Daydreamer
Chapter 27

Felix

I had a feeling that I was not going to like whatever had happened to Lucy’s hands, my own clenching into fists on the table.

“Oh dear,” Hetty said. “Tea first.” I waited until a cup of sweet tea was placed in front of me.

“Please Hetty, tell me.”

“Take a sip first, love.” I complied, not even tasting the tea, but the warmth of it did settle my stomach somewhat. Hetty nodded. “Frostnip.”

“Frostnip?” I shook my head. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” said Hetty cautiously. “You know she has Raynaud’s and cold intolerance, don’t you? Doctors never could work out why my Lucy couldn’t bear the cold. Had every blood test under the sun – all clear. It’s just the way she was made. Should have been born on the Equator, definitely not in England.

“Anyhow, when she left your office, she didn’t have her coat, gloves, hat or her bag. And she says she was wearing an outfit you would approve of so she could impress you. Not her normal jumpers and furry boots, but a skirt, heels, thin shirt.” My heart sank as I started to guess where this was going. “Now, my Lucy, she’s a dreamer. Not the most practical soul, but you know that.” I nodded, not wanting to hear the rest but knowing I had to. “Well, she tried to get back into the building to get her stuff, but the chaps on the door wouldn’t consider it. Told her they had strict instructions – she was not to re-enter the building under any circumstances. That she was a threat to the company.”

I winced, putting the mug of tea down to shove my hands into my hair. Hetty cleared her throat.

“She didn’t know what to do. No phone, no money. And she’s shy and doesn’t want to impose. She only went into a café to ask for help when she realised she was in trouble, but to be honest, by then it was a bit too late. Her hands were in a really bad way. Frostnip is sort of like a cold burn. Painful for a few weeks but no lasting damage.”

“Oh, God no,” I groaned, letting my head drop to the table. “I’m an unbelievable bastard.” I took another fifty out of my wallet without looking up and slid it to Hetty. “Mike shouldn’t have stopped with one punch.”

“No, I bloody well shouldn’t have.” At Mike’s angry voice, my head snapped up. He was standing at the back door, rubbing down the dogs. His face was red with anger, his jaw set. “What the fuck is he doing here, Mum?”

Hetty pushed the jar towards him. He dug in his pocket, extracting a pound coin and chucking it in without breaking eye contact with me.

Hetty sighed. “Give the boy a break, Michael. He feels bad enough already. And Lucy’s hands are much better. She can type now, at least.”

My gaze shot to Hetty. “She couldn’t type?”

Hetty shrugged. “No. Missed a big deadline as well. It was a bit of a palaver. That’s why she’s so fussy about using her noise-cancelling thingies and not being bothered by Gandalf. She’s on a mission to finish the manuscript.”

“She was in pain?” I couldn’t help it then; my voice broke over the words, and my throat felt tight. “I caused her pain? I think… I think I’m going to throw up.” With that, I shot up to my feet, only just making it to the small bathroom under the stairs in time to see my breakfast make a dramatic reappearance.

There was silence in the kitchen when I returned after washing my mouth out at the sink and looking at my pale reflection. I sat at the kitchen table again as my hands came up to cover my face. I couldn’t look at any of the Mayweathers. How had I sunk so low? How could I have hurt her?

“Come on, Felix, love,” Hetty’s soft voice cut through my self-loathing, her hand had settled on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “It’ll all be right. You’re going to put it right. Nothing you couldn’t do as a boy was there? Any tree you wanted to climb you were the first up there. Didn’t want anything from your dad, so you worked your arse off in the pub with Jimbo to buy a car for yourself, but I know you gave it all to Mikey to help him set up his workshop. And when Lucy was being bullied at school, you went to pick her up and cornered those little shits.” Hetty dropped her own pound coin into the jar with her hand that wasn’t on my shoulder. “You helped her with her maths. And don’t think I don’t know that you were the first person to encourage my daughter to become a storyteller. You saw that potential.”

