Chapter 6
‘So Felix can’t come to dinner with us tomorrow night?’ My mother’s voice was heavy with disappointment.
I tensed, my grip on the phone tightening involuntarily. ‘Nope. Still can’t come. Just like I told you yesterday. And the day before that,’ I said with feigned brightness, before adding, ‘And the day before that actually,’ under my breath.
‘Such a shame,’ she said. ‘And you said it’s because he’s working too late to come up that evening?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘That’s right. Well remembered. But anyway, how are things? All good?’
‘Yes, apart from the fact that we won’t see Felix the night before the wedding,’ she sighed. ‘But of course, his work must take priority.’
I placed the receiver on the desk in front of me while she continued to talk, and looked despairingly at Kate, who was smiling broadly at me from her desk.
‘Stay calm,’ she whispered.
It was good advice, which had become increasingly difficult to put into practice since I had told my mother that if she had any wedding-related logistical enquiries she was to call me rather than Becca. I was tactful enough not to reveal that this was because she was driving my mild-mannered sister to the point of matricide, telling her instead that I simply wanted to be more involved in everything. She had been delighted by this and it had resulted in multiple daily phone calls ever since. The ones to my mobile I could dodge or defer, but she had quickly twigged that whenever the phone on my desk rang, I would, if I could, pick up.
Her calls were on a variety of topics, most of which required no actual knowledge of the wedding arrangements on my part, just an ability to keep my cool while I calmed her down. Today’s call was regarding the width of the chairs at the reception, as cousin Elaine’s glands were playing up again.
I had thrown some fantasy chair facts at her, which she had accepted without question before moving on to the subject which was the common theme, and I suspected the real purpose, of every one of her phone calls to me: Felix. After such a long period of self-imposed silence on the topic, she now loved nothing more than to talk about him, at length, and would find any excuse to do so.
For my part I hated it, feeling guilty about gilding the fake lily with additional fictional information about the relationship. Most of the time I managed to head off her enquiries, but this took determination and a lot of effort, and I occasionally buckled in the face of her dogged persistence and simply made up answers to the more straightforward questions, such as which football team he supported and what kind of music he liked to listen to. But I felt awful deceiving her even more than I had already, and our conversations invariably left me irritated by her persistence and, more justly, irritated with myself for the situation I had created. It was one of the main reasons I preferred to deal with her calls in the evening, when I had access to alcohol and when my father was at home and able to check her curiosity, which he did by removing the phone from her hand mid conversation and proceeding to ask me how work was going.
‘Dot? Dottie? Are you there?’ My mother’s voice rose with tinny anxiety from the receiver. Reluctantly, I picked it up.
‘Sorry, Mum, I missed that. The line went fuzzy.’
‘I was just saying what a shame it is that Felix isn’t an usher,’ she said, sounding disappointed all over again. ‘But I was thinking that maybe you could call the florist and request a special buttonhole for him to match your bouquet. That way everyone will know you’re a couple.’ I pressed my lips together in order to stifle a groan. ‘What do you think?’ she pressed.
I closed my eyes. ‘I think that’s an interesting idea,’ I said quietly. ‘If it’s not too short notice for the florist.’
‘Oh, of course it won’t be.’ She laughed dismissively. ‘And while I’ve got you, I wanted to ask if Felix—’
‘Sorry, Mum, can I call you tonight?’ I interrupted, deciding that I could take no more. ‘Kate…’ I opened my eyes and looked at my partner, mouthing the words help me as I did so. She tapped her watch and mimed drinking a cup of coffee. I gave her a thumbs-up. ‘Kate has just reminded me that Felix is actually dropping by for coffee in a moment and there’s a call I have to make before he gets here.’
‘Oh my goodness! How romantic!’ The delight in my mother’s voice, coupled with the recollection of a meeting I wasn’t exactly looking forward to, made me feel worse than ever.
‘He’s in Bristol on business, Mum. I’m just a quick stop-off.’
