Читать книгу Christmas Magic - Cathy Kelly - Страница 7

In the tiny staffroom of Deloitte’s Pharmacy, Felicity Barnes put her mobile phone away and returned to her coffee and her chicken wrap thoughtfully.

Lunchtimes at Deloitte’s were fluid things and she might as well eat while she had the chance. It was Monday, the day when doctors’ surgeries were jammed with people who’d held on to their sore throats and aching backs over the weekend and had decided they needed medical attention urgently once Monday morning dawned.

Consequently, pharmacies were like Grand Central Station all day Monday with little chance of a break, and in the two months Felicity had been working in Deloitte’s, she’d learned to take lunch when she got the opportunity.

As she ate, she thought about her daughter’s phone call.

Mel was twenty-two and sometimes Felicity thought she was a very young twenty-two. Casting her mind back, Felicity realised that she’d been married to Leo with a baby on the way at the same age. But then that was years ago, when things had been different. People had grown up quickly then. She and Leo had been living in London in a tiny third-floor flat with no lift and very little money. They’d had no support system when Ryan, now twenty-seven, had cried through the night and an exhausted Felicity had wondered what she was doing wrong. She could recall the relief of hearing another mother say it was ‘… just colic, love. All babies get it. Blooming nightmare, isn’t it?’ The relief at hearing those words and the realisation that Ryan’s terrible crying was normal.

Conversely, twenty-two-year-old Melanie had no responsibility for anyone but herself and still brought bagfuls of laundry home from teacher training college at weekends for her mother to wash, dry and iron.

Or at least, she always used to.

Melanie had been working in Spain over the summer holidays when Felicity and Leo sold the house.

The sale had been part of the separation arrangements. Felicity had loved the house on the quiet, tree-lined housing estate where the children had grown up. It had been the family home for over two decades, but it had to be sold and the money split between herself and Leo. There was no other option.

Melanie had recently returned to Ireland to learn that her stuff from the house was now stored in a warehouse on a vast industrial estate, along with some of the bigger pieces of furniture that Felicity and Leo hadn’t wanted to sell. There was the piano Leo’s mother had given them and a huge wooden dining-room table from a great-aunt which was supposed to be a fabulous antique but which Felicity suspected was just an ordinary old table with carved legs. One day, Felicity said, the children might like these things but there was no room for them in her new apartment overlooking the sea. It wasn’t a box like so many apartments and it had three bedrooms – albeit two incredibly tiny ones along with the master bedroom – so her children would always have somewhere to stay, but it didn’t have room for big furniture.

It was also, as Mel had sobbed on the phone just now, ‘not home!’

‘You knew we had to sell the house, Mel,’ Felicity had replied with a calmness she didn’t really feel. She had known how painful it would be for her children. She’d asked Mel to fly home from Spain to visit the house one last time, just to forestall this sadness. She’d made it plain that her new home would be Mel and Ryan’s home too. But Mel had been too busy to fly home.

Now that she was home, Mel didn’t even want to hear about her mother’s new apartment. Having managed not to think about the family upheaval while she was working in Madrid, she’d just returned to her college digs, in time for the autumn term, and now she was thinking about it. And she was wildly upset.

Mel was, Felicity reflected, the more emotional of her two children. Ryan had great emotional depth but was less prone to outbursts than his sister. He worked in window design for a chain of interiors stores and he was endlessly busy, but he’d still managed to be there the day Felicity had locked the door on their beloved family home for the last time. He’d taken his mother to lunch and they’d talked about the fun times they’d spent there, and about how they hoped the bones of Teddie, the family collie, would not be disinterred by the new owners digging near the roses. Somehow, Ryan managed to blame nobody for his parents’ marital discord. It wasn’t his place to judge, he said. He liked that it was all civilised and that there weren’t insults flying between Felicity and Leo.

‘I never got to say goodbye to the garden,’ Mel had said bitterly on the phone.

There was no value to be had in pointing out that Felicity had asked her to come home to do just that. Fresh off the plane and with no cosy home to return to, Mel didn’t want to hear about financial problems, the reality of her parents needing two separate places to live, how her mother had never wanted it all to turn out like this.

