Finding Felix

by Finding Felix (epub)

  ‘Tell him it’s fine,’ I said wearily, sitting up. ‘Honestly. I don’t think it changed anything.’

  ‘You feel as if you’re over Alistair?’

  ‘You don’t sound surprised about that.’

  ‘I’m not really,’ she said, now sounding as exhausted as I felt. ‘I had thought recently that maybe you were moving on. That’s part of the reason I wished Mark had talked to me before offering Alistair any advice.’

  ‘I felt very differently about him tonight, Becca,’ I said sadly. ‘I know it’s superficial of me, but when he walked into the pub, the first thing I thought was that I didn’t fancy him. And that was even before he had a pop at Felix. God, the whole thing was just awful,’ I added with a groan.

  ‘It must have been.’

  ‘But I suppose I should really try to sort things out with him.’

  ‘With who? With Alistair?’ She sounded both anxious and surprised at the thought. ‘Not tonight, Dot.’

  ‘No, don’t worry, not tonight,’ I reassured. ‘And I’ll do it in writing so that I can think it all through and not make anything worse. I’ll email him when I get back from Cheltenham, if he hasn’t got in touch first. I was still pretty angry when I left the pub tonight and I don’t want to leave things that way between us. What did he say to Mark?’

  ‘Just that things hadn’t gone too well.’

  ‘Master of understatement.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be,’ I said, smiling sadly. ‘If we track this back, the situation is no one’s fault but my own. And,’ I added, ‘there was an upside to it all.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, it made me appreciate Felix even more.’

  ‘That’s good.’

  ‘I know. It brought home to me again just how supportive he was about the wedding – and since. He was so lovely the night everything went pear-shaped with Mum and Dad.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘He’s been very … resilient throughout.’

  I smiled at her careful choice of words. ‘Did you know, by the way, about him pushing me home drunk and totally out of it in a shopping trolley?’ I asked, attempting to lighten the conversation a little.

  ‘What? Recently?’

  ‘No,’ I tutted. ‘When we were teenagers. I didn’t remember it because, obviously, I was drunk and totally out of it in a shopping trolley at the time. But Mum knew.’

  ‘I don’t recall hearing any screams.’

  ‘She’s never mentioned it.’

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘I know. Astonishing, isn’t it?’ I sighed. ‘Anyway, you go and call your husband and I’ll tell you the full shopping trolley story another time.’

  ‘And what are you going to do?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m going to pack for tomorrow and then watch telly in bed.’

  ‘Sounds good. Are you looking forward to seeing Felix?’

  ‘I really am,’ I said. ‘It’ll be nice to have a relaxing and uncomplicated weekend. It’s just what I need.’

  ‘You should make a point of telling him how much you appreciate him, Dot,’ said Becca gently, but with just a hint of deputy head. ‘Friends like Felix don’t come along every day.’

  ‘You’re right,’ I said, standing up and beginning once again to study the contents of my wardrobe.

  ‘Have a lovely weekend. Tell me all about it next week.’

  ‘I will. Hey, but hang on,’ I added quickly, sitting back down, ‘you haven’t told me your news yet.’

  ‘Oh … yes …’ she said hesitantly. ‘It’s OK, I’ll save that for next week too. You’ve had quite an evening and need to get on with packing.’

  ‘Tell me!’ I insisted. ‘I could do with hearing some happy news.’

  ‘Well, OK then …’ She paused, and I imagined her taking a deep breath.

  ‘Yes?’ I laughed. ‘Oh for goodness’ sake, Becca, spit it out!’

  ‘I’m pregnant,’ she said simply.

  And after a moment which saw me put a hand to my mouth and gasp in astonishment and delight, the conversation began anew.

  Chapter 25

  To my mild surprise, I discovered that Felix didn’t actually live in Cheltenham itself, but in a small rural hamlet about four miles to the south. And I was surprised again, as I turned off a winding B road and through aged iron double gates, to find myself on a narrow gravel driveway and heading towards a quirky Victorian cottage with small churchlike mullioned windows, two tall chimneys and an ornately gabled roof.

