Finding Felix

by Finding Felix (retail) (epub)

  He offered me another indescribably sad smile. ‘I put you on the spot. That wasn’t fair.’

  ‘No, I just don’t know when to keep quiet. But the flip side is that you can be sure I’m not hiding anything.’

  He continued to smile and was just about to say something when Kate’s voice rang out from upstairs. ‘Fred? Fred? Who’s there?’

  I looked at him. ‘She doesn’t know that you called me?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘I won’t say you asked me to come round.’

  ‘Thanks, Dot.’

  ‘Just try not to worry,’ I said, getting up from my stool. ‘I know Kate – and I know that she adores you.’

  He offered me an unconvinced nod and then rose to his feet. I shook my head. ‘You stay here and enjoy some down time. I’ll make my own way up.’

  ‘Do you want to take your tea?’ he asked, gesturing towards my mug.

  ‘No, it’s OK,’ I said, heading out into the hallway. ‘Maybe I’ll have another one with you before I go.’

  ‘Have you left the radio on?’ Kate’s voice, high-pitched and irritable, reached us again. ‘I can hear it all the way up here!’

  I looked back down the hallway at Fred as he stood forlornly in the kitchen doorway. ‘What is she like?’ I smiled, rolling my eyes at him.

  He didn’t reply but simply shrugged good-naturedly, disappearing back into the kitchen as I began to make my way up the stairs.

  ‘Dot? Is that you?’ called Kate, her tone now surprised and suddenly much lighter.

  I took a deep breath and positioned a smile on my face. ‘Yes, it’s me. And I’m coming in, so you’d better not be smoking dope in the nude.’

  ‘It’s OK, I’m not in the nude,’ she said, as I pushed open the bedroom door. She was laughing while sounding, I thought, a little emotional.

  ‘So is that a yes to the spliff, then?’ I asked, poking my head round the door and sniffing.

  ‘Come in, come in, you idiot.’ She held out her arms to me from where she sat on the bed, fully clothed, cross-legged and surrounded by papers.

  I walked towards her, taking the opportunity to examine her appearance as I did so, and my immediate impression was that Fred was right: she didn’t look at all unwell. In fact, make-up-free and presumably well rested, she looked fresh and positively glowing. But she did also look upset, and a genuinely bright smile couldn’t disguise the fact that she had been crying.

  ‘Hello!’ I smiled, bending down and giving her a hug. ‘Are you feeling better?’

  ‘I am,’ she said, kissing my cheek and patting my back maternally before releasing me. ‘I’ll definitely be in tomorrow.’

  ‘If you feel up to it,’ I said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

  ‘I do. Definitely.’

  ‘Well, that’s great,’ I smiled. ‘I know it’s been less than a week, but the office seems very empty without you. I was even pleased when Mum called at lunchtime.’

  Kate leaned forward and grabbed my arm excitedly. ‘Ooh yes! How did the weekend with Felix go?’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Oh God, Kate, there was a massive change of plan. Felix and I got back from the Hippodrome to find Mum and Dad in the spare room!’

  Her jaw dropped. ‘You … are … kidding.’

  I shook my head. ‘Nope. At the last minute they couldn’t stay with Uncle Geoffrey, and so as they have a spare key to my flat …’

  She burst out laughing. ‘You and your family are the best. So what happened? What did Felix say?’

  I smiled. ‘He was just so lovely about it all. And in a funny way, I think it really helped things between us. We were two teens in a scrape again.’

  Kate nodded, and then her eyes suddenly filled with tears.

  ‘What on earth’s the matter?’ I asked, frowning.

  She shook her head and put a hand to her mouth. ‘Nothing,’ she gasped. ‘I just love the idea of you and Felix being such old friends and now new friends. You know, starting afresh but with that shared history. Just wonderful.’

  She dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan, while I looked on in a mixture of confusion and horror. This was not the Kate I knew. For a start, just one week ago the mention of Felix’s name would have immediately prompted questions as to whether I had had the conversation with Mum and Dad. And secondly, although she was both caring and loving, Kate was far from sentimental, and a friendship, especially one of which she wasn’t even a part, was not something which would have previously reduced her to tears.

