Echoes of Love (11 page)

‘Really?’ Araminta was all attention. ‘What’s her name?’

‘Cassandra Wentworth,’ Anna said. ‘Dad wanted her on his show once.’

‘The Wentworth woman?’ Walter burst out, pouring himself another glass of pinot noir. ‘The one who refused to do a slot with me? Self-opinionated —’

‘Heavens above!’ Araminta gasped. ‘Now there’s a thing. Where’s she standing?’

‘Muckleborough and Bythorn,’ Anna replied. ‘Why?’

‘You should get your producer on to this one right now,’ Araminta declared, turning to Walter. ‘She’ll be desperate for publicity now and you could do a really
hard-hitting slot.’

‘What? Give her air time when she refused before? Who do you take me for?’

‘Darling,’ Araminta cooed, her steely gaze belying the softness of her words. ‘I take you for someone who has been blanked by the Beeb, who has lost a prime-time slot and whose
ratings are dropping like the proverbial stone. Nothing to do with you of course, angel, it’s the programmers who need a rocket up their . . . well, anyway, get Cassandra W on the show . . .
It could be interesting, and she might produce some headline-hitting stuff.’

‘Worth a try, I suppose,’ Walter nodded. ‘I am exceedingly good at the head-on confrontation.’

He smiled around at everyone as if waiting for a round of applause.

‘Anyway,’ he went on when it wasn’t forthcoming, ‘that can wait. Right now, I want to meet this chap, Anna. Gaby’s not at all sure he’s our type – and
certainly his mother’s a bit of a rough diamond if I recall – ghastly accent and the dress sense of a . . . good grief, what’s that?’ Walter stopped in mid sentence as the
sound of a blaring car horn shattered the peace.

‘Oh – er, that’ll just be my friends. They said they’d pick me up on the way to the party,’ Anna gabbled, glaring at Gaby who had the good grace to look mildly
embarrassed.

‘And this Felix – he’s out there, is he?’ Walter interrupted. ‘Well, for goodness’ sake, bring him in and let’s give him the once over.’

‘Not now, Dad, not with everyone here.’

‘Everyone? Everyone? These are our dear friends,’ Walter boomed, moving into his on-screen persona and smiling magnanimously at Marina and Araminta. ‘Now come along,
we’ll move into the sitting room – can’t have guests in this chaos!’ He ushered them out of the kitchen, allowing his hand briefly to caress Araminta’s backside as he
did so. ‘Now for goodness’ sake, go and fetch him, if only to stop that confounded horn blasting away!’

It wasn’t how Anna had planned the first meeting between her father and Felix. In truth, she hadn’t really planned it at all – in fact, she had done all in her power to avoid
it. It was all so new, this feeling of being in love, and she didn’t want anything or anybody to spoil it. The confrontational style that made her father famous wasn’t so entertaining
off-screen, and she knew that, deep down, he was a snob with very definite views on whom to include in the circle he liked his family to move in.

And the fact was, that much as she hated to admit it even to herself, Felix wasn’t like the other boys that her father was used to having hanging round the house. He wasn’t public
school and he didn’t shoot game, or sail or ride.

She would just have to hope that, if her dad wanted to get Cassandra on the show, he’d suck up to Felix big time. Clearly, his agent was thinking along the same lines.

‘I just love meeting young people, don’t you, Walt?’ she could hear Araminta coo. ‘Of course, I have terrific empathy with them, and I’m sure this Felix lad will
take to me, so if you just let me chat him up . . .’

Rather than vomit on the spot, Anna left her to go on, resigning herself to the inevitable. After all, how bad could it be? A quick hello and a drink and they’d be off. And that would be
that.

Only it hadn’t quite worked out like that. When Anna opened the front door, she found not just one car parked there but two. Jamie Benwick was at the wheel of the VW Polo that his parents
had given him on his eighteenth, with Phoebe, Zac’s sister, sitting at his side.

‘Reinforcements,’ Felix grinned, giving Anna a kiss. ‘Phoebe’s taken pity on Zac!’

‘Got tired of his moping, more like,’ Phoebe laughed, climbing out of the car and flicking a solitary strand of bright pink hair behind her ear. (Phoebe was experimenting with new
looks and it occurred to Anna that the current one was not an unqualified success.) ‘Give me five minutes, and Gaby will be putty in Zac’s hands.’