  I climbed out of the car, retrieved my suitcase from the boot and stared up at the house as I began to walk around it in search of an entrance. I took my time, distracted by the flowers and trees crowding the large garden which encircled the property. And as I ambled and paused along a pathway running close to the house, I spotted Felix himself before I found a door.

  He was wearing a dark checked shirt, jeans and black wellies and was crouching with his back to me at the far end of the garden. A spade stuck up from the ground next to him.

  ‘Felix!’ I called, waving in anticipation of him turning around, but he didn’t move. ‘Felix!’ I repeated more loudly, cupping my hands around my mouth for increased projection, but still without result. Abandoning my suitcase, I left the path and began to make my way across the lawn towards him. As I drew near, I realised that he was wearing earbuds connected to a phone which protruded from his back pocket. I smiled and was just about to tap him on the shoulder when he stood up and turned towards me, grinning in surprise.

  ‘Dot,’ he said loudly, pulling the buds from his ears and stuffing them into his pocket along with the phone. He moved towards me as if for a hug before stepping back and holding up hands covered in mud. ‘Better not actually,’ he smiled. ‘I thought I’d have this done and be cleaned up before you got here, but I’ve lost track of time.’

  ‘I’m half an hour early. It’s only just two,’ I said, looking down at the border. ‘Weeding?’

  He shook his head. ‘Planting. I thought if I didn’t do it today I wouldn’t get a chance till next weekend.’

  ‘Well finish what you’re doing,’ I smiled. ‘I’m quite happy to sit and watch. Or assist, if you trust me.’

  ‘It’s all done. I just need to clean up a bit.’

  I looked him up and down. ‘You’re looking so rural,’ I said. ‘This is all,’ I turned towards the house, ‘just so rural, Felix.’

  He laughed. ‘Is that a surprise?’

  ‘It is actually,’ I said, still gazing at the house. ‘I suppose I just had you down as a townie. You’re so corporate and controlled these days, I thought you’d opt for something modern and minimalist.’

  When I turned back towards him, I saw that his smile was now accompanied by a slight frown. ‘That wasn’t a criticism,’ I added hastily. ‘It’s just that because you’re a serious accountant and usually dress like a House of Fraser menswear ad, I hadn’t pictured you living in a quirky cottage, wearing wellies and getting your hands dirty at the weekend. It’s like when we found out that Mr Moorland at school was a Druid. Remember that?’

  Felix nodded but the frown remained in place. ‘I’m not sure gardening is on a par with dressing like Gandalf and hailing the points of the compass, but I sort of see where you’re coming from,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, you know what I mean,’ I replied, waving a hand. ‘But it doesn’t matter anyway because I love the house, I love the garden, I like your hair a bit wilder and you look great in your wellies.’

  ‘That’s all hugely reassuring,’ he smiled. ‘Cup of tea?’

  ‘Yes please,’ I said, and as his grin broadened and he beckoned me to follow, we made our way back across the lawn towards the house.

  * * *

  ‘This is fab,’ I said, running my eye around the kitchen as Felix lifted the boiling kettle from the top of an elderly-looking Aga and set about making a cup of tea for me and coffee for himself. ‘How long have you been here?’

  ‘I rented in
Cheltenham for about a year after we set up the business and then bought this place. So that’s two years ago now,’ he said, turning to look at me over his shoulder.

  ‘And have you made lots of changes?’ I pointed to the Shaker cabinets and heavy wooden work surfaces. ‘Did you put all this in?’

  He walked to the table, handed me a mug and then sat down opposite me. ‘The kitchen and heating system are new and so is the roof, but there’s still loads to do. Lots of the plasterwork needs replacing because there are damp patches everywhere. Upstairs is nowhere near finished. I’ve spent far too much time in the garden this summer. Plus I’ve lost a little bit of heart for the refurb.’ He looked as if he was about to say more, but instead picked up his mug and took a sip.