  ‘Kate,’ I said gently, leaning towards her and placing my hand on hers, ‘why are you crying?’

  She shook her head and continued to wipe away her tears.

  ‘Seriously, what’s wrong?’ I asked. ‘This isn’t like you.’

  She still didn’t speak.

  ‘If there’s a problem, either at work or at home, you know you don’t have to keep it to yourself, don’t you?’

  At that, she looked up abruptly. ‘Did Fred ask you to come?’ she snapped.

  I threw my hands up despairingly. ‘Do I have this kind of stuff written across my forehead?’

  Her face softened briefly into a smile before crumpling again. ‘Oh Dot,’ she sobbed. ‘I’ve been so horrible to him. I know I have.’

  I moved some papers and shifted my position on the bed so that I was now sitting next to her and able to place an arm around her shoulders. Learning from my recent unfortunate experience with Fred, I remained determinedly silent and waited for her to explain.

  ‘A thing has happened,’ she said eventually.

  I took a deep breath and tried to quell the same sense of dread I had felt when talking to Fred. ‘OK.’

  ‘And now everything feels like it’s out of control.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And I don’t like being out of control,’ she said, leaning her head against my shoulder.

  I tilted my head sideways, so that it was resting against the top of hers. ‘I know you don’t,’ I said softly. ‘Fortunately, I am an expert in being out of control. So why don’t you just tell me all about it?’

  She was silent for a moment and I felt her trembling as she continued to sob. And then, after a huge sniff, in a barely audible whisper she said, ‘I’m pregnant, Dot.’

  ‘What?’ I sat up and turned towards her, placing my hands on her shoulders and giving her a slight shake. ‘What did you say?’

  She looked up at me, her mouth stretching wide so that she now resembled a suicidal frog as she dissolved into a fresh bout of sobs.

  Lost for words, I stared at her for a moment before pulling her to me and letting her soak the left shoulder of my blouse with tears. After several moments of blind panic, during which all sorts of incredibly selfish business-related scenarios screeched at breakneck speed through my mind, I redirected my full attention and concern towards one of the best and most precious friends I had ever had.

  ‘And why is this a bad thing?’ I asked.

  She sniffed and sat up, looking surprised. ‘Well, because …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Because I’m forty, it’s not planned, I love my job, and Fred and I are very happy. Or at least we were,’ she added, her forehead wrinkling and her mouth stretching in preparation for more tears.

  I held up a hand. ‘I know you’re emotional, Kate. That’ll be the hormones as well as the situation, but please try to hold it together for just a few minutes.’

  She nodded rapidly. ‘Sorry, yes,’ she said, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly in a rather hiccoughy manner. ‘I must regain control.’

  ‘So,’ I began, determined to keep my own voice steady, ‘the first thing is: are you absolutely sure?’

  She continued to nod. ‘Absolutely. I did a test on Friday. I did three actually. Just in case the first two were iffy. They can be, you know.’

  I heaved a sigh. ‘I’ve never heard that before but OK.’

  ‘I did the tests because I had the co
il removed last December and I remembered that after Sue Ross’s birthday party in Kings Weston at the end of May, Fred and I hadn’t used anything.’ She spoke rapidly, staring directly ahead of her. ‘Since then I’ve only had one really light period and skipped one and then the one that was due a week or so ago never came, but I thought that maybe …’ She paused for breath and turned her head slowly towards me. ‘Do you know what I thought?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I thought that maybe it was the menopause.’ She grinned at me in a dazed and slightly maniacal manner, which made me think it might be best to move things along.

  ‘OK, but it wasn’t the menopause, so let’s not dwell.’

  She stopped grinning and nodded. ‘Then I threw up on Tuesday and again on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, but it didn’t feel like a bug and I suddenly remembered Sue’s party and the missed periods and I …’ She hesitated, and fearing the return of tears, I spoke again.

  ‘You did a test …’

  ‘Three tests.’

  ‘Yes, three tests – very thorough – and now you know you’re pregnant. Have you been to see the GP?’

  She nodded. ‘I got an emergency appointment on Friday afternoon.’

