Chapter Twenty-Two
I told Joe about Nathan while we were in the taxi on our way to Carol and Steve’s that evening.
‘What made me feel bad,’ I said, ‘is that I was more worried about the possibility of us both feeling awkward than actually offering him some tangible help. You know. I could have given him some cash. I could have gone and bought him a hot drink and a meal. I just didn’t know how to do any of those things without making it weird and so I didn’t.
Instead, I gave him a crappy blanket that’ll probably burst into spontaneous flames if someone so much as thinks about flicking a light switch within a four-mile radius of it. ’
‘But it’s something at least,’ said Joe, fiddling with his cuffs.
‘The blanket. And you can always try and help him a bit more going forward, now that you know the situation. You’re not going to be able to solve all his problems in one day, especially when you don’t know the details.
He might have been on his way to meet friends and doss on someone’s floor, you don’t know. ’
‘I feel like I should have found out though.’ I sighed. ‘I could have pressed him for more information. Tried to make sure he was safe at least.’
‘But then he might have resented you for interfering.’
‘I guess. It’s just that he’s only a few years older than Layla.
But maybe you’re right. Maybe he has got somewhere to go.
He’s not – I don’t really know how to say this – he’s not how you’d imagine a homeless person to be.
I mean, he looks a little dishevelled and he does lead Dot around on a piece of string, but I just thought he was a bit bohemian, like that boy in Layla’s sixth form, the one that lived in a commune.
He’s terribly polite and he’s very well read; he’s racing through the classics and quite a lot of contemporary stuff too. ’
‘Probably a bit of escapism,’ said Joe. ‘Whether he’s sofa-surfing at night or not – I can’t imagine it’s much fun for anyone spending most of their day out on the streets this time of year.’
I shivered despite the warmth of the car’s heater system. ‘No, I imagine not.’
‘Anyway, sounds like you had a good time decorating the library,’ Joe said, clearly trying to distract me from poverty, homelessness and the general state of the nation.
‘Yes. It was fun. And Javid sent his daughter, Shannay, round from Kathy’s Cafe with a plate of mince pies. It’s a new recipe he’s trialling. She’s gorgeous, Shannay. I think maybe she’s got her eye on Akil, our Saturday assistant.’
Joe gave me a stern look. ‘Don’t start matchmaking at work just because you can’t do it with Layla. I’ve seen your face light up every time she so much as mentions a boy’s name.’
‘I have no intention of fixing Layla up with anyone,’ I said, hotly.
‘The reason I get excited when she mentions anyone’s name is because I want her to make friends.
Platonic ones. I don’t think a boyfriend would be helpful at this stage at all.
Besides –’ I glanced at my phone to check there were no new messages from my mother or my daughter – ‘I’ve got enough on my plate dealing with Mum and her myriad romantic liaisons.
I don’t need to be mending broken hearts on multiple fronts. ’
‘That’s a good point.’ Joe nodded. ‘Did she hear anything back from the guy who stood her up?’
‘I haven’t mentioned it,’ I said. ‘I’m assuming that she’s just moved on. You know it’s rare for her to let her guard down like that – I don’t think she’d want reminding… Oh, is this their place?’
The taxi had pulled up beside two solid wooden gates set into a high red brick wall.
It didn’t have the most welcoming feel from the exterior but once Joe had announced our arrival through the keypad intercom and the gates had swung open, we were greeted by a Christmas grotto scene of epic proportions.
A shingle pathway leading from the gravel drive was flanked by huge swathes of artificial holly and mistletoe linking the ornamental fir trees.
A family of illuminated static deer were cabled into the flower beds alongside a variety of other glowing neon woodland creatures, and a large inflatable snowman loomed somewhat alarmingly as we approached the house, where the sound of tinny festive tunes drifted from beyond the partially open front door.
We had evidently arrived just behind Felicity and her husband Andrew.
I’d not been introduced to him formally but recognised him from a Facebook post of Felicity’s where he’d been standing on a grass verge, hands on hips as he regarded a badly parked Hyundai.
Steve was letting them in and stuck his head around the door just as he was about to close it.
