He laughed and I nodded, recalling my foiled early attempt to obtain Felix’s phone number from Linda, and making a mental note to tread carefully should I ever encounter her. ‘The thing is, Kevin, I haven’t really discussed Gwyn … I mean Beattie with Felix, so I don’t know any of the details, other than that they split five or six months ago and that he was clearly unhappy about it.’
He looked thoughtful. ‘Well I’m sure he will tell you all about it in due course,’ he said. ‘But while we’re on the subject, I’m assuming you know that Beattie’s—’ He stopped abruptly before adding, ‘Well that’s just so interesting.’
I frowned at him. ‘I know that Beattie’s what?’
His eyes widened slightly as he nodded his head barely perceptibly to indicate something over my left shoulder and sipped his drink.
I turned just as Felix reached us. ‘Oh, I see. Hi,’ I said, trying not to look guilty.
‘What are you two talking about?’ he asked. ‘It all looked very intense from over there.’ He glanced questioningly between Kevin and me.
‘Becca’s wedding,’ I said, just a little too quickly and a little too squeakily.
Felix raised his eyebrows sceptically before turning to Kevin. At which point I discovered that Kevin was about as adept at hiding things from Felix as I was from Kate – worse, in fact.
‘We were discussing you, Felix,’ he said, with the air of a puppy who had just been caught pooing on the carpet. ‘More specifically, your …’ He then soundlessly mouthed the words recent personal difficulties, his lips moving like a sink plunger seeing some serious action, while I stared at him, wondering if he had perhaps been hypnotised in the past and Felix now only had to look at him in a certain way to get him to tell the absolute truth – or eat an onion.
Felix shook his head. ‘You two are so alike,’ he said, smiling.
Kevin laughed. ‘He wangles it out of me every single time, Dorothy. He’s quite ruthless with his interrogation,’ he added jovially, turning and picking up a couple more drinks from the bar. ‘Anyway, I was getting these for Michael Conlon and Richard Webster, Felix, and they’re going to be wondering where I am. We’re sitting next door. Do you two want to come through and join us?’
‘I’ll introduce Dot to them in a little while,’ said Felix.
Kevin smiled. ‘Lovely. Well, I’ll go and deliver these drinks and catch you two later.’
‘Later,’ smiled Felix, as Kevin raised his clutch of three glasses in farewell and headed off towards a group sitting at a table next to the, as yet deserted, dance floor in the main marquee.
‘And Kate calls me transparent,’ I said, looking after him.
Felix laughed and I turned towards him.
‘Shall we sit?’ he asked.
‘You don’t want to mingle?’
‘Maybe later. Right now, I’d just like to enjoy my beer after that walk. We could stay in here for a while,’ he said, gesturing towards a couple of stools at the far end of the bar. ‘It’s a bit quieter.’
‘Sounds good,’ I said, as we walked to the stools and sat down. ‘Where did Carla go?’
‘To get some food. I explained that you didn’t know anyone here apart from Kevin and that I didn’t want to abandon you.’
‘You didn’t have to do that,’ I tutted. ‘I was more than OK.’
Felix shook his head. ‘I was happy to end the conversation.’
‘Gotcha,’ I replied, winking and tapping the side of my nose. ‘And happy to be an excuse whenever required.’
‘Thank you,’ he smiled. ‘And I’ll reciprocate, obviously. Although you clearly didn’t need rescuing from Kevin.’
I picked up my drink. ‘He didn’t tell me anything very personal, by the way,’ I said, a little guiltily. ‘He just said that things hadn’t been great for you this year, but that you seemed happier recently.’
Felix shrugged. ‘And both of those things are true.’
‘Good. About things improving, I mean.’
‘How about you?’
‘Me?’ I looked up from my drink.
‘Yes, you,’ he said, smiling. ‘I know Kate’s pregnancy has been a shock, but how is everything else?’
I put a hand to my forehead. ‘Oh God, I haven’t told you about last night yet, have I?’
‘No, you haven’t, but I’m already interested,’ he said, pointing to my raised hand. ‘It’s looking stressy.’
‘Well,’ I began, putting down my drink, ‘one bit wasn’t stressy at all. Becca’s pregnant.’
His eyes widened in surprise and then he laughed. ‘Is pregnancy contagious?’
