Finding Felix

by Finding Felix (retail) (epub)

  ‘And right away I’m feeling nervous about your use of the word terrain,’ I sighed. ‘I associate terrain with adjectives like rough and difficult. It conjures up images of mud and rock. I prefer words like path and pavement and taxi.’

  ‘Well you’re in luck then, because there is a pavement – most of the way. Here, let me take those,’ he said, relieving me of the pair of beige strappy heels I was carrying, having decided to wear my walking boots to get to the pub.

  ‘Thanks. And can I link your arm?’ I asked as we reached the end of the drive and turned left onto the aforementioned pavement, which ran along one side of the road. ‘That Pimm’s hit me pretty hard. You make it really strong.’

  ‘It was ninety-nine per cent lemonade, Dot,’ said Felix despairingly, as he held out his hand to me. ‘Have you ever considered the possibility that you might be allergic to alcohol?’

  ‘It’s only certain drinks that seem to knock me for six,’ I argued, taking his hand.

  ‘Just the liquid ones.’

  ‘Shush, and are you sure that what I’m wearing is OK for the party?’ I asked, glancing uncertainly at his jeans and the kind of floral shirt so admired by my mother. With his hair now curling and his skin increasingly tanned, Felix exuded effortless summer cool, and I couldn’t help feeling as if I might appear to be trying to hard by comparison. ‘I’m not sure that I look as—’

  ‘You look fine,’ he said.

  ‘Hmm … I don’t know,’ I murmured, looking down at my trousers. ‘I always struggle with what to wear. Some women just seem to know what to put with what, don’t they? I’m so hopeless at layering. I might as well roll around in a pile of laundry and go out in whatever has enough static to stick. It doesn’t help that I’m really self-conscious in heels, or that whenever I make an effort with make-up I end up looking like that meme of the monkey with the lipstick. You know, the one with—’

  Up until then we had been walking quite quickly, but now Felix stopped so suddenly that I was jerked backwards. ‘Careful,’ I said, letting go of his hand and rubbing my right shoulder, ‘I nearly fell over. ‘What’s the matter? Why did you stop?’

  ‘Do you genuinely think you’re unattractive?’ he asked. His expression was benign but his tone was mildly frustrated.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked, a little taken aback.

  ‘Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve gone on about how plain you are. Didn’t that idiot Sean Dowse ever tell you that you were pretty? Surely Alistair must have reassured you from time to time. And what about all the ones in between?’

  I said nothing, mentally picking apart the short, unexpected interrogation whilst staring up at him, aware of my face beginning to burn.

  ‘All the ones in between?’ I frowned. ‘There hasn’t exactly been a football team, you know, Felix. Not even a five-a-side.’

  He closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. ‘OK, I’m sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘I didn’t phrase that brilliantly. All I mean is that you look great and you’ve always looked great, even in your Björk phase. That seems so obvious to me that I can’t believe it’s not obvious to you. You’ve got nothing to worry about.’

  We stood in silence for a moment, Felix with his hands in his pockets, now staring into the hedgerow, and me feeling hurt by the compliment in a way that was inexplicable even to myself.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise I banged on about it so much,’ I said sullenly.

  ‘You don’t,’ he said, still apparently fascinated by the hawthorn. ‘It’s me.’ He now looked and sounded so subdued that I forgot about feeling wounded and became concerned.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ I asked. ‘Because we don’t have to go to the party if you’re not in the mood for it. Or if you’d rather go on your own,’ I added, as it crossed my mind that I might somehow be the problem. ‘I’m fine to stay at home with the owls.’

  He turned towards me. ‘The owls?’

  ‘And the badgers and the bats and …’ I waved a hand, ‘and all the other rural night-time creatures.’

  He shook his head. ‘I want to go to the party. And I want to go with you,’ he said.

  I studied his face for a moment and then, deciding that he was telling the truth, nodded.

  ‘I guess I should check whether you still want to go,’ he said.

  ‘Of course I do,’ I replied, taking a deep breath. ‘To tell the truth, now that I’ve listed all the rural night-time creatures, I’ve realised that I’m actually quite afraid of most of them.’

