I watch him put down his guitar and take hold of a violin case. ‘You’ve made a quite a journey. Was the snow bad on the way up?’
‘It was in places. I believe there’s more to come tomorrow.’
He looks up into the wintry sky. ‘Good job you’re not travelling home later as I think you might have to sledge it back to Brighton.’
Felix gasps as he watches the busker take out the violin. ‘You play the violin?’
The busker nods and grins. ‘Special music for my new Brighton friends.’ With that he places the violin under his chin and starts to play. At once the air is filled with a beautiful tune. I have no idea what the busker is playing but it’s calming and at once makes me forget about what is waiting for us at Rory’s flat.
Thick white snowflakes are swirling in the air around us. I turn to Felix to encourage him to put his hood up but he’s dropped his rucksack and is dancing amongst the white snowflakes. He twirls effortlessly along the pavement to the beat of the busker’s song. I watch his long, skinny arms and hands arc in the air. His pointed toes make complicated patterns in the snow. The music tempo increases as the busker begins to lose himself in his music. Felix leaps into the air, arms outstretched like wings and legs tucked under his body. His dance takes my breath away and makes tears prick my eyes. Lifting my face to the sky I whisper, ‘Vivi, I hope you are watching your amazing boy.’
Felix finishes as the song ends and gains a powerful round of applause from travellers and commuters who have stopped to watch. He runs to me, his freckle-clad cheeks a rosy, red colour and his hazel-coloured eyes glowing. ‘Can we go now please, Aunty Emily.’
My heart is pounding away inside my chest. ‘Felix – that was wonderful,’ I exclaim also remembering the dance he did in Brighton before we left. ‘Felix, where did you learn to dance like that?’
He shrugs and slings his rucksack back over his shoulder. ‘It’s nothing.’
I place my hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s not nothing, is it?’
The busker comes over to Felix. ‘Mate, that was spectacular. Do you go to a dance school?’
Felix shakes his head and takes a sleepy Baxter from me. ‘I just go to an ordinary school.’
Checking my phone, I see that it’s dead. Shit.
‘Right, Emily and Felix, let me help you with directions,’ the busker says, scratching his head underneath his woollen hat.
We show him the address. Felix printed it out. ‘It’s not far at all,’ explains the busker. ‘Under ten minutes.’
The busker points us where to go. It seems quite straightforward. I’m so cold I can no longer feel my forehead. My legs are blocks of ice and I have lost touch with my fingers. ‘Right, let’s grab a hot chocolate or a coffee before we go see Rory.’
To my surprise Felix nods. I did think he might kick off. The dance must have drained him of energy.
We say farewell to the busker and hurry across the main road towards a coffee shop.
Felix’s dancing is still on my mind by the time I bring a cup of coffee for me, a hot chocolate for him and a saucer of water for Baxter to the table.
I empty the tray and Felix feeds Baxter using a little plastic tray and a small bag of dog biscuits, all of which were packed in his rucksack.
‘Talk to me about dancing,’ I say, sitting opposite Felix.
His smile starts to fade, and his eyebrows knit together. ‘I don’t want to.’
‘Why not?’
Vivi’s face appears in my mind. I watch as Felix turns away. Perhaps dancing reminds him of his mum? I think I will save the dancing questions for later. I will add them to my questions about how Felix knows about Anna — which is something I discovered on the train.
‘How’s Baxter doing?’
A look of relief passes over Felix’s face. I have stopped talking about dancing. ‘Baxter is doing fine.’
We both take sips of our drinks and savour the warmth radiating out from them.
‘I’m excited about seeing Rory,’ gushes Felix, his face lighting up. Baxter barks from below the table in agreement. ‘Are you excited, Aunty Emily?’
Inside of me a war is raging – one half of me thinks he’ll be with Beth and this trip has been a waste of time. The other half is clinging onto a tiny piece of hope that he’ll be there, and Beth won’t be having any more dates with him. I think that side of me might be delusional. Rory – I hope you’re ready for a Christmas surprise.
CHAPTER22
