‘Mum, I need to explain—’ I began.
‘No, no, no,’ she interrupted, delving into her brown leather shoulder bag and extracting a small plastic-wrapped packet of tissues. ‘I will not have you apologising for not telling us. Your father always said I was far too interested in your relationship with Alistair. He said I put the pair of you under too much pressure, and he was right. It’s no wonder you didn’t want to mention Felix to me.’
I shook my head. ‘Mum—’
She opened the packet of tissues and took one out. ‘I actually think not telling us was the right decision. No point in saying anything until you’re absolutely sure. Oh, but Dottie,’ she placed her hand on my arm, her eyes shining, ‘what a wonderful time to tell us. Do you have any idea how happy you made Nanny? And me? And your father?’ She stood on tiptoe and kissed my cheek. ‘Hearing about Felix in that desperate moment was like someone lighting a candle in the darkest room. I’m not sure what I believe in, but Nanny mentioning him and then you telling us you’re seeing him… well, it makes me think there’s more at work in this universe than we can ever understand. We couldn’t be happier for you. And, of course, we’d love to see him after all these years. I remember when the pair of you were teenagers and he’d be round every other night for tea, wouldn’t he? And then he’d go home and eat another one.’ She smiled fondly at the thought. ‘You must update us, but,’ she paused and rubbed my arm, ‘not until you’re ready, and I promise not to pester. I shan’t raise the matter again.’ She turned to Becca and took her hand. ‘You cannot imagine what a comfort it is to me at a time like this to know that both my girls are happy. Such a comfort.’ She looked up at each of us in turn and smiled.
I tried to return the smile but was aware of an underlying sense of panic, kept in check only by the overarching sadness of the day. I wanted to say something, but nothing helpful came to mind, so instead I simply nodded dumbly. Becca meanwhile was looking at me with obvious concern.
‘Thank you again, girls,’ said my mother quietly and, after hugging and kissing us both again, she disappeared back into Nanny Flo’s room.
I stared at the floor, overwhelmed by unhappiness. After a moment, I felt Becca’s hand on my arm and looked up. ‘I think you did the right thing, Dot,’ she said.
I smiled uncertainly. ‘I hope so.’
‘You did,’ she said determinedly, giving me another hug. ‘You made things right for Nanny Flo.’
Chapter 2
Kate leaned back in her chair and, putting her feet up on the small conference table at which we were sitting, looked at me disapprovingly over the top of her large purple-framed glasses. ‘So what you’re telling me,’ she said, pausing to sip her mid-morning coffee, ‘is that you told a big – nay, huge – fib two months ago and now your chickens have come home to roost.’
It was a perfect summing-up of the situation.
‘You have to remember that the circumstances were exceptional,’ I said defensively. ‘She was on her deathbed.’
Kate shook her head, her short red curls joining in and echoing her disapproval. ‘She was on her bed, Dot,’ she corrected. ‘It wasn’t her deathbed, because Nanny Flo is not dead.’
‘Well of course I know now that it wasn’t her deathbed!’ I exclaimed. ‘But at the time I thought it was, and I didn’t want her going to her grave miserable about my single status. She was distraught.’ I was aware of a rising tension in my voice. Kate’s undoubted ability to mercilessly cut through the crap and get to the essence of a problem was a quality which made our day-to-day professional partnership, and our two-woman graphic design company, a success. But the approach grated whenever she applied it to my personal problems – which she invariably did.
‘You’re thirty-six,’ she continued, apparently unmoved. ‘Lots of people are single or unmarried at thirty-six. And it’s not like you’re permanently on the shelf. You were in a long-term relationship until less than a year ago.’ She took another sip of coffee. ‘As you know, I didn’t meet Fred till I was thirty-five. And we didn’t get married until August 2015, by which time we’d been together…’ her eyes flicked up and to the right as she performed the mental calculation, ‘two years and seven months and I was thirty-eight. So I hardly think temporarily single at thirty-six is any big deal these days.’
‘You’re so right,’ I said tonelessly. ‘If only I could have provided Nanny Flo with a pie chart showing UK sexual and marital relationships by age, I’m sure that would have calmed her down just as quickly as pretending that I had a boyfriend.’
