‘I loved every minute of it,’ I said, trying to remain relaxed but experiencing a creeping tension in my spine. ‘Genuinely.’
He laughed. ‘OK.’
‘Alistair,’ I said, determinedly keeping my tone light, ‘just because you never took me to see a musical doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy one.’
He continued to smile. ‘I said OK. I’m sure you already have your tickets booked for Hairspray.’
‘I didn’t know it was coming to Bristol.’
‘Next March, I believe.’
‘Well thank you for drawing it to my attention.’
‘Pleasure.’
We looked at each other for a moment, neither of us speaking, and as our smiles faded in sync, I decided to cut to the chase.
‘I was quite surprised when you suggested a drink tonight,’ I said quietly. ‘It’s been a long time.’
‘Too long.’ He paused and took a deep breath. ‘I actually thought about calling you the week after Becca’s wedding.’
‘Really?’ I said, surprised by the admission. ‘Any particular reason?’
‘More than one,’ he said hesitantly. ‘But amongst other things, you didn’t seem quite yourself – just not very happy at times. So I wanted to make sure everything was OK.’ He concluded the sentence with a smile, which bordered on apologetic, and a small shrug.
I felt my throat tighten as it suddenly dawned on me that this evening wasn’t about rekindling relationships or revisiting feelings; it was about Alistair checking up on my emotional welfare. I stared at him, unsure whether to feel grateful for his legendary sensitivity or patronised by his belief that he could and should intervene in my personal life. I opted for the latter.
‘I’m not sure you’re in the best position to claim to be worried about what makes me happy, Alistair,’ I said stiffly.
He nodded. ‘I appreciate that,’ he said. ‘But I can’t help caring about you, Dot, whether you think I’ve forfeited that right or not. And after I saw you and Felix outside the Hippodrome, I—’
‘You’ve got a problem with my relationship with Felix?’
‘Have you?’ He looked at me questioningly. ‘Were you OK with the way he behaved towards you at the reception?’
I stared at him, taking a deep breath in an attempt to steady myself before answering. His objective assessment of Felix’s behaviour at the wedding was not unreasonable, and in different circumstances I might have viewed such concern as insightful and well meant. But at this moment, on an evening when I had thought he had invited me here to express his regret that he had ended our relationship, I felt nothing but huge resentment at his attempt to pry into my relationship with Felix and, more significantly, at his implied criticism of Felix himself.
I lowered my drink. ‘Yes, I was OK with it,’ was all I said.
‘I still care about you, Dot.’
‘So you’ve said.’
‘I’m repeating the fact because I’m not sure you believe it,’ he sighed. ‘I thought a lot about whether I should ask you to come out with me tonight, and in the end I had to because I needed to know—’
‘If I was capable of making my own decisions and managing my own relationships post you?’
‘Not at all. I’m only mentioning Felix because he seemed—’
‘Seemed what, Alistair?’ I interrupted a second time, losing patience and unwilling to hear any further criticism, implied or otherwise, of Felix. ‘Hurt? Used? Wronged? Because that’s how he was feeling at Becca’s wedding. I had treated him really badly that day and a less forgiving man might actually have simply buggered off home. But he didn’t. Because he is kind, selfless, cares about me and about my family, and demonstrates all those qualities in a practical way. You would not believe how he has helped and supported me over the past few months, and throughout ten years of growing up for that matter – including, you should know, pretending to have bought those bloody tickets for Dirty Dancing so that I didn’t feel small in front of your small girlfriend. Felix knows me and understands me and he doesn’t want to change me. Things about me which you saw as failings, he values. He makes me feel better and want to be better and I love him very much.’
I stopped talking abruptly, aware that my voice had risen above an acceptable conversational level and that heads were now turning in our direction. Alistair meanwhile was looking shell-shocked.
I picked up my drink and took a gulp. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, keeping my voice low. ‘But Felix isn’t at fault here.’
Alistair nodded. ‘I see,’ he said quietly. ‘I apologise.’
‘I’m sorry I lost my temper,’ I continued. ‘But I can’t help resenting the fact that you, of all people, have invited me here to offer relationship advice; to tell me who, in your opinion, is right or wrong for me. What on earth do you think qualifies you to do that?’
