Love and Other Drama-Ramas! (11 page)

“Hiya, Eloise,” Felix says in his lazy drawl. “Aren’t you a doll.” He sits on the sofa beside her, his long legs stretched out in front of him. (OK, now her face is starting to burn.) “I’m Felix, a friend of Amy’s and Clover’s. Charmed to meet you.” He kisses her on both cheeks. She looks delighted yet mortified.

“Dave said you play the guitar,” she manages to get out without stammering. “Are you in a band?”

Go, Eloise!
I think. As Felix starts telling her about the Golden Lions, she’s so interested, she seems to have forgotten to be embarrassed. Plus her cheeks are cooling down.

The door opens a little then, and Clover pops her head round it. “Seth’s just arrived. Wants a quick word, Amy.”

“You guys OK for a second?” I ask, looking at Eloise.

“Yes!” she says. “Felix is telling me about his band and all the gigs they have lined up. Isn’t it exciting?”

“No kidding. OK — see you in a mo’.” I walk out of the room and close the door behind me.

Clover is in the hall with Seth, who is sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, waiting to talk to me.

“Brains and Felix have to be at RTÉ in half an hour to record ‘Caroline’ for a radio show,” Clover says. “Do you want Eloise to meet Brains, or is Felix enough? I’d love to snatch a few minutes with Brains if you can spare him.”

“Don’t worry about Brains,” I say. “Felix is doing brilliantly. He’s being so sweet. I think Operation Boy Immersion is really helping, Clover.”

She grins. “Good. We aim to please. I think she’s all set for a real teenager. You ready, Seth?”

He nods and gets to his feet. “Sure.”

“Coola boola. Right, I’m off to cuddle my boyfriend while he’s actually in the same part of the country as me. See you later.”

“So what’s the deal?” Seth asks as soon as she’s gone. “I just have to be nice to this Eloise girl, yeah? Get her used to boys.”

“Correcto.” I pause. “Seth?”

“Amy?” He looks at me, his blue eyes soft and a little serious — the whole Bailey thing is really taking its toll.

“Thanks for doing this.”

He smiles gently. “If it makes my favorite girl happy . . .”

Felix looks up as we walk into the living room. “Time for me to motor, Eloise. Really cool to meet you. Listen for us on the radio.”

Eloise beams. “Oh, I will. I promise. And thanks for all the advice.”

“You’re welcome.” He kisses her cheeks again, and she blushes — but she looks less mortified.

“Hey, man,” Felix says to Seth as he walks past us.

“Um, hey,” Seth murmurs. He’s a huge Golden Lions fan, so it’s no wonder he’s a bit tongue-tied.

Eloise is positively glowing as Seth sits down beside her. “Hi, Eloise,” he says. “I’m Seth.”

She smiles at him a little shyly, blood ebbing in and out of her cheeks, and then manages a small “Hi.”

“I’m Amy’s boyfriend,” he adds.

“Do you like music?” she asks him gingerly.

“Yeah,” he says easily, sitting back in his chair. “I like all kinds of stuff — bit of vintage punk, bit of soul, indie, some rock, Golden Lions, of course . . .”

“And what kind of movies are you into?”

He smiles at her, his eyes sparkling.
Good question, Eloise!
Seth is a movie nut. He watches everything from slasher films to old black-and-whites. And Eloise is smiling back at him, her cheeks dusky pink, not fire-engine red. Success!

“Back in a second,” I murmur happily — I want to tell Clover our plan has worked!

When I walk into the kitchen, I find Clover sitting on Brains’s knee. He’s stroking her hair and murmuring in her ear. Today a gold elastic hairband is cutting through his Afro, and he’s wearing yellow coveralls. Ah, the usual Brains “style.” Outside, Dave, Felix, Gramps, and Alex are playing football in the backyard.

“Sorry to interrupt,” I say. “Can I borrow you for a moment, Clover?”

Brains looks over at me and grins. “Always dragging her away from me, Amy Damey,” he says with a fake sigh. “You be Speedy Gonzales with my girl, ya hear? Me and Felix have to shoot off in ten minutes for RTÉ, then we have a late gig in Cork this evening, and I need more sweet lovin’ from my woman first.”

I laugh. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

He lifts Clover off his knee, then stands up and kisses the top of her head. “Missing you already, buttercup,” he says before going to join the other boys in the yard.

“So what’s up, Beanie?” Clover asks as soon as he’s out the door.

“Operation Boy Immersion has been a total success, sir!” I say, clicking my heels together and saluting her. “Eloise and Seth are chatting away like old friends. And her flaming blush has chilled to a low glimmer. Clover, you’re a genius.”

“Today, Eloise; tomorrow, world domination,” she says with a grin. “Beanie, our work here is done.”

While Clover sees Eloise out, I walk back into the living room to catch Seth. He’s standing by the window, staring out. As soon as he hears me, he turns around.

“You OK?” I ask him. “I know the whole Bailey thing has really knocked you sideways.” He’s been quiet for days now, and I’ve been trying to find a moment to talk to him.

“I’m fine. Just—” He shrugs. “I miss hanging out with him, you know.”

“I understand,” I say gently, a ripple of anger running up my spine. How dare Bailey Otis squash my friends like ants under his stupid Doc Martens! I put out my arms and pull Seth so close, I can smell his lemony hair gel. Sometimes, we all need a hug.

Mum corners me in the hall on Sunday afternoon. “Amy, I have to nip out to the shops and Dave’s at work. Can you keep an eye on the monsters? And keep them away from the kitchen. My Dictaphone and book notes are on the table.”