  Wondering if his loss of enthusiasm for interior design might be related to the break-up of his relationship, I decided to sidestep the comment. ‘I think I’d be the same – focusing on the garden, I mean – especially in this weather. Whenever I go to Becca’s, I envy her the garden and the views. And it’s the same at Mum and Dad’s. I love my flat, but I definitely hanker after some outdoor space. This place seems perfect: privacy, character and just a stone’s throw from Cheltenham. You’re so lucky.’

  He looked up from his mug and smiled. ‘I am.’

  ‘And,’ I continued, keen to keep things upbeat, ‘you’re about to get a whole lot luckier, because I have, as every good guest should, come bearing gifts.’

  ‘You’re just so well brought up,’ he called after me as I hurried out into the hallway, returning with a bottle of wine and a small square package, which I had that morning wrapped in pink tissue paper and tied with a silver ribbon. I placed the bottle on the table and handed the package to Felix, who looked up at me quizzically. ‘What’s this?’ he asked.

  ‘Only one way to find out,’ I said, sitting back down and folding my arms.

  He smiled and pulled at the ribbon, undoing the bow and carefully unfolding the paper. When the gift was revealed, he looked down at it, frowning for a moment before laughing loudly. ‘Where on earth did you get this?’ he exclaimed, holding up the framed photograph of the two of us standing side by side in the school Christmas play.

  Delighted by his reaction, I stood up and walked around the table, sitting down beside him. ‘My mother,’ I said simply.

  He nodded, gazing at the picture in his hands. ‘I was such a great pudding,’ he said.

  ‘And not just at Christmas.’

  ‘Low blow.’

  ‘And I don’t think I’m a bad candle either,’ I said, pointing at my thirteen-year-old self. ‘But was I really that much taller than you?’

  ‘I know. I’m having trouble with that too, but you’re clearly not standing on a box.’

  ‘So when did that change?’

  Felix lifted his head and looked thoughtful. ‘I remember arguing with you in a school corridor about Sean Dowse wanting to give you that scone tattoo …’

  ‘It was a leopard.’

  ‘I saw the proposed design. It was a scone,’ he said, unmoved. ‘And I remember us arguing about it and suddenly realising that I was looking you in the eye.’

  I thought back. ‘We must have been about fifteen then. And after that, you shot up, because I remember sitting next to you in The Lamb that night with Chris and Ian and realising how much …’ I looked up at him and frowned.

  ‘How much what?’ he asked.

  I shook my head. ‘Sorry, I just had a weird flashback moment to the pub. Do you ever get that? We were sitting just like this and …’ I frowned again.

  ‘This had better be good,’ he sighed.

  ‘I just remember realising that you were a good three or four inches taller than Ian.’

  Felix stared at me impassively. ‘Not an anecdote worth waiting for.’

  ‘Oh, shut up.’ I laughed and nudged him. ‘I love this,’ I said, tapping the photo again.

  He looked at it and smiled. ‘One of the best gifts I’ve had in a long time.’

  ‘My copy is in my living room,’ I said, as he stood up and placed the photo on the shelf above the large fireplace.

  He stood for a moment, his back to me, hands in pockets, contemplating the picture, before returning to his seat.

  ‘So what’s going on with you?’ he asked, picking up his mug of tea. ‘Why so keen to escape Bristol?’

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ I said, trying to sound casual. ‘I’m just panicking over work things that haven’t even happened. Actually, some things have happened, but mostly I’m obsessing about things that might happen and worrying about what I’m going to do if they do.’

  He raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘That doesn’t sound like you.’

  ‘I know,’ I sighed. ‘It sounds like the opposite of me, doesn’t it? It’s all a bit weird. There’s a complete role reversal in the office.’

  ‘So Kate’s not worried about the situation?’

  I shook my head. ‘Not any more.’

  Felix stretched across the table, retrieving my cup of tea and handing it to me. I smiled and took it from him. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘So, are you going to tell me what the problem is or not?’

  ‘I don’t want to burden you.’

