Читать книгу Cathy Kelly 6-Book Collection: Someone Like You, What She Wants, Just Between Us, Best of Friends, Always and Forever, Past Secrets - Cathy Kelly - Страница 34

Felix’s proposal became the stuff of interviews. Another fact to be sculpted into a media sound-bite. The lovely story of how he’d arrived at her house with fifty bouquets (a smidgen of exaggeration was de rigueur for interviews, Felix explained) and a huge diamond, only to end up waiting outside for hours for his beloved to arrive, whereupon he’d nearly developed hypothermia and had needed half an hour in front of the fire before his teeth had stopped chattering.

Hannah was heartily sick of their life becoming fodder for interviews. At least their Caribbean wedding hadn’t made eight pages in Hello! (although Hannah reckoned it was only because Bill, Felix’s agent, had failed to get what she considered a suitable offer from the magazine), but several Sunday newspapers had featured some of the photos. Hannah had been very critical of herself in the simple ankle-length Ben de Lisi gown with her hair trailing down her back and flowers entwined in it. She’d felt fat and pregnant beside Bill, who turned out to be a chain-smoking, over-the-top Londoner who felt a day was wasted if she hadn’t screamed at someone that they were a ‘fucking idiot!’

Short, thin to the point of emaciation, and with big hair the colour of damson jam, Bill turned more heads than the bride did when she arrived at the beachside wedding in a cream trousersuit with nothing on underneath. Apart from the bouffant hair, she looked very Bianca Jagger.

Hannah, who’d been brought up to believe that it was rude to upstage the bride by wearing white or cream, was furious. She’d felt perfectly dressed beforehand. Her skin was a golden colour and gleamed with a healthy sheen thanks to a silken moisturizer with hints of gold in it.

‘She’s a cow,’ she longed to hiss to somebody as she stood beside the pretty altar which was decked out in all manner of exotic blossoms. But there was nobody to hiss to. They were on St Lucia and the guest list consisted of herself, Felix, Bill, her assistant – a lanky young bloke who practically never spoke even when Bill screamed at him – and the official who was going to marry them.

Hannah would have killed to have just one close friend with her on this special day. Even Gillian from the office would have been welcome: just someone she could talk to normally.

By the time Felix had finished his telling of it, the wedding had become a last-minute decision and they’d simply left their home with just the clothes they were standing up in (which didn’t quite explain Hannah’s exquisite dress that had to be ordered three weeks in advance and altered twice to cope with her ever-growing five-months-pregnant belly) and hopped on a plane to the Caribbean.

Just like the romantic charmer he’s playing in his new series, Felix Andretti couldn’t resist marrying his fiancée, Hannah, in the most idyllic manner possible. Instead of spending months organizing church, flowers and the reception, two months ago Felix whisked brunette Hannah off to St Lucia where they married in a simple beachside ceremony with just two close friends as witnesses.

‘We wanted it to be as simple and pure as possible,’ Felix says earnestly, unable to tear his eyes away from his stunning Irish wife. ‘I’m a romantic sort of guy and I’d always thought that when I met the right woman, I’d want to get married immediately with no fuss. Marriage is sacred to me and the idea of marrying outdoors with the ocean and nature all around made sense: you’re at one with nature and the one you love. We were both barefoot on the sand. I’ll never forget it. It was just a wonderful spur-of-the-moment thing.’

The couple spent their honeymoon enjoying lazy days swimming and taking moonlit walks along the same beach where they’d got married, mere steps away from their lovely hotel, the charming Rex St Lucian. Felix even tried his hand at scuba diving while Hannah, who’s pregnant with the couple’s first baby, lounged around enjoying the sunshine.

Hannah could barely cope with reading the glowing report in the magazine. Felix had gone scuba diving all right, leaving her alone with bloody Bill for days on end. As Bill’s notion of having a good time meant knocking back as many rum-based cocktails as possible, she didn’t make a very lucid companion.

Some days, Bill held off drinking long enough to play a quick game of tennis with the hotel’s handsome pro, before ending up in the buffet having the odd lettuce leaf with a bottle of chilled white wine. Hannah, who felt too hot to sunbathe, spent most of her time in the air-conditioned bedroom, looking out at the happy couples beside the pool.

She bet she was the only honeymooner in the place who’d spent most of her time on her own.

On their last day there, she’d begged Felix to forget his scuba diving so they could have one day together, perhaps drive around the island and have lunch somewhere…

‘I’ve paid for today,’ Felix protested. ‘It’d be a waste of money to miss the last dive.’

‘It was a waste of money asking me to come with you! You could have saved by not bringing me, since you haven’t spent five minutes with me since we got here!’ Hannah screamed, throwing an ashtray at him.

Felix ducked and the ashtray crashed loudly into the wall, leaving a big dent in it.

