‘I hope so,’ I replied as we made our way towards the stairs. ‘I still feel bad for making you do this.’
‘For making me have a pre-show drink?’ he asked, looking surprised. ‘Hate to break it to you, but I was always going to need one of those. Obviously, I’m a huge fan of men in tight trousers and frenzied female audiences, but still …’
I sighed. ‘Well the way I feel right now, I think I should have had a pre-pre-show-drink drink.’
He smiled and was about to reply but was cut short by my mother’s highly delighted and very loud ‘Hello, darlings!’ as she caught sight of us from the far side of the bar, where she was standing with Dad. ‘There they are, Don!’ she exclaimed, waving frantically. ‘Oh my goodness, we thought you’d never get here, Dorothy. Wherever have you been?’ she added, extending her arms towards me as we reached them.
‘We’re actually five minutes early, Mum,’ I said, as she squeezed me like an orange in a juicer.
‘I did tell her that,’ said Dad as she released me and he leaned in for a kiss on the cheek. ‘But she wouldn’t have it. You know how she operates to her own clock.’ He turned to Felix and held out his hand. ‘There’s Greenwich Mean Time, British Summer Time and Helen Riley Time. Good to see you again, Felix.’
‘And you,’ said Felix, smiling and shaking his hand.
‘Oh Felix, let me look at you,’ said my mother, taking a step back and gazing at him admiringly. ‘Doesn’t he look even more handsome than at the wedding, Don?’
My father sighed. ‘I’m sure Felix doesn’t need me reassuring him regarding his attractiveness, Helen. What can I get you to drink, Felix?’
But Mum was already in full flow. ‘You see, it takes a certain kind of masculinity to carry off a floral shirt, doesn’t it, Dottie? I’d get your father one, but people would think he was wearing one of my blouses.’
‘Thank you,’ said Dad.
‘But Felix here wears it beautifully,’ concluded Mum.
‘It’s my escape-from-the-office shirt,’ said Felix.
‘Well I’m sure you look just as wonderful in your plain work shirts,’ said my mother. ‘You know, you always were such a lovely little boy and teenager, it’s no wonder to me at all that you have grown into such a lovely young man.’ She looked up at him, her eyes shining, and gave him a hug. ‘Thank you for looking after our Dottie then and now,’ she said, clinging to him. ‘I’ll never forget when you brought her safely home to us after that wild evening in The Lamb.’
‘When on earth was that?’ I frowned and turned to Dad, but he just rolled his eyes and shrugged.
Felix meanwhile, didn’t query the reference but simply hugged her back, whilst I looked on, experiencing a whole new category of guilt; one associated with finally presenting my mother with a boyfriend whom she obviously adored, only for him to be both fleeting and fake. If only she wasn’t so fond of him. Why couldn’t her lip curl, as it had over Sean Dowse’s tattoo? Why couldn’t she display the wary reserve she had always exhibited in Alistair’s company? But no, there was not a hint of disapproval or discomfort when it came to Felix. Just my luck.
How these musings played out on my face I don’t know, but while Mum and Felix sat down at a nearby table, Dad tapped my arm and beckoned me to come and stand next to him at the bar.
‘I know your mum is a little bit overenthusiastic with him,’ he whispered, ‘but she just likes him. We both do,’ he added.
I nodded. ‘I know. It’s not that.’
He smiled. ‘You don’t have to explain. I understand that her approval can be just as tricky to take as her disapproval, but it’s different with Felix. The whole family has history with him.’ He looked over at my mother, whose hand was now on Felix’s arm as she asked him about our day so far. I took a deep breath and also some comfort in what Dad had said. He was right: Mum’s relationship with Felix wasn’t all about me. I had no doubt she would be disappointed to discover that he and I weren’t heading for a happily-ever-after, but she could continue to dote on him as my friend. And the same would go for Nanny Flo.
I looked at Dad. ‘It’s fine. But I just don’t want her getting her hopes up too high,’ I said quietly.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘She can keep being wildly romantic and I’ll keep pouring cold water on her hopes and dreams. It’s a relationship that’s worked for almost forty years.’
I tutted but laughed nevertheless.