‘Seems like it, doesn’t it? She told me on the phone last night but she hasn’t told Mum yet, so I’m bracing myself for that one hitting the fan. Oh, but in a nice way, of course. I just mean that Mum is going to …’ I waved a hand and shook my head. ‘Actually, I don’t want to think too much about how my mother is going to react. But I think it’s safe to say the reaction will be full-on.’
‘I can imagine,’ he said. ‘And how are you feeling about being Aunt Dorothy?’
‘God, that sounds aged, doesn’t it?’ I laughed. ‘I’ll be listening to Gardeners’ Question Time and knitting blanket squares before you know it.’ I looked at him and smiled, deciding not to add that Becca’s pregnancy – hot on the heels of Kate’s and the realisation that my relationship with Alistair was well and truly in the past – had only added to a growing sense that my life seemed somewhat directionless in comparison to everyone else’s right now. Nor did I tell him that for the first time ever, I had last night found myself just a little envious of Alistair’s penchant for forward planning, when it had occurred to me that being able to refer to a five-year plan – with built-in contingencies for any eventuality – might actually be of enormous comfort at a time when I didn’t have a clue what was in store for me professionally or personally.
‘And is Becca due around the same time as Kate?’ asked Felix.
I frowned slightly at the question. ‘Ooh, I don’t know,’ I said, uncertainly. ‘Due dates are something you should definitely ask about, aren’t they? She did say it was very early days and that that was why she wasn’t going to tell Mum and Dad until they got home from touring, but she didn’t tell me how many weeks she is and I didn’t ask. The news was just one half of a rather weird conversation I had with her last night,’ I added in my defence.
‘Weird because of the stressy stuff?’
‘Because of the stressy stuff,’ I confirmed, nodding slowly.
‘Go on then,’ he said, smiling. ‘Lay it on me.’
‘So,’ I took a deep breath, ‘it turns out that Alistair …’
Felix’s smile immediately dropped and he nodded. ‘I’m stressed already.’
‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘Anyway, Alistair had, unbeknownst to either Becca or myself, been discussing me with Mark.’
‘OK, so now I’m stressed for Mark,’ said Felix, pulling a face.
‘You should be. Becca was not happy.’
‘And you found out about this last night?’
‘Yes, but only after I had met Alistair for a drink – at his suggestion.’
Felix had just picked up his beer, but now returned it to the bar untouched. ‘He asked you out? What did he want to talk about?’
‘Us,’ I said with a sigh. ‘He and Naomi are no more and, to cut an extremely long story short, he wanted us to get back together.’
Felix looked thoughtful for a moment and then said, ‘I think I’d like to hear the extremely long story.’
‘That’s very brave of you, but I’m not sure you do.’ I smiled up at him, but his expression remained serious. ‘Don’t worry, it’s actually all fine.’
‘So the story has a happy ending?’
I picked up my drink, taking a sip as a delaying tactic as I considered the question. Was I happy that Alistair finally seemed to have accepted me as me? Yes, of course I was. Was I happy that he had made an attempt, albeit a confused one, to tell me tha
t? Well … yes again. Was I happy that I no longer yearned for him? OK, so there was an inevitable sense of regret that our relationship hadn’t worked out – and also that the realisation that it was at an absolute end had been so abrupt for both of us – but clarity, no matter how it was achieved, was a positive thing.
But a happy ending?
I looked at Felix, wondering if now was a good time to tell him that he was suddenly, once again, very much a part of the story. I was acutely aware that we were in public, that I was staying over, and that if he was horrified by my growing feelings for him then we could be in for a very uncomfortable and awkward twelve hours. But I really didn’t think that would happen. I was certain that however he felt, he would understand my feelings and respect them.
I took another gulp of Prosecco and cleared my throat. ‘It’s good that Alistair and I know how we feel about each other. I like that kind of clarity.’
Felix looked at me and nodded. ‘Yes. I think that’s a good thing.’
‘And he and I, to quote Taylor Swift, are nev—’
‘Hello, Felix.’
He turned towards the voice before I did. In fact, by the time I had stopped looking at him and realised that the woman who had spoken his name was the woman in the nightclub photograph – Beattie – he had already put down his drink and was on his feet. For some reason, I felt that I should do the same and slid hurriedly, and a little awkwardly, from my bar stool to stand next to him.
