by Jules Wake
‘No!’ I spat. I felt furious, but with myself. And jealous. Of what he had. It was so obvious and I’d been so blind. No, blind was too kind. I’d deceived myself. I’d known. How could I have not?
‘Felix is gay.’ I sounded disbelieving but from the look on Jeanie’s face it wasn’t exactly a revelation to her. ‘You knew?’
‘And you didn’t.’
‘Not … really.’
She pulled a sceptical face. ‘Really?’
Biting my lip, I tried to shy away from her piercing gaze.
‘Tilly? Seriously? Never?’
‘No,’ my voice peaked into its highest octave, ‘never.’
‘Oh,’ she sounded quite put out and puzzled. With a stretch, she extended her legs and gazed at a point on the other side of the room.
‘Why … did you?’ I poked her to get her to look at me.
‘Er, hello, yes. Given there are gay guys aplenty in our industry, my gaydar’s well-tuned.’ She lifted her shoulders. ‘I just assumed he slid both ways and you were OK with it.’
My mouth dropped open. Whoa? Did I appear that liberal and bohemian? I didn’t know whether to be flattered or appalled. Inside I was my parents’ daughter in a lot of ways, where sex and morals were concerned conservative was my middle name.
I picked at my sleeve not wanting to look at her. ‘But we were getting married,’ I muttered, sounding petulant, not wanting to hear the facts. ‘Why would he do that if he was … you know?’ Now my brain felt full of cotton wool, so thick I couldn’t wade through it.
‘Because he’s an idiot.’ She was Boudicca in a warrior stance, her whole body language exuding belligerence. ‘And you’ve both been sticking your head in the clouds.’
I started to object but she held up a hand. ‘No, listen. Let’s face it, you’ve been dragging your heels about organising the wedding. Most women are off trying on dresses faster than a mouse given a key to the cheese factory. Christ, when I got engaged, the very next day I was on the doorstep of Pronuptia an hour before it opened.’ Her face was filled with disgust. ‘Although, look how that turned out.’
I shrugged. ‘That doesn’t mean anything. We’re a lot older than you were and it’s different these days.’
‘Tilly,’ she drew out my name, adding a few syllables. ‘Rubbish. Tell me that Felix’s proposal wasn’t a complete shock to you.’
I glared at her. ‘OK, it wasn’t what I was expecting when we went to West Wittering for the day.’
I thought back to the day he’d proposed. Running down the beach, larking about. It had been a glorious windy, sunny spring day and on a sudden whim we’d taken ourselves off to the coast in a hire car for the day. We’d eaten ice creams and paddled in the freezing cold water. A typical Felix day: spontaneous, fun, silly. I wanted to cry again at the memory. We’d been high on happiness that day. As he’d splashed me and then almost fallen over himself, dropping his socks in the water, he’d turned and tossed into the wind. ‘Let’s get married missus.’
We’d celebrated with fish and chips and a Fanta can ring pull ceremoniously slid onto my finger. Typically irreverent and silly, two friends having a lovely day together.
‘Yes, it was,’ I admitted, sighing, hating having to admit that she was right. ‘It was a spur of the moment thing but that’s what I liked. I mean like.’ Jeanie simply raised her eyebrows at me. I gritted my teeth. ‘Felix’s spontaneity.’
‘Honey, there’s spontaneous and there’s downright Walter Mitty. Felix falls into the latter category. I don’t think you ever wanted to get married and I certainly don’t think Felix does.’
‘He did, once,’ I persisted, suddenly wanting it to be true.
‘The only person that wants to see Felix married is his mother.’ Jeanie stared hard at me. ‘It doesn’t take a scientist to figure it out. They’re both in denial. You said yourself she’s desperate to organise a wedding. I wonder if she’s not a bit too desperate.’
I sat for a minute, letting the truth sink in. Getting engaged had been a lifeline for both of us. I needed to replace the chasm left in my life from divorcing myself from my family and I could see it clearly now, he must have hoped I might fill the gap for his mother. Now it seemed so obvious. Hindsight is a wonderful thing.
‘So,’ asked ever pragmatic Jeanie, ‘what happened today? Flamenco delicto?’