‘What are you two whispering and giggling about over there?’ asked my mother, smiling at us affectionately. ‘They’re such devils, Felix. Always plotting. But oh my goodness, we haven’t asked you what you would like to drink.’
Felix stood up. ‘Let me get them,’ he said.
‘No, no,’ said Dad, gesturing for him to sit down. ‘Thank you, Felix, but you’re here at our invitation and I’m at the bar. Now, what can I get you?’
‘Just a beer would be great, thanks,’ he said, sitting back down. ‘I’ll let you choose.’
‘Brave man. And what about you, Helen?’ asked Dad.
‘Well, obviously I would like a glass of something fizzy to celebrate being here with my wonderful daughter and her lovely boyfriend,’ beamed Mum.
‘Right you are,’ said Dad, turning back to the bar and leaning towards me. ‘Quick, Dottie, dial 999 and ask for the fire brigade,’ he muttered out of the corner of his mouth. ‘I’m going to need a steady supply of cold water this evening.’
Chapter 17
‘So,’ I said to Felix, as we slowly made our way down the staircase from the Grand Circle to the foyer, along with the rest of the Hippodrome’s predominantly female Saturday-night audience, ‘what was your favourite bit?’
‘Other than when Wendy from Westbury Park offered me one of her Revels after I helped her to pick them up off the floor, you mean?’ he asked. ‘It’s impossible to pick just one moment. It was all so great.’
I smiled up at him. ‘Well it’s over now. And you can come home and recover with a beer, or a cup of tea.’
‘No recovery required,’ he said, as we finally exited the theatre and joined the growing throng on the pavement outside. ‘I had a great time. And, of course, the lift was my favourite bit.’
‘Is the right answer!’ I laughed. ‘How about we get a taxi?’
‘Dot?’
I turned at the sound of my name to see Alistair, his hand raised, weaving his way towards us through the crowd.
‘Oh, hi!’ I smiled, surprised but not unhappy to see him. ‘Fancy seeing you here. We’re just getting a taxi back to my flat. We could drop you off on the way, if you’re heading home.’
‘Thanks, but we’re going for drinks.’
It was only as he said ‘we’ and negotiated his way past the final small gaggle of women standing between us that I realised he wasn’t alone. Holding his hand was a slim, petite, dark-haired woman of around my age. My immediate thought, which was not an uplifting one, was that Alistair’s new girlfriend was much prettier in person than in the single photo I had seen of her. I looked down at her. She couldn’t have been much more than five feet tall, and at five-seven I towered over her.
‘Hi, Alistair,’ said Felix. ‘How are you?’
Alistair smiled. ‘Great, thanks. Naomi, this is Felix and Dorothy.’ At the mention of my name, Naomi blinked slightly, but her smile remained in place.
‘Felix and Dorothy? Hi there. Great to meet you. Are you two having a good evening?’ she asked, in a high-pitched but soft southern Irish accent, her voice light and lilting.
I nodded dumbly, reluctant to speak, convinced that I would sound like Brian Blessed by comparison.
She looked up at me expectantly, clearly awaiting a verbal response.
I continued to nod.
‘Well that’s … grand,’ she said, a little uncertainly, turning to look up at Alistair.
I felt Felix’s elbow knock against mine as he put his hands in his pockets. I wasn’t sure if it was deliberate or accidental, but either way it
served as a prompt to pull myself together.
‘Did you enjoy the show?’ I asked Naomi, bending slightly and nodding my head towards the entrance to the theatre.
She put a hand to her cheek and burst out laughing in a way which brought to mind several generations of Disney princesses. ‘Oh my goodness, we haven’t been to see that!’ she exclaimed, moving her hand to my arm as her expression transformed into one of mock horror. ‘But thank you for not looking appalled when you asked. Ooh, but I guess I should keep my voice down,’ she added, glancing guiltily over her shoulder at the group of women next to us. She turned back and leaned conspiratorially towards me. ‘Personally, I can’t think of anything worse, can you, Dorothy?’ she asked breathily.
‘Yes, I’m not sure exactly how insulted to be by your assumption that we would pay to see that, Dot,’ added Alistair, now also laughing. ‘We’ve actually just had dinner around the corner. What about you two?’