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘And I’m sorry that’s how it seemed to you.’
‘I don’t see how else it could have seemed, Alistair.’
‘Dot, I didn’t come here to offer you advice. I came here to find out if you were happy.’ He paused and shook his head. ‘I’m pleased for you that you are. I misread the situation.’
I stared at the table as we sat in miserable and uncomfortable silence. I had no clue what was going through Alistair’s head, but my own thoughts remained a whirl of anger and resentment that the man sitting opposite me – a man who had dumped me – honestly thought he was best placed to tell me who should or shouldn’t replace him in my life. And his rush to judge Felix was just the icing on the cake. I was desperate to spell out for him exactly how wonderful a friend Felix had been to me, saving me from my own idiocy for over twenty years. Whether it was persuading me against a Sean Dowse tattoo, pushing me home in a shopping trolley or sharing my bed and pretending to be lactose intolerant to save me from an awkward conversation with my mother, Felix had always been, and was again, there for me.
I looked up. ‘I think I should probably go home.’
Alistair nodded but didn’t speak as I climbed off the bar stool and bent down to pick up my bag. ‘Have a good weekend,’ I said, straightening up.
‘You too. Enjoy the party.’
‘Thanks,’ I replied, making to leave before turning and asking, ‘What party?’
‘The party you’re going to tomorrow. You mentioned it earlier,’ he said, staring at his beer.
I frowned. ‘No I didn’t.’
‘Or you mentioned it on the phone,’ he said. ‘Is it a problem?’
‘Of course not. I just don’t remember telling you.’
‘OK. Well enjoy it anyway,’ he said, now turning to look at me. ‘And I’m sorry again,’ he added, ‘if you thought I was interfering.’
‘I know your intentions were good,’ I said quietly, trying to calm down.
He smiled sadly. ‘Debatable.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m not sure,’ he said, shrugging. ‘I’m still thinking it through myself, which isn’t like me, is it? Acting first, thinking later?’
I stared at him, waiting for some further explanation. When he offered none, I hesitated, considering pressing him on the matter and waiting to hear what else he might have to say. But in the end I decided that there was nothing either of us could say which would make the other feel better at that moment. Besides, like Alistair, I had some things to think through, and I couldn’t do that with him sitting opposite me. So after leaning forward to kiss him lightly on the cheek, I slung my bag over my shoulder, turned away and left.
Chapter 24
I considered asking the taxi driver to detour to Kate’s house on the way home from the Cosy Club. It was still early and I felt in desperate need of cheering up. But deciding that in my current mood it would be unfair to crash her sofa evening with Fred, I didn’t bother and instead headed straight home. I would, I decided, microwave a chocolate pudding, pack an overnight bag to take to Cheltenham and then get into my pyjamas and watch something mindless on te
lly in bed until I fell asleep. The alternative, I knew, would be several pointless hours of late-night angst spent running and rerunning the pub conversation with Alistair in my head.
However, as I stepped into the hallway of my flat, wearily closing the front door behind me, my pudding-pack-telly plan was delayed by the arrival of a text from Becca asking if I could call her for a chat when I got home – if I wasn’t too tired. Delighted to hear from her and eager to grasp the opportunity to offload about Alistair, I waited only as long as it took me to dump my bag, kick off my shoes and flop down on the sofa before dialling her number.
‘Hi, Dot! Where are you?’ She sounded immediately upbeat, answering the phone before the second ring.
‘I’m at home – just,’ I replied. ‘You sound excited about something.’
She laughed. ‘I have news.’
‘Ooh! What?’ I asked. ‘A promotion?’
She didn’t reply, and instead I heard Mark saying something in the background and Becca’s muffled reply. A moment later, she was back.
‘Sorry, Dot,’ she said, now sounding subdued. ‘Can I call you in two minutes? Mark has something to tell me and he has to go back to work in a moment.’
‘Poor guy. No problem,’ I said. ‘I’ll go and shove something in the microwave. Call whenever you’re ready.’
‘Great. And sorry again. I’ll call ring you straight back.’