‘Yes, I caught him in bed with.… ’ I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell her. It was bad enough that Felix was having an affair with another man but having an affair with one of my best friends. I couldn’t bring myself to say Vince’s name. His betrayal hurt. That sly look of triumph when he’d laid claim to Felix had stung.
He would expect me to tell Jeanie. Expect me to tell everyone to get their sympathy, thereby making him the victim.
And if I told Jeanie now, it would be out of spite.
I refused to stoop to that level. Vince would have to man up and be the one to tell people what he’d done. Not me.
‘I caught him in bed with another man.’
‘Ouch … I’m so sorry love … but how do you feel?’
Her intent look made me smile. ‘Relief.’ I let out a half-laugh. ‘Bizarre, isn’t it? I should be heart-broken. Instead I’m angry with myself. That’s the worst thing. I’m such an idiot. And then it’s a relief because it explains so much. And …’ I couldn’t tell her about my feelings for Marcus, they were still too new and precious to expose.
‘Well you came to the right place.’ Jeanie enfolded me in another uncharacteristic hug. ‘We’ll look after you.’
We talked quietly for another half hour as my emotions gradually subsided. Jeanie suggested I stay the night and worry about the practicalities in the morning.
‘So now can I ask? How long’s this been going on?’
Carlsten had obviously been diplomatically lurking on the other side of the door for some time because he chose that moment to come in with two glasses of steaming red wine, grinning from ear to ear.
‘Gluwein for the ladies.’ He handed one each to us before turning to Jeanie. ‘Ah mein liebchen … now the truth is out,’ he teased, giving her an intimate look.
My mouth dropped. He was … Women threw roses at his feet on stage, gorgeous celebrities partnered him on the red carpet and the paparazzi stalked him.
Now it all made sense and explained why there’d been no night off get-togethers recently.
‘Seems a bit odd formally introducing you but, Tilly this is Carlsten, Carlsten this is my dear friend Tilly who you’ve seen before in the make-up room.’
‘It is a pleasure to meet you properly. I’ve been feeling like Bluebeard in reverse, locked away, while she has her wicked way with me. Understandable.’ He gave her a cheeky wink, ‘she doesn’t want to disappoint her other suitors.’
Jeanie choked on her wine.
‘Understandable,’ I said gravely. ‘When there are legions of them.’
He nodded with a wicked grin. ‘I was ready to fight them off.’
‘Oh, stop it, you two.’
I could see she was blushing.
His superstar smile would have cheered me up but the affectionate beam that he surrounded Jeanie with lit a small glow of happiness in me. She deserved some happiness, lots of it. Her first marriage had been a miserable affair.
Clutching my lovely hot wine between my ice-cold fingers, I warmed through as I forced myself to listen to Carlsten’s self-deprecating tale of how he’d finally sweet-talked Jeanie into agreeing to overlook the unfortunate accident of his birth, him being one of the male species, and risk going out with him for a drink. (‘Not a date’, she reminded him sternly, as he recounted that part of the story.)
‘He wore me down,’ said Jeanie with a sigh but the contented look in her eyes told otherwise.
‘I wooed you,’ twinkled Carlsten.
‘Blackmailed me.’ She shot him a reproachful look tinged with a touch of pride. ‘We were in the wings. He,’ she hissed dramatically, ‘was supposed to
be on stage and he whispered in my ear that he wouldn’t go on unless I agreed to go for a liqueur after the performance that night.’
Carlsten chuckled. ‘You should have seen her face. The curtain was starting to rise and still she was arguing with me.’
There was a tiny curve to Jeanie’s pursed lips. ‘I blame my downfall on Tia Maria. The man managed to pour three of them down my neck.’ They shared a look.
The warmth of their affection touched me. Jeanie deserved to be happy. For all her cynicism, life was for sharing and I could see their contentment in each other’s company.
‘Well ladies, I have cooked a beautiful beef stroganoff. Tilly, you will join us.’
‘Of course she will,’ announced Jeanie before giving me an assessing look. ‘You need to get dried off. I’ll find you some things.’
‘I’ve got my overnight bag … I’d just come back from Harrogate, walked in the flat and then came straight back out. No clean knickers though.’ Not that I cared.
