Finding Felix

by Finding Felix (retail) (epub)

  There was a slight pause before he spoke again. ‘Look, I was going to suggest next month, but you’re welcome to come up this Saturday. I’m going to a fortieth and you could come with me.’

  I smiled at his kindness. ‘I couldn’t crash that,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not suicidal or anything.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be crashing. There’s no paper invitation. And you’d be doing me a favour. I hate turning up to that kind of thing on my own.’

  ‘Shut up,’ I laughed. ‘I bet you’ll know everyone there.’

  ‘Hardly anyone,’ he replied. ‘I wouldn’t be going, but it’s an open bar.’

  I hesitated, not for one second fooled by his protestations of social insecurity, but at the same time realising that his offer was one I desperately wanted to accept. At that moment, I was facing a Saturday night home alone, and in my current state of mind, that wasn’t at all an uplifting prospect.

  I tutted. ‘Well why didn’t you say it was an open bar right away? Of course I’ll come, even if you are inviting me out of pity.’

  ‘Which I definitely am.’

  ‘Don’t care. It’s an open bar.’

  ‘Great. It’s in the diary. I’ll text you my address. Or if you’re getting the train, I’ll pick you up from the station.’

  ‘Thanks, Felix,’ I smiled. ‘Looking forward to it already. Ooh, but what kind of party is it? What shall I wear?’

  ‘It’s fancy dress,’ he said. ‘The theme is Under the Sea.’

  I sighed. ‘It’s not.’

  ‘No, it’s not. But I was hoping you might make an aqualung out of lemonade bottles. Like you did for Ellie Bream’s sixteenth birthday party.’

  ‘Oh my goodness, so I did! You remember absolutely everything!’

  ‘No I don’t. I just remember more than you do. And that’s because I was never quite as drunk as you were, Dorothy Riley.’

  ‘Condescend all you like, but that aqualung was the biz.’

  He laughed. ‘Can’t disagree. But only because I haven’t got time. Linda has a client waiting for me. See you Saturday.’

  ‘Hang on,’ I said quickly. ‘The dress code?’

  ‘It’s drinks and dancing at a posh pub. Smart casual, I guess, but I’ll double-check and let you know. Bye.’

  ‘Bye,’ I said, and put down the phone, grateful for the call and for the invitation, but most of all, suddenly very grateful for Felix. I was cheered by the thought of seeing him and, I realised with mild surprise, had no problem with the idea of sharing my troubles, both personal and professional, with him.

  I stared thoughtfully into space for a moment or two, and was just considering retrieving my phone from my bag and texting Becca a few lines on the subject of Felix, when my phone began to ring. I bent down, picked it out of my bag and, seeing Alistair’s name on the screen, frowned and took the call.

  ‘Hi, Alistair.’

  ‘Hi, Dot. Have you got two minutes?’

  ‘Sure. Fire away.’

  I heard him take a deep breath. ‘I’ve been thinking about you a lot since I bumped into you outside the Hippodrome,’ he began. And as he told me how much he still cared for me and how he would very much like to meet me for a drink as soon as possible, I leaned back in my chair and, smiling and feeling a little dazed, I forgot all about texting Becca, and all about Felix.

  Chapter 22

  ‘Well, I think I’ve got a good idea of what you’re after, Stephanie, and I’d be very excited to work on this for you.’ I smiled winningly at the slim, greying woman sitting opposite me, a local bank manager who wanted to self-publish her novel and had come to discuss cover options.

  ‘Oh my God, here it comes!’ Kate’s voice reached us from the toilet, quickly followed by the sound of violent retching.

  Stephanie glanced uncertainly towards the partition wall.

  ‘You’re OK, Kate,’ said Kate. ‘It’ll be over soon.’

  ‘Is she OK?’ asked Stephanie anxiously, nodding her head towards the wall.

  ‘Pregnant,’ I said, as Kate continued to gag. ‘But best not to mention it. She’s still a bit shy about it.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ said Stephanie, still looking worried.

