Chapter 16
Friday night came round faster than she was ready for.
It was a balmy evening and Harry was wearing a pale-green shirt and chinos, making him look a little like he was going on holiday.
As soon as she saw him, her body relaxed, shoulders dropping clear inches.
It was really him. It was her father. She was sure of it now.
Definitely not an axe murderer. She could feel it, somehow, a long-lost thread of connection drifting between them like a gossamer spider’s web. Her heart gave a little lurch.
‘Evening, Felicity,’ he said, a little shyly.
‘Evening,’ she replied, her voice catching.
‘Good evening,’ came a third voice, and there was Andrea hurtling towards them across the gravel.
‘I thought you’d gone home already,’ said Felicity, weakly, even though Andrea had barely acknowledged her presence. She was homing in on Harry, her arms already outstretched.
‘I forgot something,’ said Andrea quickly to Felicity, a fixed smile on her face. And then, louder, ‘Well, helllooooooo. You must be Harry. How delightful to meet you at last.’
As she pulled back from two ridiculously un-Andrea-like air kisses, Harry was openly staring.
‘Erm. Hello. Yes, hello there. And you are…?’ he said, his already deep voice suddenly a semitone deeper.
Andrea giggled, actually giggled, like a small child.
Felicity rolled her eyes. ‘This is Andrea. She’s my boss. She doesn’t normally… I mean she’s not normally…’ Her voice tailed off as she realised neither of them was paying any attention to her at all.
‘Ahem,’ she tried, again.
Harry didn’t even turn his head towards her. He and Andrea were standing, transfixed, as if neither of them had ever seen another human before.
‘Sorry, darling,’ he said eventually. ‘What was that you were saying?’
‘Never mind. And don’t “darling” me. We’re not there yet I’m afraid. Shall we go?’ Felicity felt angry again all of a sudden. Protective, maybe even a little jealous. It was a strange feeling to be having about your own father.
‘Oh yes, right, of course. Lovely to meet you, Andrea,’ he said smoothly. ‘I hope to see you again.’
‘You can count on it,’ said Andrea in her filthiest voice.
‘No, you absolutely won’t,’ said Felicity, escorting Harry away and throwing Andrea a warning look over her shoulder. Andrea simply shrugged as if to say, ‘What?’
Twenty minutes later, Felicity and Harry were in the dismal generic pizza restaurant on the high street, seated either side of a rickety wooden table on two rather uncomfortable stools, in a semi-awkward state of silence.
Felicity sipped at her drink while they waited for their food to arrive, and steeled herself.
Her father had made the effort to see her after all this time. He must have things he wanted to say.
After a few minutes, when he still hadn’t spoken, she tried a little light sighing.
‘Sorry,’ he said, as if reading her mind. ‘I’m just getting my thoughts in order.’
‘Take your time.’
‘Your friend Andrea…’ he began.
‘She’s my boss,’ snapped Felicity.
‘Your boss is…’
‘Don’t say it.’
‘Say what?’
Felicity sighed again. ‘Don’t say that you think she’s surprisingly hot under all that cat hair and fleece.’
Harry lifted his eyebrows. ‘She really is…’
‘But can we not spend our first evening together talking about her? If you don’t mind?’
Harry shifted in his seat. ‘Yes, of course. Sorry. Forgive an old man a little distraction.’ He let out a long breath. ‘It’s so good to see you, Felicity.’
‘It’s good to see you too,’ she said, just stopping herself from saying “Dad” out loud. It was too weird. It was too soon. And she had to remember to be mad.
‘We have so much to catch up on.’
‘Tell me about it,’ said Felicity. ‘Starting with where the hell you’ve been for the last twenty-seven years.’
‘On the south coast. Eastbourne, mainly.’
‘With…?’
Harry bowed his head. ‘With my soon-to-be ex-wife and our two children.’
Felicity nearly spat out her tonic water. ‘I have more brothers? Sisters? What?’ This was not something she’d even considered.
‘One of each. Half-siblings, I guess. Sorry. Maybe I should have led with that.’
‘You think? Woah. This is huge. How old are they?’
‘Eleven and fourteen. Sammy and Zoe. You’d love them.’ A pause. ‘You are going to love them,’ he corrected.
Felicity let this sink in for a moment. Harry had other children. She couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that jolted through her. He’d been there for them. Why couldn’t he have been there for her and Tristan?
‘What else do you want to know?’
Felicity swallowed back the lump in her throat.
‘And what do you do for work?’
‘Um. That’s an interesting question, shall we say?’
Somewhere in the back of her head, an alarm was ringing.
Harry must have seen her face change. ‘Not like that. I’m not on the sick or anything.’
‘I was thinking more criminal activity, actually,’ she said with a chuckle.
Harry pretended to clutch his chest. ‘Ouch. That hurts. No nothing like that either.’
‘What then?’
‘Well, let’s say I’m a painter and decorator by trade.’
A fractured memory of a shabby front door resurfaced. There had been an argument. Her mother storming off. Red paint everywhere. Felicity screwed up her eyes to try and grasp more of the memory but it was just out of reach.
‘You weren’t doing that when we were little, were you?’
Harry’s brows knitted together at that.
‘No, I was a sales rep back then. I retrained about ten years ago. I enjoy it. It’s a bit dull at times, fair enough, but it pays… well, some of the bills at least. This second divorce might bankrupt me though.’
Felicity could feel her palms prickling with sweat.
‘You said she’s a soon-to-be ex-wife? Do you still live together? I’m so sorry it hasn’t worked out.’
Harry hung his head. ‘Got what I deserved, didn’t I? Eileen, her name is. She was a stunner when I met her but she turned out to be an absolute shrew.’
‘D… I mean, Harry. That’s a terrible thing to say.’
Harry turned to look at her, his eyes sparkling. ‘Did you nearly call me Dad just then?’
Felicity huffed an awkward laugh. ‘It just slipped out. Don’t get used to it.’
‘I liked it,’ said Harry.
They smiled at each other for a moment or two. Felicity was the first to look away.
‘I have to ask. Did you become a decorator because of the door?’
Her father’s eyes grew wide. ‘You remember The Door? You must have been just a nipper then.’
‘That explains why I don’t remember much. But I do remember the red paint.’
‘Your mother,’ said Harry, by way of explanation, sighing a little at the mention of her. ‘That’s right, your mother wanted a red front door and I made a total hash of it. She was furious with me for some reason.’
‘I remember that much.’
‘She was always very passionate about everything. She could convince anyone to do anything she wanted. And she wanted a lot of things. The moon on a stick and the sun too. It was frustrating at times but also exhilarating.’
‘And from that one row, you thought you’d change career?’
‘I told you, she could have sold ice to Iceland, that one. We rowed a lot but we always made up.’
‘Gross,’ said Felicity, with a grin.
‘Not like that. I mean, a little bit like that but there was so much more to her.’
‘I wish I’d known more of her, you know, what she was like before… you left?’
‘I hardly dare ask what she was like afterwards,’ he said, almost under his breath. Felicity had to lean in to hear him. ‘I mean, I know things weren’t good, I know that of course, but you were there. You saw it.’
She hadn’t been prepared to talk about her mother yet. Tears sprang to her eyes.
‘She was… damaged,’ she said simply.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Harry.
‘It’s okay,’ said Felicity. But it wasn’t. Not really.