Jeanie grinned. ‘Typical, so you brought your washing with you. Go and have a hot bath. When you come down we’ll eat. And then you can help us dress the Christmas tree.’ She pointed to the fir tree propped against the wall.
A punch of sadness hit. I still hadn’t got a tree. Now, I wasn’t sure I’d even bother.
‘I’m so—’
‘Don’t say another word. It’s fine. You’re always welcome. You know that. Now get your arse into gear. Dinner will be ready in half an hour and I tell you, lovely as he is, Carl gets cranky when his food has to wait and he cooks nearly as well as he sings.’
I couldn’t resist teasing her. ‘Good at anything else?’
‘Never you mind young lady.’
Chapter 28
A wave of grief punched into me at the sight of the framed photo of me, Vince and Felix on the shelf in my cubby hole. The horrible dark sensation threatened to overwhelm me as I stared at the picture. All three of us beaming into the flash light, our arms around each other. I pulled it down from the shelf and held it in my hands. Felix, the tallest in the middle, his handsome features lit up with his usual vivacious smile. The life and soul of the party as always. Shiny-eyed and full of life, we looked as if we might burst out the print at any moment. We’d been to see some stand-up comedy in Leicester Square and as we stumbled out after closing time the shot had been snapped by a paparazzi waiting to snap some minor celebrity.
I stared at the picture. Now I could see it. The unwanted third on the end. Me.
With a twist of my mouth I chucked the picture in the bin.
It would have been easy to brood and pick over things but I still had the meeting with Alison Kreufeld looming.
Suddenly straightening, I slapped the desk. I was going to nail that job. In the next ten days, I was going to show AK that I was the best freaking make-up artist on the planet and the high priestess of stock control. No more Miss flaky pants with all the delaying tactics. I was going to apply myself with the tenacity of super glue and get every product we used onto the system, down to the last eyelash filament, cotton bud and light bulb. OK, maybe not light bulbs, they were the facilities department’s responsibility. I’d also go the extra mile and create a full catalogue of all the wigs we had in storage. That would impress her. There would not be a single excuse for Alison Kreufeld not to give me the job. It was mine.
Thankfully, Vince had phoned in sick but despite burying myself in my job and impressing the hell out of myself by creating a half-decent spreadsheet to list all the wigs we had, the day dragged and when it finally came to going home, Jeanie had to force me to leave.
‘Come on lovie.’ She stood over me. ‘You’re always welcome at mine, but you have to speak to Felix. If you don’t you’ll keep putting it off and you’re just going to be in this limbo. As soon as you’ve talked to him, you can start making decisions and sorting things out. It will make you feel a lot better.’
‘I know,’ I said, rolling my shoulders trying to alleviate the pinched muscles nipping at my neck as I finally pulled on my coat and switched off the desk lamp in my cubby hole.
The damp, drizzly walk home from the tube, instead of getting a bus, suited my mood perfectly. I think it might even have been trying to snow again, but the pathetic sleety attempt wasn’t going to stick. I stood outside the flat for a few minutes, looking up at the light shining from the bedroom window. Felix was home. I dug in my bag for my key and headed up the stairs, my legs heavy as I took each reluctant step. The echo of my footsteps felt like portents of doom as I got closer to the front door.
I paused in the doorway of the bedroom, the last place I had wanted to confront him and waited. I wanted him to be the first to speak.
Felix turned slowly and it came as a shock to see that he looked perfectly normal. In my mind, I’d built him up to some fiend. No. Still Felix, although he seemed to have shrunk inwards. The bounce and exuberance of the jumpy Labrador puppy had gone. Instead it had been replaced by the weariness of a droopy old blood hound. Unhappiness was etched across his whole face from the dullness of his eyes through to the downward lines pulling at his mouth.
‘Sorry Tilly,’ he whispered.
I was transfixed by the tear that rolled down his face. He sank onto the bed and put his head in his hands, a picture of such abject misery that all the hate I thought I had evaporated. I had loved him.
I went and sat down next to him, thigh to thigh.
The air around us felt permeated with sadness, dampening the fury that had initially buoyed me up.
‘You’re wet.’