I wouldn’t count on it
, Anna thought, but decided to say nothing.

‘So where is she?’ Zac asked. It was at times like these, when Zac acted like a lovesick fourteen-year-old, that Anna found it hard to imagine him facing an enemy under gunfire.
Although, on second thoughts, she reasoned, facing Gaby would be perfect practice.

‘In the sitting room but you see . . .’

‘OK, let’s get her!’ Phoebe cried. ‘We get her to the party and then it’s up to you! God, I just hope she’s worth it.’ With that, she and Jamie hurried
into the house, eagerly followed by Zac.

‘Wait!’ Anna grabbed Felix’s arm. ‘Dad wants to meet you.’

‘That’s cool,’ Felix replied. ‘What’s the problem?’

‘It’s just that – well, you know – he’s a bit, well you know . . . I mean, you will be . . . I mean, don’t mind if . . .’

‘Anna, you are not making any sense,’ he laughed. ‘Suppose I just go and find out for myself?’

Whatever Phoebe had said to Gaby clearly worked; by the time Anna and Felix were through the front door, she was dashing upstairs to change, followed by Phoebe who gave the
thumbs up to a flushed but exuberant-looking Zac.

‘Phoebe let slip that Zac’s got tickets for the
Hi5
concert at the MK Bowl next week,’ Felix muttered in Anna’s ear as they lingered in the hall.
‘That’ll be the reason for your sister’s sudden change of heart – nothing to do with poor old Zac.’

Anna was about to reply when her father burst out of the sitting room, an expression of forced friendliness on his face.

‘Well now, so you’re the mysterious Felix?’ His eyes travelled from the top of Felix’s head to the toes of his scuffed trainers and back again. ‘Glad to meet you.
Wine? Lager?’

‘No thanks, I’m driving,’ Felix said. ‘But if you’ve got a lemonade, that’d be cool.’

‘Sensible, sensible – good man!’ Anna prayed that it was only she who had noticed her father’s slight wince at Felix’s accent. ‘Anna, get him a drink. Now
come and meet my agent, Araminta Clay, and our dear friend, Marina Russell.’

Walter continued to be charm personified for the first five minutes, using all his finely honed techniques for putting interviewees at their ease and then suddenly switched into interrogation
mode, launching into a battery of questions about Felix’s schooling (‘State school all the way through? Well, I suppose someone has to – ha! Ha!’), his hobbies
(‘Climbing and potholing? Not very sociable pursuits, are they?’) and where he lived (‘Fleckford? Lovely town . . . Oh,
East
Fleckford. Ah.’)

‘And your parents? Of course, I know a bit about your mother, although not as much as I would had she had the sense to come on my show.’

Anna could sense Felix becoming defensive.

‘Hey, we ought to be heading off,’ she said hastily, making a big show of looking at her watch. ‘Leo’s parties always get going really quickly and . . .’

‘A feisty woman, as I recall from the press cuttings. And Anna tells me she now has political aspirations?’ Walter continued, ignoring Anna completely. ‘Fascinating –
Labour, I take it?’ A slight flaring of his nostrils showed his view of socialists generally and the current government in particular.

‘Independent, actually,’ Felix replied. ‘She thinks party politics have been the downfall of this country.’

‘Really? Extraordinary. And your father? Wentworth doesn’t sound – well, an African sort of name.’

If there was an award for embarrassing parents, Anna thought, her father would win it hands down.

‘That’s because my dad is Jamaican,’ Felix replied, breathing deeply which, as Anna had come to recognise, was a sign that he was working very hard at not being rude.
‘Way back, when my great great – oh, I can’t remember how many greats – grandfather was a slave, he belonged to the Wentworth plantation. That’s how he got the
surname.’

‘My dear, how fascinating,’ Araminta enthused. ‘Slaves. What an interesting family. And you? Gabriella tells us you’re joining the Marines.’

Felix nodded. ‘Yes, Zac and I are off to start our training soon.’

‘Your family must be so proud of you,’ Marina remarked. ‘Defence of the realm and all that.’

‘Use your brain, Marina,’ Walter interjected. ‘I doubt his mother’s over the moon about it – she’s spent her life being extremely vocal about that very
topic.’

‘We really must get going,’ Anna stressed, seizing Felix’s hand.

‘But your father?’ Araminta queried.

‘Anna, we really have to go.’ Felix turned to her, a pleading look in his eyes.