In fact, I had microwaved my pudding, eaten it and was staring into my wardrobe trying to decide what to wear to the party the next evening by the time Becca called back. And when she did, she sounded quietly anxious, in marked contrast to the excitement of her first call.
‘Hi, Dot,’ she began. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine,’ I replied, ‘but what’s happened there? You sounded so happy half an hour ago.’
There was a pause before she spoke. ‘Mark’s been incredibly stupid. We’ve had quite a big row.’
‘You and Mark?’ I blinked in confusion. Neither my sister nor my brother-in-law were confrontational types, and to imagine them having a row with anyone was difficult. To imagine them having a row with each other was impossible. My stomach lurched at the level of misdemeanour Mark would have had to commit for Becca to be angry with him.
‘Oh Becca, what’s he done?’ I asked anxiously. ‘Are you OK?’
‘I’m sorry, Dot, but he’s been talking to Alistair. I didn’t know until just now.’
‘I don’t understand,’ I said, frowning. ‘He talks to Alistair a lot, doesn’t he?’
‘He’s been talking to Alistair about you,’ she explained.
‘Oh, I see,’ I murmured, sitting down on the bed. ‘I’ve just seen Alistair tonight actually.’
‘I know,’ she said quietly. ‘Mark got a text from him about it just as you phoned. That’s why he wanted to talk to me before he went out.’
‘Look, Becca,’ I said, feeling horrible at the thought of my ex updating my brother-in-law on his failed attempt to manage my love life, but at the same time trying to see the situation from Mark’s point of view, ‘Mark can’t help it if Alistair confides in him, can he? Obviously I’d rather he didn’t. But I don’t think it’s something to get cross with Mark about.’
‘I’m cross because Alistair told Mark almost a week ago that he was thinking of calling you and arranging a drink,’ she replied, sounding increasingly strained.
‘And you’re upset that Mark didn’t mention the conversation to you?’
‘I am, yes,’ she replied. ‘Very.’
‘Well please don’t be,’ I sighed. ‘Maybe it slipped his mind. Anyway, it’s not like he knew what Alistair was going to say to me, is it?’
There was silence at the other end of the line.
‘Becca?’
‘Yes, I’m still here.’
I frowned into the phone. ‘Mark didn’t know what Alistair was going to say to me this evening, did he?’
There was a further pause before she spoke again. ‘Alistair told Mark exactly why he wanted to see you, Dot,’ she said eventually. ‘And then he asked Mark whether he thought talking to you was a good idea.’
‘But Mark told him it was a really bad idea, didn’t he?’ I asked, desperate for Mark not to be the complete and utter idiot of the piece. ‘I’m assuming he did but that Alistair just went ahead anyway.’
‘I’m afraid, Dot,’ said Becca hesitantly, ‘that Mark encouraged Alistair to talk to you.’
‘He what?’ I exploded. ‘Why on earth would he do that? Mark knows I’m not going out with Felix! Why would he encourage Alistair to lecture me about a relationship which doesn’t even exist?’
‘I don’t think Alistair—’
‘Oh my God. Mark didn’t tell him the whole Felix thing was a sham, did he?’ I asked, my mind racing through the possibilities in a state of enraged panic. ‘Was this evening some sort of lads’ joke?’
‘Of course it—’
‘I cannot believe I sat through such a shitty conversation, with Alistair in full patronising-agony-uncle mode, giving me advice about a non-existent relationship, only to discover that it was Mark who told him to do it! Mark – who knew that I didn’t even have a bloody boyfriend in the first place! And who also knew that the man Alistair was slagging off was actually doing me a huge favour by pretending to be my boyfriend and …’ I stopped shouting and flopped back on the bed, placing my hand across my eyes. ‘I’m so pissed off, Rebecca,’ I seethed. ‘I never thought I could ever be pissed off with Mark, but I am now. What on earth did he think he was doing?’
‘Dot, I think that maybe—’
‘I tell you, it’s a good job he’s gone to work, because otherwise I’d make you hand over the phone. I’d love to talk to him, I really would.’
My sister now remained silent, not unreasonably having given up trying to get a word in edgeways.