I looked up at him and considered my lose-lose options. Either I could lie about where we’d been, thus saving face but also making it obvious to Felix just how needy and pitifully desperate for approval I still was when it came to my ex. Or I could tell the truth, thereby not only creating a tricky social situation but also ensuring that I would be judged culturally undiscerning.
I took a deep breath.
‘We’ve been to see Dirty Dancing,’ I said with a shrug.
Naomi’s smile froze and Alistair’s eyes widened slightly, which I knew was indicative of mild panic, before he suddenly relaxed. ‘You’re joking,’ he said, a slow smile spreading across his face.
I shook my head, and as his smile fell away, I imagined the word AWKWARD flashing above us in neon-blue, foot-high capitals.
‘What Dot isn’t telling you,’ said Felix, smiling at Naomi, ‘is that I bought the tickets as a surprise. I just had it in my head that it was a show every woman wanted to see. But don’t worry,’ he added, nudging me, ‘I’ve got the message and will stick to Bernard Shaw and Brecht in future.’
Naomi looked relieved. ‘Oh, but it’s always a nice treat to go to the theatre, whatever you see, isn’t it, Dorothy?’
‘I really enjoyed Dirty Dancing, actually,’ I said.
‘She’s so tactful, isn’t she, Felix?’ smiled Alistair, his tone affectionate, as if he was discussing the merits of a previously owned, much-loved car. I felt a sudden urge to be gone.
Naomi too now appeared keen to end the encounter. ‘We should really let these lovely people get home, Alistair,’ she said, tugging meekly at his sleeve like a very glamorous house elf and nodding at the taxi rank.
Alistair looked down at her as if confused for a moment before turning towards the dwindling number of taxis lining the edge of the road. ‘Oh yes, I guess you’d better get one before they’re all gone.’
‘Come on then, Dot,’ said Felix, placing a hand on my back and applying gentle pressure, easing me towards the taxi rank. ‘Enjoy the rest of your evening, you two.’
‘Thanks,’ they said simultaneously, and, waving goodbye, they headed off in the direction of Harbourside.
Felix and I walked the few paces to the first available cab and, having given the driver my address, climbed inside. I leaned back into the seat and Felix wordlessly buckled himself in next to me as the cab pulled away. I gazed into the brightly lit foyer of the Colston Hall as we passed by, miserably fascinated by the way in which all my meticulous perfect-day planning had been scuppered by a single chance encounter. I had thought the rendezvous with my parents was going to be the most stressful part of my time with Felix, but in fact that had turned out to be an absolute breeze in comparison to the two minutes thirty seconds spent with my ex-partner and his cute Polly Pocket girlfriend. My heart sank at the thought and I wished I didn’t care, but I did.
‘All good?’ asked Felix.
I turned to him and smiled. ‘Sure,’ I said. I wanted to add something light-hearted about bumping into Alistair, but didn’t trust myself. And besides, the fact that Felix had assumed responsibility for the ticket purchase meant he had read both me and the situation perfectly. My mood sank a little further at the thought of his insightfulness, and I turned back towards the window. ‘I really enjoyed the theatre,’ I said, attempting positivity.
‘So did I,’ he said.
I nodded, believing him to be sincere, but at the same time unable to shake a rather ominous feeling that things were starting to unravel. And little did I know, as we headed back to my flat in somewhat subdued silence on my part, that the unexpected appearance of Alistair and Naomi was only the beginning of the eleventh hour disintegration of our day.
Chapter 18
I turned the key in the lock, leaned against the slightly stiff front door to open it and walked into the hallway of my flat, holding the door for Felix as he followed me inside.
‘Oh look at that,’ I tutted, pointing to a glow from the living room. ‘I left the lamps on again.’
We walked into the living room and through into the kitchen. ‘And the spotlights are on in here too,’ I said despairingly.
‘Have they been on since last night?’ asked Felix. ‘We didn’t switch them on before we left, did we? It was still light.’
‘God, you’re right. My environmental footprint must be the size of an elephant’s by now.’ I opened the fridge door and scanned the contents. ‘OK, so there’s beer, white wine open, red wine in the rack, or,’ I stood up, ‘a cup of tea or coffee.’
