Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Two days later, Felicity’s friends arrived at her flat for an enforced Christmas party. Which makes it sound like they were invited, but it was rather more complicated than that.
Rebecca (‘Bex’) and Sophie had known Felicity since school and although they knew she had rather strong feelings about Christmas, they were the tiny but resilient remnant who would still try and encourage her into a bit of festivity. Most years, she managed to avoid them during the critical period with excuses about work, but for some reason this year she had finally relented and agreed to a ‘small affair’ at her place providing they didn’t ‘go too mad’.
And tonight was the night. It had come round far too quickly for Felicity’s liking, and she was still knackered from her completely sleep-deprived Christmas at the centre. But, she sighed, with the briefest of glances in the mirror as she quickly ran a brush through her hair and changed her top for one that was slightly less crumpled, there was no going back now.
Bex and Sophie arrived half an hour late as per usual, absolutely laden with huge bags full of fizz and chocolates and leftovers from their own rather more traditional Christmases. Both had donned the most ridiculous festive jumpers and hats they could find, and Felicity could only stand aside as they bustled in like two little Christmas elves and swept up any mess they discovered on the way, fluffing cushions, clearing dirty crockery, and even making her dishevelled bed.
Then they set about making Felicity’s tiny flat a little bit cheerier. They were careful not to call it ‘Christmassy’ as such, but Bex had brought streamers and blown up pink and purple balloons and Sophie had even made a sort of tree for Felicity out of some branches sprayed with white paint and covered in glitter. Sophie was that sort of person. Good At Crafts. Equipped With Glitter.
It was all a bit much, but for some reason Felicity didn’t feel as cross about it as she thought she might. The ‘sort of tree’ was actually quite pretty, once it had pink and purple baubles hanging from its shimmery branches. And the food, she had to admit, was delicious. No roast dinner here, Felicity avoided those whenever she could, but Bex’s home-made turkey curry and rice served with crispy poppadoms went down a treat. Sophie had brought the desserts – chocolate yule log and a very boozy 1970s style trifle, with glacé cherries on top and everything. They had even brought crackers, although both women knew better than to try and make her wear the paper hat.
I suppose , thought Felicity grudgingly, as she finished her second helping of sherry trifle, it’s quite nice to have some company. That was before Bex pulled out her phone and attempted to put Christmas songs on the Bluetooth speaker, anyway, at which point Felicity felt she must intervene.
‘Nope.’
‘What do you mean, nope?’
‘I mean it. Nope. Absolutely not. No Mariah, no Cliff, no Shakin’ Stevens, no bloody Mr Blobby or East 17. None of it. I am playing my playlist, or the party’s over.’
‘Yikes, darling, you seriously need to relax. Have some more bubbles.’
Bex was already pouring more cheap Prosecco into her glass, but she obediently put down her phone and allowed Felicity to put on her favourite anti-Christmas tunes instead. It was Sophie’s turn to roll her eyes as The Eels’ classic ‘Christmas is Going to the Dogs’ began to play but Felicity instantly felt that all was well with the world again.
One festive step at a time .
Later, as Bex and Sophie curled up like bookends on the sofa and Felicity relaxed back into her battered old armchair with the stuffing hanging out, she contemplated telling them about Penguin Man. She had just decided against it on the grounds that a) it wasn’t anything yet, and b) some part of her didn’t want to jinx anything, when good old Bex piped up.
‘So, Felicity darling, what did you get up to for Christmas then, dare I ask? If you even had one in the end?’ She was slurring her words slightly, a half empty glass precariously balanced between her elegant forefingers on the sofa arm, her other hand glued to her iPhone as always.
Felicity took a deep breath, mainly to buy some time.
‘I was working. Andrea was – well, busy, let’s say – so I worked the whole time. I say busy, but what I mean is, she had another date with that guy she met online.’
There was a pause.
‘It was quite eventful this year, though.’
Bex looked up from her phone.
‘Eventful how?’
‘We had to carry out a rescue on Christmas Eve. It was really exciting, actually. There was a tiny little kitten stuck in a ditch near the centre. She was so cold and wet, the poor little thing. I thought she’d died at first.’
Both of her friends were listening intently now. At this, they gasped in unison.
‘She was still alive though, and that meant we had to go back and try and find her mum in the pitch black. That took a while. It was all very dramatic.’
It came out all in a rush.
‘Oh no, that’s awful,’ said Sophie.
‘I know. I thought they’d been abandoned, but I think the mum was just a bit feral, bless her. She must have had the baby in that horrible muddy ditch. God knows how we managed to catch her, she was so scared… but we did, and in the end, we brought her back and reunited them, which was really cute.’
There was another pause.
‘I thought Andrea was off banging that Spaniard?’ This was Bex. Ever tactful.
‘She was,’ said Felicity.
‘But you said “we”. “We had to carry out a rescue”, you said.’
‘It’s just an expression.’
‘You said it a lot of times.’
‘I know, but–’
‘So, you rescued these cats by yourself?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘Someone helped you?’
Felicity shifted in her seat. ‘Er. Yes.’
‘Hold that thought, I’m out of fizz.’
Bex swung her long legs out from underneath her and strolled casually to the kitchen while Felicity desperately tried to think of how she could backtrack. She could tell them another time. It didn’t need to be now. It was no big deal.
Sophie, meanwhile, was studying Felicity’s face from the other end of the sofa.
‘It was a man,’ she said, calmly. Felicity didn’t reply but she could do nothing about the huge smile that arrived on her face without warning.
‘What?’ said Bex, rather too loudly given she was only on the other side of the room.
‘It was a man!’ yelled Sophie.
‘I bloody knew it!’ said Bex, slamming her fist on the melamine kitchen counter in triumph.
Felicity ducked behind a cushion.
