Chapter 8

The door to Felicity’s room was still closed so I took a quick shower, careful to lock the door first. Considering the events of the previous evening I was only a little surprised to see my lovely guest sitting at the breakfast table cupping a coffee. What did surprise me more was a cup of coffee and some cereal waiting for me.

She smiled with genuine warmth and said. “Sorry its only cereal but it’s the only thing I can cook.”

I bent over to kiss her, prepared to pull back at the first sign of reluctance. Fortunately there was none so my morning started with a soft and gentle kiss. What could be better?

“David, thank you for last night, both for what you did do and more so for what you didn’t.”

She had obviously been rehearsing a speech so I sat down and ate my breakfast whilst I listened to her. I also took the opportunity to look at her. Her blonde hair would no longer make the front page of a hairdressers’ magazine; in fact the roots were no longer even blonde. It was clean and brushed but totally unstyled. She wore no make-up at all, though her complexion was smooth, which surprised me a little considering how much junk she’d worn when I first met her. At that time I thought her a very attractive woman, at least visually, now I saw nothing but a truly beautiful woman. I listening as she continued.

“You didn’t put any pressure on me, that was important and still is. I do love you and I really want to show you just how much you mean to me, but I still have horrible flashbacks and it scares me to think of anything physical other than a hug. Well now other than a kiss too. I’m getting there, I certainly couldn’t’ have kissed you a couple of weeks ago though, even then, I really wanted to. I’ll even get dolled up for you when I get some confidence back.”

“Whoa!” I interrupted. “If you want to get dolled up for you, then fine, but for me I much prefer Felicity’s natural look to Fliss’ artificial one any day of the week. It’s you that excites me, not what you put on your face. I love you as you are.”

She blushed slightly. “I haven’t got used to someone wanting the real me rather than my father’s daughter or simply a body to use, although my own behaviour did little to change that. I am certainly not used to anyone saying they love me, though I can very easily get used to that bit.”

We talked for over an hour, mainly reiterating things we’d said to each other over the previous weeks before Felicity felt that she needed to face her father. She declined my offer to accompany her. Once she’d left, I got on with the mundane weekend chores of a single man, interrupted only by a long telephone conversation with my youngest daughter.

With the house relatively clean and the third load of washing in the machine I started to make myself, in my eyes, a well-deserved mug of coffee. With the noisy washing machine I failed to hear the front door open and when I turned around to take my coffee to the table I saw Amy standing smirking at me. I guess I jumped a bit, enough to need the mop to clean up the spilt coffee, much to my daughter’s amusement.

“So Dad, what’s this I hear about Felicity spending the night here?”

I smiled. “Let me guess, you’ve been talking to your sister this morning?”

“Of course, got to keep proper tabs on the old man, ensure he doesn’t become an embarrassment to his children in his dotage.” She giggled.

“Then you already know what happened. Vicki wasn’t getting off the phone without ALL the details and I’m sure she passed every one of them on to her nosy big sister.” I laughed.

With the initial mandatory skirmish out of the way Amy got down to serious talk, wanting to know more of our feelings rather than just the events. I was honest enough to mention the ‘love’ word, which led to even more probing and, I was glad to see, some smiles.

“Where to from here?” She asked virtually repeating my own question to Felicity.

“We wait and see. Whatever happens will be at Felicity’s pace.”

“So! I might have a step-mum soon then.” She stated with a twinkle.

“That is a long way away even assuming it ever gets that far.”

“Are you going to get the door then?” Amy suddenly asked.

Only then did I hear the faint ring over the washer’s noise. I blamed too many rock concerts. Amy blamed old age.

I went and let Felicity in. It seemed that lately, whenever she came from her father she arrived in tears. This was no exception. I held her for a few moments before telling her that Amy was in the other room. After seemingly picking herself up, she followed me to the front room where my daughter was waiting.

Felicity told us that her father had been furious with her, threatening to disinherit her altogether. After a futile hour of trying to explain to him how she felt she’d escaped to her room and cried. He had followed her there and, ignoring her tears, told her that the girl he knew would easily pull herself together and get back to work. He wouldn’t have it that she no longer was that girl and that she couldn’t face an office full of young men. He’d told her that staying away was no longer an option; that he’d made commitments on her behalf and that she must see through or he’d be made to look a fool, like he couldn’t control his own daughter. She looked longingly at the two of us before admitting that she realised that everything had always been about him and how she fit into and could improve his life. She looked at Amy with great sadness and told her that it was seeing how she and Vicki interacted with me that she truly understood what she had missed out on with her own father.

Amy looked at me and then at the door. I got the hint and excused myself on the pretext of needing the loo. I gave them as long as I thought they needed before returning to find Amy holding Felicity who once more had tears streaming down her pretty face. I put my arms around both and we just hugged.

A lot of tears later, and not all of them Felicity’s, we found out that her father had basically kicked her out but not before he’d taken her credit card, her mobile phone and car keys from her claiming that as they belonged to his company and as she was not prepared to work, then she wasn’t entitled to them. He’d even tried to take her own credit card telling her that he’d been the one to put money into her account; apparently he classed wages the same as giving her the money; and he didn’t think she was capable of making her own decisions. Of course he told her that it was for her own good and that she could come back when she saw sense, by which he meant do whatever he told her to.

She’d left with nothing but her purse and had walked the mile or so into town and caught a taxi here. I was all for going to see the manipulating bastard that she called a father and sorting him out. Whether I actually was physically capable didn’t really enter my mind. Macho foolishness both the women stated as they vetoed the idea. Amy took the unilateral decision that she would take Felicity to her father’s and pick up some clothes and feminine basics. I half joked that she’d need a truck rather than her small car. A sneer was my reward. The one thing we all understood was that Felicity would stay here for as long as she needed to, although Amy magnanimously offered one of Vicki’s spare rooms if staying with me proved too uncomfortable.