  ‘She’s fine,’ I reassured her. ‘She’s had all the tests and has a consultant keeping an eye on her and everything’s great.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have had that bun,’ gasped Kate, clearly to herself, but still nevertheless completely audibly. ‘Straight back up along with all the …’

  Thankfully the remainder of the sentence was drowned out by the sound of the flush.

  ‘So what I would propose,’ I said, returning to business and determinedly maintaining eye contact with Stephanie in the hope of recapturing her full attention, ‘is that if you decide to go ahead, I present you with four design options, based on our discussion this afternoon. You should allow two weeks for me to complete the designs and I would charge a flat fee, with a level of tweaking to your preferred design included in the price. I’ll send you all the specifics in an email, along with a quote. How does that sound?’

  ‘That sounds great,’ she smiled.

  ‘Fabulous,’ I said. ‘Do you have any other questions?’

  ‘No, I don’t think I do,’ she replied, standing up and holding out her hand. I shook it just as Kate emerged from the toilet, her face pink and her eyes red and watery.

  ‘Great meeting you, Stephanie – even briefly,’ she said slightly breathlessly, walking quickly towards us, her hand extended.

  Stephanie hesitated for a moment, staring doubtfully at Kate’s hand, clearly with the recent vomiting on her mind, before reaching out and shaking it lightly for a nanosecond.

  ‘And you couldn’t have picked anyone more talented than Dorothy to work with,’ added Kate.

  I smiled at her before turning to Stephanie. ‘I’ll show you out,’ I said.

  ‘Thanks,’ she replied. ‘I’m heading back to the bank now.’

  ‘But it’s six o’clock,’ I protested, ‘on a Friday.’

  ‘I know,’ she sighed, ‘but I have one or two things to sign off. It shouldn’t take long.’

  ‘Well, I hope you have something nice planned for the weekend,’ I said, walking with her to the lobby.

  ‘I’ll be gardening tomorrow and then having dinner with friends. Terribly dull and middle-aged.’

  I opened the outer door. ‘Not at all. Sounds great.’

  ‘It’ll be relaxing rather than exciting,’ she said, as she stepped outside, ‘but that’s fine by me.’

  I smiled my agreement, watching as she walked away and then closing the outer door and returning to the office, where Kate was now packing up her laptop in readiness for going home.

  ‘Is the job in the bag?’ she asked as I went to my desk and sat down.

  ‘Hope so,’ I said. ‘I’d genuinely like to do it. It’d be fun.’

  ‘Well, it sounded like the pair of you were on the same page,’ she said, picking up her satchel then coming over and sitting down opposite me. ‘The same page! That’s a pun, Dot,’ she laughed.

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Yes, thank you, Kate. I got that.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ she said, still grinning. ‘Only I thought you hadn’t, because you’re not laughing.’

  ‘That’s because I’m not pregnant.’

  ‘Oh, you misery,’ she teased, leaning across my desk and punching me lightly on the arm. ‘Why don’t you come home with me and cheer up with a Friday-night glass of wine? Or at least you and Fred can have a glass of wine and I’ll have a mug of ginger tea.’

  ‘A lovely offer,’ I smiled, swivelling in my chair and turning my back on her while switching off my screen, ‘but I’ll pass if that’s OK. I’m partying with Felix tomorrow night, don’t forget.’

  I kept my back to her and reached down, picking up my bag and rummaging through it, making a pretence of searching for something. Kate remained silent and I turned to find her looking at me through eyes narrowed in suspicion.
<
br />   ‘Where are you going?’ she asked.

  ‘Tomorrow? Cheltenham, of course.’

  ‘Not tomorrow – tonight,’ she said.

  I slumped back in my chair, knowing resistance was futile. ‘I’m meeting Alistair for a drink,’ I said quietly.

  ‘Alistair?’ Her eyes widened in surprise, an expression rapidly replaced by a frown. ‘Why are you meeting him? Has something happened? When did you arrange that? Is there a reason you didn’t mention it?’

  ‘Why don’t you just hand me a questionnaire and I’ll fill it in over the weekend?’ I asked.

  ‘Is it a happy drink or a stressful one?’ she persisted.

