Finding Felix Read online

  Finding Felix

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  Also by Jo Platt

  Copyright

  Finding Felix

  Jo Platt

  Friday 17 September 1999

  I shoved the last bit of pasty into my mouth, tossed the bag into the litter bin at the end of the bench and checked my watch. It was almost seven, and we’d agreed to meet at six thirty so that we could grab a pizza before the pub. I looked around the largely deserted marketplace for any sign of Dot. Unsurprisingly, there was none.

  Leaning back contentedly, I put my hand to my mouth, checking for crumbs and at the same time stroking the three days’ worth of stubble I couldn’t be bothered to shave off. I wondered if she might lecture me about that. It’d be pretty hypocritical of her if she did, seeing as her man of the moment, Johnny Depp, had looked very beardy, not to mention completely stoned, in the four magazine articles about him she’d shown me in the past week.

  I rolled my eyes at the thought and dusted off the new jeans Mum had bought me for going to uni. She hadn’t done badly this time actually. They were a little snug over my gut maybe – I patted my temporarily appeased stomach – but other than that they were OK.

  ‘Oi, Felix! Mop head!’

  I looked up, lifting my hair out of my eyes. It was Ian Watson, and he was with Chris Fry. Both were waving frantically to me from the other side of the road. ‘What you doing, Mopper? Coming for a drink?’

  ‘In a bit,’ I called. ‘Waiting for Dot.’

  ‘OK. We’re going to the Crowns. See you there?’

  ‘We’re starting at The Lamb, but yeah, maybe later.’

  Ian gave me a thumbs-up and the pair of them headed off, crossing the road and walking towards the Brittox as a church clock chimed the hour. I closed my eyes, and relaxed back onto the bench. It was strange to think that by this time tomorrow I’d be nearly a hundred miles away and living with loads of people I’d never met before. Scary, but exciting.

  ‘Oh my God, Felix. Am I late? I ran all the way.’

  I opened my eyes at the sound of her voice and looked up to see Dot silhouetted against the evening sun, her head swamped by a large khaki bucket hat. ‘Wow, are these new jeans?’ she asked breathlessly, bending down and patting my knee. ‘Cos I love them. And that sweatshirt. That’s my favourite one of yours right now. You look really great.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said casually, trying not to look too pleased while hauling myself to my feet. ‘And I like your…’ I looked her up and down. She was still channelling the sporty look between waist and neck, wearing a black running vest with white piping at the neck and a shiny green tracksuit top. But waist down she had gone for throwback grunge, with one of her home-made wraparound maxi skirts – the vivid orange one – and her precious DMs, which she had worn all summer, despite the heat. ‘… hat,’ I said, plumping for the best of a typically chaotic job. ‘Where did you get it?’

  ‘It’s Dad’s. He wears it for fishing and Mum really, really, really hates me wearing it,’ she grinned, patting her head. ‘Kept telling me no one could see my beautiful brown eyes and that I needed to show off my auburn tresses.’ She laughed and shook her head. ‘Auburn tresses?’ she scoffed, tugging at a long strand of hair which had escaped from under the hat. ‘What planet is she on? And which century is she in?’

  I tutted. ‘Well, your eyes are brown and your hair is auburn and she’s paying you a compliment. You should give her a break sometimes, you know.’

  ‘She should give me a break,’ she said, frowning. ‘It’s OK for you, you don’t have to live with her, Felix. You don’t know what it’s like. She’s always on my case about boyfriends and the magazines I read and what I wear and bloody everything.’

  ‘OK, OK, let’s just forget it,’ I said, trying not to worry that Dot’s mum and I seemed to agree on so many things. ‘Do you want to go for pizza?’

  ‘Have you eaten?’

  ‘I had a snack,’ I said. ‘But I’m happy to have a pizza if you want one. You should probably eat something, you know,’ I added. She was a bit of a lightweight when it came to drinking.

  She shook her head. ‘Nah, I’m fine. I had a Toffee Crisp on the way here. Let’s just go.’

  ‘OK, if you’re sure,’ I said doubtfully, but letting it go. ‘I just saw Ian and Chris. They’re off to the Three Crowns and asked if we were coming along.’