I lay on the bed, eyes closed, phone to my ear, trying to make sense of what Becca was telling me. But I could find no explanation for Mark telling Alistair to go ahead and share his thoughts on Felix which would make it possible for me to forgive my brother-in-law any time soon.
‘I don’t know why he would put me through that,’ I said quietly. ‘Unless he thought it was funny,’ I added.
‘Of course he didn’t think it was funny, Dot,’ said Becca gently. ‘Mark loves you to bits. You know that. Can I just explain what happened?’
‘This has to be my crappiest evening in a long time,’ I said miserably.
‘I can appreciate that, but will you just listen for a moment?’
‘Go on,’ I said sulkily.
She hesitated briefly, but when she did speak, her words were clear and rapid. ‘Alistair and Mark met up last Saturday for a drink. While they were out, Alistair told Mark that he’d split up with Naomi. Apparently he was never that sure about her, which was one of the reasons he came alone to the wedding. He said he missed you a lot and had realised that although you were two very different people, he needed a counterbalance to his own personality. Then he asked Mark whether he thought things were serious with Felix, to which Mark obviously said no. Alistair also asked whether he thought you ever missed him, to which Mark, rightly or wrongly, said yes, he thought that you did. Mark then encouraged Alistair to tell you how he felt – to talk things through with you – which he has done, or has tried to do. Disastrously. I was furious with Mark for not telling me all this earlier, but, Dot, he thought he was helping.’
I remained motionless, my eyebrows knitted and my mouth slightly ajar, as I tried to absorb what Becca had said, and to reconsider my conversation with Alistair in the light of the new information she had just provided.
What I actually achieved was a period of intellectual chaos, followed by an inability to feel or think anything at all. I preferred the latter.
‘Dot?’ said Becca. ‘Are you still there?’
‘My head hurts and I can’t think about it,’ I murmured.
‘Well I’d rather not hang up till you
do.’
‘It’s all a mess. A confusing mess.’
‘Just try to break it down and focus on one aspect of it at a time,’ she suggested, suddenly in teacher mode. ‘For example, would it have changed the evening if you’d known that what Alistair actually wanted to discuss was getting back together?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘It’s an important question, Dot,’ she said, sounding as close to stern as she ever could.
I sighed and, with my hand still covering my eyes, tried to think. ‘If I’d known Alistair had wanted to get back together, I still would have defended Felix,’ I said quietly. ‘I still would have got cross.’
There was a pause before Becca spoke again. ‘And would you still have told Alistair that you loved Felix?’
I removed my hand and opened my eyes. ‘Did I tell him that?’
‘That’s what he told Mark.’
I thought back to the conversation. ‘Maybe he’s right. Maybe I did.’
‘Well, from what Alistair said to Mark, it’s clear that he thinks that you’re very committed to a relationship with Felix.’
I reclosed my eyes, feeling no less confused for all Becca’s attempts to help me clarify things. ‘Right.’
‘Dot, I think the important thing is whether, now that you know Alistair’s feelings, you regret that he thinks you’re happily dating Felix and that there is no future for the two of you. If that is the case, then it’s something to sort out.’
I thought about it for a moment. ‘Right now, I do not want a relationship with Alistair,’ I said firmly. ‘And I can’t think of anything short of a time machine that would change that.’
‘OK.’
She didn’t say anything more, and after a moment I spoke again. ‘You should call Mark, Becca. And I’m sorry for ranting. I wish he’d told you about speaking to Alistair, but I don’t think he really did anything wrong.’
‘He said he had no idea Alistair planned to see you so soon,’ said Becca with a sigh. ‘Apparently he spoke to Mark yesterday about a golf day and asked after you in passing, but he didn’t mention anything about going out for a drink tonight. Mark said he told Alistair about the birthday party in Cheltenham tomorrow, but he also said that he thought things between you and Felix were very low-key. He was trying to be as honest with Alistair as he possibly could be without dropping you in it. He didn’t mean to mess things up for you; he thought he was doing a good thing. He’d intended to tell me about it, but …’ She hesitated before continuing. ‘Well, there’s just been a lot going on here and other things took over.’
Finding Felix Page 17
