Although he knew he was risking his life, there was something Frederick had to do.
“I’m sorry, Cecilia,” he said. “Truly sorry. But I can’t keep up this pretence any longer. I’m afraid I don’t have feelings for you, and I will have to leave your home. I hope you can forgive me.”
Cecilia paused and narrowed her eyes. “Fine then!” she said, tossing her red hair back over her shoulder. “Leave me. I didn’t love you anyway. I have another boyfriend, Rupert. He’s so much more charming than you are. I’m going over to his house RIGHT NOW, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me!” Before he could protest, she was gone too. He was left sitting in the doorway by himself, head in his hands.
“Four now!” said the stalker gleefully. “That has to be a record. Pure carelessness.”
“Shut up,” said Frederick.
“I mean, I suppose it was never going to work, having a relationship with three women from the same family,” the stalker continued. “But…”
He never got to finish his sentence, because Frederick had filled the watering can from the outside tap and was pouring it through the vent.
“It burns!” his stalker gasped.
“Ah yes, the vodka,” said Frederick. “I always forget about the vodka.” He went into the house to pack his things. It was time to leave.
Chapter Six
Cecilia was running to the only place she knew she was certain of being appreciated. “Oh Rupert,” she sighed. “I should have known all along that he was the only one.”
She ran up the stairs of the apartment block. She always avoided lifts, since she had a recurring nightmare about being stuck in one with Groucho Marx. Finally, she arrived outside Frederick’s apartment. She unlocked the door with her spare key and burst in.
“Surprise!” she called merrily. “Oh Rupert! I’m here!”
She stopped in her tracks as she saw Rupert curled up on the sofa with a beautiful woman. Awkwardly, he got to his feet.
“Oh, hello Cecilia,” he said, completely failing to sound casual. “Meet my wife, Prunella.”
“Your wife?” gasped Cecilia.
“Who’s that?” said Prunella, turning round to stare at Cecilia. “Wait, that’s that cow Fiona Clay’s mother!”
“Prunella, please!” said Rupert. “That’s my secretary you’re talking about!”
“Well, she tried to steal my…” Prunella began, then decided she should probably keep her mouth shut.
“Your what?” Rupert asked, confused.
“Purse,” said Prunella quickly. “She tried to steal my purse, that was it.”
“How dare you accuse my daughter of stealing!” said Cecilia. “How dare you be married to my secret boyfriend!”
Prunella sprang up from the sofa and leapt at Cecilia with a battle cry of “Vamos a la playa!”. She had cut off her sharpened nails earlier on, thinking that she wouldn’t need them any more, but now she was regretting it. Cecilia pulled out a bottle of ‘water’ and squirted it at Prunella, who winced but kept fighting.
“Stop!” yelled out Rupert, pretending he wasn’t enjoying being fought over by two beautiful women. Prunella and Cecilia bit, scratched and headbutted each other. Rupert settled back in his seat to watch – it would be interesting to see who won.
Eventually, Cecilia became semi-deafened by Prunella’s battle screams and had to pause for a moment to clear out her ears. Gleefully, Prunella seized the opportunity and dragged her out of the door by her ankles. A moment later, Cecilia heard bolts being drawn and a key turning in the lock. She lay on the landing, totally speechless. She knew that she should be hurt, but she just felt angry. She got to her feet, gingerly prodded the bite marks on her arms and neck, and hobbled on down the stairs.
***
By some odd coincidence which is extremely convenient considering the plotline of this novel, Fiona happened to be sitting on a low wall outside the apartment block where the fight had just taken place. She had seen Cecilia run inside and had finally managed to put two and two together when she remembered Cecilia talking about her secret boyfriend Rupert. She was impressed with herself for thinking so rationally when she didn’t have her detective glasses on. Remembering what Prunella had said earlier, she had a fair idea of what was about to happen, and sure enough, Cecilia came limping out about fifteen minutes later. Fiona sighed.
“It seems that everyone has two people to love except me,” she sighed. “I love only one person and he loves my sister, not me.”