  ‘Me too,’ he said. ‘Especially the bats. So thanks for that.’ He looked over his shoulder at the cottage for a moment and then turned back towards me. ‘We’d better go, Dot,’ he said, holding out his arm for me to link, ‘or the free booze will have run out before we get there.’

  ‘What?’ I exclaimed. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that earlier? I thought it was an all-nighter.’

  ‘It might be. I’m not sure,’ he said, as we started to walk. ‘Only do go easy, won’t you? There aren’t a lot of shopping trolleys around here.’

  * * *

  In the end, the walk to the party took around half an hour rather than ten minutes, due to a rerouting to avoid two stiles. I didn’t mind the additional mile, being grateful not only for the preservation of my white trousers, but also for the extra time the detour put between us and the odd exchange with which the journey had started. It meant that by the time we approached the door of the White Hart, I had stopped worrying about whether Felix thought I had been obsessed with my appearance for the past two decades, and he seemed to have recovered from the bout of seriousness which had so taken me by surprise.

  ‘You meant well,’ he said with a grin as I finished an account of my attempts to set Fred’s mind at rest over Kate’s pregnancy behaviour.

  ‘That’s exactly what Fred said to Kate,’ I sighed. ‘But come on, tell me something horrendous you’ve said or done recently. Or do you never put your foot in it these days, Mr Smooth?’

  ‘Only with you,’ he said, reaching out to open the pub door for me. ‘We have to go through the bar to get to the garden.’

  ‘OK, but can you wait a moment while I slip those on?’ I pointed at the strappy shoes still dangling from his right hand.

  ‘Sure.’ He let go of the door and handed over the shoes as I sat down at a nearby picnic table and bent to untie my boots.

  ‘Why don’t you tell me a little bit about the birthday boy while I change into my heels?’ I suggested.

  ‘Good idea,’ Felix nodded. ‘He’s Martin McGarry and he’s married to Gemma and they live next door to Kevin. That’s how I met them. Martin’s a keen footballer and cyclist and I occasionally join him for a bike ride. He also enjoys cooking and I’ve been to their house a few times for dinner. Is that enough to be going on with?’

  ‘Yep,’ I said, picking up my boots and standing up. ‘Now, is there anything else vital we need to go over before we go in?’

  ‘Other than whether you’d prefer to be my friend or my girlfriend?’ he asked, turning and walking back to the door of the pub and once again holding it open for me.

  I looked at him, utterly thrown by the question. Whether I was still suffering the mild after-effects of the Pimm’s, I wasn’t sure, but the sights and sounds of a summer evening seemed to melt into a haze as I lost awareness of everything but Felix. His head turned towards me and as the edges of his mouth curled upwards into a mischievous smile, I experienced a sort of blurred, top-speed rerun of the history of our relationship to date, including choir practices, cake runs, play rehearsals, pub visits, office encounters and, of course, Becca’s wedding.

  On that occasion, Felix’s vastly changed appearance had simply increased my sense of loss and longing for the return of my nowhere-to-be-seen childhood best friend. This evening, however, his appearance was not a problem. He might be four stone and several inches of hair lighter, but he was, nevertheless, completely back in situ and fully recognisable as the funny, kind, supportive friend w
ith whom I had grown up – a friend who now wanted our relationship to move to a new level; a closer, deeper one. And in that moment, as a final hazy recollection of a teenage evening at The Lamb floated through my brain, I knew absolutely that that was what I wanted too. Perhaps it was what I had always wanted.

  I gazed up at him and, smiling in anticipation of being swept into his wonderfully toned arms, took the few short steps necessary to reach him.

  Fortunately, that distance was just far enough for me to register the slightly confused expression on his face and, more importantly, to bring me to my senses.

  ‘You’re asking whether I’d like to pretend to be your girlfriend at Martin’s birthday party,’ I said, coming to an abrupt halt just a few inches from him. ‘Like you pretended to be my boyfriend at Becca’s wedding.’

  Felix shrugged and continued to smile. ‘I just thought you might like to return the favour. That way, I wouldn’t evoke any local pity as a sad singleton and we could continue a tradition of lying through our teeth to friends and family at significant social events.’