Neither of them looked at me.
‘Hi,’ said Felix, looking surprised and not entirely comfortable. ‘I didn’t think you were coming tonight.’
She smiled but was also obviously far from relaxed. ‘It was a last-minute thing. I told Gemma and Martin I wouldn’t be able to make it, but I’m here with Izzy Noble. She stopped by and dragged me along because …’ She hesitated and shrugged. ‘Well, she just did.’
Felix made no response, but, I noted, seemed to have regained his composure. The silence between them dragged on as he returned her gaze, and I started to feel like the very dictionary definition of a third wheel.
‘It’s good to see you,’ she offered eventually.
He lifted his chin slightly in a sort of half-nod, but didn’t reply, and she at last turned towards me. We looked at each other and, with no one speaking, I took the opportunity to examine her.
Her look this evening was somewhere in between the nightclub photo and the one Felix had shown me at Becca’s wedding reception. She was wearing just enough neutral eyeshadow, brown mascara and subtle highlighter to enhance her green eyes and high cheekbones, and a smear of nude gloss drew attention to a pair of full lips. Her blonde hair fell in natural-looking waves to her shoulders and she wore a flowing pale-green dress. Her only accessory was a simple, heart-shaped silver pendant.
It didn’t matter one bit that her name was Beattie and not Gwyneth, I reflected despondently. She could have been called Barry, Brian or Baldrick and would still have been indisputably glossy and gorgeous. And Felix’s earlier lecture regarding my prettiness notwithstanding, I felt plain, plain, plain.
After looking at me blankly for a moment, Beattie turned back to Felix, whose eyes had remained fixed on her face. I was clearly as superfluous to the current situation as the bar stools we weren’t sitting on, and it felt like the most complete, if unconscious, of dismissals.
‘I just wanted to say hello,’ she said quietly. ‘I was worried when you didn’t reply to my texts.’
At that, I recalled my earlier conversation with Kevin and wondered whether he might not have been entirely successful in dissuading Linda from purloining Felix’s phone and blocking Beattie’s messages after all. But when I glanced up at Felix, he didn’t seem surprised at the mention of the texts, and all I saw in his face was a quiet sadness. My heart went out to him and moving closer, under cover of turning to retrieve my drink from the bar behind me, I gave his hand a quick squeeze.
He turned towards me and smiled. ‘This is Dot,’ he said.
I nodded and smiled as broadly as I could manage, waiting for him to tell me that her name was Beattie. When he didn’t, I widened my eyes and, still grinning, inclined my head slightly towards her as a prompt. But he simply turned to look at her again, and as the incomplete introduction didn’t seem to bother either of them, I just sighed and let it go.
‘I didn’t mean … to interrupt. I just … I wanted …’ she began haltingly, before lowering her eyes and shaking her head. ‘It doesn’t matter. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have come really. I’m not in the mood for this but Izzy didn’t want me spending any more time alone.’
As she said the word ‘alone’, I felt Felix’s arm tense against mine and I wondered if he sensed hope for the future – for their future.
‘Listen, Felix,’ I said briskly, womanfully feigning ignorance of the drama playing out under my nose, ‘I think I’m going to go and find Kevin. I didn’t really have a chance to talk to him earlier.’ I patted his arm and turned to leave.
‘OK,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Great. Wait. What?’ I said, stopping abruptly and turning around. ‘No.’ I frowned up at him and then looked uncertainly at his ex.
‘Yes,’ he said calmly.
I closed my eyes, heaved a sigh and began to despair a little. ‘OK … well then perhaps er …’ I hesitated, reluctant to acknowledge that I already knew Beattie’s name, lest I appear like a stalker to Felix, and like someone who had been discussing her behind her back to Beattie. ‘Perhaps your friend,’ I continued, gesturing towards her, ‘would like to come too. How about I get you a drink to bring along?’ I added, smiling at her.
She said nothing, her eyes remaining fixed on Felix, and it was at that point that I threw in the conversational towel. Sitting back down heavily on the bar stool and downing the rest of my Prosecco, I raised my hand and smiled at the barman with a view to ordering a second glass, or possibly a bottle. I suddenly felt a need to start lining them up.
