Chapter 30
Three days later, they were no nearer to finding a celebrity or even anyone who had any links they could shamelessly exploit. Now it was more like what kind of minor C-list barely-a-celebrity would be available at such short notice.
They invited Harry and Tristan over for dinner the next day, hoping that some of the delicious Thai takeaway from down the road would be enough to butter them both up so they could ask them if they knew anyone. They only needed one of them to come good, after all.
‘So, Harry. I need to ask a favour,’ said Felicity when they were almost through the soup course.
She was warming to this man, slowly. She couldn’t think of him as her father quite yet, but if she didn’t think about The Day When He Walked Out she could pretend he was just a new friend she’d made and that was sort of okay-ish.
‘Name it,’ said Harry, slurping his tom yum happily.
‘And remember before you answer, please, that you are banging my boss and I’m allowing that to happen right in front of my eyes, more or less…’
‘Gross,’ said Tristan.
‘Indeed,’ said James.
‘So you owe me. I’m serious.’
Harry nodded, his mouth now full of prawn wonton. ‘I do owe you,’ he mumbled.
‘Yes, you do,’ she said primly.
‘So…?’
‘So I was wondering if you happen to know anybody famous? For the open day. We were trying to think of a celebrity or an influencer we could invite along, you know, to get the numbers up, rally the troops to donate, maybe even get the press along.’
‘This bloody open day,’ said Harry, but he was smiling as he said it.
‘I love that you’re not asking me,’ drawled Tristan. ‘Theatre types not good enough for you, eh?’
‘Look, you’re an amazing director… er, I’m sure.
’ Felicity’s words caught in her throat as she realised she still hadn’t been to see one of her brother’s rather worthy and overly long plays.
She made a mental note to sort that out at some point.
‘But we need someone a bit more well-known, I’m sorry. ’
Tristan threw his father a look.
‘Well, if it’s well-known you want…’ he said, nodding in Harry’s direction.
‘What are you talking about?’ said Felicity. And then, to her father as hope rose in her chest, ‘Do you know someone, Harry? Are you holding out on us?’
‘In a manner of speaking…’ said Harry.
‘In which manner of speaking?’ replied James.
Harry gave a long sigh and then threw Felicity a slightly pained expression.
‘What is it? Is it your ex-wife or something? Please don’t tell me she makes a living from YouTubing her car interior or something inane like that?’
Harry smiled enigmatically. ‘No, it’s not her…’
‘Who then?’
He raised a chopstick.
‘Well, if you must know,’ said Harry, ‘it’s me.’
Tristan nodded firmly. ‘It’s him.’
‘What?’ said James.
‘You’re famous?’ said Felicity, her chopsticks hitting the table with a clatter.
‘In a manner of speaking,’ he repeated, still with that mysterious smile.
‘In what manner?’ said James again, exasperated.
‘It’s complicated,’ said Harry.
‘It always is,’ said Felicity.
As they dug into the main course, Harry explained. Or tried to, at least.
‘I wasn’t entirely honest about the painter-decorator thing,’ he said.
‘So you lied to me on our first meet-up? Is that what you’re saying?’ said Felicity. Her blood was thrumming in her ears. What on earth was he going to say next?
‘He does do that, sometimes,’ said Tristan. ‘He did my lounge a while back. Very nice job too.’
‘Can we get on with it?’ said James. ‘I would like to make it to dessert without any violence.’
‘The truth is,’ said Harry, ‘I’m an author.’
‘An author?’ said Felicity automatically, her mind still whirring.
A slow flush crept up Harry’s face.
‘A bloody good one too,’ said Tristan, proudly. It was the nicest thing she’d ever heard Tristan say about, well, anything.
Harry cleared his throat. ‘Yes, I just wrote a couple of books, and it turns out they’re very popular in the States… and…’
‘WHAT? That’s amazing. Wow.’
‘Legend,’ said James.
‘Yes, well, I know. I wrote one about the history of rock and roll which went down well, and then I thought I’d have a go at something a bit different.’
‘Just you wait for this,’ said Tristan, eyebrows raised.
Felicity’s thoughts were racing at a million miles an hour. ‘But when I googled you, nothing came up. You’re a ghost online. How can you have a successful book and also be a ghost?’ Even as she asked the question the answer arrived in her mind. ‘Oh. Of course. Silly me. You wrote it anonymously.’
Harry nodded. Despite his obvious discomfort, he was blushing.
‘I wrote it, under a pseudonym, yes. My author name is… no, I don’t want to say.’
‘You bloody have to now,’ squealed Felicity, phone in hand, prepared to google for England. James raised his to the ceiling, ready to race her to it. ‘It’s not “Barry Hooks”, is it? That would be funny.’
Harry barked out a laugh but also looked like he was about to cry for some bizarre reason. ‘Not that cheesy I promise. But you’re not that far off. I called myself “Diana Edwards” and the Yanks, you know, they just lapped that up.’
That was all it took. Felicity and James immediately began tapping furiously at their phones. James won by a nose, and passed his phone to Felicity with a guffaw.
‘Oh, bloody hell. Oh, my goodness. There you are.’ She was staring down in pure disbelief at a shoddy-looking red-and-black cover featuring a scantily-clad woman and a half-naked and very oily-looking man, and the title The Minx.
Felicity could feel the blood rushing in her ears and resisted the urge to get up and walk around the room.
‘You think you know a person,’ she said.
Harry laughed. ‘Sorry. That was a bit of a bombshell, wasn’t it? That’s not me on the cover, by the way. Just my name.’