“Hetty, I didn’t even know she’d published her books,” I said in an agonised voice. “How could I not have known?”

I looked at Hetty then. Her eyes were fixed on me and slightly narrowed.

“I reckon once you left Little Buckingham you wanted to really leave. Too much pain for you here, wasn’t there, love?”

I broke eye contact with Hetty to look down at the table. She was right. I had needed to leave this village behind. On some level, I knew I loved Lucy; even as a child, I knew our bond ran deep. And nothing was going to pull me back here, not after what Dad did.

“She’ll never forgive me,” I whispered, staring down at my tea and feeling the bottom drop out of my world.

Mike huffed. “Ugh, bloody hell. You always were a dramatic little bitch.” I glanced at him. He was no longer puffed up with righteous anger; in fact, there was almost a touch of pity in his expression as he sank down into one of the chairs opposite me at the table. “She’ll live. It’s not like she lost a finger or anything.”

I felt the blood drain out of my face. My stomach clenched again.

“Calm down, love,” Hetty said. “None of that now. You can’t win my daughter back if you’re covered in vomit or passed out on the floor.”

Vomiting had been a stress response for me as a child, and Hetty was always able to recognise the signs. I took a deep breath to stave off the nausea and took a sip of tea as instructed. Hetty was right – tea really did make everything better.

“Mum?”

I let go of the mug with a clatter at the sound of Lucy’s voice. Some tea spilt over the side, but I ignored it. She didn’t see me as she made it through the door. That was because, bizarrely, she was pushing a small, fat pony from behind to force it into the kitchen, huffing and puffing with the effort. The small pony’s head was in the air, and it was bracing its hooves to try and go back against Lucy’s pushing.

“Can we please keep Legolas outside my shed? He keeps butting my arm when I’m trying to write, and he ate one of my maps! This place is a bloody madhouse. You’re not meant to have—” She froze, and her mouth snapped shut when she caught sight of me. Straightening up slowly she kept her gaze locked to mine as she reached up to pull her headphones off. “You’re here.”

And I just couldn’t help it. I knew I didn’t have the right. I knew I had to wait for her to come to me. But there was nothing I could do about it. My legs were pushing up from the chair and taking me over to her before I had really registered the thought to do it. She’d managed to push her way around the pony now and was standing in the kitchen. I stopped right in front of her. Her mouth opened to speak, but she snapped it shut as I gently took both her hands in mine.

Very, very carefully, I turned them over to look at both sides. She winced slightly and my eyes shot to hers.

“They’re still a bit sensitive,” she said in explanation, and I closed my eyes slowly, feeling the heat building behind them. I hadn’t cried in front of anyone since the Benji incident when I was thirteen years old. My father told me that day that crying was for pathetic losers. I vowed then that I would never cry again and that I would hate my father forever. Both promises I’d kept until now.

When I opened my eyes, Lucy sucked in a shocked breath at the tears swimming there.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” I said in a ravaged whisper, unable to get anything else past my tight throat.

One of her hands went up to my face. Her thumb swiping the tear that had fallen. “Felix,” she said softly, her voice full of emotion. Then her eyelids swept shut, her hand fell away from my face, the other pulling easily from mine. I wanted to hold onto her to stop the inevitable retreat but I didn’t want to risk hurting her fingers. So I let it slip away as she took a step back. There was total silence in the kitchen now. Mike shifted uncomfortably in his chair – I don’t think he’d seen me cry since I was six.

“I can’t ever take that back,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I can’t ever take back the fact I hurt you.” Lucy rubbed her hands together and the urge to take them both in mine was so strong I had to shove my own in my pockets. I sniffed as my eyes started to sting again. Jesus, I couldn’t blub again. Heartbroken or no, Mike would never let me live it down.

“Felix, why are you here?” Lucy said in a small voice.