‘Well, enjoy the rest of your evening,’ said Felix to Beattie, which I couldn’t help feeling was a bit like wishing Sir Bradley Wiggins good luck in the Tour de France as you slashed away at his bicycle tyres.
‘I’m so sorry, Felix,’ she replied, her voice breaking. And then, looking like a beautiful poster child for the wronged and misunderstood, she walked away, disappearing through the rear exit of the marquee and into the pub garden.
Felix sat down and swivelled on his stool to face the bar, just as a second glass of Prosecco was placed in front of me.
‘Sorry about that,’ he said quietly.
‘No, no. It was really fun,’ I said breezily. ‘I’m just sorry she left. But fingers crossed we’ll bump into her again later.’
He didn’t look at me, instead focusing on his drink.
I sighed and turned slightly, placing my hand gently on his arm. ‘I know you’re probably not in the mood for sarcasm. But I do have some idea how all that must have felt, Felix, and if I was you, sitting in the middle of my friend’s birthday party, I wouldn’t want the person next to me offering pity and platitudes, or asking soul-searching questions. Not right now.’ I turned back towards the bar and picked up my drink.
He was silent for a moment and then said, ‘I told you I needed you here.’
I smiled and, feeling tearful for both of us, leaned towards him and gave him a hug. ‘Talk about it later if you want to,’ I said, my chin resting on his shoulder. ‘Or not. It’s up to you.’
‘I don’t want you to spend your Saturday night feeling sorry for me,’ he said, as I released him.
‘Not gonna happen,’ I said. ‘I always favour empathy over pity because it lets me focus at least fifty per cent on me too.’
He shook his head and smiled. ‘And are you OK to stay after all that?’
‘Am I OK to stay?’ I laughed. ‘What about you?’
‘I’m feeling a bit numb, to be honest,’ he replied, running a hand through his hair, ‘and not quite sure what to do.�
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‘Well, how about I give you some choices?’
‘Go on then.’
‘Well, assuming you don’t want to go and find her …’
‘Which I don’t,’ he said firmly.
‘… we could go and say happy birthday to Martin, then wrap some food up in napkins and leave,’ I began, counting off our options on my fingers. ‘Or we could say happy birthday to Martin, put some food on plates, eat it and then leave. Or we could say happy birthday, put some food on plates, eat it, mingle, put some more food on plates, eat it, dance, pick at leftovers, and then leave.’
‘Hmm …’ said Felix, frowning. ‘I can’t help noticing a heavy emphasis on food there.’
‘Well, I’m starving. And did you see those prawn things and posh little pies on the way in? And the cakes? There was a whole separate area sectioned off for cakes, Felix. Oh, and for you,’ I added, ‘there were some slim things.’
‘Slim things?’ His frown deepened.
‘Yes, salads, quinoa and couscous. That kind of thing. But,’ I warned, ‘I’m not sure how you’d manage to get that home in a napkin. I’d be fine with my cakes, but you might not have a whole lot of couscous left by the time we got back to the cottage, especially if we take the shortcut over the stiles.’
He nodded. ‘In that case, why don’t we go and say hi to Martin and then put some food on plates, join Kevin and take it from there?’
‘Sounds good,’ I said, smiling. ‘If you’re sure?’
‘I’m sure,’ he said, getting up and holding out his hand to me as I picked up my drink. ‘Let’s go.’
Chapter 28
At 11.45 p.m., there being no shopping trolleys available, Felix and I called a cab. On the way home, he chatted to the driver about some football match or other which was on Sky the next day, whilst I spent the journey happily slumped against him, silently, and somewhat tipsily, reflecting on the fact that the evening, after a rocky start, had, for me at least, been good fun.
Following the encounter with Beattie, we had, as planned, chatted to Martin and then gone to sit with Kevin, who told me in a murmur that Beattie had gone home, citing a headache. No one else at the table, nor anyone else at the party so far as I knew, mentioned her after that, so the remainder of the evening passed off without further emotional upset for Felix – or at least without visible emotional upset. I knew how a similar encounter with Alistair would have affected me, and more than once found myself scrutinising Felix as he chatted with Kevin and his other friends for any indication that he would rather be elsewhere. But he genuinely seemed fine, and this being the case, I decided that the most helpful thing I could do at that moment was to relax, enjoy the party and try not to worry. And that was exactly what I had done.
Finding Felix Page 20