  ‘You won’t be. I’m genuinely desperate to know. It sounds like it might be juicy.’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘You’re terrible.’

  ‘You know I’m joking,’ he said. ‘Tell me. I might be able to help.’

  ‘Kate’s pregnant,’ I said, looking up at him.

  He nodded. ‘Keep going.’

  I took a deep breath. ‘It was an accident, or at least very unexpected, and she went a bit loopy for a week, but now she’s fine about it and very happy.’

  ‘OK, and you’re worried about a change in your relationship and because she may or may not come back to work. And you’re reluctant to pressurise her on the subject, and even if she gives you what she thinks is a definite answer, you’re aware that the situation and her take on things could change.’

  I looked at him for a moment. ‘Gosh, you’re good.’

  ‘I can relate,’ he smiled. ‘I also work with a friend and I can imagine how I’d feel if Kevin announced a significant change in his personal circumstances. Would you like me to help you with some business contingency planning? We could think about the possible scenarios, and take a look at how and where you could continue to operate if Kate is away for a while, or decides not to return. I could tell you the information I need you to send me and then we could go over it next time I’m in Bristol.’

  ‘Felix … I don’t know what to say. That would be great, if you wouldn’t mind.’

  ‘My usual rate is a hundred and twenty pounds an hour, but I’d do this for a hundred and eighteen, seeing as we go way back.’

  ‘Or we could we offset it against all the pastries I bought you between 1992 and 2002?’

  ‘Quits then,’ he said.

  ‘Thanks, Felix.’ I smiled up at him, and then, remembering my recent conversation with Becca about being more vocal in my appreciation of him, I lowered my eyes to my mug and added, ‘Thanks for everything – then and now – even when I don’t deserve it.’

  I paused, feeling as if I had more to say but clueless as to what that might be. And I briefly wondered whether putting my arms around his middle and gently resting my head against his chest, as I had so often done as a teenager, might be the most effective way of communicating the feelings I couldn’t currently quite put into words.

  However, not one hundred per cent convinced of the appropriateness of a hug and chest nuzzle at that particular moment, I instead placed my hands out of harm’s way around my mug and, aware of a new and slightly artificial brightness to my tone, said, ‘Oh, and while I think of it, I keep forgetting to tell you that Rosie – the policewoman you sat next to at Becca’s wedding – really liked you. She’d be keen to see you again if, you know, you ever …’ I continued to focus on my tea. ‘There’s no pressure, but I promised Mark
I’d pass that on and give you her number.’ I pulled my phone from the pocket of my jeans.

  Felix didn’t reply, and when I finally stopped tapping at my phone and forced myself to look at him, I found him to be as equally fixated on his hot drink as I had been on mine.

  ‘That’s a nice compliment and I’ll bear the offer in mind,’ he said.

  ‘Well, you’ve got her number now,’ I replied. ‘I mean, I know the timing might not be great, but …’

  He smiled and turned towards me. ‘Not at all. She was very nice. Thanks for letting me know. Now drink up,’ he said, standing up. ‘It’s time for you to get rural.’

  Chapter 26

  Felix route-marched me around a seven-mile circular country walk which somehow achieved the impossible feat of being uphill all the way – or at least that was how it felt to me. He, as usual, showed no sign of even mild fatigue, and while I sat down at the kitchen table with a second cup of tea and a magazine on our return to the house, he went outside to quickly mow the top lawn.

  A couple of hours later, both showered and changed, and having shared a small jug of Pimm’s on the newly mown lawn, we set off for the fortieth birthday party, which, Felix told me, was taking place not in Cheltenham but in a marquee in the garden of the White Hart, a gastropub just a short stroll away.

  ‘Now, is it really just a short stroll?’ I asked as we crunched down the cottage’s gravel driveway towards the gates at just after eight o’clock. ‘Only I don’t want to be climbing over any stiles in these.’ I looked down with early misgiving at the white cigarette pants I had teamed with a pale blue shirt and light brown jacket.

  ‘It’s about a ten-minute walk over flat terrain,’ he said.