  ‘Good. And …’

  ‘And I’m very well and I’m pregnant. Fourteen weeks.’ She looked down at her stomach and placed a hand on it. ‘There’s a baby in my body.’

  ‘Kate …’

  ‘In my body, right now,’ she said absently, still staring at her stomach.

  ‘Kate, look at me.’

  She slowly lifted her face towards me. ‘Yes?’

  ‘What are you worried about?’

  ‘I’m worried about Fred and about you and about the business and about my marriage and about my age and about having no plan.’

  ‘Are you worried about the baby in your body?’

  ‘I am,’ she said quietly. ‘I just want it to be OK.’

  I smiled and put my hands to my face, now feeling on the verge of tears myself. ‘Well thank goodness for that,’ I said. ‘Now just pull yourself together and tell Fred what’s going on, because you and the baby are all that he’s going to be worried about.’

  ‘But aren’t you worried, Dot?’ she asked anxiously, reaching out and taking my hands in hers.

  ‘Only for you and for the baby in your body.’

  ‘But what about the business? What will we do?’

  ‘We’ll plan as much as we can, but we’re also going to wing it,’ I said.

  ‘But—’ began Kate, looked panicked.

  ‘Shh,’ I interrupted, putting a finger to my lips. ‘I was told this weekend that I’m at my best when winging it. I’m good at it and you’re going to have to get good at it too. You’re going to have to accept lots of unknowns and variables and not look too far ahead.’

  ‘But what about Fred? I’m so worried about him.’

  ‘Yes, actually, I’m worried about Fred too,’ I conceded. ‘Because right now he’s downstairs thinking you’re having an affair.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘What? Why would he think that?’ she asked, suddenly angry. ‘The bastard.’

  I shook my head. ‘That was my fault,’ I admitted.

  ‘Oh, OK,’ she said, relaxing. ‘Did you try and say something helpful?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ She took a deep breath and gave me a hug. ‘I’m just a bit afraid.’

  ‘I can see how it might have all come as a bit of a shock.’

  ‘It’s not that. I just want Fred to be as happy as I am and I’m terrified he won’t be. He just seems so low at the moment.’

  ‘Well,’ I said, releasing myself from her embrace and pushing her gently away from me, ‘I think part of the problem for Fred right now is that this,’ I pointed at her bright red tear-stained face, ‘together with all the screeching and calling him a bastard, isn’t coming across as happy.’

  She nodded. ‘You’re right. I’ve been so stupid and muddled about everything, Dot. Thank you for helping me to focus,’ she said emotionally, biting her lip.

  ‘No problem, but please don’t cry any more,’ I said. ‘It’s unsettling. And buy a box of tissues on your way into the office tomorrow. I think you’re going to need them.’

  ‘I will,’ she said. ‘It’s so weird you being the sensible, insightful one, isn’t it?’

  I sighed and stood up. ‘And with that back-handed compliment ringing in my ears, I’m going to go and fetch Fred for you.’

  She smiled and, after bending to give her a kiss on the cheek, I stood up and walked to the door.

  ‘Ooh, hang on, I forgot to ask,’ she said suddenly.

  ‘What?’ I asked, opening the door and looking at her over my shoulder.

  ‘You did tell your mum that you’re not going out with Felix, didn’t you?’

  ‘Nearly,’ I said, and then, before she could say any more, I slid out of the room, closed the door behind me and, ignoring her irately insistent yells for me to come back immediately, I headed downstairs in search of Fred.

  Chapter 21

  One week later and things had calmed down considerably. Kate had returned to work the day after my home visit, telling me that Fred was at first speechless and then cautiously ecstatic about the pregnancy. His sole concern, as I had predicted, was for his wife and their unborn child.

  Kate herself, meanwhile, was largely as ever, the only exception being that her matter-of-fact, unsentimental approach to life was now occasionally interrupted by brief out-of-the-blue bouts of inexplicable tears, rambling philosophising and, worst of all, high-profile vomiting. The latter occurred at least once a day, and as our loo was separated from the office only by a very thin partition wall, and as Kate’s coping mechanism when vomiting was to give repeated and very loud assurances to herself, it was an event impossible to ignore.