Cecilia overheard her and limped over.
“You think you’re the only one?” she said. “I’m in the same boat. It turns out the man I love is already married. And I just got beaten up by his wife.” She sat down on the wall next to Fiona. “I mean,” she carried on, “I can’t really condemn him since I was doing the same thing with Frederick. At least you still have a clear conscience.”
Fiona’s conscience didn’t feel clear – she felt guilty for hurting Frederick’s feelings.
“You’re not upset over Frederick too, are you?” Cecilia asked, being unusually perceptive.
“You noticed?” Fiona asked in surprise. “I thought we kept it secret!” She blushed, realising she had made it sound like more than it actually was.
“Yes, I noticed, and he obviously likes you more than he liked me, so I don’t see what the problem is,” said Cecilia, returning to her usual unsympathetic self for a moment.
“But he doesn’t,” Fiona said sadly. “He’s gone off with Samantha.”
“All three members of our family?” said Cecilia in outrage. “What a man slag!”
“Why are you comparing Frederick to calcium silicate, the by-product of the blast furnace?” asked Fiona in confusion.
“Never mind,” said Cecilia.
“Speaking of Samantha,” Fiona said, “She was telling me that Father isn’t my real father at all. Was she lying?”
Cecilia put her head in her hands. “Oh, for God’s sake, I told her not to mention that! Fine, fine, it’s true. I decided to keep one of my children because I could only support one. A friend offered to adopt the other one. Your real father was killed in the war, because he was a soldier, like I told you. Samantha lived with me until very recently, when she disappeared somewhere and I converted her room into a wardrobe extension. I expect you hate me now, like everyone else.”
“It is one of my personal convictions that it’s wrong to hate anyone,” said Fiona. “So I’ll probably dislike you a bit for a week or so, if that’s alright, and then I’ll forgive you.”
“Sounds reasonable enough,” agreed Cecilia. “Well, I suppose I’d better go and get drunk, it’ll make all of this so much more bearable. See you sometime.”
“I’m not going to reply, because I currently dislike you, if you remember,” Fiona reminded her as she left. She then made her way to the squash club. The couple who owned it liked her. They liked anyone who cared enough to turn up. They would let her sleep on their floor for a week or so, until she didn’t dislike her mother any longer.
***
It was dark by the time Cecilia arrived back home. She was just about to push open her front door when a voice called to her from below her feet.
“Could you pull this vent cover off, please?” it said. “I’m stuck down here.”
Cecilia was so startled she jumped about two metres in the air, at least according to her mental exaggeration. “Who are you?” she asked, as she bent down and began to pull at the vent. “And why are you hiding underneath my house?”
“Well, I was stalking Frederick DeNoüh,” he explained, “and I was watching him from here, but when he left I realised I was stuck.”
“Why were you stalking Frederick?” asked Cecilia. “Any reason in particular?”
“Not really,” he shrugged. “Just seemed like a good idea at the time. I used to stalk women, but I got injured so many times I had to give it up. So, tell me about yourself. Up to anything nice?”
“I’m just off
to get drunk,” answered Cecilia. “On vodka which is 65% alcohol. You?”
“Nothing that exciting,” he shrugged. “But do you really think getting drunk is the best solution to your problems?”
“You sound like my daughter,” Cecilia said, raising her eyebrows as she pulled the stalker out of the vent. Secretly, though, it was nice that someone seemed to care.
“Well, it’s good advice,” the stalker shrugged. “Why not take up a more beneficial hobby, like aerobics?”
Cecilia was about to scorn this idea, when she suddenly thought about the situation she had got herself into through drinking, and she began to think that maybe she should actually take someone’s advice for once. Thoughtfully, she entered the house.
“Do you mind if I sleep on the sofa tonight?” the stalker asked awkwardly. “Only I don’t really have anywhere to go.”
“Help yourself,” shrugged Cecilia, too deep in thought to pay him much attention. She entered the kitchen and determinedly began tipping the contents of her ‘water’ bottles down the sink.