‘I worked that much out.’ Felicity shrugged. ‘You write… romance? Very spicy romance, from the look of that cover. Wow. Maybe you and Andrea would be perfect for each other.’
Harry shifted uncomfortably, his lined face flushing slightly.
‘I didn’t mean to. It was a kind of accident.
I was doing this writing course and they recommended trying to write in a totally different style from your default, pushing boundaries and all that, and, I don’t know how to explain it but for a bit of a laugh I tried writing a sex scene from a woman’s point of view and I really enjoyed it. ’
James guffawed. ‘I bet you did.’
Harry rubbed the back of his neck. ‘God almighty. This is not something I ever thought I’d be discussing with my daughter and her… well, whatever you are, can I just say?’
‘Clearly,’ said James. ‘And also, hey, I’m her… er…’
‘He’s mine,’ said Felicity, quickly.
Tristan’s eyebrows were now the highest anyone’s eyebrows had ever been.
Harry went on, looking more and more uncomfortable. ‘I loved trying to write as a woman. It was cathartic in some ways, after… everything that happened.’
Felicity frowned. ‘So why not just own it? Write under your own name?’
‘Do you know how few male romance authors there are out there writing proper spice? There’s one or two of course, but mostly the men all use a pseudonym.
There’s something a bit creepy about it being a man, or at least some people might think so.
Anyway, I changed the name on the cover and stuck it on “the book site”, not thinking anything would come of it.
It didn’t do anything for a long time and then, I don’t know, it just started to take off.
It’s still my biggest seller even all these years later. ’
Felicity’s finger hovered for only a split-second over the “buy now” button. ‘This I have to read,’ she said.
‘I can get you a copy for free,’ said Harry. ‘You don’t need to order it, love. I have hundreds.’
‘He really does,’ said Tristan, rolling his eyes dramatically.
‘Too late,’ said Felicity, with a smile.
‘So how does any of this help us?’ said James, when they’d retired to the lounge for brandy and cigars aka coffee and cake. ‘You said it was anonymous.’
‘Well, that’s the thing,’ said Tristan, leaning back in his chair. ‘Harry’s not famous but Diana Edwards certainly is. She has quite the following, shall we say?’
Felicity squealed. ‘This is amazing.’
James waved his chopsticks as if he was signing his name in the air. ‘Ah, I see. So, you come along to the open day and do a signing as Diana Edwards? Or at least, we’ll advertise that it’s her coming along and then it’ll be you, not her. If that makes sense.’
‘They want you to come out, basically,’ drawled Tristan, clearly highly amused by the whole situation.
‘I got that, thanks, son,’ said Harry. He was still smiling but his eyes were lost in thought.
‘Is it a terrible idea?’ said Felicity at last.
‘What? No, oh no, no, not at all,’ said Harry. ‘It’s just, I’ve never been asked properly to do that before. And it would be in front of you guys.’
‘No one’s asking you to go on in drag, Father,’ said Tristan, shifting in his seat and picking at the icing on the chocolate fudge cake Felicity had hastily bought after her own attempt went spectacularly wrong.
‘That would be a good wheeze though,’ said James.
‘Trust me, no one wants to see these legs on display,’ said Harry with a laugh.
‘So you’ll do it?’
‘Fine, fine. I’ll think about it.’
‘Oh my gosh, that would be perfect,’ said Felicity, excitement bubbling in her throat. ‘Can’t wait to get started.’
‘Planning committee, assemble,’ said James, raising a chopstick like an imaginary sword and pointing it above his head.
‘Assemble,’ said Felicity, joining hers to his over their heads. They glanced at Tristan and Harry, who then felt compelled to join in.
‘Assemble,’ roared Harry, who seemed to be quite excited even though he kept reminding them that he’d just said he’d think about it.
‘Whatever,’ said Tristan, holding his chopstick at half-mast.
‘You love it,’ Felicity said, laughing.
‘He does,’ said Harry, leaning forwards. ‘Your brother used to practise being the Marvel characters in the shower. Very loudly, if I recall.’
Tristan made a noise somewhere between a guffaw and a scream. ‘Nonsense. For God’s sake, Dad, that cannot possibly be true.’
‘It is, I’m afraid.’
Tristan crossed his arms. ‘And here I thought you were a good one.’
‘Good ones tell the truth.’
‘Details, details,’ said Tristan, but his arms remained crossed.
Listening to them talk, Felicity felt a pang of jealousy.
The easy way they interacted was something she didn’t know if she would ever have.
That knowledge, that intimacy. That is what families are, mostly, when it comes down to it.
Those shared expressions, the shared history, the experiences you have together during childhood that form and shape you, and not only you but also those around you.
It was all permanently out of her reach now.
She could never go back and reshape those years.
She didn’t even know her father was a bestselling author.
She didn’t know he had a garage full of unsold books.
She had so much to catch up on, so much she had missed, it was almost an insurmountable task. And it was all his fault.
A memory stung her eyes. Thirteen-year-old Tristan, packing a little suitcase, two bright-red spots on his cheeks clashing with his ginger hair, his jaw set in a tight line.
Right when Jocelyn, their mother, had hit rock bottom, drinking all day every day and barely even acknowledging the children anymore, right when Felicity needed him most, Tristan had chosen to leave them both behind, and track down Harry.
Felicity wondered now if he thought he was being brave.
Perhaps he was channelling his inner Iron Man or the Hulk.
Embarking on an adventure halfway across the country and seemingly oblivious to the devastation he was leaving behind him.
Or, she thought a little bitterly, perhaps that’s precisely why he left.