‘Wherever your father and I are, there will always be a welcome for you. Our homes are always your homes,’ Felicity said in anguish, hating to hear her darling daughter so distressed.

‘Home will never be where that cow is!’

That cow was Sonya, the woman Leo had recently moved in with. Sonya, incidentally, was not the woman he’d been having an affair with for many years. With an equanimity that surprised her, Felicity felt pity for Darina, her husband’s assistant, who had been considered surplus to requirements once Leo had got his freedom. Apparently, this happened a lot.

‘The agony aunts tell women he’ll never leave his wife and, if he does, ten to one he won’t move in with you – he’ll have another woman you never knew about lined up,’ said Felicity’s sister, who was keen to disembowel Leo and was fed up with her sister’s calm handling of all this. ‘Serve Darina right. She’s getting a taste of her own medicine.’

Felicity pitied Darina as yet another woman who’d been fleeced by Leo Morgan. But she refused to be bitter about him. Bitterness hurt only oneself.

Leo had left in January when Felicity could no longer live with the knowledge that her husband was cheating. Now that they were apart, it was immaterial to her if he was living with Darina, Sonya or a cast of thousands. It was marvellously liberating to realise that Leo’s whereabouts was no longer her business. She was only sorry she hadn’t forced his hand years ago. She’d always tried to be grown-up about his infidelities and to ignore the pain because they had children. But finally, something had cracked inside her. It wasn’t the giant crack of an earthquake: it was the gentle shearing away of one piece of polar ice from another, an inevitable event which had turned out to be far less painful than being married to the other ice cap.

Ryan reported that Sonya was nice enough but his father’s new relationship probably wouldn’t last.

‘She’s sort of naïve. Too naïve for Dad, really. I don’t see it going the distance.’

Felicity wondered how her elder child had become so wise, not to mention forgiving.

And why Melanie wasn’t the same.

‘Where is this damn flat, anyway?’ Melanie had snapped down the phone. Mel always hid her fear by lashing out.

Felicity, relieved that her daughter was giving in and agreeing to come and stay, had given her directions and explained that she was in apartment 14, with the name F. Barnes on the bell.

‘Barnes? But that’s your maiden name!’

Felicity was sure her daughter’s shrieks had been heard by all in the pharmacy back room.

‘Yes,’ she had said, again using the calm voice she’d employed many times during Mel’s teenage years. She longed for Mel to understand why she’d gone back to her maiden name, that she was reclaiming part of herself that she’d lost years ago. ‘See you at half six.’

She sighed as she mulled over all this while eating her lunch.

‘Family trouble?’ Chantelle, one of the other sales assistants, had come over. She was an attractive Belgian woman, who would wear a silk scarf knotted just so, and was able to handle the most difficult customers.

‘My daughter’s home and she’s angry that we’ve sold our house,’ Felicity explained. ‘I wanted her to come home before we sold it, but she wouldn’t. She hates the idea that I’ve moved into somewhere new. I knew she’d be upset but it’s still heartbreaking.’

Felicity wouldn’t have dreamed of filling anyone in on her private details normally, but Chantelle invited confidences partly because she didn’t have the gossip gene and partly because she had such fabulous advice on all things.

‘Does your daughter not see that you were unhappy and that her father treated you badly?’ Chantelle asked.

Felicity shook her head sadly. ‘She wants it to be like it always was, no matter how hard that was for me. My mother’s the same,’ she admitted. ‘She thinks I told Leo to leave in a fit of sheer lunacy.’

In the two months she’d worked in the pharmacy, Felicity had gone to see several films with Chantelle and had been to a salsa-dancing night with the other staff members, Monica and Zoë, a fact which she had no intention of sharing with her daughter. Mel would see it as more proof of change. Previously, Felicity’s friends were all women she’d known for years or mothers she’d come to know when Ryan and Mel were at school.

Her work in Deloitte’s was part of Felicity’s new life. For most of her marriage, she’d worked one day a week as a pharmacy assistant, but now there was no reason for her not to work almost full time. Instead of feeling overwhelmed by the hours, she loved it. This new chapter in her life was exciting.

Chantelle laid a gentle hand on Felicity’s arm. ‘She will come round, you’ll see,’ she said kindly.