‘Nonsense,’ she laughed. ‘He clearly doesn’t want to miss out on an opportunity to see you, even when you’re going to be spending the whole weekend together. That’s true devotion, Dottie. Nanny will love that.’
I placed a hand on my chest, experiencing a sensation which felt like the literal sinking of my heart. Felix had told me he had a fifteen- to twenty-minute window in between a morning meeting in Clifton and a lunchtime one in Harbourside, and had suggested a coffee to run over the arrangements for the wedding, which, until that point, we had discussed only by email.
My immediate reaction to his proposal had been one of relief. He was clearly committed to the weekend and had an organised approach, which gave me renewed hope that things could pass off without a hitch. But after our first awkward encounter, and a series of emails which had done nothing to change my impression of him as unwaveringly businesslike, no matter what the topic under discussion, I couldn’t claim to be looking forward to spending another five, let alone twenty, minutes in his company. And the knowledge that my mother was going to portray our brief coffee in a Romeo-and-Juliet light to my grandmother wasn’t helping.
‘I’ll ring you tonight, Mum,’ I said.
‘That would be lovely, Dot,’ she sighed, ‘although your father can be so annoying, can’t he, interrupting our girl talk all the time?’
‘I’ll call about seven or eight. Bye. Love you.’ I put down the phone and slumped back in my chair.
‘A little abrupt at the end there,’ said Kate, her eyebrows arching disapprovingly.
I didn’t reply.
‘Well, I just wish your mum was my mum,’ she persisted.
‘You do not,’ I said flatly.
‘I do! I know she crowds you, but at least she’s interested, Dorothy. My mother couldn’t give a damn whether I’m winning the Nobel Peace Prize or sleeping in a box under a bridge.’
I sighed. Kate had made it to where she was in life despite, rather than because of, her family, and it wasn’t the first time I’d been made to feel bad for complaining about my own. ‘Sorry.’
She smiled and shook her head. ‘I know it’s tricky. But things will be easier after Saturday, won’t they?’
‘I suppose so, but I just wish I could one hundred per cent look forward to the wedding and I feel awful that I’m being even a little bit grumpy about it.’ I turned towards my screen. ‘I mean, I couldn’t be happier for Becca. Mark’s great – perfect for her. I’m just not enjoying Mum asking me about Felix all the time. And I’ve got to spend the entire evening with her tomorrow.’
‘If she brings him up, just say that the evening and the weekend are about Becca,’ she suggested. ‘And why not call your dad this afternoon and tell him you want Becca to be the focus and that you really don’t want to be grilled about Felix. He’ll understand, won’t he?’
I looked over my shoulder at her and smiled. ‘Yes, he will. I’ll do that.’
‘Great,’ she said, now focusing on her own screen. ‘And the day itself will be such a laugh. I love weddings. Fred’s friend Anthony’s was the best. He married a Scot and all her relatives wore kilts and one of them did cartwheels across the dance floor. I have never seen anything like it before or since.’ She shook her head at the memory. ‘I was genuinely worried some of his bits would fly off,’ she added absently.
I laughed. ‘You’ve got me hoping for a kilt or two now.’
‘You’ll have a great time,’ she smiled.
‘I know I will,
’ I agreed. ‘And I tried the dress on again last night and if anything it’s a bit loose now. When I checked, I’d dropped three kilograms.’
‘Do you think it’s nervous weight loss?’ asked Kate. ‘If so, you’ve got your mother to thank for that.’
‘True.’
‘And you’re OK about this coffee with Felix? You know what you’re going to say?’ She was still facing her screen and asked the question with a casualness bordering on indifference, but I knew she was as eager as my mother for details, although for different reasons. Her enquiry wasn’t to satisfy rampant curiosity, but rather to make sure that I was on track and had every angle covered. ‘Did you find him somewhere to stay?’
I turned my chair towards her. ‘He found somewhere himself. I guess it’s not like he doesn’t know the area.’
Kate gave up the pretence of work and looked at me. ‘When did he tell you that? Have you chatted on the phone?’
