Chapter 31
Even later still, as they all sat back with full bellies, minds racing from the revelations, all three men contemplating each other from across the room, she just came out with it.
‘I went to Guernsey,’ said Felicity, casually.
Tristan and Harry looked at each other, mouths open.
‘When?’ said Tristan.
‘How?’ said Harry.
‘A year ago. By plane. And then again about a week ago, with James,’ said Felicity, heat rushing to her face at the memory of their rather lovely trip. ‘But I suspect you really meant to ask me why.’
‘Yes, you’re right. Why?’ said Harry, studying her face closely.
‘It was quite spontaneous really. I’m not sure why I went. I wanted to… see something, I suppose. I mean, I knew I wanted to see The House again and well, maybe try and find some answers.’
‘And did you?’ said Tristan, sitting forwards on the sofa.
‘How was she?’ said Harry. He meant The House.
‘I sort of did,’ said Felicity. ‘She was in a poorly state, I’m afraid. She’s empty. She’s been empty since we left. It’s up for sale now. So sad.’
‘Le Manoir?’ said Tristan, catching on a bit late.
‘Yes.’
‘Woah. I haven’t thought about that place in a long time.’
‘I’ve always wanted to go back,’ said Harry thoughtfully.
‘We found a donkey in it,’ said James, out of the blue.
Felicity giggled. ‘That’s right, it wasn’t completely empty. There was a donkey in the kitchen.’
‘You’re joking.’
‘I’m serious. We named her Jessica after one James had as a kid.’
‘Jessica?’ snorted Tristan. ‘I hate this trend for giving animals human names.’
‘How did you ever come by a house like that?’ said Felicity, ignoring her brother and turning to look at Harry. ‘It’s incredible.’
Harry’s brow furrowed, and he took a long while to answer. The pause was just beginning to get awkwardly, embarrassingly long when he began to speak.
‘It was my mother’s,’ he said. ‘Jean, her name was. She was born and bred on Guernsey and she always used to tell me that house had been passed down through generations. Over centuries, even, I think. Unfortunately, at some point in the dim and distant past a relative had a few gambling-related issues shall we say? I really don’t know how this was allowed to happen but a loan was taken out against it, and the payments were really high.
The day we had to give it up was the greatest shame of my life. And it was all my fault…’
‘What is it with people mortgaging their properties to the hilt?’ said Felicity, lightly.
But Harry cringed into the sofa and Tristan patted his arm, looking ever so slightly awkward for the first time.
So, he does have feelings.
Harry’s voice cracked as he spoke again. ‘If I’d only stayed. That Christmas, I mean. If I could have stayed for a bit longer we might have found a way to make it work. We might have all stayed together. We might still have that amazing house.’
Felicity nodded but she couldn’t speak. She was having another memory flash.
A familiar one, this time, but it still stung like a bitch.
Felicity’s father standing up from the dinner table and walking out the door.
On Boxing Day of all days. Felicity’s heart went crunch in her chest, as a whole flood of memories hit her like a train.
Tears sprang to her eyes as James reached for her hand.
‘Don’t be silly…’ said Tristan, half-heartedly. ‘I would never have met Pete if we’d stayed on the island and Felicity would never have met her, er, Penguin Man here,’ he said, flashing James his best smile.
James grinned. ‘That’s me,’ he said proudly.
‘And I’d never have acquired all my deep-rooted trust issues, so there’s that,’ said Felicity. It came out more sharply than she had intended, and Harry winced.
‘You’re not even joking, are you?’ he said, softly.
‘Nope. I’ve never managed to trust anyone since. Poor James here is rather long-suffering, shall we say? There’s nothing quite like your father walking out on you to shift your faith in humanity somewhat.’
Harry was staring at the floor. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘I honestly thought you’d be better off without me.’
‘We really weren’t. But, Harry…’ said Felicity, her own voice breaking. ‘We’re not stupid. We know why you left.’
Harry let out a low wail. ‘It doesn’t matter, does it? I abandoned my beautiful children. How could anyone do that?’ He put his head in his hands.
‘It wasn’t… well, I mean, you had your reasons, didn’t you? It’s still really crap, don’t get me wrong. And to not be in touch after all these years, that’s beyond shit. That’s like inexcusable in every sense. But we sort of understand, I suppose you could say. Some of it, at least.’
She exchanged a look with Tristan. There was a moment of silence. Harry raised his head and stared at her from between his fingers, brows knitted together. What colour there had been had dropped from his face.
Felicity swallowed and went on, more softly this time.
‘She was cheating on you, wasn’t she?’
‘What?’ Tristan’s turn to look like he was about to pass out.
‘How did you know that?’ Harry was practically whispering now, his face ashen.
May as well keep going.
‘She was cheating on you with that photographer, wasn’t she? I actually arranged to meet him the first time I went over there, last year. He’s still on the island.’
‘You did what?’ Harry was angry now.
Backtrack, backtrack, backtrack.
‘Erm… forget I said anything.’
Felicity could feel her ears heating up.
‘Well, you’ll bloody have to now, girl,’ said Harry, with feeling.
Dammit. Just say it quick.
‘Bisson. I met him. He’s married now. He lives down the road from Le Manoir. He’s got a lovely dog that likes Fanta.’
Tristan was looking from one to the other, his eyebrows drawn together at the top of his nose. Felicity remembered that look from when they were young. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘but you’re going to have to explain what the hell you are talking about. Did you say Fanta? As in, the drink?’
Felicity shrugged. ‘It was Mum. There was a guy Mum was cheating on Harry with… oof, hold on… I’ll show you.’
Felicity uncurled from the armchair and went to the bedroom to collect the old newspaper clipping she had been given which showed a garden party at their childhood home.
Tristan was still burbling on about fizzy drinks in the space behind her.
When she came back, the burbling had stopped and Tristan and her dad were both staring into space, each one looking like they needed a stiff drink.
‘I think I have some brandy somewhere, if you need it,’ she said, handing them the clipping. ‘Take a look at this.’
Tristan stared at the photo and let out a kind of high-pitched squeak at the sight of The House in all its glory.
Harry, however, was completely silent, his finger running over the picture of Felicity’s mother there, right in the centre of the image, as if he was somehow trying to bring her back to life.
When Felicity finally got to the end of telling them all about her trip, these two strangers-who-were-no-longer-strangers stared at her as if she was an alien from outer space.
‘Please say something.’
No response.
‘Harry? Are you okay?’ said James.
Harry shook himself out of his trance. ‘I need a drink.’
Tristan rolled his eyes. ‘You don’t drink anymore, remember?’
‘I’m beginning to regret that decision.’
‘It was for good reason.’
‘Still.’
It wasn’t your average Saturday evening, that was for sure.
When they finally left, Felicity stared out of her window after them in a daze, James with a comforting arm draped around her shoulder.
Her father and her brother, lit up by a single street lamp, jostling and chatting as they got into Tristan’s car.
Tristan was firing questions at Harry nineteen to the dozen, and Felicity couldn’t help wondering if this was maybe what a proper, “normal” family felt like.
At least, as “normal” as theirs could ever be.
She didn’t have many childhood memories that were worth keeping but for the first time in so many years she had blood relatives around her who she didn’t either entirely hate or want to escape at the first opportunity.
Who, on occasion, she actually quite liked.
Was this how other people felt about their families? A weird mixture of irritation and love? It was a strange but not entirely unpleasant thought.