That evening, Felicity cooked Mel’s favourite meal: broccoli and feta cheese pasta bake, although she didn’t have time to make her trademark caramel meringues and had to make do with some ordinary shop-bought meringues instead. She had fresh orange juice for Mel’s breakfast because her daughter said she loved the glorious Spanish orange juice she’d become used to in Madrid.

Felicity changed from her smart work blouse and tailored trousers into jeans and a sweater. She walked round the apartment, tidying, repositioning things and hoping that Mel would like it. The bedroom she’d assigned for Mel was tiny and had only space for a single bed, but Felicity had bought pretty, delicately sprigged bed linen and the small table beside the bed had fresh flowers on it. Nobody could find fault with the place.

‘The flat’s very small, isn’t it?’ Mel said when she arrived, stalking around.

‘Yes,’ said Felicity evenly. ‘But a four-bedroom semi doesn’t make much sense for a woman on her own.’

No need to discuss the financial implications of modern separation and divorce. Small steps, Felicity reminded herself.

Mel liked the bed linen but was shocked at the size of her bedroom.

‘We’re all downsizing now,’ said Felicity gaily.

They’d started dinner – Mel much happier now that she’d seen her mother was still cooking the same sort of comfort food – when the intercom buzzed.

‘Only me,’ shouted Felicity’s mother, Rosalie.

What fresh hell is this? thought Felicity. Her mother and Mel sang from the same hymn sheet: life was better when Leo and Felicity were together, irrespective of flings and marital disharmony. Ignoring reality was clearly a trait that had skipped a generation and had gone straight from Rosalie to Mel.

Mel and her granny hugged, sobbed a bit at the changes in the family, and were soon whispering about how upset they were as Mel finished her food and Rosalie drank some strong tea.

Felicity’s apartment was intentionally closer to her mother’s seafront bungalow, but the intent was more along the lines of being near in case of trouble, instead of being near so that Rosalie could drop in morning, noon and night.

Rosalie and Mel looked alike, both being small, birdlike and fair-haired, although Rosalie’s fairness now had help from the odd highlight. Felicity was tall and dark, like her dear departed father. He had been a calm man too, and she thought ruefully that he’d never been entirely at ease with her choice of husband. Leo had always been too edgy, too full of great plans for the future.

Rosalie wanted to hear all about Spain and the gorgeous local men. Chat about what college would be like for the next term took them through dessert and on to coffee.

Mel told them she had shared a cab from the airport with a completely fabulous guy who’d been on her flight from Madrid and they were now seeing each other. He was in college too, doing something in computers. Mel had only liked computers for the social networking sites and for doing college essays, but suddenly, she was very interested in them.

‘Shane’s really clever, he was writing code when he was eleven,’ she said dreamily. ‘He’s in a band, too. He plays the bass guitar.’

For the first time that evening, Felicity and her mother’s smiles were in harmony.

Rosalie invited her daughter to a charity cake sale the following Tuesday.

‘I can’t, Mum,’ Felicity said. ‘I’m working.’

Rosalie and Mel’s faces formed themselves into similar disapproving looks.

‘I don’t see why you have to kill yourself working in that chemist shop, Felicity,’ Rosalie said crossly. ‘You’re only doing it to spite Leo. What’s wrong with you, why can’t you stop all this talk of separation and divorce?’ She almost hissed the word. ‘In my time, we knew how to keep our families together.’

Mel’s bottom lip wobbled.

‘I’m not working to spite Mel’s father,’ Felicity said, keeping herself calm with great difficulty. ‘I’m working because I need to earn my living. Leo and I would each be living in shoeboxes on the side of the road if I didn’t. I’ve always worked, Mum. I’ve just upped my hours and it happens to suit me.’

Rosalie left soon after, muttering to her grand-daughter about hoping that some people would come to their senses soon.

Mel said she was tired and stomped off to her tiny room. ‘I need to be on my own,’ she said loftily, the same way she used to end arguments when she’d been a teenager.

Felicity tidied up the dinner things and wondered how all this had become her fault.

The next morning, Mel was so happy that Felicity knew something was up.