‘Now look what you’ve done,’ he said in exasperation.

Hannah burst into tears.

‘If you’re going all hormonal on me, I’m leaving,’ he muttered.

She went for a facial in a hotel nearby and then sat and drank an iced tea at the poolside bar before going for a short walk along the beach. It was too hot to stay outside for long, so she bought some magazines, and went back to her room. She’d just lie down on the bed and have a snooze…

Felix woke her up at seven. ‘Come on, darling, let’s have dinner. I’m ravenous.’

Disorientated, Hannah couldn’t remember where she was for a moment. But Felix was here, wasn’t he? His skin glowing with a deep golden tan, his hair bleached white in the sun, he looked better than ever. A white linen shirt and beige linen trousers hung elegantly on his lean frame. His teeth were brilliant white against the dark skin, his mouth a sensuous slash on his face. He leaned forward and kissed her. Hannah could smell the tang of salt water and the unmistakable scent of tanned flesh. Sleepily, she let him undo the buttons of her sundress and cup the newly heavy breasts in his hands. His tongue, hot and slick, moved over her skin, tasting and nibbling, sending her reeling with pleasure.

‘We’ll have dinner later,’ Felix pronounced as he slid the dress off and slipped his hands into her cotton panties.

A woman recognized Felix at Birmingham airport. He and Hannah were waiting for their luggage and talking about whether they’d go for a quick sandwich or not before heading to Felix’s mother’s house. It was a good three-quarters of an hour away by taxi and they were both famished, having not eaten since the meal on the plane from St Lucia. Even for the figure-conscious Felix, a small packet of cheese-flavoured nibbles on their connecting flight from Heathrow didn’t constitute lunch. Then a middle-aged woman in a neat navy blazer and cream skirt came racing up excitedly, pulling a tiny trolley case behind her.

‘You’re the bloke off the telly! Off Bystanders, aren’t you? The carpenter who lives in the flat downstairs to the two girls.’

Felix smiled boyishly at her. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I am.’

The woman blossomed under his smile. She roared to her friend to come over too. Soon, the three of them were talking animatedly, with Felix signing autographs with the easy expertise of someone who’d been doing it for years. He chatted away to the women as if they were all great friends, asking them questions and answering theirs.

Hannah stood to one side and watched in amusement. Felix had such charm, she thought proudly. He had the two fans eating out of his hands.

She kept an eye out for their luggage and listened in on the conversation.

‘Is she your girlfriend?’ asked the first woman, who was now identified as Josephine.

Hannah whipped her head round and grinned.

‘No,’ Felix said, pride in his voice, ‘she’s my wife.’

‘Lovely looking, too,’ said Josephine admiringly.

Hannah felt about six feet tall. She’d done her best to look good, on the grounds that she’d be meeting her beloved’s mother for the first time. She’d worn her rather chic red Jasper Conran dress that used to cling to her svelte curves becomingly, along with long suede boots and a new square gleaming leather handbag that cost four times more than any handbag she’d ever owned. The dress was straining around her belly now, even though it was cut generously, so she’d draped a beautiful black and white shawl she’d bought in St Lucia over one shoulder to take people’s eyes away from her bump.

The effect was elegance personified and Felix adored it. He’d never said that his mother would adore it or her, though. In fact, there hadn’t been many mentions of his mother at all and Hannah was beginning to feel a bit nervous about meeting Mrs Andretti.

‘Must go, Josephine and Lizzie,’ Felix said now to the two fans. ‘I can see our luggage on the conveyor belt.’

With ‘good luck’ ringing in their ears, Hannah and Felix collected their belongings and left the airport. ‘Mum is bound to start cooking when we arrive,’ Felix said, explaining why he’d decided they shouldn’t bother with a sandwich at the airport. ‘Even if you arrive announced, she gets the frying pan out.’

‘You mean you haven’t told her we’re coming?’ Hannah asked in surprise as she settled herself in the back of the taxi. She was sure when Felix declared he was bringing her to meet his mother that he’d actually told the poor woman he’d just got married and was planning to turn up with a wife in tow.

‘No,’ he said cagily. ‘We’re not that sort of family, not into big get-togethers.’

Felix rarely mentioned his family – second-generation Spanish parents, from what Hannah could gather. In fact, she’d learned that from his TV Times biography when Bystanders began its six-week run. He’d never discuss them with her, merely saying they weren’t close. ‘They’re my past, you’re my future,’ he’d say mysteriously.

She’d assumed that they were traditionally Spanish, valuing the family and keen on marvellous family feasts where all generations got together. Felix’s problem had obviously been that nobody in the family felt acting was a proper job. They couldn’t think that now, Hannah decided. Felix’s career was on the up. She thought of telling his mother about how successful he was, and the notion of bringing this estranged family back together gave her a warm glow. She’d even secretly studied a Spanish-English phrase book, trying to pick up the odd word so his family wouldn’t think she was rude by not knowing any of their language.