Then Walter slapped him on the back, said how delightful it had been to meet him and how he must feel free to call round any time he wanted – and Anna instantly forgave him for all his
blustering. He approved, which was all that mattered, and from now on everything was going to be plain sailing. She might not have spent the rest of the evening on such a high, had she heard
Araminta’s murmured aside to Walter as she and Felix went in search of the others.

‘Well, well, well. Your Anna hooking up with the son of Cassandra Wentworth. Oh Walter, we’re going to take advantage of this one.’

‘What? Anna and some black guy from the wrong side of Fleckford? Are you insane?’

‘Bear with it, just for a while. Trust me, it’ll be worth it,’ Araminata replied firmly. ‘I seem to recall a rumour that . . . Well, anyway, there’s a story worth
telling there, you mark my words. And if I have anything to do with it, it’s going to be
Walt at the Weekend
that breaks it.’

‘Not a lot,’ he had replied abruptly.

‘So where does he live? Do you see a lot of him?’ she’d asked. ‘Will I meet him at Families Day?’

‘Anna, for God’s sake, drop it, will you?’ Felix burst out, letting go of her hand and turning to face her. ‘What is all this? Checking us out, are you? Making sure
we’re good enough for you and your county-set family?’

Anna’s stomach began churning. Any other time, she would have let the matter drop, but she was feeling totally hormonal and so edgy that she felt she might explode at any moment. And what
if this was his way of saying he was going off her? What if he wanted to cool things, to go away to his training and forget her?

‘I’m just interested that’s all,’ she muttered. ‘You’ve met my family and I just thought it would be great to . . .’

‘I’ve had it with this conversation,’ Felix shouted, dropping her hand. ‘You know what? Forget this evening. You’re clearly far more worried about getting the
low-down on my folks than you are about being with me.’

‘That’s not true . . .’

‘So what’s with all this family get-together stuff? Seems a bit full on to me.’

‘OK – I won’t say another word . . .’

‘Say as many as you like, because I’m not hanging around to hear them!’

He turned and strode off, stopping suddenly and walking back towards her.

‘Here.’ He thrust a ten-pound note into her hand.

‘What’s that?’ Anna muttered, choking back tears.

‘Taxi fare home,’ he grunted. ‘I’m hardly going to leave you stranded in the middle of Fleckford on a Saturday night, am I?’

And with that he turned round and walked away without a backward glance.

The text when it came was brief.

Things we need to sort. Meet me in Kellynch Woods 6 p.m. this evening? Fx

The tension had been palpable to start with. As they walked down one of the narrow footpaths that led deep into the woods, their conversation had been almost monosyllabic.

‘You OK?’

‘I guess.’

‘School OK?’

‘Mmm.’

‘Shall we go this way?’

‘If you like.’

‘Shall we sit here?’

‘Sure.’

And then suddenly, as they sat down side by side on a fallen log, they were both speaking at once.

‘Look, about Saturday, I should never have suggested . . .’

‘I was out of order . . .’

‘I promise I won’t ever . . .’

‘I was totally out of order,’ Felix confessed, laying a finger on her lips to silence her. ‘I want to tell you everything. Except it’s hard to know how.’

He paused chewing his lip and avoiding her eyes.

‘When your mum was ill, I guess your dad took care of her, right?’ he asked.

Anna nodded. ‘Well yes – I mean, Macmillan nurses came in each day and eventually she went to a hospice, but she wanted to be at home for as long as she could and . . .’

‘Precisely!’ Felix thumped his fist on to the log. ‘She wanted to be at home and your dad made sure it happened. So – you wanted to know why I was in such a foul mood?
It’s because of what my mum has done to my dad.’

‘Go on.’

‘Dad’s a lot older than Mum – sixteen years actually. And he idolised her.’

Anna noted the past tense but thought it best to stay silent.

‘He did everything he could to make her happy. Stayed at home with me so that she could work, bought her everything she wanted, fielded all the media stuff when she did something stupid.
And she was all over him, because it suited her. But then, a couple of years back, he got ill.’

Anna didn’t know what to say. She knew the agonies and the grief she’d gone through when her mum was sick.

‘I didn’t want to go off on my gap year trip because of it, but Mum said I should, and Dad, well, he wasn’t too bad then. He made a joke about it, and he was really keen for me
to go to South America. He kept telling me to go and have fun. So I did. I’ll never forgive myself.’