‘Dad just phoned me,’ she said, when they’d had breakfast. The orange juice had been pronounced ‘nearly as nice as the Spanish stuff’. ‘It’s Nanna and Gramps’ fiftieth anniversary in December. They’re having a big party and they want us all to go. You too. No, actually, you especially! Dad says he really wants you to go, and so do Nanna and Gramps.’

Mel’s pretty face was so child-like in its enthusiasm that Felicity simply couldn’t say no to her. There was no point in admitting that she’d never got on with her husband’s mother and that not having to endure any time ever again with Nanna, aka Concepta Morgan, was one of the great pluses of the separation.

She could see that her husband’s family were thinking along the same lines as her own mother and daughter: get the recalcitrant pair together and they’d make up. Simple! Everything could go back to the way it was before, a way that suited everyone except Felicity herself.

Perhaps actually seeing Felicity, Leo and his new love, Sonya, together might make them realise the truth.

‘We can go together,’ she said to her daughter, thinking it was a small sacrifice to make Mel feel happier.

‘I was thinking of asking Shane to go,’ Mel said. ‘What do you think?’

Leo even left a message on her mobile phone answering service:

‘I know Mel’s going to tell you, but we do all want you to be there: it wouldn’t be the same without you, Felicity.’

At work, they talked about ex-husbands and families and how hard it was to reconcile them all.

Zoë had an ex-husband who’d never been any sort of provider and still turned up on her doorstep from time to time, asking for money.

‘He’s had scores of women over the years but he still comes back to me,’ she sighed. ‘Lord knows why. He never had kids with the rest of them. I think that makes a difference. They associate you with the concept of family. Like you’re their mother or something.’

‘I love men, but I could never marry one,’ said Chantelle, who was known to have a complicated romantic life. ‘They are better to dip in and out of when you feel the need.’

‘Right now, I don’t feel the need for a man,’ said Felicity. ‘I certainly don’t feel the need to go to my ex-mother-in-law’s wedding anniversary party, but it’s being presented to me as this great family affair and they’ll all be devastated if I don’t go.’

‘Your ex, he is bringing his new woman?’ asked Chantelle, getting right to the heart of the matter.

Felicity didn’t know. ‘Nobody can hope for us to get back together if he turns up with another woman, but he might not bring her in case he offends me.’

‘He never worried about that before,’ Zoë remarked.

‘True. Do you think I should ask him to bring her?’ Felicity said thoughtfully.

The pharmacy erupted into laughter.

‘You’re an original, Felicity,’ said Zoë, ‘I’ll say that for you.’

Rosalie was thrilled with news of the anniversary party and clearly saw it the way the Morgan family saw it: as an excuse to get Leo and Felicity to see the error of their ways.

‘Marriage is for life, Felicity, you see,’ she said, adopting the wise-woman voice that made Felicity want to kick a hole in the wall. ‘Nobody said it was easy, but some people manage to stay together through all the pain and heartache.’

‘What heartache did Dad put you through?’ Felicity demanded. If anything, the shoe was on the other foot. Her father should have been canonised for putting up with her mother.

‘I’m not saying we had heartache, but I understand it,’ Rosalie went on piously. ‘You have your children to think of.’

‘They’re grown up and my husband cheated on me for years,’ Felicity snapped. ‘I thought you’d be glad I’d finally stood up for myself.’

‘I suppose I am, but I like Leo,’ wailed her mother.

‘We all like him,’ roared Felicity. ‘I like him. I just didn’t like being married to him!’

By November, Mel and Shane were deeply in love, Ryan was toying with the idea of moving to London for a year to work, and Felicity had acquired an apricot-coloured Burmese kitten called Miss Lillie.

She’d been on a double date with Chantelle and two divorced Belgian male friends, information she had not shared with any of her family. It had been enjoyable but it had made Felicity realise something very important: she wasn’t interested in the flirtatious behaviour she remembered from her early years with Leo.

Her date, a charming furniture importer named Michel, was lovely company but when he asked her out on her own, she had to say no.

‘You are not ready yet, perhaps?’ said Michel kindly, over a coffee in Chantelle’s pretty townhouse after the meal.

Felicity treated him to some of her new-found total honesty. ‘It’s not that, Michel,’ she said. ‘I’m not still in love with my ex or hurting over the separation. I’ve spent so many years pleasing other people, I haven’t the energy to please anyone else. I want to please myself right now.’