‘What will I call your mum?’ she asked, deciding to keep quiet about Felix’s having neglected to tell his family they were coming.

‘Vera,’ he said.

‘That’s not very Spanish,’ Hannah joked.

‘Hannah, love, before we get there, I’ve got to explain something. Actors take stage names, you know that. Cary Grant was Archibald something or other and John Wayne’s real first name was Marion. I changed my name, right?’

‘You mean you’re not partly Spanish?’ she asked. ‘It was in the TV Times.’

‘No.’ He shrugged. ‘I thought it was a good idea at the time because I’m so blond. You know, the blond Spaniard, I thought I’d get remembered for it – and I have been. But that’s the official line, right? My real name,’ he said in a whisper, ‘is Loon, not Andretti.’

Hannah gaped at him. After going out for months, after getting married, she was only now learning about the real Felix. If he was Felix. She quailed at the thought that he wasn’t called Felix either. ‘What’s your first name?’ she asked hesitantly.

‘Phil.’

‘Phil Loon,’ she said slowly. ‘I think I prefer Felix, certainly. I can’t imagine calling you anything else.’

‘Look, my name is Felix Andretti, full stop,’ he said firmly. ‘I’m just telling you my old name because you’re going to meet my family. My mother’s never forgiven me for changing it, but you could hardly be an international star of stage and screen and be called Loon. Imagine the fun the critics would have with that: Loon-ey tunes every time I was in something. No, siree.’

‘So I’m Mrs Loon,’ Hannah said reflectively. She giggled at the improbability of it all.

‘I’ve changed it by deed poll now, so it’s official,’ Felix snapped. ‘Stop making a laugh of it, right?’

‘But your accent,’ Hannah continued, ‘you don’t sound totally English. You have a hint of something else…’ She paused. Felix did sound faintly exotic, as if he’d learned English at public school but had spent his youth in some far-off land.

‘Elocution lessons,’ he said tightly. ‘And I never said I was personally Spanish, just that my family originally came from there. It wasn’t a lie, really. I can always say people took me up wrong if it gets out.’

Felix’s mother lived in a small semi-detached house in a modern housing estate outside Birmingham. Women with pushchairs clutching children by the hand congregated around the small primary school at the end of the road when the taxi drove up. Opposite the house was a green area with a children’s playground and plenty of lush shrubbery.

‘It’s pretty,’ said Hannah, admiring the newish houses with their fashionable picture windows, pointy-roofed porches and decorative brickwork.

‘I didn’t grow up here, obviously,’ Felix said, paying the driver. ‘She moved here after we all left home.’

‘What about your dad?’

‘He’s dead.’

‘Oh.’ Hannah dragged out her small case and realized she’d learned more about her fiancé and his family in the past hour than she had in their entire time together.

Felix rang the bell and the door was opened by a tall blonde woman who filled the doorway with her bulk. In a navy silky tracksuit, she had to weigh all of twenty stone. Her face was hard, a fact emphasized by the platinum colour of her hair. This woman could not be Felix’s mum.

‘Hiya, Ma,’ said Felix, his vowel sounds curiously flattening out. ‘This is Hannah, we’ve just got married and you’re going to be a granny again soon.’

‘You better come in then,’ said Vera Loon. ‘June,’ she yelled, nearly deafening Hannah, ‘put the kettle on.’

June turned out to be Felix’s sister, a dark version of her gorgeous brother. Slim and with the same beautifully chiselled features, she could have modelled in any glossy magazine. But it was obvious that all her time was spent looking after the three boisterous boys who were running riot in their granny’s kitchen.

‘Congratulations,’ June said in a friendly way when she heard the news. ‘He’s a quiet one, our Phil. Never tells anyone anything.’

He never told me he was called Phil, Hannah wanted to say but didn’t.

‘Come here, boys,’ Vera said. ‘Meet your new auntie. You’re very brown, love. Been away?’

The three boys were introduced, tea and cake was produced, and everyone sat down at the kitchen table.

Vera was less daunting when she was sitting down and wasn’t eyeing you up and down like an airport scanner, Hannah decided.

‘I don’t know why he couldn’t have brought you home before now,’ Vera sighed. ‘Just like his father, secretive.’

‘I was working,’ Felix said sulkily.

He looked out of place here, Hannah thought. He wasn’t the sort of man you could imagine in a three-bedroomed semi with an ordinary kitchen and a couple of holy pictures on the walls. Felix did look exotic, different. Yet he wasn’t, was he? He was an ordinary man with an ordinary family. She wondered briefly what else he’d concealed from her and the rest of the world. Was there more to Felix Andretti than met the eye – or less?