  ‘Oh, OK, yeah. I’m cool with that,’ she said, trying to smile.

  ‘I told them we were going to The Lamb but that we might see them later.’

  Her forced smile transformed into a genuine grin and she threw her arms around my middle, resting her head against my chest and giving me a squeeze. ‘Aw… You sure you don’t mind?’

  ‘No… it’s fine…’ I gasped. ‘I like The Lamb too. But let me go now, yeah? You’re like a boa constrictor.’

  She laughed loudly and let me go. ‘I’m gonna miss you, Felix Davis,’ she said, taking my hand and pulling me in the direction of The Lamb. ‘I really, really am.’

  Chapter 1

  Friday 28 April 2017

  I looked across the hospital bed at my mother, her hand resting gently on top of Nanny Flo’s, her head bowed. Dad, sitting to her right, offered me a brave smile, which I did my best to return.

  ‘Are you OK, Dot?’ he mouthed.

  I nodded and turned my head towards my sister. Becca was sitting at the foot of the bed, staring at our grandmother, her expression glazed and unreadable. I wondered if she, like me, was remembering all the love and laughter we had shared with the usually vibrant eighty-six-year-old woman who was now lying in front of us, so pale and fragile. I turned back to Nanny Flo just as her closed eyes flickered. My father nudged my mother and all four of us leaned forward simultaneously. I reached out and took Nanny Flo’s left hand.

  ‘Hello, Mum,’ said my mother gently. ‘Can you hear me? We’re all here: me, Donald, Dottie and Becca. All of us.’

  My grandmother’s brow furrowed slightly and then, after a moment, her eyes opened. ‘Dottie?’ she murmured. ‘Our Dorothy passed away years ago.’

  Mum bit her lip and looked at Dad. ‘The doctor said she might be confused.’

  I squeezed my grandmother’s hand. ‘Not your sister, Nanny. It’s me, little Dottie, your granddaughter. I took the train to Exeter from Bristol to see you.’

  Her head turned slowly towards me and she smiled weakly. ‘Little Dottie,’ she said.

  I nodded rapidly, taking a moment to steady my voice before I spoke. ‘That’s right,’ I smiled. ‘And Becca, too. Look.’ I pointed towards my sister. ‘She’s driven from Bishops Cannings.’

  ‘Hello, Nanny,’ said Becca, with impressive brightness in the circumstances, although I could see the enormous effort behind it.

&nbs
p; ‘Have I missed… the christening, Becca?’ asked Nanny Flo, pausing mid sentence to take a breath.

  My mother sighed. ‘It’s not a christening, Mum,’ she said. ‘It’s a wedding. Becca’s getting married… to Mark. You remember Mark. He’s a policeman.’

  Nanny Flo’s eyes closed. ‘Lovely boy,’ she said. ‘Like Dixon of Dock Green.’

  Dad laughed and my mother smiled even as a tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. She hurriedly brushed it away.

  ‘You’ll have to help choose the flowers for the bouquets, Nanny,’ said Becca.

  The rest of us nodded and murmured our approval of this plan, despite the fact that a doctor had gently intimated less than an hour ago that my grandmother’s pneumonia meant that she might not see tomorrow, let alone my sister’s wedding in three months’ time.

  ‘Becca can’t decide between white roses and lily of the valley,’ I said. ‘I suppose she could have both, couldn’t she?’

  With what seemed like an enormous effort, Nanny Flo reopened her eyes. ‘I had lily of the valley,’ she said. ‘Wonderful perfume. Will you have that at your wedding, Dottie?’

  I smiled. ‘I can’t see me getting married any time soon, Nanny.’

  Her expression darkened. ‘You’re not all on your own, are you?’

  Surprised by her reaction and kicking myself for the thoughtlessness of my comment, I rushed to reassure her. ‘I’m fine. I love Bristol and I’ve got lots of friends. I’m very lucky.’ I looked at my mother, who nodded vigorously.

  ‘Yes, Dot’s not lonely, Mum,’ she said. ‘She has a very busy social life.’