‘You might change your mind,’ Chantelle said the following day.

‘I might,’ Felicity agreed, ‘but at this exact moment in time, I simply have no desire to dress up to excite a man or to worry over whether I have cellulite or not. Why are we all supposed to worry about cellulite, anyway? Is that what suffragettes died for?’

‘Sex is an important part of being a woman,’ Chantelle argued.

‘Michel is right, then,’ Felicity agreed. ‘I’m not ready yet. I’d prefer to wear socks in bed and watch BBC4. But when rampant desire hits me, I’ll know who to call.’

Sonya was not going to the great Morgan family anniversary party.

‘She wants to go, but Dad is insisting she can’t,’ Ryan revealed.

Felicity found herself feeling sorry for Sonya. It wasn’t easy being involved with Leo Morgan.

‘He should take her,’ Felicity said. ‘If he’s living with her, he’s living with her and everyone should just get with the programme. All this carry-on reminds me of parents not wanting unmarried grown-up children to sleep with their partners in the family home. You either respect that when your children grow up they have different values, or you don’t.’

‘Does that mean I can bring girlfriends to sleep in your flat?’ asked Ryan.

His mother laughed. ‘Of course you can, love. But remember, it’s a small single bed. One move and you’ll both be on the floor, which is bare wood, by the way.’

The pressure surrounding the anniversary grew.

Rosalie inveigled her daughter on a shopping trip that somehow took in an expensive lingerie shop.

‘Isn’t this the cutest thing you ever saw?’ said Rosalie, innocently holding up a red silk bra and pants set with off-white lace trim. ‘The label on the knickers says they’re Brazilian cut.’

Felicity eyed her mother, aware that Rosalie’s own lingerie tastes ran to severely cut white bras with the vaguely conical cups she’d worn as a young woman.

‘Brazilian cut means the knickers are high cut over the bum and you’d probably spend the whole day adjusting them. Should I go the whole hog and buy a G-string?’

‘There’s no need to go that far,’ said Rosalie crossly. ‘I’m only trying to help.’

Felicity put the red outfit back on the rail. ‘I know you are, Mum. Let’s have a cup of tea and a bun, shall we? I’m not really a red silk person.’

When Mel phoned with details of accommodation in the hotel where the anniversary party was to be held, Felicity finally lost her temper.

The vast Morgan clan had taken over the entire hotel and one of Leo’s sisters was organising the room allocation.

‘Aunt Leslie has put all of us on the same floor. Shane and I have a double room, but she could only get a single room for you. The place is jammers! It’s going to be fabulous.’

‘A single room for me,’ repeated Felicity, incensed by the presumption that she’d be on her own.

‘You hardly need a double, do you?’ said Mel cheerfully.

‘What if I did?’ The question was out of her mouth before she had time to think.

‘Mum! You’re married to Dad, for heaven’s sake,’ said Mel.

‘Not any more,’ her mother replied.

‘Nanna Morgan’s right, you know,’ Mel said crossly. ‘You’re just thinking of yourself. I met Shane’s parents the other day and they have a lovely home and do you know what I felt? Lonely, that’s it. Lonely, because our family is all gone and I hate it, Mum. Did you think of me when you and Dad split up? No. It’s as if it’s not supposed to matter because me and Ryan are grown-ups, but it does. I hate all this, really hate it.’

And Mel hung up.

Felicity wondered where she had gone wrong. Mel had no thought for her mother’s pain during all the years Leo had cheated on her. Ryan had. But not Mel.

Mel had Shane, her own busy life, and she wanted her parents back together because it suited her. She could see nothing else.

Felicity didn’t sleep much that night. She looked back over her marriage and wished she and Leo had split up earlier, so that perhaps Mel might have grown to see that other people’s feelings were important. It was not enough to be blissfully happy yourself and wounding all around you in the way Leo had done, the way Felicity had facilitated, she realised sadly.

When morning came and Miss Lillie crept up the bed to purr for attention, Felicity had come to a decision. She would go to the anniversary party on her own terms and she would show everyone that she mattered. She didn’t want to hurt Mel, but Mel needed to come face-to-face with some truth.