‘You’re upset,’ said Kate. ‘I can tell.’
‘I’m just cross with myself,’ I said miserably, picking up my own mug of coffee and blowing on it.
‘But what I don’t understand…’ she continued.
I braced myself.
‘… is why Nanny Flo still thinks you’re going out with Philip…’
‘Felix.’
‘… eight weeks later.’
I sighed and put down my coffee. ‘She’s never once mentioned him and neither has anyone else. She was in hospital, intermittently delirious for a couple of weeks, and it was touch and go whether she’d make it. And then when she came out, he didn’t come up again. You know how relieved I was when she began to recover.’
Kate nodded sympathetically. ‘I do.’
‘Well, that was my only focus,’ I said. ‘So I just forgot about the Felix thing – and it seemed like everyone else did too.’
‘Even your mother?’ asked Kate with undisguised scepticism. ‘I find that hard to believe. She’d usually be scouting out wedding venues for you by now, wouldn’t she?’
‘With hindsight I can see that that was suspiciously out of character,’ I agreed. ‘But at the time she was totally wrapped up in Nanny Flo, wasn’t she? Of course, I now know that she didn’t ask me about it because she’d promised not to pry. She feels guilty because she thinks she scared Alistair off,’ I added.
Kate raised her eyebrows. ‘You don’t think that, do you?’
‘Well, the fact that she described every single one of our holiday destinations as the perfect place for a honeymoon didn’t help,’ I sighed. ‘But no. Alistair and I just wanted different things. I wanted us to stay together – he didn’t. Can’t really blame Mum for that, can I?’ I smiled ruefully. ‘Anyway, she was determined not to ask anything about Felix, so it was all left to drift.’
‘Like a room-clearing fart,’ Kate said, shaking her head.
‘I had other things on my mind.’
She looked at me but said nothing.
‘And OK, so maybe there was a little bit of not wanting to think about it involved,’ I admitted.
‘Head buried in the sand,’ she said. ‘Typical Dot.’
I frowned but didn’t feel able to challenge the statement. I knew she had a point. My tendency to refuse to confront personal challenges and consider their consequences until my nose was pressed up against them was undeniable. In my defence, it was an approach that on the whole seemed to work reasonably well. It cut down considerably on the amount of time spent worrying and stressing about things, and, nine times out of ten, a last-minute fix was just as good as a lengthy, considered and, in my opinion, tortured approach.
However, like it or not, I had to admit that this was not one of those times. This was definitely the one in ten.
‘So, what does Becca say?’ Kate asked, dragging me back to the matter in hand.
I heaved a sigh. ‘Haven’t had a chance to talk to her since Mum phoned last night. But I’m going to Bishops Cannings for a dress fitting tomorrow, so I’ll tell her about it then. You know what she’s like. She’ll be lovely about it all whatever happens – whether it completely overshadows the run-up to her big day or not,’ I concluded despondently.
Kate shook her head. ‘Now don’t get despairing on me, Dorothy Riley. I can’t stand it when you’re despairing. Let’s think rationally and constructively.’ She removed her feet from the table and put dow
n her mug, placing a thoughtful hand on her chin. ‘I think you have three choices,’ she said after a moment.
‘Really?’ I experienced a sudden surge of surprised optimism. Three choices were two more than I’d hoped for.
‘Your first option is to fess up to everyone.’
I immediately felt my optimism begin to wane. ‘Confess that I told Nanny Flo a mega lie on her deathbed? That’ll go down well just before a family wedding.’
‘Don’t discount it,’ persisted Kate. ‘Becca already knows the truth, your dad would accept that you meant well and your mother…’ She hesitated and pulled a face. ‘Well, she’s got a month to get over it.’
I shook my head. ‘You know Mum. She’d never get over it. She’s still upset about Dad saying he couldn’t go to a ballroom taster class with her because he had to work late, when in fact he was hiding in the pub.’
‘To be fair to your mum,’ Kate smiled, ‘I’d be a bit fed up if Fred pulled something like that. When did that happen?’
‘June 1989.’
Her smile dropped. ‘OK, so that is quite a long time to be cross.’