“I told you I wouldn’t give up. I–I can’t let you go. Please, Lucy, just give me a chance to make it up to you.” I paused, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “Please, Shakespeare. I love you.”

Lucy looked to the side and bit her lip. “How could you have forgotten about the stories?” she whispered after a long moment’s pause. “I know I didn’t push enough to tell you. To make you listen to me when I tried to explain but how could you have forgotten how important the stories were to me? Did you think I just gave them up?”

I took a deep breath in and let it out in a stuttering whoosh. “Of course, I remembered the stories.”

Lucy was shaking her head, her hands balled into fists at her sides and I frowned down at them.

“Baby, your hands,” I said softly and her eyes flashed but she did relax them slightly – the white knuckles regaining their colour.

“You didn’t remember. Not until you found out about LP Mayweather,” she said. “If you’d remembered, you would have known that I’d never give them up.”

“No, that’s not⁠—”

“And you’re not healthy for me,” she interrupted me. I felt the blood drain out of my face. Oh God, I really hoped I wasn’t going to throw up again.

“W–what do you mean?”

She sighed. “Felix, I’ve loved you nearly my whole life. And when you left Little Buckingham you didn’t give me a second thought.”

“Lucy, I⁠—”

“I’m not saying you should have done,” she cut in. “I’m just trying to explain. After you finished uni you rarely came home. You were off to conquer the world. Of course you weren’t going to be fussed about a fifteen-year-old girl with hearts in her eyes. But whilst you were off building an empire, I was here writing stories where the heroes all had dark brown eyes, thick hair with a slight curl at the end when it grows out; who were powerful but with hidden soft centres. I wrote about you. And if that wasn’t enough, I stalked you.”

My eyebrows went up at that. I could feel the hope building. “Lucy, I think I would have known if you were stalking me.”

She shook her head. “Okay, virtual stalking. I’ve read every article ever written about you. Every gossip magazine comment and picture. I could probably reel off every one of your ex-girlfriends. I grilled Mikey to the extent he would avoid me after he’d been to London.”

“It did get a little weird, mate,” Mike conceded, making an eek face that almost made me laugh.

“It got more than a little weird,” Lucy muttered. The colour that rose in her cheeks and the discomfort in her expression made my chest feel tight.

“Lucy,” I said gently. “Baby, I knew you had a crush on me. You don’t have to be embarrassed about that.”

Lucy’s cheeks were on fire now. I wasn’t making this any better. “I came to London for you,” she blurted out and I frowned in confusion.

“What do you⁠—?”

“Yes, I needed to leave Little Buckingham. I wanted to stop being such a wussbag and⁠—”

“Don’t call yourself that,” I snapped, and Lucy rolled her eyes.

“Felix, I could barely leave Little Buckingham without having a panic attack. If that doesn’t make me a wussbag, I don’t know what does.”

“There are different types of bravery,” I said firmly. “Putting your stories out into the world – that’s real bravery.”

“I put my stories out there, but I didn’t put myself out there. There’s a difference.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Well, you did come to London, didn’t you?”

Lucy sighed and crossed her arms over her chest defensively. “I came for you,” she whispered, and that hope in my chest swelled so much I almost smiled but she looked too stricken for me to dare. “I mean, that’s not what I told myself. I told myself that I needed to stop being a recluse and get out there. That a change would be good for me. That I might as well take a job in your company. But deep down I knew – I just wanted to be with you, which is completely pathetic.”

Another lump lodged in my throat as I watched her curl in on herself, hugging her stomach as the colour left her face.

“So, can’t you see? That’s not healthy, Felix. And it meant that when I did catch your attention, I was too scared to ask for more. I was happy with whatever you could give me.” She gave an uncomfortable shrug, darting a quick look at Mike and Hetty before focusing back on me. “I lost myself, Felix. If what happened that day hadn’t happened, I would have carried on losing myself in you. Not daring to ask for more. Trying to change to be what you wanted me to be. Accepting that you put work and ambition above me. I’m not suited to your world. I don’t fit there. And my obsession with you wasn’t healthy for me or you.”