She told Ryan when she’d finished making the arrangements.

‘I feel guilty,’ she said in the bar where they met for lunch. Now that she’d put it all in place, she was suddenly filled with anxiety. ‘I must be a bad mother, a bad daughter. I shouldn’t be doing this, or telling you either. I’m turning into one of those dreadful people who drag their children into their confidence when their children don’t want to be involved.’

‘Mum, it’s all right,’ Ryan said. ‘Mel, Dad and everyone else should realise that you have your own life now. I love Dad, but he didn’t do the right thing by you for a long time. What’s wrong with asking people to recognise that?’

Michel’s car was a lovely old sporting thing with a long bonnet, low-slung leather seats and an air of romance about it.

‘It’s fabulous,’ said Felicity in delight when she saw it.

‘It’s very old,’ Michel said as he helped her in, ‘so it doesn’t have the suspension of modern cars.’

Felicity grinned. ‘Us old things have quite good suspension, as it turns out.’

They both laughed.

On their fourth date, they’d ended up in bed in Felicity’s apartment and she found that the red silk underwear made her feel better than she’d imagined. After the party, she would say a big thank you to her mother for showing it to her.

She was becoming very fond of Michel, whom she’d taken into her confidence about her plan early on, and his eyes had twinkled with mischief at the idea.

There were so many things to talk about that Felicity didn’t notice the time passing on the journey to the town where the anniversary party was to be held. She’d cancelled her single room and she and Michel were staying in another hotel, a more elegant establishment where there was a double room complete with four-poster bed and claw-footed bath available. They arrived early so as to enjoy both the bedroom and then the spa and beauty salon, where they had massages before Felicity had her hair blow-dried into a becoming wavy style.

‘What are you wearing to this party?’ asked the hairstylist.

‘A red silk dress, it’s got a low back, and a high halter neck at the front,’ Felicity revealed. The strange thing about red, she’d realised, was that it suited her and somehow made her feel like a braver version of herself. Plus, the Brazilian knickers actually didn’t need to be adjusted every five minutes.

‘That sounds lovely,’ said the stylist. ‘You’re so tall and slim; you can carry that sort of thing off.’

Felicity and Michel arrived at the Morgans’ ruby wedding anniversary celebration exactly on time. The anniversary couple were to make a grand entrance at five past eight, so the party-goers had been asked to assemble just before the hour.

Ryan came up to them straightaway. He hugged his mother, told her how wonderful she looked and shook Michel’s hand.

‘I think I should make a run for it while I still have time,’ whispered Felicity to her son.

He held her in a steely grip.

‘You’re not running anywhere.’

Next to spot them was Leo’s sister, Leslie, she of the room-organising fame.

‘Felicity!’ she said, open-mouthed, staring.

With Ryan’s hand still gripping her arm tightly, Felicity smiled and introduced Michel.

‘Mum’s partner,’ added Ryan, just in case Leslie hadn’t got the gist of it. ‘Boyfriend sounds too young, doesn’t it?’ Ryan went on cheerfully. ‘Lover sounds a bit too risqué.’

Felicity could feel herself turning a bit pink, but it was nothing compared to the colour of Leslie. She’d kill Ryan. He was definitely enjoying this too much.

‘Does Leo know?’ gasped Leslie finally.

Finally, Felicity felt the steel enter her own soul. ‘I doubt it,’ she said. ‘We didn’t discuss our arrangements. I presume he’s here with Sonya? It would be terrible if he couldn’t bring her. They’re partners too, after all. I think it’s vital that we all move on and behave like grown-ups.’

Leo was next to spy the three of them. Michel had procured some champagne and Felicity had downed her own glass quickly.

‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘just needed a little pick-me-up.’

True to form, Leo didn’t notice Michel at all, just smiled at Ryan and pulled Felicity into his arms for a hug.

‘You look pretty gorgeous, my dear,’ he said, charming as ever. ‘I had no idea red suited you so much.’

Felicity recovered more quickly this time. Leo had seen a man beside her and had instantly ruled out the thought that said man could be with her. She pulled out of his embrace and introduced Michel.