  My grandmother turned towards her. ‘What about that lovely boy who’s always calling round after school? The cuddly one.’

  ‘Dot is thirty-six now, Mum,’ said my mother. ‘School was a long time ago.’

  ‘Hair all over the place, like a young Ken Dodd,’ murmured Nanny Flo. ‘Likes his food. Washes up in the hotel at weekends. Nice boy. Perfect for Dottie.’

  Mum looked puzzled and turned to Dad, who shrugged.

  ‘She means Felix Davis, Mum,’ whispered Becca, before looking at me and smiling.

  ‘That’s right.’ I smiled back at her, thinking of Felix for the first time in years.

  ‘Oh, of course. Yes, Felix,’ said my mother. ‘You’re right, he was a lovely, kind boy. But he was the other way, Mum,’ she said, raising her voice slightly. ‘He wasn’t after a girlfriend.’

  Despite the circumstances, I couldn’t help sighing at my mother’s long-held and continuing conviction that any male friend who failed to show a romantic interest in me must be either the other way or afraid of his feelings.

  Nanny Flo frowned. ‘So he’s not with her, Helen?’ she said. It was as if I was no longer in the room.

  ‘They were just friends, Mum, and they still are.’ My mother looked up at me and widened her eyes, a clear warning not to contradict her. I frowned. As if I would.

  ‘That’s right,’ I said.

  ‘But who is going to look after her?’ murmured Nanny Flo.

  ‘I can look after myself,’ I smiled.

  Reminded of my presence, Nanny Flo turned her head slowly back towards me. She stared expressionlessly at me for a moment, saying nothing, and then, without warning, her face suddenly and unexpectedly crumpled, a single tear escaping from the corner of her left eye and trickling down her cheek before being absorbed by the pillow. ‘You’re alone,’ she gasped. ‘All alone.’

  Appalled, I looked to my mother for support. Her hand was now over her mouth.

  ‘Flo,’ said Dad, stepping into the breach, ‘don’t fret over this. Dot is very happy.’

  ‘She has no one,’ she replied with a slight shudder, as if terrified by the thought. ‘I do worry.’

  ‘Mum…’ began my mother, but she got no further. Her tears were now flowing silently but unchecked and she was clearly beyond words.

  My grandmother uttered a low, prolonged moan and began to sob.

  ‘Oh please don’t cry, Nanny,’ I begged. ‘I’m very happy.’

  ‘Dot is so happy,’ echoed Becca, leaning forward, now also on the verge of tears.

  ‘I am,’ I insisted quietly, my heart breaking to see the three women I loved most in the world so distraught. ‘I am.’

  I looked at my mother. Her head was once again bowed, and she leaned against Dad as he gently pulled her towards him. Becca too had lowered her head, and Nanny Flo’s chest heaved with the painful effort of taking the deep breaths required by her sobs.

  I covered my face with my hands, despairing at the heartache I had caused, and desperate to put an end to the distress so carelessly kick-started. My grandmother was dying and I had single-handedly managed to make the most agonising situation my family had ever had to face even more unbearable.

  And then suddenly, just as heartbreak, guilt and hopelessness threatened to overwhelm me, the solution became obvious. I lowered my hands and sat up. ‘I’ve got a boyfriend,’ I blurted. ‘I haven’t mentioned him before because we haven’t been going out for very long, but it’s going really well,’ I continued, the words spilling out of me. ‘Really, really well.’

  Nanny Flo’s sobbing ceased abruptly and she blinked at me through her tears. I waited for her to say something, but she remained silent, studying me, suddenly calm.

  ‘There now,’ I said, collapsing back in my chair and experiencing a wonderful sense of relief. ‘That’s better.’ I realised that there were tears streaming down my own face, and I dabbed at them with the sleeve of my jumper.

  ‘Dottie…’ said my mother, sitting up. Her eyes were red and her mascara smudged, but she had stopped crying and her expression was now one of stunned wonderment. ‘Dottie…’ she repeated, but said nothing more.

  ‘So who is the lucky chap?’ asked Dad jovially.