“No problemo.”

As soon as she closes the front door behind her, I have a thought: Finn’s intimate details are sitting on our kitchen table, just crying out to be investigated. I just need some time!

I dash toward the door and swing it open. Mum is already backing the car out of the drive, but I call out to her and she buzzes down her window. “Everything OK, Amy?”

“Mum, I’m not doing anything today. Why don’t you go to Dundrum? Have a look around the shops. You’re always complaining that you don’t get a minute to yourself.”

Mum looks at me suspiciously. “Are you after something, Amy? New Ugg boots, is that it?”

“Nah, I’ve gone off them. I just thought you could do with some time out. You look tired.”

Mum presses the skin under her eyes with the tips of her fingers. “Do I?” She sighs. “I guess with the kids and all this Finn stuff . . . Anyway, thank you, Amy — that would be a real treat. I won’t be longer than a couple of hours. Are you sure you can cope?”

I beam at her. “Positive.”

After settling Alex and Evie in the living room with cookies and
Peppa Pig
, I sit down at the kitchen table, feeling strangely nervous. I know I shouldn’t be reading Mum’s notes, but it’s all going to be published soon for the whole world to read, so surely it can’t do any harm?

Mum’s yellow notebook, Dictaphone, and a large manila envelope are on the table. I pick up the notebook and turn to the first page. “
Pot Luck
Outline,” I read in Mum’s curly handwriting.

I read it again. Does that really say Lane
Otis
, like Bailey Otis? I peer at Mum’s handwriting. It does. What a spooky coincidence. There can’t be that many people in Ireland called Otis.

Chapters 3 to 6 are all about Finn’s career in London and his rise from kitchen dishwasher to Michelin-starred chef. I scan down the page.

The notes end with “Chapter 7: Finn moves back to Dublin from London in July.” And that’s as far as Mum has gotten — or since he only moved back recently, maybe that’s the end of the book. But then I spot another note scrawled in capital letters across the bottom of the page:

Letters from his son? Finn Hunter has a son?! Wow!

I feel so guilty finding out all this stuff about Finn that I glance around the kitchen nervously, as if someone is watching me, and my eye falls on the envelope. I know I shouldn’t delve any further into Finn’s private life — but it’s so tempting that I can’t help myself.

I tip the contents onto the table — dozens more envelopes fall out, all addressed to Finn Hunter in the same spidery handwriting. I run my fingers over a couple of them, my heart thumping in my chest, and before I know what I’m doing, I’ve picked one up, pulled the letter out, and started to read:

I gasp and stare at the page.
Bailey
. It says Bailey Otis! There can’t be two boys called Bailey Otis in Ireland, can there? I put down the letter and stare into space. Mum’s notes definitely said “letters from his son.” Can it be true? Can Finn Hunter really be Bailey’s dad?

I pull out another letter — same handwriting, same signature at the bottom. I check the postmark; it was sent in November last year. I scan the letter and find the words “This is about my tenth letter. And you still haven’t written back. Do you hate me that much?”

Sifting through the pile I find the final letter. It was sent in April this year:

I sit back in my chair, thoughts swirling. No wonder Bailey’s so messed up. But why didn’t Finn write back? He seems like a really decent guy.

I flick through the notebook, looking for clues — but there’s nothing much in there, just some information about Finn’s time in London, with restaurant names and dates. Nothing about Bailey. Then my eyes come to rest on the Dictaphone. Picking it up, I turn it over and over in my hands, and then, trying not to think about what Mum will do to me if she catches me listening to it, I press Play.

“. . . And when Mum died in May, I had to go through her things, you know how it is.” It’s Finn’s voice, and I listen carefully. “And that’s when I found all of Bailey’s letters. He’d sent them to my home address in Portstewart, but Mum had never forwarded them on. I guess she thought she was protecting me . . . I don’t know what was going through her mind, to be honest. She was always a world unto herself. She encouraged me to run off to London when I got Lane pregnant. I wanted to marry Lane, try to make a go of things, but Mum persuaded me against it. She said Lane was flighty, would never be happy, and that it would be no life for me with a young baby and wife to support. I deserved better.”

“And you believed her?”
Mum asks him. She sounds surprised, shocked even.

“She was my mum. She was all I had. What was I supposed to do? I was only seventeen. I didn’t know what to think. I had visions of Mac — that’s Lane’s dad and Bailey lives with him now — coming after me with a shotgun for getting Lane in trouble like that. Especially after he’d taken me into his restaurant and treated me like a son. Jennie, Lane’s stepmum, tried to persuade me to stay, but I wouldn’t listen.”

“So you ran off to London while Lane was pregnant?”
Mum asks.

Finn gives a deep sigh.
“I’m not proud of it. Biggest mistake of my life.”

“When did you find out that the baby had been born? That you had a son?”

“Mum rang me a week after it happened. It all seemed a bit unreal, to be honest, like it was nothing to do with me, you know. Mum said to put it out of my mind. She said Lane and the baby were going to live with Mac and Jennie — everything was already sorted. I wanted to send the baby a present, some money or something, but Mum said that was a bad idea. It would only go giving them ideas about child support. I sent twenty quid, anyway, in a blank baby card. It wasn’t much, but it was all I could afford. And then I tried to forget all about the lad until”
— he pauses —
“all that stuff in the paper about Lane abandoning him. The printout I gave you the other day . . .”
There’s another long pause.