I shook my head. ‘Nope, because he never picks up. I sent him that grovellingly grateful and apologetic email I showed you, and then another one confirming all the time and location details. I kept it all light, saying maybe we should linger a little on Sunday and pop into The Lamb, which is where we used to hang out in sixth form. But he just replied telling me he’d be driving up on Saturday morning, had arranged overnight accommodation and had to get back early Sunday. And that was it. I then offered to pay for travel and accommodation, but he said no.’ I finished the update with a smile.
‘That’s all the logistics sorted then,’ said Kate. ‘You can use today to laugh about the good old days.’
I nodded whilst trying and failing to picture slimline Felix laughing about anything at all. ‘It’ll be fine,’ I said with determined positivity, ‘and the wedding will be fine too. Becca steered Mum towards putting Felix on a table with Mark’s work friends, so he’s not going to be interrogated by anyone who knows me during the meal. And there’s nothing to stop him shooting off early if he wants to. Everybody loses track of everybody else at the evening reception, don’t they?’
‘They do. Sounds like you’ve really thought this through and got it all covered, Dot. I’m impressed.’ She smiled, offering me an air high-five to which I responded with one of my own.
‘I’m a bit sad that Felix isn’t as relaxed as he used to be when we were younger,’ I said. ‘But he’s helping me out. So that’s a tacit acknowledgement of our past friendship, isn’t it?’
Kate maintained a smile, but I thought I saw a hint of doubt behind it.
‘What?’ I asked. ‘Please don’t tell me you’re worried on my behalf. I’m just about OK with everything.’
‘No, not at all,’ she said, looking surprised. ‘I always told you it was no big deal.’
‘Then why the nervous look?’
Her mouth twisted slightly in a rare expression of awkwardness. ‘Well, I…’ She hesitated. ‘I just wondered if Alistair was still coming, or whether there’d been a change of plan.’
‘Oh… no… he’s still an usher,’ I said, my stomach lurching at the thought. ‘Mark offered to disinvite him and Alistair offered not to come, but they’ve been friends for such a long time it wouldn’t be fair. It’s Mark and Becca’s day, not mine.’
Kate smiled sympathetically. ‘Well, it was good of Alistair to offer to opt out,’ she said gently. ‘And even better of you to insist that he come. I think—’ she began, only to be cut short by the buzz of the intercom.
‘Oh God, it’s him,’ I groaned, hauling myself to my feet.
‘I’ll get it,’ said Kate, standing up and hurrying towards our small lobby and the front door of the office. ‘You stay sitting down and try to look professional and sane. He hasn’t seen that side of you yet.’
I tutted but acknowledged the point by straightening the new blue linen dress in which I had invested the previous day, and opening some images from a recent project of which I was particularly proud, angling my screen to make it visible to anyone approaching my desk. Then I leaned to my right, straining to listen to Kate’s effusive but indistinct welcome, and to Felix’s calmer, but equally indistinct, responses. A moment later, she led him into the office.
‘It’s Felix, Dot,’ she said needlessly, placing a hand on his back, pushing him gently towards my desk and taking a step back. Her eyes widened slightly and she mouthed, Ooh, whilst inexplicably drawing a curvy feminine outline with her hands to indicate her appreciation of his physique. ‘I wouldn’t have recognised him from your description. She’d be hopeless in a police line-up situation, Felix,’ she added, laughing. ‘The woman couldn’t tell Rod Hull from Emu.’
I did my best to ignore her and stood up, grabbing my bag and glancing at Felix as I did so. ‘Let’s go and get a coffee. The cafe next door is great.’
‘OK,’ he said, checking his watch and then looking over his shoulder at Kate. ‘Are you joining us?’
‘I’d love to.’ She paused teasingly and grinned at me. ‘But I’m afraid I have to stay here and hold the fort, don’t I, Dot?’
‘You do,’ I said, already on my way to the door. ‘Because there’s no rest for the wicked, Kate. And you’re very wicked indeed.’
Chapter 7
I placed two cappuccinos on the small table situated in the window of the cafe and sat down opposite Felix. He glanced up at the outsized Roman-numeral clock, which hung above a counter laden with various cakes under Perspex domes.
