Chapter 49
NINE MONTHS LATER
A year to the day since they first met over a freezing cold kitten.
Christmas Eve, no less, and this year it found them both standing on the doorstep of a very smart Victorian house near the town centre, bags of brightly wrapped presents at their feet. James rang the doorbell again.
‘I may never forgive you for this,’ hissed Felicity, flapping one (dry) penguin wing at him.
James put his own winged arm up to her face and stroked it gently. ‘You look so cute as a giant penguin,’ he said.
She raised an eyebrow.
‘Hot, you look hot as a giant penguin, that’s what I meant to say.’
She giggled. ‘Not as hot as you.’
James did a sort of awkward penguin bow and nearly lost a flipper.
‘Not tonight, of course, tonight you look like something out of Mary Poppins .’
‘Oh, thanks a lot.’
‘No, I just mean, it’s so clean . Last time, you were all filthy and wet and I fancied the penguin suit right off you. Which is weird, given that you were a total stranger, and I was a bit worried you might be a murderer. And, you know, the whole dying kitten thing.’
‘It is weird,’ said James. ‘A bit erotic, but definitely weird.’
At that moment, the door finally opened revealing a tall girl of about eight or nine, dressed as an Easter bunny. She had long dark hair tied in plaits on either side of her pretty round face, and enormous green eyes. Like a young Wednesday from The Addams Family, thought Felicity. But a lot less creepy .
A cloud of warmth and noise came wafting out of the door, wrapping its tendrils around them. Enticing them in.
‘Hi, Uncle James! Hi, er, Penguin Lady,’ she said cheerfully, eyeing Felicity up and down.
So, this was the niece .
‘Thank God, it is fancy dress. I was convinced we’d dressed as giant penguins for nothing,’ said James, pretending to mop his brow in relief.
The girl giggled.
‘Next year it’s going to be fancy dress too. We know how much you like it.’ She said this with a cheeky grin. ‘The question is, are you going to dress as a penguin again?’
‘Hey, that’s a low blow,’ said James.
‘What are you saying? Don’t you like the penguin look?’ said Felicity, doing an awkward flippered-foot twirl.
The little girl/Easter bunny laughed out loud and before Felicity knew what had happened, she was giving Felicity’s foam-padded belly a big hug. The bunny ears tickled her nose.
‘Wow, okay, er, this is Felicity, Harper,’ said James. ‘And Felicity, say hi to my very special – and only – niece, Harper.’
‘Hi, there,’ said Felicity, hugging her as best she could manage with wings for arms. ‘Happy birthday, Harper.’
Harper extricated herself and gave her a huge beaming smile, and Felicity inwardly congratulated herself on her swift work winning over this particular relative. Only the rest of James’ family to go. ‘Why not just meet them all in one night?’ he had said. ‘Get it over with?’ Oh, sure. That was a great plan.
‘Um, Harper?’ said James. ‘Please tell me I didn’t get Easter and Christmas confused again?’
‘What?’
‘Your outfit?’
‘Oh, that.’ She pulled one bunny ear and giggled again, an infectious, tinkling sound. ‘I was bored of being an elf. I’m a Christmas Rabbit of Good Cheer.’
‘Fair play,’ said James. ‘Can we come in?’
Harper stepped back from the door, then abruptly turned and ran down the hall into the house, letting James and Felicity find their own way in.
In the distance they could hear her telling someone excitedly that Uncle James had brought a girl . As they approached the end of the corridor, where they could hear what sounded like roughly a million children having a rave in the living room, Felicity smiled up at her penguin man.
‘Okay, Harper is super cute but I’m still not going to forgive you for this.’
James looked down at her, his blue-grey eyes sparkling, and slipped his arm around her waist, which was rather unfair as Felicity had already been working hard at keeping her face free from he’s with me smugness. His arm was warm and even in these circumstances she felt a thrill of excitement at his presence.
‘You’ll love it when you get going. You’ll see.’
And she did.
The next day – Christmas Day, in fact – it was just them.
