Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
When they finally emerged from the flat, blinking in the sunshine and desperately in need of sustenance, it was practically lunchtime. Thankfully, ‘Officer McClane’ had brought along a change of clothes and was now dressed in a blue and white checked shirt and jeans, as if the whole dressing up as an 80s classic movie character thing had simply been a figment of her imagination.
The memories, though, were very real.
‘Come on, I know just the place,’ said James, and they jumped in a cab and ended up in a part of town Felicity had never been to before. It was leafy and quiet and, as they finished a ridiculously posh pie and chips lunch in a high-end pub called the Coach and Horses, something clicked into place.
‘This is where you live,’ said Felicity.
‘Yes,’ said James, with a gesture almost of apology.
‘Is that why you didn’t want to tell me? Because you live in Chelsea Downs?’
James winced at the nickname. The area was called Chancery Downs and, well, the nickname was not exactly intended to be complimentary.
‘I don’t drive a Range Rover, if that helps,’ he said with a shrug.
‘Very glad to hear it,’ said Felicity. ‘So, what do you drive?’ You can tell a lot about a man by the car he drives. That’s what Bex always says. Not that her judgement could really be trusted anymore.
‘You’ll see for yourself in a minute,’ said James, thanking the waitress on the way out in a way that made Felicity feel inexplicably proud to be walking next to him.
She felt even prouder when he led her along the street to an enormous 1950s house with a huge bay window and modern sage-coloured windows. There was a vintage Mustang and a brand-new shiny Tesla in the driveway.
‘Yes, I’m a hypocrite,’ he said with a grin, gesturing at the cars. ‘I only use the naughty petrol one when I really need to let off steam.’
Felicity nodded. It was so pretty she could see why. Red high shine polish with a white go-faster stripe. Like something out of a movie.
But it was when he opened the door of the house that she was completely blown away.
It was renovated on the inside to within an inch of its life, all wooden floors and modern, slightly uncomfortable-looking furniture – except, she was pleased to see, for the large and very squishy sofa in the living area. Felicity decided that from now on, she would always judge a man on his choice of sofa instead. It was as good a way as any, after all.
The kitchen area – for the ground floor was almost entirely open-plan – was grey marble with hand-crafted kitchen cabinets. The obligatory island in the middle had a very large, very expensive-looking hob built in. All the surfaces were clutter-free and sparkling clean.
‘That’s the dream,’ said Felicity, before she could stop herself. ‘Look at that island! And it’s all so… clean! So neat!’
‘Don’t look too closely.’ James coughed, looking embarrassed.
‘I hadn’t picked you for a neat freak,’ said Felicity, head on one side.
‘I’m more of a right angle tidier, if you get my drift.’
Felicity nodded. She did.
‘I just go around adjusting angles and hiding things in cupboards. The rest… that’s all courtesy of my lovely cleaner, Lorraine.’
‘You have a cleaner. Oh my goodness I’m so jealous. But also, how very 1950s of you.’
James laughed. ‘It is rather. I don’t usually admit to it in public. It seems morally questionable somehow. But the simple truth is that this house would be in a state of disrepair by now without her. She’s completely amazing. And I just don’t get time to do any of it.’
Felicity raised an eyebrow.
‘Okay, I don’t get much time to do any of it. And when I do get free time… well I prefer to volunteer at cat sanctuaries and suchlike.’
‘Maybe it’s time you told me what you actually do for a living,’ she said, conscious she was smiling like an absolute idiot.
James sighed. ‘Come with me.’
Penguin Man opened a door at the top of the stairs, revealing a bank of computer screens in front of a huge black desk. Yet another thing in James’ house that resembled a movie set. In one corner stood a large Ficus in a black and silver plant pot and there was an expensive-looking black leather chaise longue in front of the window.
Hattie could do with one of those .
‘Well, this is a very fancy office,’ said Felicity, immediately heading over to test the chaise longue. ‘It’s the sort of office James Bond would probably have, I imagine. You know, if he was real.’
‘Okay, so the whole James Bond thing… it’s not a million miles away.’
‘It’s not?’
‘Not a million miles. But don’t get too excited, remember?’
