Chapter 13
Aweek later and she still hadn’t called Harry. But something had shifted, that was for sure.
Felicity had gone from shamelessly sending her father away to desperately wanting to see him.
She had no idea how it had happened. She had just that one conversation and her dim and distant memories to base an entire man on.
There was not a jot of further information – except for a very ordinary-sounding address in Eastbourne – and before that all she knew was that he’d abandoned her shamelessly, leaving her with a mother who was next to useless, and a brother who seemed to have inherited the selfish abandoner gene.
It was a miracle that Felicity had even made it to adulthood at all. And yet.
And yet there was this pull, like gravity. Call him. Call him. Call him.
She bit her lip one more time, then picked up her phone from the arm of the sofa and scrolled to Harry’s name.
Come on then.
‘Go on then,’ said James, giving her a nudge, as if he knew instinctively what she was about to do. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’
‘No. Stay. Please.’
He sat back down beside her and put a hand on her knee. Felicity shut her eyes tight and tapped the button, moving the phone up to her ear. Then hastily took it away again and pressed the big red button.
‘I can’t bloody do it.’
‘You can.’
‘What if he answers?’
‘That’s kind of the point of a phone.’
‘Dammit,’ said Felicity, heart thumping big style now.
She tapped the green button twice and it picked up the last call. Felicity held the phone against her ear and prayed, but she wasn’t sure if she was praying for him to answer or praying that he wouldn’t.
‘It’s ringing, shush.’ Felicity felt a bit sick.
‘I didn’t say anything,’ said James, in a stage whisper.
And then, just like that…
‘Hello?’ came a voice.
‘Hello, is that… is that Harry?’
‘Felicity? Is that you?’
‘Yes, yes, it’s me.’
Harry let out a long breath. ‘Oh, thank God. It’s you.’
‘Yes. It’s me.’
‘You found me.’
‘I did.’
In the background, Felicity could hear muffled voices.
Talking. Laughing. And music, playing softly, vaguely familiar.
Old school Beatles or similar. Her mother had always loved to play rock and roll.
Felicity wondered what Harry’s “other” family was like.
She felt strangely jealous all of a sudden.
Harry cleared his throat. ‘I don’t know how you found me, Felicity, but I’m bloody glad you did. I felt like such an idiot for not leaving my number but you seemed so… mad. You were so cross. I didn’t think you would ever want to talk to me again.’
Felicity swallowed back tears. ‘I am cross. Of course I’m cross.’
‘Of course you are.’ Harry sounded crestfallen.
‘I will probably always be cross with you. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to talk to you. I do. I really do. I’m so sorry.’
There was a long pause, following by a deep sigh.
‘You have nothing to be sorry for, do you hear me?’
The tears were flowing now and Felicity could barely speak. James slipped an arm around her shoulders, which only made her cry harder.
‘Please… can I see you?’ she managed. Another pause. She looked down and saw she’d unknowingly ripped the tissue James had handed her into a thousand tiny pieces. Her lap was full of confetti. She heard a sniffing sound from the other end of the line, then some frantic throat-clearing.
‘Of course. You can see me whenever you want.’
‘Okay.’
‘Okay.’
His voice changed. She could hear his smile and it was like the sun coming out.
‘Are you working on Friday? Maybe I can meet you after work and take you for dinner?’ He paused. ‘Is that too much? Say if it’s too much.’
Felicity exhaled. ‘That sounds lovely. I finish at five.’
‘Perfect. I’ll be there then.’
‘Perfect.’
‘Bye, Felicity.’
‘Bye.’
‘See you Friday.’
‘Will do.’
‘Bye.’
‘Bye.’
The line went dead.
There was a long silence. Then Felicity let out a noise that was half gasp, half giggle. She wiped at her cheeks as elation washed over her.
‘That was my dad,’ she said, voice wobbling.
James gave her arm a squeeze. ‘That was your dad.’
‘He’s coming to take me out for dinner.’
‘Brilliant. Proud of you.’
‘Thank you for being here,’ said Felicity, her voice raspy in her throat. And then, ‘Buggeration.’
‘What? What happened?’ said James.
A wave of panic washed down Felicity’s spine. ‘Shouldn’t I have asked him twenty questions or something? You know, to prove he really is who he says he is? What if this is all some kind of scam.’
She cast her eyes around wildly as if looking for a hidden camera. Tissue confetti fluttered to the floor.
‘But I thought you said you recognised him,’ said James calmly.
‘I thought I did, but I was only six, right? I mean, I have these vague memories all jumbled up in my head but I don’t really know, do I? He could be any old bloke. He could be an axe murderer, come to prey on me in my vulnerable state.’
‘It’s just dinner,’ said James. ‘Relax. If you like I can come?’
‘Thanks, but I think I have to do this alone.’