***
While Fiona was lying on the squash club owners’ hearthrug unable to get to sleep, gloomily imagining Frederick with Samantha, and Cecilia was breaking the habit of fifteen years, Frederick was sitting mournfully in the local church. There were often tramps sleeping there – nobody would notice him.
“Why?” he asked rhetorically, spreading his hands in anguish. “Why has this happened to me?”
He almost expected his stalker to pop up with an answer, but all was quiet except for some snoring from the base of the pulpit.
“Why?” he demanded again.
“Surely you can answer that question for yourself,” said a deep, mysterious voice from above. Frederick looked up in awe and saw the vicar at the top of the steps to the tower.
“Well, yes,” said Frederick. “It’s because I was stupid enough to end up in a relationship with four women at the same time. Because I was unable to say no.”
“I’m glad you were able to answer that question,” said the vicar, “or I would have looked a bit silly. Four women at once is quite impressive, but you haven’t beaten my record.”
Frederick decided he would rather not know about the vicar’s private life.
“But I have been deserted by the one woman I truly loved,” he said miserably.
“Awkward,” agreed the vicar. “Have you tried flowers, chocolates? That sort of thing usually seems to work.”
“None of that is good enough,” Frederick said.
“Have you tried apologising?” suggested the vicar. “Sometimes works. I know I’m clutching at straws here, but…”
“That’s it!” cried Frederick triumphantly. “Apologising! What a stroke of genius! You are my salvation!”
“I aim to please,” shrugged the vicar. “Must be going, there’s a… meeting in the pub.”
Frederick got to his feet, with new hope rising inside him. As soon as he found out where Fiona was, he could apologise, and everything would be alright.
Chapter Seven
“…and so there I was, preparing to make a lifetime commitment to the only one I had ever loved,” Fiona was telling another member of the squash club who had failed to leave the evening before, “and then he ran off with my twin sister, when I thought he had feelings for me.”
“Awful,” said the squash club member, shaking his head. His name was Jim, and he was an avid squash fan. He had a subscription for Squash Weekly magazine, collected figurines of famous squash players and haunted the local squash club. Right now, he was playing the role of sympathetic listener.
“Of course,” he continued, “he could come bursting through the door at any minute, having thought about what he did and ready to apologise. You never know.”
Fiona was about to say, yeah right, but she didn’t get a chance, because just then the door flew open. Frederick stood there, hair blowing back dramatically in the wind.
“Fiona!” he said. “I have thought about what I did, and I am ready to apologise!”
“Hate to say I told you so,” said Jim.
“But Frederick,” said Fiona tearfully, as Jim tactfully left the room to eavesdrop at the door. “You only love my long-lost sister Samantha.”
Frederick stared at her. “Have you been drinking from Cecilia’s taps?” he asked. “Whatever makes you think I love Samantha?”
“But…you left my mother’s house with her yesterday…didn’t you?” asked Fiona, wondering whether she dared hope.
“Nein!” cried Frederick. “There has been a misunderstanding! I have never loved Samantha, she is only my friend. I have only ever wanted to be with you!”
Fiona gasped in wonder. She thought she must be dreaming, but Frederick didn’t seem to think so.
“Please forgive me, Fiona,” said Frederick. “I never meant to hurt your feelings. Samantha left by herself, and your mother has also left me. That means there is only one woman for me. Please, tell me I am forgiven.”
“Yes…” said Fiona faintly, before passing out and tumbling back onto the hearthrug. Frederick rushed over to watch over her in an entirely non-creepy and non-stalkerish manner. When she woke up five minutes later, he said, “We must do something to celebrate this momentous occasion!”
“How about a tea party for the good of the community?” suggested Fiona.
“Well, I was thinking more of a bus tour of London,” shrugged Frederick, “but we can do anything you want, obviously.”
“Who will help us fulfil this enormous task?” Fiona asked. Just then, the door burst open again and Cecilia stepped into the squash club.
“Oh, hello Fiona,” she said, pretending Frederick wasn’t there. “I was just planning a tea party for the good of the community and I wondered if you’d like to help.”
