Chapter 32
The next morning, Felicity woke up to a text from Harry. He wasn’t sure about the whole signing thing. Felicity refused to panic. As soon as she got into work she went straight to see Andrea.
‘Absolutely not,’ said Andrea, when Felicity had explained exactly how much she needed Harry to be there that day. Though not why, exactly. Besides, surely he’d told her about his alter ego by now.
‘Oh, come on now. Don’t be like that. You know you’re the best person to ask him. You have influence.’ Was there a hint of a flush on Andrea’s cheeks at that?
‘I am not asking him anything of the kind. You want him at this open day of yours, ask him yourself.’
‘I have, but he needs to hear it from you. He just needs to know how much this means to you.’
‘You know I’m not good at all that emotional stuff,’ said Andrea.
‘So, you’re not denying you have influence then.’
‘I am neither confirming nor denying any such thing.’
‘I think you just did,’ said Felicity with a grin.
‘Anyway, what do you want him there for?’
‘Well, because he’s famous. Sort of.’
‘Famous?’ said Andrea. Felicity began to feel a bit light-headed. ‘Famous for what?’
‘Hasn’t he told you? What he does for a living?’
‘He said he was in insurance,’ said Andrea, frowning like a good ’un.
Awkward.
‘Did he now? He told me he was a painter and decorator.’
‘The little whatsit.’
‘He has his reasons, trust me. Go and ask him again.’
‘We haven’t spent much time chatting, if you get my drift,’ said Andrea, with a lascivious wink.
Felicity groaned and ran a hand down her face. ‘Everyone gets your drift. The whole neighbourhood just got your drift. Please. No more drift.’
And you haven’t even read his books yet.
Andrea’s eyes flashed with something distinctly mischievous. ‘Sorry, Felicity. But as your boss I feel I have no choice but to tell you that your father is an astonishingly talented lover.’
There was nothing else for it. Felicity stuck her fingers in her ears like a small child and ran for the exit as fast as she could.
‘Was it something I said?’ yelled Andrea from behind her, grinning from ear to ear.
That very afternoon, Harry texted back to confirm he’d be happy to do the event after all.
He’d even found a few author friends to bring along.
Felicity definitely didn’t want to know how Andrea had persuaded him.
She had to stay focused. There were only a few more weeks to pull this event together and save her beloved Animal Saviours. Exactly how hard could that be?
The following weekend it was time for the Dreaded Hen Do.
Felicity had totally dropped the ball, she knew she had.
This was partly because of everything else that was going on, yes, but also because she was finding the whole Adam and Bex thing so difficult.
It was as if she was paralysed somehow, everything about this wedding seemed like an extraordinary effort.
In the end, after much panicking, Sophie had managed to save the day, pulling a few strings with some of her friends, all of whom seemed to be arty or crafty or sometimes both.
They managed to arrange a pottery workshop for the daytime and a special meal in Bex’s favourite restaurant in the evening and Felicity was fairly sure she’d be happy with that.
She had to be, right? None of them could afford Ibiza or anything crazy expensive like that, and the fact that Adam and his mates were heading to Amsterdam for the weekend was neither here nor there.
‘Is this what we’re doing?’ said Bex in a disappointed voice on Saturday morning when they arrived at the pottery centre.
‘This is the first thing,’ said Felicity confidently, trying to think of what they could do in the afternoon that she could book with one hour’s notice. ‘So just enjoy this first and then you’ll see what’s next.’
Sophie threw her a look, knowing full well there wasn’t anything coming next, but Felicity chose to pretend she hadn’t seen her.
‘I can hardly wait,’ said Bex, and her icy tone sent a shiver of anxiety down Felicity’s spine.
‘Come on, it’ll be fun,’ said Bex’s friend Libby, sitting down eagerly at one of the wheels.
Libby was one of the add-on friends whose details Felicity had managed to wheedle out of Petunia at the last minute, in a humiliating ritual that had involved her praising Bex’s finer qualities for the best part of an hour and swallowing any last dregs of her self-worth.
Even Felicity wasn’t sure she’d go as far as to say “fun”.
She was just wondering whether they’d forgotten about her booking entirely when an extremely handsome man came round the corner dressed in a Great Pottery Throw Down-style apron.
He had dark, wavy hair, smears of white plaster across his forehead and on his sizeable forearms and he was carrying a small Bluetooth speaker. Immediately Bex gave a squeal.
‘Are you the stripper?’ she said, settling herself on a stool in the middle of the room and holding out her hand to him as if she was the Queen. The plastic tiara they’d given her was really coming into its own.
The extremely handsome man huffed a laugh and wiped his hands on his apron.
‘No, ma’am, I’m very sorry but I can’t say we offer that service here.’
He had a dreamy American accent. Things were looking up. Maybe this morning wouldn’t be a total bust.
Bex scoffed. ‘Come now. I know it’s only ten in the morning but there’s no way someone like you could be a potter. Do you want me to start the music for you? Where would you like me to stand? Or am I okay sitting?’
Horror rose in Felicity’s throat as she watched the potter colour slightly and although she knew she should probably step in, something held her back.
Am I awful? Maybe I’m being awful. Do something, Felicity, before it gets any worse.
But before she could do anything, it did in fact get worse. Bex stood up slowly, dark tresses bouncing, dark-red lips pouting, and walked towards him, hips swaying. She put one hand on the tie of his apron where it was done up at the front and pulled.
‘Do you want me to help you get started? Is this right?’ she purred in her most seductive voice, leaning towards him.
The man actually looked quite tempted to kiss her for a moment, before he realised what was happening and started backing away, hastily retying his apron. His voice had risen a couple of octaves.
‘Seriously, ma’am, this is your hen do I know, but we only offer pottery workshops here, I swear.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Lord save me,’ he muttered.
‘Oh. That’s… a shame,’ said Bex, eyes still flashing. ‘Well, why don’t we just see where the day takes us?’ she added, in a voice dripping with honey.
The potter waved his hands. ‘Please. I’m just here for the pottery.’
‘Of course you are,’ said Bex.
‘I am, honest to God. I mean, if you wanted something a bit more… racy,’ said the man cautiously, ‘you maybe ought to speak to your bridesmaids.’
All eyes turned to look at Felicity and her face flushed bright red.
Oh, thanks for that, Mr Pottery Man, great help you are.
Realisation finally dawned and Bex’s beautiful face fell in dismay and flushed purple all at the same time. ‘Sorry, so you’re not actually a stripper?’ She glanced around the room, her gaze resting on Felicity and Sophie, aghast. Felicity’s skin broke out in a cold sweat.
But the man grinned shyly at that, and a dimple appeared in his left cheek. Two of the girls behind Felicity sighed audibly. ‘No, ma’am.’
Bex was still staring at Felicity, her face more a shade of crimson now. ‘Is this a wind-up? Are you trying to embarrass me, Fliss?’
Felicity shook her head firmly and Sophie stepped forwards.
‘I organised this bit, Bex, and I can assure you this is a legitimate pottery centre with no strippers of any kind.’
She waved her hand in the general direction of the pottery throw-down man.
‘But I thank you for the compliment, ma’am,’ he said, throwing Bex a winning smile. ‘I can honestly say that’s never happened to me before.’
There was a long pause while everyone held their breath.
‘I find that hard to believe,’ breathed Bex in her most seductive voice and then laughed. ‘Come on then, let’s get potting or whatever you call it.’
The whole room breathed a sigh of relief.
‘You got it, ma’am.’
Oh, thank the Lord, thought Felicity, who suddenly needed a sit down.