Page 13 of The Day After Christmas
The very first time.
Her father.
Felicity twisted and pulled at the tea towel as they stood and regarded each other for a long, agonising moment. She wondered if she might faint. Did people really do that sort of thing?Holy shit. Is this really happening?
‘Aren’t you going to say hello?’ said the man, eventually.
‘Is it… is, erm, I mean, is that what one says in this situation?’
‘I’m not sure there are any rules in this situation.’
Her father – yes, against all the odds, against all human reason, that is who it was – took one more step further into the room. His voice was calm and deep, but he was tall and incongruous in this familiar, comforting space, and Felicity had an almost hysterical urge to laugh.
I mean, this just cannot be happening.
Instead, she cleared her throat. ‘That’s far enough.’
She was holding the tea towel out in front of her now as if it was going to provide some kind of protection from this unwelcome apparition.
‘Fair play.’
Harry Brooks – oh yes, the apparition had a name – leant against the storage unit just inside the door and Felicity wondered how he could be so casual in such a momentous moment.
‘How… how the hell did you find me?’ she said, her voice dragging over the words.
Harry shrugged. Actually shrugged. ‘It took some doing.’
‘I would imagine so, given I didn’t exactly want to be found. But then, you’ve had thirty whole years, to be fair.’
He shrugged again but the tiniest flash of pain showed on his brow. He said nothing in reply.
Felicity tried again. ‘Perhaps I should have asked why, not how. Would that be easier? Why… why did you find me?’
Her father smiled a tight, tense smile and looked for the first time around the room. Felicity felt as though she had pins and needles running through her entire body.
‘Isn’t there somewhere we could talk, properly? Could you allow me that?’
‘I’m working,’ said Felicity.
‘I can see that,’ he replied simply.
‘And besides…’
‘Besides what?’
‘Besides…’
Besides what?
Besides everything.
CHAPTER 8
Heart pounding, Felicity led Harry along the corridor to the break room and motioned to him to take a seat on one of the crappy white plastic garden chairs covered in cat blankets and dog hair. She sat down opposite him, her palms sweaty and clammy, wondering how the hell to handle this. They sat for a few moments in silence, both staring not quite at each other, past each other almost, as if awaiting divine assistance.
‘Ah, you look great. It’s so good to see you, baby girl,’ said her father, eventually, slapping his hands on his knees in emphasis.
Felicity crossed her arms. ‘No. No nicknames. Sorry. Just Felicity is fine, thanks.’