  ‘OK,’ I said, taking a deep breath and desperately trying to ignore the fact that within the space of approximately ten seconds Felix had helpfully clarified my feelings and then crushed them like meringues under a steamroller, ‘but as I remember it, we weren’t particularly brilliant at faking it last time.’

  He placed a hand on his chin, feigning thoughtfulness, and then nodded acceptingly. ‘Good point. Friends it is then.’

  ‘Friends it is,’ I echoed, and, attempting to hide my agonising disappointment and aching stupidity behind a broad grin, I stepped past him into the pub.

  Chapter 27

  The marquee was already crowded and buzzing with the mingling sounds of laughter and music when we arrived. And our entrance immediately gave the lie to Felix’s claim that he needed me on his arm for company and moral support.

  Our progress to the bar, which was housed in a smaller, quieter annexe at the rear of the main marquee, was impeded several times by friends who were clearly delight to see him and eager to talk to him. And once we did finally reach the bar, he was gently but physically accosted three times within the space of five minutes by means of a hand on his arm. On each occasion, the attention was female, and I reflected on the fact that whilst just three hours earlier I would have found these slightly drunken flirtatious approaches entertaining and something with which to tease Felix, I now found them just a tiny bit annoying.

  I managed to escape introduction to the first two ladies, one of whom was gone after the arm squeeze, a brazenly lingering kiss to the cheek and a tipsy explanation that she needed the loo, and the second of whom left after delivering a pouty demand for a dance later in the evening. But when it became clear that Admirer #3 was up for a lengthier exchange with him, Felix turned to introduce me.

  ‘Carla, this is Dot. Dot, Carla,’ he said, smiling at a tallish redhead whose sheer shirt, palazzo pants, silky cardigan and multi-string necklace revealed an enviable flair for layering. ‘Carla is an accountant with a rival firm in Cheltenham.’

  ‘Ooh,’ I said, smiling my thanks to the barman as he handed me the pint of beer and glass of Prosecco I had just requested. ‘Is it all calculators and spreadsheets at dawn?’

  Felix took his pint from me. ‘No,’ he laughed, ‘it’s all very amicable.’

  ‘That’s a relief,’ I said, smiling at Carla. ‘Lovely to meet you.’

  ‘Dot is one of my oldest friends,’ explained Felix. ‘We’ve known each other since we were eleven.’

  At the mention of the word friend, I bravely maintained a smile while Carla’s expression transformed from something remarkably like suspicion to obvious relief. ‘Ah, how lovely is that?’ she said, sounding as if she genuinely meant it. ‘So what was this one like at school then, Dot?’ she asked, looking up at Felix and playfully prodding his arm.

  I took a sip of Prosecco, teetering on the brink of an honest but emotional declaration that Felix had been as patient, selfless, kind and fun at school as he was now, and that I hoped his friends in Cheltenham loved and appreciated him as much as I always had and always would. But at the last moment, I got a grip.

  ‘Wider.’

  Felix laughed and Carla frowned. ‘Wider?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘But no less handsome for it,’ I added, unable to rein in my emotions entirely.

  ‘I had a fondness for pastries and pies,’ said Felix, smiling at me, ‘which Dot would occasionally fund.’

  ‘You’re making me sound like a feeder,’ I protested.

  ‘Hmm … well now I think about it …’ he said.

  ‘I can’t imagine you as anything other than fighting fit, Felix.’ Carla ran her eyes up and down him appreciatively and placed her hand, yet again, on his arm. I clenched my jaw into a broader smile and wished my mother was there to tell Carla to keep her mitts to herself.

  ‘Hello, Felix! Oh, and hello, Dorothy!’ Recognising the voice, I turned to see Kevin a little way down the bar, leaning backwards in order to make eye contact behind the row of four or five drinkers between us.

  ‘Hi, Kevin!’ I called, pleased both to see him and of the excuse to move on from Carla who, although completely inoffensive, clearly had designs on Felix and I didn’t want to witness the progression of the process. I nudged Felix. ‘I’m just going to go and say a quick hello to Kevin.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ he said.

  ‘No, no,’ I replied, waving a hand and looking at a crestfallen Carla, who was unable to hide her disappointment at the possible departure of her prey. ‘You stay and talk to Carla. I’m fine. I’ll come and find you if I get lonely.’