I shoved both my hands into my hair as I paced away from Lucy, trying to come up with the right words. Knowing that fucking this up would be very easy if I said the wrong thing. I paced back again and stopped in front of her, closer than before. When I reached for her she flinched back and I had to force my hand to drop back to my side.

“Don’t you think I’ve read every single word you’ve ever written in the last few weeks? Grilled Mike endlessly, not that the bastard would tell me anything. Lucy, I followed you to the LSE, followed you here. Now, who’s stalking who?” I sighed. “Listen, I wish I hadn’t stayed away so much after I left uni but my dad…” I trailed off. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about that bastard now. “If I’d seen more of you once you’d grown up, of course I would have fallen for you. Of course I would have done. And we would have had years together. Don’t you think I regret that? I regret that bitterly, baby. Especially hearing that you were mine and I didn’t even know it. That Davey Turnbull had what was mine because I was too blind and stupid to know what was waiting for me back here.”

“Davey Turnbull?” Mike snapped. Lucy’s face was on fire now as she rolled her eyes. “How did that prick fly under my radar?” Lucy narrowed her eyes at him.

“Maybe if you hadn’t been such an overprotective caveman I wouldn’t have had to sneak around with Davey because you’d scared all the other lads off.”

“Please, can we not talk about Davey Turnbull anymore?” I said in pained voice.

“You brought him up,” Lucy said, eyes flashing.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I’m not saying this right. Lucy, what I’m trying to get across is that we’re meant for each other. I’ve missed years with you, and I don’t want to miss another second.”

Lucy looked down at her feet for a moment then she took a step towards me. When she laid her hand over my heart my breath caught in my throat, every muscle in my body tensing.

“I love you, Felix,” she said softly, and I started to smile until she shook her head and took a step back and I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. “But you broke my trust.” Her voice dropped to a rough whisper. “And I can’t go through that again. I won’t. I was happy with you, but I never felt secure. My stomach was always in knots wondering when the other shoe would drop. I can’t live like that.”

“That’s my fault,” I said, desperation in my tone. “But I can do better. Please, please give me a chance to do better.”

She was shaking her head again, and I had an awful sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. “We’re not equals, and I’m not strong enough to handle that type of relationship.”

“That’s bullshit!” I semi-shouted, and Mike pushed back his chair to stand – clearly not on board with me shouting at his sister, whom I’d already traumatised, and I couldn’t say I blamed the guy. I swallowed and forced my tone to soften. “Of course we’re equals. No, no that’s not right. You’re so much better than me. I know I don’t deserve you. I know it. But I’m a selfish, arrogant bastard, and I want you anyway.”

“It’s over, Felix,” Lucy told me, her voice now cold. “I’m sorry, but it was over the minute you wouldn’t listen to me and threw me away. I can’t live like your mother. I can’t tolerate a man like your father.”

I took a stumbling step back. Lucy’s words hammered into me like physical blows. All these years of hating my father, of never wanting to be like him, and here I was – the love of my life could see my worst fear was a reality. I blinked as I considered the facts. In my quest for more money and power, driven by my desire to outdo my father which I knew he would hate, I’d become a ruthless, workaholic intent on success at any cost. Happy not to make the time to listen to the woman I loved when I was lucky enough to have her. Happy not to care whether the atmosphere in my office was inclusive or fair. Happy to throw away the best thing that ever happened to me.

“Right,” I said in a choked voice. “Y–you’re right.”

“Felix, I⁠—”

“No, no, it’s okay. You don’t have to say anymore. I–I’ll leave.”

I ignored Hetty’s protests as I stumbled to the front door. I was proud of myself that I managed to clear the borders of Little Buckingham before I stopped in a layby and vomited again into a ditch.