She drank her tea and admired the boys while Felix prowled restlessly around the room, apparently bored. He didn’t join in the stilted conversation and made no attempt to rough-house with his nephews, Hannah noticed.

‘It’s a pity you didn’t want us at the wedding,’ Vera added sorrowfully. ‘I love a nice day out. Tell us when the baby’s due, love?’

Hannah’s heart leapt for this woman who clearly knew her glamorous son was ashamed of his roots. She patted Vera’s hand kindly. ‘December,’ she said with a smile. ‘Of course we’d have wanted you at the wedding,’ she said, forgetting that she hadn’t been keen on the idea of a big family wedding either. ‘It all happened so quickly, what with the baby and everything, we didn’t have time to ask you. Felix would have loved it if you’d been there.’

Felix kicked her under the table.

‘We got married abroad,’ he said quickly. ‘You know, to avoid the papers following us. We flew back from St Lucia this morning, actually.’

‘We’d love to go abroad,’ June said, holding her youngest, three-year-old Tony, squirming on her lap as he gobbled up chocolate biscuits. ‘Tony Senior and I haven’t been abroad since our honeymoon. Portugal,’ she added to Hannah. ‘I love Portugal, but with three kids and me not working any more, it’s hard to afford foreign holidays. We had Clark the year after we were married, then Adam eighteen months later, and then Tony.’

‘What did you work at?’ Hannah asked.

‘A hairdresser.’

‘With your looks, you could be a model,’ Hannah pointed out. ‘You’re beautiful.’

June shuddered. ‘Having all those people looking at me, telling me I’m too fat or too old – no way. Phil loves it, but I wouldn’t.’

Chalk and cheese, Hannah thought with a little smile. Felix would kill to have everyone looking at him, while his sister was horrified at the notion. Families were strange. United by blood but so utterly different.

‘Why’d you go on telling them they’d have to visit us when we get settled?’ Felix snapped a few hours later when they were in yet another taxi going to a local hotel.

‘They’re your family,’ she protested. ‘You can’t forget about them.’

‘You’ve conveniently forgotten yours,’ he snarled.

‘That’s a lie!’ Hannah said hotly. ‘You’ll meet my mother soon and as for my father, as I’ve told you, he’s an alcoholic. Believe me, you wouldn’t want him at any function where there was free drink.’

‘So it’s all right to leave your father out of the fun, but not to leave my family out, is that it?’ he said.

They argued all the way to the hotel, Hannah bitterly pointing out that he’d even managed to insult his mother by refusing to spend the night at her home.

‘She’s got a spare bedroom,’ Hannah said. ‘She was dying to have us stay, specially since you haven’t been home in ages.’

‘I didn’t want to sleep there when I could be in a nice four-star hotel,’ Felix retorted.

‘Far from bloody four-star hotels you were reared!’ she shouted at him.

‘Not any more, sweetie pie,’ he hissed. ‘Now I’m a fucking star and I’ve got to behave like a star.’

‘Yeah? Well, I can promise you one thing,’ Hannah hissed back at him. ‘If that’s the way you behave as a fucking star, there won’t be any fucking at all, got it?’ Hostilities were suspended the next day when they visited Vera’s again for lunch before heading to the airport. Hannah was gratified to see that Felix was behaving a bit better to his poor mother, even going so far as to invite her to Dublin for a weekend ‘sometime…’

‘We’d love to have you and June and the kids to stay,’ Hannah said earnestly as they left. ‘I mean that. Our place is a bit small right now, but we’ll be moving somewhere bigger and we’d really love to see you then.’

‘I can see you mean it, Hannah love,’ Vera smiled. ‘Look after that son of mine, will you? I’m happy that he’s got himself a decent woman at last. And take care of yourself, love, won’t you. He’s a handful, our Phil, always was.’

‘Your mum’s lovely,’ Hannah said on the way to the airport.

‘Yeah, well, you try living with her,’ Felix remarked, staring moodily out the window.

Hannah gave up and left him to his sulks. His humour didn’t improve until they were in the air when the stewardess smiled and asked him for his autograph ‘…for my sister.’

For you, you mean, Hannah thought grimly as Felix gave the stewardess his most dazzling smile.

Back in Dublin, Felix was his old self, charming, affectionate and funny. ‘I’m a bit tense when I go home,’ he admitted, holding Hannah’s left hand as they drove to her flat. ‘I didn’t mean to take it out on you, it’s just…you know, family history. You think I’m being a bastard, but you just don’t understand what’s happened.’

‘How can I know if you won’t tell me?’ Hannah protested. ‘Don’t keep secrets from me, Felix.’

‘It’s not a secret, it’s just boring family stuff. Forget about it.’

And with that she had to be content.