I shrugged. ‘I could cope with her lifelong disappointment in me if I had to. My real concern is that Nanny’s not exactly fighting fit and on top of the world these days. I just don’t know how she’d take it. She’s still very frail and I’m afraid that…’ I looked up, leaving the fear unspoken. ‘I don’t want to put her through that, Kate,’ I said quietly. ‘I don’t want her to know that I lied.’
She bit her lip and waved a hand. ‘Fair enough, forget about fessing up,’ she said with a slight catch in her voice. She paused for a moment and cleared her throat. ‘So, moving on, option two is that you claim you and Philip have split up. But you tell Nanny Flo that you are still very good friends, that you both feel good about the decision and that it’s all for the best.’
‘It’s Felix,’ I corrected again, experiencing a slight twinge of annoyance that she seemed incapable of remembering my pretend boyfriend’s name. ‘And I would have gone with that option if I hadn’t told Mum on the phone last night that we were still together and that things were good. And she had me on speakerphone so Nanny heard,’ I added, closing and then rubbing my eyes as I felt a headache coming on.
Kate didn’t reply, and, after a moment, I reopened my eyes to find her staring at me expressionlessly. ‘Now why on earth would you tell your mother that?’ she asked quietly, her tone searingly to the point. ‘Why would you perpetuate the myth when you had an opportunity to draw it to a believable conclusion?’
‘Because I panicked,’ I replied, taking a breath and attempting to remain unflustered in the face of her unblinking gaze and crushing rationality. ‘Mum asked me, absolutely out of the blue, how we were and I said everything was fine. I wasn’t expecting her to raise the subject after months of silence, and my aim was to dead-end the topic and move on. But then she said she needed to confirm the seating plan for the wedding, which was something I really hadn’t seen coming. It hadn’t occurred to me that she’d want him to come.’
‘It hadn’t occurred to you that she would expect your boyfriend, whom your whole family knew for over a decade as a child growing up, to come to your sister’s wedding?’ Kate’s tone had now shifted to incredulous.
‘She hadn’t mentioned him!’ I protested, throwing up my hands and abandoning all pretence of calm. ‘No one had mentioned him! He was off the radar… in the Bermuda Triangle of my consciousness. It was like he’d evaporated. Like he didn’t exist. Which, of course, he bloody doesn’t!’
‘OK, OK,’ she said, holding up a placatory hand. ‘I get it. You were taken by surprise. Go on. What else did your mother say?’
I reclosed my eyes and took a deep breath. ‘Well,’ I began again, trying to keep my voice steady, ‘then it was as if the floodgates had opened and she just kept going on and on about how happy the whole thing had made her and Dad and, of course, Nanny Flo. And then Nanny started shouting in the background that Felix had saved her life and that she couldn’t wait to see him again after all these years.’ I groaned and ran a hand through my hair. ‘God, what am I going to do? I’ve ruined everything for everyone.’ I slumped forward, resting my cheek on the conference table. ‘They’re all going to be so upset and let down and it’s supposed to be the happiest day of Becca’s life. It’s a disaster.’
‘Hush now,’ said Kate comfortingly, standing up and leaning across the table to gently rub my shoulder. ‘Don’t be defeatist, and try to stay calm. Getting yourself all worked up isn’t going to help, is it?’
I felt myself relax slightly as she continued to rub. ‘I’m sorry for being shouty and panicky,’ I mumbled, my face still pressed against the table.
‘It’s OK,’ she said softly. ‘I understand. It’s a huge mess and the potential to hurt and disappoint the people you love the most is enormous. No one would want to be in your shoes right now.’
‘What?’ I exclaimed, sitting up and shrugging her off, my panic immediately resurging. ‘You’re supposed to be helping me, not buying into my despair. What about option number three? You said I had three options.’
‘Well, I would have thought the third one was obvious,’ she said, shrugging and sitting back down. ‘Find Phil – or whoever. Track him down and see if he’s up for it.’
I screwed up my face. ‘Sorry, what?’ I asked after a moment.
‘Find him and ask him if he’ll go to the wedding with you,’ she repeated, her face and tone completely relaxed, as if this was the most reasonable suggestion in the world.