‘I don’t know anything about him, really,’ she said, when they had exhausted playing their new favourite game, Twenty Questions about Penguin Man , in record time.
‘You really don’t, do you?’ said Sophie, narrowing her eyes.
‘He’s not a psycho or anything. At least, I don’t think he is. Fair enough, I thought he might be a murderer when he turned up on Christmas Eve banging on the door and I was on my own and everything.’
Sophie’s eyes were nearly closed, they were so narrow now.
‘But obviously he wasn’t. A murderer, that is. He’s nice. At least, I think he is. He seemed like a decent human.’
‘It’s a good job he wasn’t though,’ said Bex, through a mouthful of toffee penny. ‘A murderer, I mean.’
‘You think?’ Sophie shot her a look.
‘He saved a kitten,’ said Felicity, and she could feel her voice rising a little. ‘A tiny little kitten. You should have seen him, he was dressed as a penguin, for a start, and he was all soaking wet and he had no shoes on and yet he didn’t seem to mind coming with me to rescue the mother and… what are you both grinning at?’
‘Wow,’ said Bex.
‘Yup,’ said Sophie.
‘What?’ said Felicity.
‘Your face,’ said Sophie. ‘It’s bright pink.’
‘That’s just the alcohol. Honestly, you two.’
‘Honestly nothing. I can’t remember the last time I saw you gooey over a man.’
Felicity stood up suddenly from her chair. ‘I am NOT gooey,’ she said, one finger in the air, all the alcohol rushing to her head at once.
‘Woah.’
She paused as the room swung around her head once or twice, then seemed to behave.
‘I am NOT gooey,’ she announced for the second time. ‘And I’m going to the toilet. So there.’
Her dramatic exit was hampered somewhat by the fact her armchair had been pulled too close to the coffee table and she had to sort of shuffle along the edge of the chair for a bit before she was free and clear. Sophie and Bex watched her go and as she manoeuvred her way out of the room, she knew they’d be exchanging one of their ‘looks’. Eyebrows raised to the heavens.
‘Well, this is a turn up for the books,’ said Sophie.
‘I heard that,’ said Felicity from the bathroom.
‘If you can hear us, we can hear you,’ replied Sophie.
Felicity couldn’t think of an adequate response to that.
Much later that night, when Sophie had fallen asleep on the sofa, Bex and Felicity chatted quietly – or semi-quietly – across the room.
‘You should ask him out,’ slurred Bex in her best stage whisper.
‘What? No… I can’t!’ whispered Felicity.
‘What have you got to lose? You like him, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do. He’s completely gorgeous.’
‘Well then.’
‘Well then, nothing. He might not even be available. I’m betting he lives in an immaculate mansion in Chelsea Downs or somewhere like that. With a jumbo fridge and one of those barista coffee machines. And a girlfriend called something like Precious or Chanel who only eats egg whites and kale and gets her eyebrows tattooed on.’
Bex giggled and slopped Prosecco over the arm of the chair. She mopped at it feebly with her sleeve.
‘Unlikely.’
‘Look, I’m not in a position to date anyone right now. I never thought I’d meet anyone, working at Saviours, if I’m honest, and that suited me just fine. And it’s not like I have a great history when it comes to relationships.’
‘You can’t hide out here forever,’ said Bex, waving an arm around the tiny flat.
‘I’m not hiding.’ Felicity felt weirdly offended. But also, seen.
‘Sure, whatever you say.’
‘Anyway, he’s bound to turn out to be a psycho in the end, isn’t he? It’s only a matter of time with me.’
‘Anyone ever tell you that you have trust issues?’ said Bex.
‘You do. Regularly.’
‘Well, there we are then.’
‘You don’t count. You know too much. At any rate, we’re both forgetting something crucial. I may well never see him again. This is a big town. I’m a rather small person. I never go out. And I don’t have his number.’
Bex’s mouth formed an O shape which made Tipsy-Felicity giggle.
‘You didn’t get his number? What were you thinking?’
‘I wasn’t thinking. I was flustered. He was so handsome. And tall. Did I mention tall?’
‘But the cats. Won’t he want to visit the cats? He’s bound to want to see how they’re getting on.’
‘He won’t just turn up out of the blue, surely. Who does that? He’s probably forgotten all about us. Or he’s told all his mates about his crazy cat lady Christmas. Had a good laugh.’
‘Oh no. He won’t have done that.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because then he’d have to tell them about the penguin suit.’
‘Fair point.’
Felicity rubbed her eyes. ‘So, what about you? Are you seeing anyone, Miss Know-it-all?’
Bex took a long time to reply. Into the silence, Sophie suddenly let out a Miss-Piggy-style snore and Felicity stifled a giggle. Sophie had never struck her as the snoring type.
‘You know me,’ said Bex, eventually, playing with a strand of her long dark hair. ‘There’s always someone.’
‘That’s no kind of answer.’
‘I know, but there’s not much else I can say right now. It’s complicated for me, too.’
She seemed sad but Felicity put it down to the booze. Bex had drunk an awful lot of Prosecco, even by her standards. She always got maudlin after Prosecco.
‘What about Sophie, then?’ whispered Felicity. ‘They’re doing okay, aren’t they?’
‘Boringly so, yes.’
‘Come now. You’re not jealous surely?’
‘Of Sophie and Marcus? No way. Urgh. It’s a bit too perfect for my liking. All that couples yoga and crafting with the kids. They even make their own Easter eggs, for God’s sake. Who does that?’
‘Ha! There’s no such thing as too perfect. Admit it. If you had their life, you’d be happy as a clam.’
‘I’d be bored senseless. I’d probably have ten men on the go, because, you know, why not?’
Felicity laughed. ‘You’d have ten men on the go now, if you had the time.’
Bex shrugged.
‘At least,’ she said, with a grin.