  ‘I honestly don’t know yet,’ I began uncertainly, ‘which is the reason I didn’t mention it. Nothing bad has happened. He wants to see me because he cares deeply for me and I’ve been on his mind pretty constantly since Becca’s wedding. I’m quoting him there, by the way,’ I added, gazing down at the desk. ‘He called on Tuesday, while you were at the hospital.’

  ‘And does the fact that he’s thinking about you and caring deeply for you make you happy?’

  ‘It did while I was talking to him on Tuesday.’ I looked up at her and sighed. ‘You know much I missed him when he left, Kate.’

  ‘I do.’ She smiled sympathetically.

  ‘And I’ve been thinking about him and noticing his absence a lot more again just recently. So yes, on Tuesday it made me happy to think that he has missed me too – that the feeling of loss wasn’t completely one-sided.’ I offered her a small smile and a shrug.

  ‘And today?’

  I placed my elbows on the desk and rested my head in my hands. ‘A bit muddled, I guess. I’ve been thinking everything through since he called, and the thing is, I do feel really sad when I think about the relationship ending. But that doesn’t feel quite the same as wanting him back. It’s nearly the same, but not quite. I miss him – hugely at times – but I’m not unhappy day-to-day without him in my life and I’m not convinced I’d be happier if we were back together. Does that make any sense?’

  ‘God, how many things about relationships ever make sense?’ she asked, smiling and reaching across the desk again, this time to squeeze my hand. ‘So why don’t you stop overthinking it and just see how the drink goes? Call for a chat afterwards if you want to. Or come round,’ she added. ‘We’ll only be watching Gogglebox under a tartan blanket, and there’s always room for a third.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said quietly. ‘And I would have told you about it but I didn’t really know what to say. I haven’t mentioned it to Becca either.’

  She shook her head. ‘I understand. Sometimes trying to explain things to other people can just make a situation seem more complex, can’t it?’ she said gently, before adding briskly, ‘So, what time are you meeting him?’

  ‘Seven at the Cosy Club. But I’m going to try to be early.’

  ‘Good for you, and in that case,’ she said, checking her watch and standing up, ‘I’d better let you go. Just try to enjoy the drink, whatever the circumstances. Let it happen and then think again. Take everything one step at a time and don’t look too far ahead.’

  I laughed. ‘You know I don’t think you have ever told me not to plan ahead before.’

  ‘I’m merely batting your own excellent advice right back at you, Dorothy,’ she said, smiling and beginning to walk towards the lobby. ‘You recently told me that waiting and seeing has its place. And you know what? You were absolutely right.’

  Chapter 23

  I arrived at the Cosy Club at six forty-five. There being no sign as yet of Alistair, either upstairs or down, I bought a cocktail and sat at one of the high tables which ran the length of the bar, making sure that I was facing the door onto the street. Then, sipping my drink, I took a deep breath, gazed up admiringly at the ornately arched and coved ceiling high above me and tried to relax. I knew that Alistair wouldn’t be late, but I was hoping for ten minutes alone to allow a little alcohol, and the Friday-night atmosphere of the bar, to work their magic on my nerves. Because despite Kate’s advice, I was having great difficulty not overthinking the situation, and during the twenty-minute walk from the office I had managed to create four different hypothetical scenarios in some detail.

  Each one began with Alistair reiterating that he cared deeply for me and that I was constantly on his mind. After that, direction and outcome depended upon my response to his declaration, namely either: (a) letting him down gently; (b) suggesting we go away and think about it; (c) verbally reciprocating his feelings in a modest manner; or (d) snogging his face off.

  I was in no doubt that alcoholic intake would heavily influence which option I plumped for, and I had just decided to restrict myself to one drink and was replaying scenario (b) in my head as my much-preferred response to whatever Alistair might have to say, when he walked in.

  He spotted me immediately and smiled, before gesturing that he was going to get a drink and then come over. I nodded, still a little anxious, but relieved to realise that I felt neither the heartache of our encounter in the Bear, nor the crushing sense of inadequacy I had experienced outside the Hippodrome. And as I watched him thank the barman for his beer and begin to make his way towards me, I realised something else too: that at this moment I didn’t actually find him attractive. In fact, I found myself struggling to recall the last time I had. His smile, face, hair and physique were all unchanged, but they prompted no sense of physical longing in me – or emotional for that matter.