‘I can’t do that.’
‘Why not?’ she asked, appearing genuinely confused.
‘Well, because he…’
‘He what?’ Her expression remained calm.
‘Well, I haven’t seen him in years. Over a decade. And it’s such a big ask.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘You’re inviting him to a party, Dot, not requesting a kidney. What kind of bloke was he?’
‘Big and round,’ I said. It was an instinctive reply. At school, and into manhood, Felix had been what Nanny Flo termed cuddly. In fact, I reflected, by the time he was twenty, he was six-two and probably a good three or four stone overweight. ‘He liked pies and pasties. A lot.’
Kate blinked. ‘Okaaay, but moving on from his physique and dietary preferences, what was his personality like? Kind? Fun? Helpful?’
I didn’t even have to think about it. ‘Yes,’ I said immediately. ‘He was all of those things.’
‘Well then,’ she said, ‘he sounds like just the kind of guy who would give up a few hours of his day to help out an old friend.’
I was surprised to find myself nodding. She was somehow making the whole thing sound incredibly doable.
‘When did you last see him?’ she continued.
‘God, ages ago.’ I put a hand to my cheek and thought. ‘It must have been our third year at university. I was in London for the day and we met up with some other friends and went to the cinema. It was just before finals. Fifteen, sixteen years ago maybe.’
‘And you didn’t see him at all after that?’
I shook my head. ‘His parents moved up north during his first year at King’s, and Mum and Dad moved to Exeter with Nanny Flo. So neither of us went back to Devizes after uni. We were supposed to meet up before I went travelling, but that fell through. I think maybe he had a job interview or something. I can’t remember. Then I was away for eighteen months or so, and I sent a few postcards but I didn’t hear from him. It was just much harder to stay in touch on the move back then, wasn’t it?’
‘It was,’ she agreed. ‘And sometimes I think it was better that way. The pressure today to share and stay connected is ridiculous. I mean, I know we have to maintain an internet presence for work, but I honestly wanted to smash my phone yesterday when Tanya Matcham posted a picture of her new stove-top kettle. For God’s sake! Women chained themselves to railings so that she could stop obsessing about kitchen appliances. S
he posts utter rubbish, day in day out. I mean, who the actual cares about her ruddy HRT patches falling off? You know, I’d love it if…’
I nodded along as Kate said something about wishing people would either unfriend her, lose their phones or die, but I had actually stopped listening and was instead now thinking about Felix.
We had been friends from the moment he stood next to me in the school choir at the age of eleven, giggling over Roger Chapman’s complete inability to carry a tune. It was the beginning of a laughter-filled friendship which had continued for ten years, throughout our time at separate universities. And during that decade we had shared mountains of homework, dozens of cakes, one cigarette and considerably more beers and ciders – not to mention, on my part at least, innumerable teenage crises. I smiled at the memories and felt sure that Kate was right: Felix would, if he could, come with me to Becca’s wedding. The question was whether I could track him down.
‘The question, of course, is whether you can track him down,’ said Kate, having apparently completed her social-media rant and refocused on the matter in hand. ‘If you can, he just has to smile and nod. And then, after the wedding, you,’ she leaned across the table and poked my arm, ‘can begin to extricate yourself from the situation, in a slow and considered manner, causing minimal distress and disappointment to Nanny Flo.’
She reached into the biscuit tin, which sat open on the table between us, and took out a digestive. ‘And if you can’t find him, I suppose you could claim he went down with diarrhoea and vomiting on the big day. I guess that’s option number four. But personally I think there’d be nothing more annoying than paying for a guest who doesn’t turn up, and besides, now that your mother has started asking questions, I can’t see her stopping any time soon, can you? Better to give her, and everyone else, a boyfriend for the day and then get him to ride off into the sunset. Maybe he can realise he wants to live in Australia, or that friendship was better than partnership, or something. It doesn’t really matter what you say, so long as you stress to your mother that if she makes any attempt to get the pair of you back together, he’ll top himself.’ She bit into the digestive. ‘I’d kill for a Hobnob, I really would. Why did you buy digestives, Dot? They’re so peasant.’
Finding Felix Page 2