‘That dog is NOT coming to London,’ I shout as Felix runs after Baxter.
Once the slipper has been returned to me Felix comes into the bedroom with Baxter in his arms and licking his face. ‘Aunty Emily, please rethink about Baxter coming with us. I promise you he won’t be naughty.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ I say, scowling at Baxter’s cheeky little dog face.
Felix and Baxter hang about upstairs while I shower and get dressed. While I am drying my hair at Vivi’s dressing table Felix comes in carrying Vivi’s old mobile phone. I’ve added a new pay-as-you-go SIM card to it and I let him use it when he goes to football matches with Rory, on sleepovers with school friends (he’s only been on one since Vivi passed away) and when he goes on school trips. It’s my idea of safety. He knows how to use it as apparently Vivi was always asking him how to do stuff on it. Felix knows how to use any piece of technology. He’s a whizz with my latest iPhone, my iPad, and my laptop. We’ve agreed that Vivi’s phone is only to be used in an emergency. It has a pay as you go Sim card inside it so he can’t run up a bill. ‘Can I use this today?’
‘Yes, good idea in case we get separated in the London crowds. Is it charged?’
He grins. ‘Been charging all night in my bedroom.’
Why do I get the feeling Felix is always one step ahead of me?
My eyes notice his bag. ‘What on earth are you taking to London?’
Before I get a reply, he scoots off and thunders downstairs.
Turning back to the mirror, I carry on drying my hair. It looks clean, thick, and glossy today which is a rarity these days. Normally it’s unwashed, greasy, and held in an untidy ponytail. Back when Vivi was still alive and I was busy dating Rory and working, I obsessed over my hair. Every morning I would wash it and spend a good half hour straightening the life out of it. My hair straighteners are still in an unopened box which I brought with me when I moved out of Lizzie’s flat.
My mind flicks back to the last time I’d used them. It was a few days before the night my life imploded. Rory had stayed over at my flat. He was lying in bed trying to persuade me to climb back underneath the covers with him. We’d spent half the night arguing about how he’d turned up drunk to mine after yet another office night out and, on my couch, had started telling me how wonderful it was to have Anna as a friend. I’d gone to bed in a huff. He’d followed and we got into a heated debate about what my problem was with him going on his third office night out in a week. We’d both turned to opposite sides of the bed and fallen asleep. I had awoken to him wrapping his long arms around me and whispering a lengthy apology in my ear. He looked so handsome in the morning light with his messy curly black hair, his boyish smile, and his athletic, muscular chest. We’d had amazing make-up sex and afterwards we both lay grinning like idiots and gasping for air.
So, there I was doing my hair, showered, and fully dressed for work, watching him in the mirror inviting me back to bed. ‘Let’s do that all over again,’ he said with a grin.
‘Rory, I will be late for work,’ I replied, turning on my straighteners.
He crawled over to me and began kissing my neck. ‘Please come back to bed with me,’ he whispered.
Turning on my stool I let him kiss me. Before I knew what was happening, he’d lifted me off the stool and placed me on my dressing table. With a sexy smile he removed my skirt and pants. The sex was great until I burnt my bottom on my poker-hot hair straighteners.
Letting out a heavy sigh I run my brush through my hair and groan as it gets stuck in a huge knot.
‘Beth has posted a comment on her post to say she’s excited about this afternoon’s date,’ says Felix, making me jump in fright and yank my hair brush which in turn makes me cry out. I whirl around still with the hairbrush caught up in my tangled hair mess. ‘OUCH! What?’
Felix is holding Baxter and my iPad. ‘She’s had four likes already.’
Carefully I begin to unpick my hair and think about Beth. Forgetting Felix is telling me this I start to think aloud. ‘Beth is sounding a bit desperate.’
‘I’ve been on your Facebook page, Aunty Emily, and you rarely posted anything about you and Rory when you were together,’ explains Felix.
‘That’s because I like to keep things private.’ The brush is released but decides to bring a clump of my hair with it too. What with this, the snow, our day in London, taking Baxter with us and having Felix keep me updated all day long about Rory’s third date, I think I’ll need an intravenous drip set up of strong coffee.
We all walk down the stairs.
‘Mum never kept things private on Facebook,’ says Felix, once we get to the bottom of the stairs.
For goodness’ sake – are all nine-year-olds like little spies? How did my sister stay sane with this level of monitoring?
He follows me into the kitchen. ‘Mum was always telling everyone on Facebook about her dates and her nights out dancing at discos and moaning about our next-door neighbour.’
‘Who is that?’ Getting to know the neighbours has been way down my priority list since I moved in with Felix. In fact, I couldn’t tell you who lived on either side, and I wouldn’t be able to recognise them in a police line-up.
‘Miss Hemingway,’ explains Felix, ‘she’s nice and has helped me a lot.’
‘Oh,’ I reply, switching on Vivi’s coffee machine. ‘Didn’t your mum like her?’
Felix shakes his head. ‘Mum called her an old busybody. Miss Hemingway complained about Mum’s loud music and her singing.’
I try to stifle a smile but fail. ‘When we were growing up your mother had a dreadful singing voice.’ At once my mind is awash with memories of Vivi standing in the middle of our own living room, clad in a purple leotard and singing along toX-Factor, using a shampoo bottle as a microphone.