Rug on the floor? Check. M&S snacks? Check. Percy Pigs? Check. James and Felicity had decided to start their own Christmas traditions. Later there would be Die Hard , of course. James had even cracked out the John McClane outfit again for her edification. It was a good look. And there would be chess, played on a very fancy new chess set because although they had agreed no presents, they had both broken their own rule.
And tomorrow there would be dinner with Sophie and Bex, Andrea and Javier (newly divorced, surprisingly twinkly and handsome). Even Tristan and his boyfriend (‘Pete, enjoys dogs and baking but not both at the same time’) had promised to make an appearance, although she wasn’t holding her breath. They had all, in spite of themselves, agreed to attend a Christmas do hosted by Felicity, providing she promised not to swear too much or complain about the Christmas telly. Maybe it was just because of the copious amounts of Prosecco on offer.
Bex was not going to be bringing Adam, for obvious reasons, although she was still insisting on going ahead with the wedding. An event which loomed in all their futures like a giant question mark.
For now, there was James and Felicity consuming much beer, and the finest cheese and onion pasties money could buy. Eaten on a pile of Felicity’s beloved cushions, leaning against the comfiest sofa in the world, in their now shared house in Chelsea Gardens. Surrounded by three cats, of course. Yes, that was three. Because you can bet your life that Bobby Charlton was not about to be left behind.
Felicity had grudgingly given up her anti-Christmas playlist although she had insisted on curating the day’s music herself. Bublé, Carey, Richards, they were all banned. She would just about tolerate Wham!. Mainly it was Elvis’ ‘Blue Christmas’ on repeat until James pleaded with her to put on something more cheerful. Finally, they agreed on the Jackson 5 and anything by Crosby or Sinatra. The room filled with the comforting sound of smooth-voiced crooners, interspersed every so often by Michael Jackson’s high-pitched vigour.
Perfect , thought Felicity.
We’ll work on it , thought James.
They had even put up a tree, of sorts. It was more like a large branch, which James had spray painted white. It was wrapped in a solitary string of tinsel and some twinkly lights. It rather spoiled the minimalist look of the room but for some reason, however pathetic it looked, it brought Felicity joy in a way she couldn’t quite explain. She resolved from now on that she would do everything she could to disrupt the minimalist look whenever she could manage.
The tree was also proving fairly cat proof so far, despite the fact that Bobby and Holly had taken to launching themselves at it from the end of the sofa with increasing gusto while Gennie looked on with… what? Envy? Scorn? It was hard to tell with Gennie.
And dinner? Dinner was in the freezer. Two frozen pizzas and two tubs of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.
Perfect , thought James.
We’ll work on it , thought Felicity.
James stroked a finger down Felicity’s neck, and a thrill crackled down her spine at his touch.
‘So, Crazy Cat Lady,’ he said, pulling her close until she was pressed up against him. ‘How do you feel about the C word now then?’
‘Dirty bastard,’ said Felicity, jabbing him with her elbow.
‘Not that kind of C word, you numpty.’ James laughed.
‘Actually…’ said Felicity, holding her beer aloft. ‘Actually, I think this might just be the best C word I’ve ever had.’
And as she said it, she realised she meant it. Genuinely, genuinely meant it. For the first time ever she felt completely safe, completely secure, completely happy.
So, this is what it feels like.
‘Even better than last year?’ said James, looking down at her with lowered lids in that way he had that made her toes curl with delight.
‘I guess I now have two good Christmases in the bank,’ she said, looking up into his eyes. ‘What about you?’
‘I think this is the single best day of my life full stop,’ said James softly. ‘Christmas or otherwise. But if you’re asking me whether I still hate Christmas…?’
Felicity nodded encouragingly.
‘Then I’d have to say I’m coming round to it.’
And he bent and kissed her lightly on the lips.
‘Maybe everyone who hates Christmas is really just waiting for the perfect one?’ replied Felicity, wondering if she might drown in his blue-grey eyes.
He nodded and kissed her again, harder this time. One slightly left-field thought flickered through her mind – I wonder what our children will look like (part ginger ninja, part blond titan)? – before she abandoned herself completely to his embrace.
Her secret news could wait just one more day.
THE END