  Felix’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he smiled and raised a hand in greeting to Kevin as I headed off in the direction of the latter.

  ‘Hello,’ I said, reaching him just as he picked up his drink and took a few steps back from the bar.

  ‘Hello, Dorothy Riley,’ he said jovially.

  ‘Permission to hug?’ I asked.

  ‘Permission to hug,’ he confirmed, laughing and opening his arms. ‘And how are you?’ he asked on releasing me. ‘I was so pleased when Felix said he was bringing you along tonight.’

  ‘Thank you for saying so,’ I smiled. ‘I was pleased too. He’s rescued me from a weekend of work worries. Oh, but nothing major,’ I added hastily as Kevin’s face fell slightly. ‘And Felix has already calmed me down enormously about everything.’

  ‘He’s good at that, isn’t he?’ said Kevin, his smile returning.

  ‘He is.’

  ‘Mind you,’ he continued, pointing at me, ‘you do the same for him, so fair’s fair.’

  ‘Do I really?’ I said with surprise. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been labelled a calming influence before.’

  ‘Well,’ said Kevin, lowering his voice and looking round before leaning towards me conspiratorially, ‘as you know, he hasn’t had the best of years this year, but I can honestly say that you’ve turned that around. Linda thinks so too.’

  I bit my lip, feeling genuinely touched. ‘Really?’ I said. ‘That is so lovely to hear, because Felix has done so much for me recently. And not so recently actually,’ I added.

  ‘When it happened,’ continued Kevin in a near whisper, with the air of a man who enjoyed confiding, ‘he didn’t let it impact on his professionalism or the business at all. He’s far too thoughtful about Linda and me to let it do that. But in terms of his personality, we noticed a change. There was no anger, of course, but he was definitely more withdrawn, and, just occasionally, I saw something bordering on – dare I say – bitterness, which was fair enough in the circumstances, but not something I had seen in him ever before, even in the most testing of times. But then you came along and invited him to your sister’s wedding,’ he said, raising his pint to me, ‘and boom, welcome back, Felix.’

  ‘I really don’t know what to say, Kevin,’ I said, moved by the compliment, ‘other than it’s made me very happy to think that
I might have helped Felix in some way – even if I didn’t know it. But you know what’s interesting?’ I continued, lowering the level of my voice to match his.

  ‘What?’ he asked, his eyes dancing at the possibility of being party to a personal insight.

  ‘When I visited Felix that day at your offices, I didn’t recognise him. I mean, obviously I didn’t recognise him physically, as you know. But I also didn’t recognise him as a person. He seemed to have lost … his sense of fun, really. There was just no hint of it and I was quite thrown by that.’

  Kevin nodded solemnly. ‘We all were, Dorothy, we all were. Linda had her own ideas for sorting the situation, of course. She wanted to steal his phone so she could block texts from …’ He paused and looked around once again before mouthing a name, employing the kind of exaggerated lip movements my mother used whenever Nanny Flo refused to wear her hearing aids.

  ‘Sorry, Kevin, I didn’t quite catch that,’ I said, staring intently at his mouth.

  ‘Beattie,’ he repeated in a whisper. ‘Felix’s girlfriend.’

  ‘OK,’ I said, nodding but distracted for a moment by the discovery that Gwyneth’s actual name was one that I had up until then only ever associated with the rather portly form of Nanny Flo’s elderly friend Beattie Blackwell. And in that context, the name was always preceded, quite justifiably, by the adjective ‘Big’. The upshot was that the ex-formerly-known-as-Gwyneth immediately lost a little of her A-list gloss for me.

  ‘Beattie,’ I murmured thoughtfully, adjusting to the name change.

  ‘Yes, yes.’ Kevin nodded rapidly, holding a finger to his lips in a request for me to lower my voice even further. ‘Linda wanted to block Beattie’s calls but I talked her down. That’s Linda all over, you see. Very protective of both Felix and me, which is wonderful, but also a little bit too protective at times. I think some clients are actually rather afraid of her, you know. But underneath all that surface rage and menace, she’s actually a bit of a softy.’