‘Hi guys! Come in!’ He ushered us inside where I dutifully air kissed Felicity and we all made comments about the outdoor temperature and how although it was chilly wasn’t it a bit warmer than it had been the week before, and could anyone believe we’d had snow in November, and hadn’t it been lovely, but also really quite cold and not practical from a driving point of view unless you had winter tyres, and Steve said it was difficult to get winter tyres for the Lamborghini but luckily they had the Disco.
I asked how having a nightclub helped in times of icy weather conditions, and Andrew had to explain to me that this was short for Land Rover Discovery and that Steve was talking about his four-wheel drive. And oh, how we laughed.
‘I see Carol’s gone all out on the Christmas decorations,’ said Felicity, raising her eyebrows indiscreetly to Andrew, who smirked indiscreetly back at her.
Steve either didn’t notice or didn’t care. ‘You know Carol,’ he said, beaming. ‘That woman loves Christmas!’
‘She sure does,’ said Felicity, shrugging off her coat to reveal a satin smock dress with voluminous sleeves.
I’d gone for black velvet flares and a gold basque top with a little cardigan for dressing it down and an emergency statement necklace in my handbag for dressing it up, as per Farah’s advice.
‘Must crank up the old electricity bill though hey?’ Andrew said as he took a glass of Champagne off the tray that was being held by a nervous-looking boy in a bowtie.
‘I said to Flic as we walked up the drive, I said, the amount of energy used to light up those deer would probably charge the Tesla four times over!’
Felicity turned to me. ‘We like to do our bit for the environment,’ she said. ‘We were one of the first local families to get an electric vehicle – at least, a top-end one. They’ve become a lot more affordable since then, obviously.’
‘Oh yes, my brother’s got one,’ I said, thinking that Felicity’s and my definitions of affordable might not be the same. ‘I think he’s quite pleased with it. Or at least, he was until…’
‘Clean energy,’ she interrupted, pursing her lips and staring meaningfully out of the hallway window towards the neon woodland creatures.
‘It’s very important that everyone does what they can.
I particularly noticed that when we were in Bali last month.
The Balinese are a simple people, very frugal with their resources.
The resort we stayed in had a marvellous infinity pool and the plunge next to it was heated entirely with solar power, although, of course, we spent most of our time in the ocean.
Their beaches are far cleaner than anywhere in Europe.
We refuse to holiday on the continent anymore. ’
‘Other than skiing,’ interjected Andrew.
‘Well, yes,’ Felicity laughed. ‘Obviously we still ski in France if we can’t get to Canada, although you can’t predict with any certainty what the snow’s going to be like anymore, what with global warming. And I do find the French a bit, well, you know.’
‘So, you generally prefer going long-haul,’ I said.
‘Well, we get so many free Air Miles due to Andrew’s job,’ said Felicity. ‘Back and forth to the States all the time. Means we can go Business Class. It’s a shame not to make the most of it.’
I opened my mouth to say something about the carbon footprint of multiple international flights but caught Joe’s eye and closed it again. Instead, I handed my hessian gift bag to Steve. ‘Just some wine,’ I said. ‘Happy Christmas.’
‘Is it organic?’ asked Felicity as we followed Steve through to the enormous sitting room. ‘I’m always very careful as to where any produce is sourced. Particularly if it’s a gift.’
‘Oh, is that why you didn’t bring anything?’ I said innocently. Joe dug me in the ribs.
‘Are you all ready for Christmas then Felicity?’ he said, pleasantly. ‘Are you guys going to be home or maybe off seeing family?’
I left Felicity wittering about something to do with visiting her brother, who was working for an oil company in Saudi, while I made my escape on the pretext of finding Carol.
After politely nudging past various groups of paunchy men in suits who were discussing loud and important things while their wives looked bored, I eventually located her in the kitchen where she was hovering nervously behind a vast tureen of mulled wine that was sitting on the most enormous granite-topped island I’d ever seen, more a continent than an island in terms of land mass.
Her sparkly Santa hat was askew, and she was just refilling her champagne flute from a half-empty bottle on the counter beside her when she spotted me.
‘Hattie!’ she said, sounding a little slurred but also genuinely pleased to see me, which was nice. She gave the tureen a stir. ‘Mulled wine? Or more Champers?’