‘Are you OK for time?’ I asked.
‘Yes. And thank you,’ he added, picking up his coffee.
I shook my head. ‘Thank you. I know asking you to come to Becca’s wedding with me was a strange request. And believe me, I don’t like misleading anyone. I was wrong to let assumptions drift the way I did.’
‘Assumptions?’ He replaced his coffee cup on its saucer.
‘I mean I shouldn’t have let everyone carry on thinking we were dating,’ I explained. ‘I should have sorted things out before now.’
‘But did people make assumptions? I thought you specifically told your family that I was your boyfriend.’
‘Er…’ I shifted slightly in my seat as he looked at me impassively, awaiting a reply. ‘Well, yes, I did tell them that. So I suppose in that sense they weren’t assumptions.’
‘Or in any sense?’
I smiled uncertainly. ‘Well…’
‘You told your father, mother, grandmother and sister that we were dating and they believed you. Isn’t that what happened?’
I looked at him and wondered whether he was deliberately torturing me, or if it was accidental.
‘I just want to be clear about what you told them. So that I know what the situation is when I meet them,’ he added.
So the torture was accidental, then. Not that that made it any less excruciating.
‘I see,’ I said, taking a deep breath and deciding that there was no option but to respond to his brutal, to-the-point questioning with the ugly, unvarnished truth. ‘Well, of course you’re quite right. There were actually zero assumptions. I just told lots of lies and my family, because they trust me implicitly, believed them.’
‘Great,’ he said, seeming satisfied.
‘One good thing,’ I continued, managing a smile and picking up my coffee, ‘is that Becca didn’t actually believe me. She and Mark know that we’re not dating, so we don’t have to pretend in front of them.’
‘That’s good to know,’ he said, ‘should the four of us find ourselves alone in a room at any point on Saturday.’
I looked up from my coffee to find him again checking the clock.
‘Anyway,’ I said, ‘you’re on a table with Mark’s friends, not my relatives, so hopefully you’ll be able to relax and enjoy the day. My mother will probably accost you at some point, and Nanny Flo will want to say hi, but they’ll both be in demand and I can help you if things get awkward.’
‘That’s very reassuring,’ he said, looking down as his phone buzzed in his briefcase.
‘Do you wan
t to check that?’ I asked.
He shook his head. ‘It’s Kevin sending some figures I need for this afternoon.’
‘He seems so lovely,’ I ventured, seizing the opportunity both to change the subject and to delve a little deeper into his relationship with Kevin. ‘The two of you are obviously very good friends, as well as business partners.’
He nodded. ‘Like you and Kate?’
‘Yes, except that Kate is married,’ I said, before immediately regretting the response.
He looked up and frowned. ‘I don’t understand what difference that makes.’
‘I just mean…’ I paused, trying to come up with an alternative to Are you and Kevin lovers? ‘I just mean that Kate is married and I’m single, so we don’t socialise together in the same way that you and Kevin might socialise if he’s single and you’re single, or if he’s not single and you’re not single.’ I was aware of sounding slightly flustered but didn’t judge the explanation to be a complete disaster.
‘OK,’ he said calmly, before returning his attention to his coffee and offering no further insights into his sexuality.
I took a deep breath and tried again. ‘So much has happened to us both since university,’ I smiled.
‘Of course,’ he said.
‘We’ve both got our own businesses.’
‘We have.’
‘That’s a turn-up for the books, isn’t it?’ I forced a laugh. ‘I think the last time I saw you, I couldn’t think beyond trekking round India and maybe doing an art course, and you… What did you want to do?’
‘I can’t remember,’ he said. ‘It was probably something to do with pies.’
I laughed again, genuinely this time, but he didn’t join in, instead reaching for his briefcase as his phone buzzed for a second time. ‘I’d better take a look,’ he said. He opened the case, taking out the phone and frowning at whatever notification was onscreen but making no move to open the message.
‘All OK?’ I asked.
Finding Felix Page 5