Chapter 8
Heart pounding, Felicity led Harry along the corridor to the break room and motioned to him to take a seat on one of the crappy white plastic garden chairs covered in cat blankets and dog hair.
She sat down opposite him, her palms sweaty and clammy, wondering how the hell to handle this.
They sat for a few moments in silence, both staring not quite at each other, past each other almost, as if awaiting divine assistance.
‘Ah, you look great. It’s so good to see you, baby girl,’ said her father, eventually, slapping his hands on his knees in emphasis.
Felicity crossed her arms. ‘No. No nicknames. Sorry. Just Felicity is fine, thanks.’
‘Sorry. You’re right. Of course. Felicity.’
‘You and Mum had a lot to answer for with that name. And poor Tristan of course.’
Harry blinked at her. ‘It’s good to see you.’
‘I wish I could say the same.’
‘I appreciate it’s a bit out of the blue.’
‘Are you kidding me? I may look calm but trust me, I’m a human panic attack right now.
Respectfully… What the hell are you doing here?
’ Felicity was seriously contemplating lying on the floor or doing star jumps just for something to do to escape the awkwardness and burn off this burst of nervous energy.
‘Isn’t it obvious? I wanted to see you.’
‘After twenty-seven years, you just decided today was the day?’ said Felicity.
‘Seemed as good a day as any.’
‘Well, it’s not a good day. I’m working. And I have nothing to say to you.’
Felicity’s jaw clenched painfully and she tried to think calm thoughts. Her father sat a little further back in his chair and regarded her thoughtfully.
‘I can’t get over how beautiful you are. You look just like your mother.’
‘Please don’t.’
‘So grown up. And that red hair…’
‘For God’s sake. I am grown up,’ she snapped. ‘Or at least I’m attempting to be. You missed it.’
He flinched as if he’d been struck. ‘Will you at least let me buy you a coffee?’
‘I’m working. I’ve told you that.’
He began to wave his hand dismissively, then caught her expression and seemed to think better of it.
‘This place is important to me,’ said Felicity, answering his unspoken question. And don’t imagine I can just drop everything for you.
‘Fine. How about next Saturday? Just a coffee in town?’
‘I really don’t see what there is to talk about.’
‘Only about twenty years’ worth of your life that I need to catch up on.’
‘Twenty-seven years, actually. And you’re assuming, of course, that I want to tell you anything about my life.’
‘Ouch,’ said Harry, miming clutching at his heart.
‘Ouch indeed.’
They stared at each other for a long moment then, a million unspoken words tumbling and whirling between them in the void. Mercifully, just as Felicity was beginning to hatch an escape plan, there was a noise from the corridor.
‘Felicity? Are you okay?’
It was Charlie, standing in the doorway looking anxiously from Felicity to Harry and back again. She looked up at him pleadingly.
‘Is this man bothering you?’ said Charlie, and he sounded so much like a character from a movie that she suddenly, irrationally, felt the urge to laugh.
His dark hair was flopping over his eyes so much he had to lift his chin to see either of them, like the shy girl in The Incredibles.
But Charlie seemed to think it looked cool and who was Felicity to argue?
It was Harry who spoke first, and his voice was still so unfamiliar to her and yet known, somehow, that the laughter died on her lips.
‘Now look here, son, this is a private conversation.’
‘It’s only private if Felicity says it is,’ said Charlie, fists clenched, his face darkening.
Both men turned to look at her then and Felicity felt like she was having an out-of-body experience. She shifted in her seat. This is insane.
‘It is private, but you can stay, Charlie. This gentleman was just leaving.’
‘Is this your boyfriend or something?’ said Harry, eyebrows raised.
‘That is none of your business. But no. He’s just a friend. A colleague, really.’
‘Er, rude,’ muttered Charlie under his breath.
Felicity stood up, hoping her father would take the hint. He took his time, but eventually, slowly, he got to his feet.
‘How about that coffee then?’ he said, ignoring Charlie, who had drawn himself up to his full height in the doorway (all five feet seven inches of him) as if preparing for gladiatorial combat.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘You’re serious?’
‘We have nothing to say to each other.’
‘I beg to differ.’
To his credit, Harry sounded a bit choked up.
His dark eyes were wide and he had such an earnest expression on his face that she knew any normal human being would be conjuring up some form of feelings, like empathy or something, right now – but all she had was mild irritation. I must be made of stone.
She searched her feelings, but there were none forthcoming. She just felt numb, basically. Was she disassociating right now? Was that it? Was she going to come to her senses halfway down the motorway hard shoulder or something? This was all a bit surreal.
‘Honestly, I just can’t cope with this right now. Please go.’
Her father’s face sagged. He suddenly looked exhausted. ‘Felicity. Sweetheart. Please give me a chance.’
‘No thank you,’ said Felicity, and cringed at how childish she sounded. ‘Thanks for stopping by.’
Now go.
She watched him leave, her body numb, her mind a blank.
‘Who was that guy?’
Felicity edged past Charlie and headed for the toilets, ignoring his question.
She locked herself in a cubicle and tried to slow her breathing to something like a normal rate.
There were still no tears, which was weird.
She had expected tears. I mean, you would, wouldn’t you?
You would cry if your estranged father had turned up at your work out of the blue? Most people would.
But no. There were no tears. Not a single one. In fact, her eyes were dry and tight as if she’d forgotten to blink for several hours. Her chest was tight too, and her breathing was shallow and rapid.
You need to calm down, she told herself but it didn’t help. Herself wouldn’t listen.
Someone tapped tentatively on the cubicle door.
‘Felicity? Are you okay?’
It was Andrea.
‘Charlie said some guy came by and… he’s worried about you.’
‘I’m fine…’
‘Why are you hiding in the toilets then?’
‘Er, I’m not? I just need a minute.’
‘And why does your voice sound like that?’ said Andrea through the door.
‘Like what?’
‘Like you’re being strangled.’
Felicity gave a small cough in response.
‘See? Like that.’
‘I’m fine. Honest. I just need a minute if that’s okay.’
‘Okay…’ said Andrea.
Silence.
‘You’re still there, aren’t you?’ said Felicity, after a beat.
‘Yup. I’ll just wait out here. Take your time.’
‘Thanks.’
And with that, the tears came at last. Big, ugly, snot-filled sobs she just couldn’t keep inside.
So loud they drowned out the sound of Andrea asking if she was okay over and over again through the door until eventually Felicity opened it, fell into her arms and cried her heart out.
When she finally stopped, she wiped her eyes and looked over Andrea’s shoulder in time to see Charlie standing in the corridor outside, his face anguished and helpless.