‘Michel, my ex-husband,’ she said, putting a hand on Michel’s arm. ‘Leo, meet Michel. Michel was kind enough to drive us up – you know how I hate long drives. We’re staying in the hotel across the road. I couldn’t get a double here.’

Leo didn’t gasp. His eyes narrowed as he took in the other man, a man who was taller, wore a very elegant Italian suit and was plainly sleeping with his ex-wife.

‘You didn’t tell me you were bringing someone,’ he said.

Felicity ran through the answers at high speed in her mind.

She settled on: ‘No, I didn’t. Is Sonya here? I’d like to meet her. As I’ve said a million times to everyone, we should all be grown up about this.’

‘Sonya’s not here,’ snapped Leo.

‘Mum did say you should bring her,’ Ryan pointed out.

At this moment, Michel chose to murmur to Felicity that perhaps she needed some privacy with Leo.

‘No, darling,’ she said, smiling. ‘It’s all fine. Let’s find Mel and her boyfriend. I’ll see you later, Leo.’

As she swept off, she could see Ryan put his arms around his father and say it was lovely to see him. There was no doubt about who was the more mature, she thought.

She and Michel came upon Mel at the bar, holding out for a pint of beer for Shane, who was, Mel had explained, not a champagne man.

‘You look beautiful, darling,’ Felicity said with a tremor in her voice. She wasn’t sure if she was able for any more. If Mel got upset, Felicity vowed that she’d leave.

And at that instant, Michel said the best thing he could ever have uttered: ‘So this is the beautiful, clever daughter I have heard so much about?’

He was a quick study, Felicity realised.

Mel beamed.

‘I drove your mother up here,’ Michel went on.

There was no mention of four-poster beds and what they’d already done in one. He understood totally.

‘Hi, Michel,’ said Mel. ‘This is Shane.’

‘You are good at computers, I believe?’ said Michel.

Nobody was happier than Mel to be discussing how marvellous Shane was.

After the happy couple had been welcomed and the buffet was over, Mel sought her mother out again and pulled her to one side. Mel’s face was worried.

‘Dad says Michel is your date.’

‘I suppose he is,’ said Felicity, feeling a touch of Judas Iscariot as she cast off Michel so easily. ‘I would have loved to have met Sonya,’ she added. ‘Ryan says she’s lovely. The eight of us should go out one night to dinner: all the Morgans, Shane, Sonya, whoever Ryan wants to bring and Michel. It would be lovely.’

She held her breath then and waited. It felt like such a long wait. Mel could see her father sitting at a table of much younger guests – flirting with the women, if the wild laughter was anything to go by.

‘I suppose that would be nice,’ Mel said slowly. ‘But you’re a Barnes now, you’ve gone back to your maiden name.’

‘Oh, pet, I’ll always be a Morgan when it comes to you,’ Felicity said. ‘I’m your mum, nothing will ever change that.’

After the buffet, tables were pulled back for dancing. Michel and Felicity stood to one side and watched it all, apart and yet part of it.

‘Thank you,’ whispered Felicity, breathing in the scent of his aftershave. Eau Sauvage. She loved it.

‘I have children myself and am divorced,’ he murmured. ‘Of course I understand. Shall we dance just once?’

Felicity could see her former mother-in-law in the distance. She’d gone to offer her congratulations but hadn’t brought Michel in case Nanna Morgan said something rude.

‘Yes,’ Felicity said.

The band struck up the ‘Anniversary Waltz’ and the happy couple danced for a moment, then the band summoned all the guests up. Felicity held Michel’s hand and they joined the throng on the dance floor. Michel danced very well, much better than Leo. For the first time since she’d entered the party, Felicity allowed herself to relax.

She could see Leo staring at her glumly from the bar, could see Ryan happily chatting to a girl near the door, and on the dance floor, Shane and Mel were locked together. Nanna Morgan was now being twirled by Leslie, who was waving at Leo to join them. Rather like a sulky child being asked to join a party, Leo ambled over and soon he, his mother and sister were linking arms and dancing, while his father sat down to catch his breath.

Mel was going to be fine and the Morgans could look after themselves. Felicity allowed the music to flow over her and laid her head on Michel’s shoulder. They’d go back to their lovely hotel in a little while, but for now, it was marvellous to simply be herself.