‘I promise.’
Too late.
James paused.
‘Are you going to tell me then, or what?’
‘I work for GCHQ,’ said James, with a shrug of surrender.
‘You are a spy! I knew it!’
‘Ha, no, sadly, nothing as exciting as that. I’m a software engineer. I work in their cyber security division. And that’s pretty much all I can tell you.’
‘Official Secrets Act?’ said Felicity, leaning back against the upright section of the chaise in what she hoped was a knowing manner. Bex had worked for the Cabinet Office in London for a while, and she’d had to jump through all kinds of security hoops.
Bloody Bex.
James nodded. ‘That’s just the start of it.’
‘Wow. It’s like the geekiest job ever. No wonder you were a bit secretive about it.’
‘Was I? I like to think I was being mysterious.’
Felicity raised an eyebrow. He was a civil servant, essentially. All the computer screens made her think of 24 with Jack Bauer even though she knew he wasn’t that kind of government agent. Disappointingly.
And then a thought struck her. A somewhat worrying thought.
‘James,’ she said slowly.
‘Yes?’
‘I hate to mention Adam after, well, the day we’ve had.’ James raised an eyebrow at that. ‘But when you said he came to your office…?’
‘Okay, I fibbed. He didn’t come to my office. How could he? Unless he’s a spy too, of course.’
Felicity laughed a little nervously. Not only had he omitted to mention this Olivia person he’d been seeing, but now he’d lied to her. For the first time that she was aware of, anyway. It wasn’t a good feeling.
‘So, I know I’m going to regret asking this question…?’
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that he came to the office, but I didn’t want to worry you.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Felicity, palms prickling.
James sighed and dropped down onto the chaise beside her.
‘He tracked me down. I don’t know how. He had got hold of my number and he called me. Asked me to go for a drink. And that’s when he asked me – begged me, really – not to see you anymore.’
‘And that’s why you didn’t come on that Saturday?’
James nodded slowly, a crinkle appearing between his eyes. ‘I’m sorry, I know I completely messed up there, but I was trying to do the right thing. By you. By him. How was I to know how you felt? He made it sound so convincing. Like I’d be interfering with the love of the century or something.’
Felicity flinched at the word.
‘You should have told me,’ she said levelly, giving his shoulder a nudge. ‘But I can understand why you didn’t.’
James looked relieved.
He looked even more relieved when she told him all about Bex and Adam.
‘Woah. I did not see that coming,’ said James.
‘Neither did I. And I’ve known them both for years. Does that make me a bad friend?’
‘Not at all. We see what we want to see, I guess.’
‘They were bloody sleeping together, and I didn’t notice. I’d say that’s pretty bad on my part.’
‘Well then… she’s not exactly friend of the year, is she?’
Felicity giggled. ‘No, I suppose not.’
‘So, what happens now? Do you intervene or leave them to it?’
Good question.
Felicity thought for a long moment.
‘She thinks it’ll make her happy. She says she knows all about how weird he’s been with me lately and she reckons she’s okay with it. That she’d rather have him like this than not at all. I know she’s almost certainly going to get hurt but then she’s already been causing herself so much pain over it – maybe this will be a step up?’
‘Maybe. Or a car crash.’
‘There is that.’
‘But it might be the next big romance, who knows?’
‘I have no idea. I need to talk to her but not just yet.’
James nodded.
‘Anyway, in other news… I have one more question. And it’s rather important, I’m afraid.’
‘Go on,’ he said, a smile playing around his lips.
‘What do I call you, exactly? I mean, do you have like a 00 number or something? Your name is James after all. It’s not James Bond… is it?! I just realised I don’t even know your bloody surname.’
‘God, can you imagine if it was James Bond? That would be beyond cool.’ He laughed, pulling her towards him. ‘It’s James Taylor.’
She shot him a look.
‘I’m kidding. It’s James Cowley. But you can just call me James. Or Penguin Man. Or Officer McClane. I liked it when you called me that.’
He drew her into his arms and kissed her hungrily. As she pulled him down onto the chaise longue beside her, Felicity wondered for the umpteenth time if this was all an elaborate dream she was about to wake up from.