‘Yes. It’s raining. I walked home.’ Anything to delay getting back.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘You already said that. I want to hate you.’ As soon as I said the words I regretted the ugliness of them. Felix wasn’t mean or malicious. He was Felix.
‘Tilly. I didn’t mean to … it just.’ His broken words were hoarse as his face crumpled. ‘I never. I didn’t mean to. I love you,’ he turned his head to face me and I could see the pain etched in the shadows under his eyes, ‘just not … not … I thought we could make a go of it. Then I met …’ I held up my hand. I didn’t want him to say Vince’s name. ‘I love him.’ He gave a breathless sob, tears running down his face. ‘Honest to God. I tried not to. I kept breaking it off with him.’
I put my arm around his shaking shoulders and we sat in silence for a few minutes as I stared around the room. The skirting boards were thick with dust, the wardrobe had its plinth missing and the wall had a streak of coffee running down it. The neglect echoed our relationship; I’d done too little to address the flaws I knew had been there.
When Felix’s sobs slowed, I spoke. ‘I don’t understand. Why pretend with me that you were …’
‘I wanted to be … like Kev … like the others … and you … you were so nice.’
‘Nice!’ I flinched. That hurt. Nice. ‘Thanks.’
‘You were lovely. Honestly. I mean, you always saw good in me. We were the mojito team. You always made me feel that I could be better than I was. I thought we’d be OK but then it just got harder and harder. I’d see … other men and wonder. Vince knew. He knew the first time you introduced us. He kept on. That I wasn’t being true to myself. That I was wrong not to embrace what I was. I didn’t know then that he fancied me. Then we, when you weren’t … we couldn’t help ourselves.’ Felix coloured but his eyes lit up as if reliving the memory.
I came close to snapping, ‘Of course you could,’ but I held off. Maybe it was because I could remember so clearly the magical zing of attraction when I’d first seen Marcus, the excitement and pure sexual fizz – but it didn’t mean you had to go and bloody act upon it.
I hadn’t sneaked around behind anyone’s back.
‘How long’s it been going on?’ I asked, my voice dull and heavy.
‘We went out one night, ages ago,’ he drew in a shuddery breath. ‘I knew but I didn’t do anything about it. Not for a long time. I promise.’
> I raised an eyebrow.
‘The first time we met up, we just kissed that time.’ He shrugged as if the detail were immaterial. ‘Then we agreed not to see each other again.’ He put his head in his hands. ‘It was so hard. I did try. But a few weeks ago, he came down to the hotel when I was away.’
I felt the mattress dip as he lifted his head.
‘It was supposed to be … just the once. I’d never … I needed to know …’ Sadness haunted every line of his face. I reached out and touched his hand and he folded his fingers around mine.
His mouth crumpled and his chin quivered. ‘After that, he wouldn’t leave me alone. Wouldn’t let me finish it. I tried but it was too difficult.’ Felix swallowed hard, his eyes glassy.
‘I love him.’ The simple unadorned words, devoid of his usual bounce and hyperbole, punched a hole in my heart.
‘Really, really love him. And I … I’ve been living a lie all this time, pretending. And I’m sorry I pretended with you when you’re …’ A tear slipped down his face. ‘My best friend.’ He squeezed my hand back. ‘You shouldn’t be nice to me.’ He hiccoughed back a sob and sucked in a breath.
‘No, I shouldn’t,’ I said with a sad smile, looking at his familiar face. He lifted a hand and stroked away one of my tears.
‘I’m sorry Tilly.’
We sat in silence as I tried to absorb what he’d been through. Seeing him like this almost made it easier somehow. It was sad for both of us.
‘Have there been others … other men?’ It felt weird saying that.
‘No. No. I told you … he was …’ A dreamy smile lit his face. Jealousy, envy, mortification all warred to take the lead among my churning emotions. ‘He was my first.’
He turned to me. ‘I never meant … that’s a line from a song isn’t it. I never meant to hurt you …’
He dropped his head in his hands again. ‘It’s a mess, isn’t it?’
I stood up slowly and turned to look at him.
‘I need a drink.’ Heading straight to the kitchen, I grabbed a beer from the fridge. He followed and by mutual assent we both sat at the kitchen table.