“How convenient!” said Frederick. “We also were planning a tea party for the good of the community.”
“Mother?” Fiona said wondrously, staring at Cecilia, who was wearing a tracksuit and running shoes and clutching a water bottle. “What happened to you?”
“Nothing much,” shrugged Cecilia. “I’ve just taken up yoga, and I’m going running to ensure I’m in good shape for my first class. I’ve just realised how important it is to support your local community, and I thought I’d try to give something back to our wonderful neighbours.”
“Oh,” said Fiona, touching her forehead to feel for signs of a fever. The situation she had found herself in was just too unreal. “Well. I suppose you can help, then.”
***
The streets were full of joy and the community. Battenberg-shaped bunting hung fetchingly from the power lines, and the pavements were dangerously obstructed by trestle-tables loaded with Battenkraut and Sauerberg, measured out with a set square.
Frederick and Fiona stood beneath a lamppost disguised as a romantically blossoming tree. Fiona wore her polka-dot dress. It was peppered with holes and ripped where it had been caught in several doors, but none of that mattered.
“This dress has survived so much, and seen so many things,” Fiona sighed blissfully. “I shall wear it forever. Nothing can prevent this.”
Just then, a spark from a nearby barbeque landed on the dress and it burst into flames, crumbling and turning into ash before the distraught eyes of Frederick and the entertained eyes of the community. Fiona stood embarrassed in her polka-dot underwear.
“Don’t cry, Fiona,” Frederick said heroically.
“I’m not crying,” Fiona pointed out. He ignored this statement.
“I shall replace your dress to stop the flow of tears from your eyes!” he announced, disappearing into the crowds. Fiona tied a tablecloth around her chest like a toga, because she didn’t like the way the local vicar was eyeing her up. Little did she know that he was responsible for bringing her and Frederick together.
“Fiona!” a voice called out through the crowds. Cecilia made her way through the mass of people towards her daughter, occasionally stoppi
ng to go into the lotus position or the downward dog.
“Meet my new boyfriend!” she announced.
“How ya doin’?” asked the stalker sheepishly.
“I do wish you would speak properly,” Cecilia said affectionately. “Fiona, this is Andrew.”
“A. Stalker at your service,” said the stalker.
“What?” said Fiona wittily.
“That’s my name,” he explained. “Mr A. Stalker. I suppose it was fate.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr Stalker,” Fiona said doubtfully. She looked around for her beloved Frederick. She saw Prunella with Mr Cornwall-Hughes – what were they doing together? They looked very loved-up. Rupert was feeding Prunella Battenkraut with a ladle shaped like a spoon. Wait, no, it was a spoon. She also saw Frederick’s friends the milkman and the milklady dancing together to imaginary music.
She caught sight of a very small thatched roof moving through the throngs of people, before realising that it was Frederick’s hair. In his hands, he clutched some polka-dotted fabric.
“Fiona!” he cried out. “I have replaced your dress!” He was holding a dress identical to her own.
“How did you do that so quickly?” she asked, extremely increduluss encrudalus surprised.
“I am magical,” he announced proudly, as she pulled the dress over her head. He leaned in towards her –
“OMGG!” Fiona said, suddenly pulling away. (This was an abbreviation of her own invention. It stood for ‘Oh my golly gosh!’).
“What is it?” Frederick asked. Fiona pointed wordlessly to where she had just seen herself, in her polka-dot underwear, talking to the vicar. It dawned on her that it was not her – it was, in fact, Samantha. “What happened to her clothes?”
Frederick laughed sheepishly. “I have no idea, but I certainly did not win her polka-dot dress from her in an impromptu game of Strip Snap in order to give it to you.”
“Frederick!” Fiona cried in horror.
“Oh, don’t worry about your sister,” he said calmly. “She enjoys being in her underwear in public.” Fiona observed her for a moment and decided this was probably true.
“All’s well that ends well,” she sighed happily.
Without My Dress Page 4