging on the wall, not wanting to finish the miserable sentence.
‘Why me?’ he asked.
I returned my attention to him, surprised to hear something at last recognisable in his tone. The forced smile had disappeared and he was now frowning.
‘She remembered you and asked after you when I saw her in the hospital,’ I replied quietly. ‘And so then I just said you were my boyfriend without really thinking,’ I added.
‘That’s nice,’ he said.
It was an immediate and straight-faced response which fifteen years earlier I might have laughed at as a typical example of his dry humour. But today his expression indicated that it was merely a polite comment on the fact that Nanny Flo remembered him.
I nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Well, I’m sorry I can’t help,’ he said with a sigh, placing both hands on his desk and pushing his chair back slightly. He was clearly, and unsurprisingly, anxious to wind things up. ‘But as I say, I’m away.’
I nodded again. ‘No problem,’ I said. ‘And it was good to see you. Sorry I descended on you during working hours.’
‘And I’m sorry that I’m so short of time today,’ he said, standing up. ‘But call me next time you’re in Cheltenham and we can catch up properly.’
‘I will.’ I suspected that we both knew that my acceptance was as smilingly insincere as his invitation.
I stood up and together we exited the office, with Felix walking just inches behind me, his arms open slightly, as if to corral me and prevent any attempt on my part to dash back inside.
On reaching the lift, I pressed the button and we waited, Felix checking his phone and me pretending to look for something in my bag. When the lift failed to arrive within ten seconds, I gestured towards the stairs. ‘I’m going to walk,’ I said. ‘I was just being lazy.’
He smiled. ‘Good for you. I always try to take the stairs these days.’
‘It shows,’ I said, smiling. ‘I hardly recognise you, Felix.’
> He didn’t reply, but as I looked over my shoulder and walked towards the stairs, I saw him briefly hold up a hand in an oddly dismissive mid-air salute, before turning and walking back into the outer office.
I sighed to myself and began to descend the stairs in a determined daze, reluctant to acknowledge the sadness and disappointment lurking within me following my briefer-than-brief meeting with Felix, and equally reluctant to think about what on earth I was going to do next.
Two flights of stairs later, I crossed the soulless communal reception area and with both arms extended, pushed wide the large glass doors which opened onto the street. Stepping outside, I headed for a bench on the opposite side of the road, which I had spotted on the way in and which was now bathed in full sunshine. On reaching it, I sat down wearily and closed my eyes. Lifting my face to the sun, I decided to allow myself just a few moments of counterfeit peace of mind before confronting my problems and coming up with an inevitably inadequate and unsatisfactory plan of action.
Several minutes later, the sun had rather symbolically just gone behind a cloud when the sound of a harp alerted me to an incoming text. Wondering if it was Kate seeking an update, I opened my eyes, delving into my shoulder bag and taking out my phone. The text was from a number I didn’t recognise, and I opened it with only mild interest, having already decided to call Kate for a pep talk.
Dot, I’ve double-checked my diary and see that I am free on the Saturday of the wedding after all. You can email me details at [email protected] or I’m in Bristol for a morning meeting on 3 August if you would like a coffee. Felix
I glanced up open-mouthed at the window of Felix’s office and then back down at the screen, frowning as I reread the text slowly and out loud to make sure that I hadn’t misunderstood what he was saying. But no. There was no doubt about it. Felix Arthur Davis, the accountant, was offering to save my bacon. And what was more, he had called me Dot.
Finding Felix Page 4