‘It’s way too late for caffeine,’ he said.
‘Yay!’ I said, grabbing the bottle of white. ‘Now I don’t feel so guilty about having a glass of this. ‘Ooh, unless,’ I said, turning to him questioningly, ‘you meant you wanted a peppermint tea, or to hit the sack.’
‘A beer would be great,’ he smiled.
‘Coming up,’ I said, reaching into the fridge a second time, taking out a beer and handing it to him. ‘Bottle opener is in the drawer behind you. Next to the sink.’
I poured myself a glass of wine while he opened his beer, and then we headed back into the living room, me flopping down onto the sofa and Felix settling himself into the blue armchair.
‘It swivels,’ I said.
‘And why wouldn’t it?’ he smiled, raising his bottle. ‘Cheers.’
I lifted my glass, wondering what to say next. Instinctively, I wanted to talk about Alistair, but the part of me which had worked so very hard to keep the day on track held me back. A conversation about my ex might well be cathartic for me, but it was hardly going to be a barrel of laughs for Felix, and this weekend was supposed to be a thank-you to him, I reminded myself.
‘Do you think—’ began Felix suddenly. But that was as far as he got before we heard the cough.
It was undoubtedly male and undoubtedly in the flat. We both sat up sharply.
Felix looked over his shoulder and then back at me.
‘Did that come from the bedroom?’ he asked quietly, calmly putting his beer down on the coffee table and standing up.
I nodded anxiously and stood up too. ‘The spare room, I think,’ I confirmed breathlessly, my hand shaking as I put down my glass.
‘You stay here,’ he said. ‘And call the police,’ he added, turning towards the door into the hallway.
I reached out and took hold of his arm. ‘Felix, don’t,’ I whispered. ‘Let’s just go outside and wait for the police.’
He shook his head. ‘You’re on the ground floor. He could be long gone with all your stuff by then.’
‘I don’t care,’ I said. ‘Please don’t go in there.’
‘It’s fine,’ he reassured. ‘It’ll be an opportunist who just needs scaring off. But you still need to call the police.’ And with that he walked out into the hallway.
Dashing into the kitchen, I grabbed my bag before hurrying after him, reaching him just as he leaned forward and pressed his ear against the spare room door. I tapped his shoulder, causing him to whirl round and then roll his eyes when he realised it was
me.
‘Take this. It’s really heavy,’ I whispered, handing him my Le Creuset griddle pan.
He looked down at the pan and then at his hand which was now covered in something brown and sticky.
‘It was in the sink,’ I added apologetically. ‘I did sausages in it and they had apple in them.’
He heaved a sigh, then whispered, ‘Police?’ before pressing his ear to the door once again.
I nodded vigorously, fishing my phone from my bag and then swearing under my breath as I realised that I had switched it off in the theatre. But within a few seconds it was back on, and I was just about to dial 999 when Felix placed his hand across the screen.
I looked up to find him frowning and pointing with the griddle pan at his overnight bag, which, instead of being in the spare room where I had left it, was now at the far end of the hallway, outside my bedroom door. His blue jumper, which he had decided against taking to the theatre, had been placed on a hanger and hung up behind the bag on the handle of the door.
I was just wondering what kind of OCD burglar worried about creasing the jumper which he was about to steal, when two things happened in quick succession. Firstly, my phone began to bark and ping loudly and repeatedly, indicating the arrival of at least half a dozen texts and voicemail messages, all from my mother; and then immediately after that, I heard Mum’s voice – her actual voice, not a recorded version – calling out to me from the spare room.
‘Is that you, Dottie?’
Felix looked at me, his expression one of extreme surprise tinged, I thought, with a slight weariness. He took a step back from the bedroom door.
I opened my mouth to say something, but realising that I had nothing helpful or enlightening to contribute, I remained silent and instead closed my eyes, in the vague hope that when I opened them I would find myself in a less confusing time and place.
‘Dottie?’ My mother sounded anxious and I felt Felix pat my shoulder, as if in commiseration, as he brushed past me. I opened my eyes and turned my head in time to see him disappearing into the lounge.
Finding Felix Page 12