  But other than that, she was pretty much her old self. So much so that she hadn’t even removed her raincoat on day one of her return to work before she was demanding to know why Mum and Dad still thought Felix and I were an item. However, my ready-and-waiting explanation – namely that that I hadn’t spent any time alone with my parents during their Bristol stopover and that they were now on a three-week tour of France and Spain in their motorhome - was enough to set her mind temporarily at rest over the matter and let her focus instead on work – and, of course, on crying, philosophising and vomiting.

  But despite the almost total return to day-to-day workplace normality, I still felt unsettled. Because although I had a natural disposition towards, and preference for, winging it, Kate’s pregnancy and its implications for the future did still, at times, feel a little scary and overwhelming. What would it mean for our relationship? Would she find closer friends and greater commonality within ante- and post-natal groups? How would I feel working alone during her maternity leave, or, worse still, on a permanent basis if she decided to exit the business altogether?

  She had assured me that the latter was not going to happen, and I believed that she meant it. But I also knew that parenthood was capable of radically transforming even the strongest of personalities and the firmest of priorities.

  However, the most unsettling train of thought sparked by Kate’s pregnancy was actually none of the above, but rather the realisation that for the first time in my life, I had no idea who to turn to for advice. Kate was obviously not an option, and although I had no doubt that Becca would be an excellent listener and counsellor regarding friendship issues, both she and my parents were too far removed from the realities of my business relationship with Kate to be able to provide holistic advice. And this being the case, I felt that bothering them with my concerns, certainly at this stage, would be needlessly worrying for them, and not particularly worthwhile for me.

  This sense of lacking a confidante became all the more acute when it occurred to me that the person in whom I would have confided in the past was Alistair. It was a realisation which, once made, I was unable to ignore, and from then
on, in marked contrast to recent months, when he had crossed my mind infrequently and fleetingly, I found myself thinking about him, and poring over our failed relationship, on a daily basis. In this way, a focus on his absence – a barely related ripple emanating from Kate’s pregnancy – actually affected my mood and dominated my thoughts to a much greater extent than the pregnancy itself.

  And it was upon this darkly fascinating fact that I was yet again dwelling as I took off my cardigan and flopped down at my desk on the Tuesday morning seven days after Kate’s return to work. Such miserable brooding would not usually have been an option, as Kate always beat me into the office and never failed to start talking rapidly at me before I’d even closed the outer door. But this morning she had a scan and was going to be late in, thus gifting me the agonising luxury of regretting, again and at length, the loss of Alistair as my partner in life.

  I had just, for the thousandth time, begun to wonder exactly what Naomi had that I didn’t, other than an elfin physique, a voice like a tinkling bell and a high-brow disdain for popular culture, when the phone rang. I picked it up with a sense of relief.

  ‘Eat Fruit Design. How can I help?’

  ‘Hi, Dot. It’s Felix.’

  ‘Felix!’ I exclaimed smiling. ‘How are you? It’s so lovely to hear from you,’ I added.

  He laughed. ‘I haven’t told you what I’m calling about yet.’

  ‘Oh God,’ I groaned. ‘My mother hasn’t phoned you from the Vendée, has she?’

  ‘Er, no,’ he said. ‘Why would she do that?’

  ‘She wouldn’t, she wouldn’t,’ I said quickly. ‘I’m talking nonsense. Haven’t had a coffee yet.’

  ‘OK, well I won’t keep you from that. But I have some dates to suggest for you coming to Cheltenham and thought I’d throw them at you while I’ve got my calendar onscreen.’

  ‘Oh, that’s so nice of you, Felix. It’d be great to get away.’

  ‘From what?’ he asked. ‘Is work stressful?’

  ‘Not work so much. Well, kind of work …’ I hesitated, wanting to tell him all about Kate and the baby and my renewed glumness over Alistair, but very aware that eight forty-five on a Tuesday morning, when I had designs to work on and Felix no doubt had lots of numbers to add up, was not the best time to offload. ‘Just some tricky stuff,’ I said. ‘So a distraction would be nice.’