  The realisation came as something of a surprise, and must have registered on my face, because Alistair’s smile faded and he looked at me with concern as he sat down opposite me. ‘Everything OK?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, examining the mousy swept-back hair, slim face and blue eyes and digging deep for any sense of attraction.

  ‘You sure?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, definitely.’ I waved a hand and smiled. ‘My mind just flashed back to work for a moment.’

  He nodded. ‘I have three anxiety flashbacks every evening. As you know,’ he added, picking up his beer. ‘Cheers.’

  ‘Cheers,’ I said, tapping my glass against his. ‘So how is work?’ I asked, still feeling a little thrown and not exactly dreading the conversation becoming more personal, but not feeling quite ready for it either.

  ‘It’s OK. Esther’s back from maternity leave, which makes everything a bit easier. But she opted for a two-day week in the end.’ He shook his head and smiled. ‘She told me she’d actually like to give up work altogether for a couple of years. It’s weird, because I never had her down as someone who’d want to be at home full-time with a child.’

  I nodded, whilst making the obvious comparison between Esther and Kate and feeling my mood selfishly dip at the potential loss of my business partner to motherhood.

  ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ asked Alistair.

  I looked at him and wondered whether I should tell him about Kate. ‘God, yes,’ I smiled. ‘I’m just not quite out of work mode. I probably needed another ten minutes with my cocktail.’

  He laughed. ‘I couldn’t quite believe it when I saw you here, actually. I was sure you wouldn’t make an appearance until quarter past at the earliest.’

  ‘Hmm, well I’ve decided to work on my timekeeping.’ I looked up at him and smiled ruefully. ‘I think my attitude to it has been a little too casual up until now, and I have realised, shamefully late in the day – appropriately enough – how frustrating that might be for other people. I know it drove you mad,’ I added.

  He shook his head. ‘It wouldn’t have been great for us both to be time-obsessed,’ he said affably. ‘One of us needed to stay relaxed, and we never missed a flight, did we?’

  I frowned slightly, remembering all the watch-tapping of the past and surprised by his retrospectively magnanimous acceptance of my inability to keep track of the time.

  He shrugged and smiled. ‘We were yin-yang.’

  Yin-yang? My frown deepened at this ong
oingly positive take on our contrasting personalities. And I couldn’t help wondering whether it was an attitude which Alistair would be able to maintain in a rekindled relationship – or whether he would discover that he could put up with my quirks, as Felix called them, only when he didn’t actually have to.

  ‘So why the change of approach?’ asked Alistair.

  ‘Change of approach?’

  ‘What made you want to improve your timekeeping?’ He smiled encouragingly at me.

  ‘Oh, it was just something Felix said.’

  It hadn’t been a conscious decision to introduce my pretend boyfriend into the conversation, and I immediately regretted mentioning him. I really didn’t want to have to lie to Alistair about the relationship, but I was even less keen to tell him the truth.

  At the mention of Felix’s name, Alistair’s smile faltered and he looked down at his pint. ‘And how is he?’ he asked, his tone predominantly bright but with a definite edge to it.

  ‘He’s well,’ I said, and then, eager to change the subject, added, ‘But tell me more about Esther. She had a little boy, didn’t she?’

  ‘She did. They’ve named him Benedict.’ He didn’t look up. ‘Had you and Felix had a good day when we bumped into you outside the Hippodrome? The weather was great, wasn’t it?’

  I picked up my glass, kicking myself for not anticipating this. If Alistair wanted to revisit our relationship then of course he would want to talk about my current one. The two issues were inextricably linked.

  I sipped my cocktail and then replaced the glass on the table. ‘We were so lucky with the weather. We managed to spend practically the whole time outside in the sunshine. How about you and Naomi? Did you make the most of it?’

  He hesitated for a moment. ‘The restaurant was good,’ he said, now looking up. ‘I’d recommend it. And it was such a surprise to run into you. Dirty Dancing?’ He laughed incredulously. ‘You were good to sit through that.’