  I turned towards him. He was beaming and his eyes glistened. ‘The lucky chap?’ I echoed, completely unprepared for this continuation of the topic.

  ‘My mistake. The very lucky chap,’ he said. He laughed but was clearly as emotional as the rest of us and sounded choked.

  I looked at Nanny Flo, who remained fully focused on me. ‘It’s… Well, he’s… The thing… It’s…’ I began, stumbling over my words, casting around for a name. Should I simply claim to be back together with my ex? I glanced at my mother, knowing that mentioning Alistair at this moment was definitely going to make her feel worse not better. More importantly, I wasn’t sure that Nanny Flo would be much comforted by the thought either. No, I needed a name with positive or – at the very least – neutral connotations.

  A succession of names popped into my head and I rapidly reviewed each in turn. Mark? No, Becca was marrying a Mark; we couldn’t both have a Mark. Roberto? No, he was the Italian doctor who’d just explained Nanny’s condition to us. Felix – my old friend whom Nanny liked?

  ‘Felix.’

  I frowned in confusion, uncertain for a moment whether I had merely thought the name or actually spoken it out loud. But I didn’t have to wait long for clarification.

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ gasped my mother, placing a hand on her chest. She looked at me, then at my grandmother, and then back at me. ‘Not the Felix? The one we were just talking about a moment ago? Felix who was always so afraid of his feelings? Is it him, Dot?’ she asked, her eyes now wide with excitement.

  I looked at her for a moment and swallowed. ‘Yes,’ I said weakly, knowing that I now had no choice but to go with it. ‘It’s him. My friend… who Nanny liked… from all those years ago,’ I added, nodding. ‘It’s Felix,’ I concluded in a hoarse whisper.

  ‘It’s a sign,’ said my mother, raising her eyes to the ceiling.

  ‘So how did you meet him again?’ asked Dad, displaying an uncharacteristic and, at this moment, very unwelcome interest in romantic detail.

  ‘Well, I…’

  ‘Was it at the school reunion in February?’ asked Becca.

  I turned gratefully towards my cooler, calmer and
much more collected younger sister and nodded rapidly. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I met him there and we got chatting. That’s what happened.’

  ‘Meant to be,’ said my mother, clasping her hands together. ‘Isn’t that lovely, Mum?’ I could feel her looking at me but was unable to make eye contact with her and instead focused on Nanny Flo.

  ‘Are you in love, Dottie?’ she asked. She edged her small, thin hand towards me and I reached out and took it. She gave my hand a barely perceptible squeeze and I leaned forward, kissing her forehead, desperate to make everything all right, desperate to make her happy. Nothing else mattered. ‘I am, Nanny,’ I nodded, sitting up.

  ‘That’s good,’ she breathed. And then she smiled, closed her eyes and said nothing more.

  * * *

  Several hours later, Becca and I stood side by side in the hospital corridor, leaning against the wall of Nanny Flo’s room. ‘You OK?’ she asked softly.

  I looked up at her. She was fair-skinned and pale at the best of times, but today she seemed almost transparent. ‘Just about,’ I said. ‘You?’

  Her head drooped, her short light-brown bob falling across her face. ‘No.’

  ‘Me neither, actually. I was lying.’

  She looked up and offered me a painfully sad smile as the door to the room opened and Mum emerged.

  ‘I just…’ she began, quietly closing the door behind her, before abandoning any attempt at speech and beginning to cry.

  Becca and I hugged her simultaneously.

  ‘Thank you, girls,’ she said. ‘Dad and I are so grateful for you. We love you both so much.’

  ‘And we love you,’ said Becca. ‘And Nanny. If there wasn’t the love, there wouldn’t be the pain, would there?’

  ‘True,’ said my mother. ‘That’s so true.’

  We let her go and she took a handkerchief from her sleeve and blew her nose. ‘Well, I know it’s a very sad time, but that’s such happy news about you, Dot. About Felix, I mean. I remember him as a very lovely boy. And you were friends for such a long time. I always thought it was a shame that you lost touch.’

  Becca threw me a sidelong glance.

  ‘Mum, I need to explain—’ I began.