Fonding and Permission Finale

Was she after his devotion but reluctant to let him mean much to her? He recalled how she had drawn away from him in the locker room, avoided him at the pool, restrained his stroking hand in the Bear's Cave ... Hadn't there been various moments in which she had kept a guarded distance? He was reluctant to admit that he might have overestimated their bond. But his bright picture was far from complete, and doubt was seeping like tar through the craquelure.

Once more he lunged for the comforting details of Friday night, her precious confidences and words of admiration, and once more they offered reassurance. But he couldn't help looking for snags in them now. Had she been buttering him up? She had praised his calm and resilience. Had that been to encourage them, arm him for this blow?

"I don't want--", he muttered, then broke off, remembering the sleeping baby. For a moment he even fancied he could hear Katie breathing from her room. Absurd ... "To be used by her", he finished at a whisper.

He didn't want to feel hoodwinked and humiliated. He knew that many would have in his place: not just the paranoid, honour-killing maniacs who saw betrayal at every turn but anyone who had ever watched the mirage of meaning the world to someone evaporate.

'I DO have a special place in her heart', he thought truculently, then whispered it fiercely into the dark to reinforce the thought. She had opened herself far more than necessary to him and he did not believe it was an elaborate façade. Once more, he went through their conversation, hoping, hoping for some new insight, some definitive anchor to end all ambiguity ...

The scarf ...

She could have worn any scarf that night. But she had chosen the one she wore on fonding-and-permission.com, the spiral of violet ... Why? Just for the kick? Or to provoke his recognition? Surely the latter ... So she had been ready for it, ready for that conversation. Hadn't she encouraged his thinking herself by suggesting that he might know the scarf from a picture? Had she hoped he knew? It seemed likely. But that was where he had shown his ignorance, leaving her in doubt whether he knew who she was.

"She wants me to know," he said out loud. "But she's scared to talk. Just like me."

He believed it. And suddenly he found himself grinning. He had taken a step back and now saw the situation in all its comical beauty and justice: they had both trapped the other. They had upheld proper convention to each other's face while sharing forbidden fruit incognito. Now the double agents had caught each other red-handed. Why the embarrassment? Did they expect shock or blame from each other, when neither could blame the other without confessing their own part?

But he no longer wanted to blame her. 'You're funny, Felix,' he thought, holding back his laugh for the baby. 'You say you respect women. You hope some will show the world their dirty side. But you don't respect those that do. You adored Harvest Maiden Pushup, sparing no thought for her partner. Now that he happens to be you, you're reviewing things.'

Felix hated inconsistency and he saw his choice now. He could condemn her deed and his own with it. Or he could accept both.

He got up, energised by his insight, and found himself facing the next question in the queue, a little less painful now, but no less mysterious.

"Who else is there?" he asked the Pewcheers' living room out loud.

Finding he was thirsty, he turned to feel his way towards the kitchen, thinking there might be some orange juice in the fridge ...

"Me," croaked a languid voice behind him.

A squeal died in the dark and Felix was forced to accept that his own mouth had let it out. He spun around in time to see a standard lamp come on. A woman in pale grey-green pyjamas and orange socks was sitting up on the other sofa, her red hair dishevelled and her face struggling to focus. She seemed just to have woken.

"What are you doing here?" she threw at him, wiping her sleepy eyes on her sleeve. He could scarcely believe what he heard her add: "I thought you were dead!"

He needed a moment to recognise the features fixing him from between chin-length curtains of sleek, red hair. Their bafflement was fast giving way to a suspicious stare.

"Julia," he breathed, embarrassment flushing his cheeks. "Sorry! I thought no-one was in ... You thought I was dead!?" Her apparent indignation at being proven wrong stung and bewildered him. What had he done to deserve her hatred?

"What?!"

"You just said--"

"I said'dad'." The Pewcheer's youngest daughter snorted derisively.

He burst out laughing.

"But what are you doing here?", she repeated sharply, cutting across him.

"I'm babysitting your niece," he said, still fighting for composure. "Your mum asked me to."

"Oh." She sagged and looked away a little guiltily. Perhaps she had dodged the job. "Yeah, they don't know I'm back," she said, her voice mellower now. "Dozed off." She seemed to think for a moment. "Sorry for the scare."

"No problem," said Felix, chuckling and relaxing a little. The shock had blown his rumination away. "You sleep really quietly."

She raised her eyebrows at him disconcertedly, then, to his relief, laughed harshly herself.

"Sorry," he said, joining in and hanging his head at his own clumsiness. "I meant I didn't notice."

"Thanks," she said flatly.

"When are your parents due back?" he asked, more to bridge the silence than anything.

"Don't have a clue ... Not involved with the church these days."

Felix noted this with surprise. Their last long conversation he remembered had been a spat about whether the Bible was literally true, but he suspected this no longer preoccupied her. He found himself wondering how she got on with her parents now. She must feel lonely around them ... It had occurred to him that Katie no longer needed him, now that someone else was in the house. He had been close to pointing it out, but found something, perhaps good manners, restraining him.

"How are you doing?" he asked, sitting back down to face her. Hearing someone else's problems promised a little relief.

She looked at him, maybe gauging his interest level. Her face softened. "So-so," she said stonily, rising from the sofa. "Bit tired. Bit bored ... Haven't seen anyone much lately." She ambled across the carpet and sat down on the edge of his sofa, facing him. "How about you?"

"Oh ..." Felix shrugged. "Fine ... -ish." He had stretched out on the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. He was reluctant to provide running commentary on his inner life and doubted that she cared for the details. But it struck him, on second thoughts, that here was someone calm, detached and quite likely also understanding.

He had seen very little of Julia in recent years. Part of him still thought of her as the family baby, utterly dependent and quick to whine and cry. Find herself in unexpected company in a dark room and she would probably have fled shrieking. He was intrigued by her stark change in temperament, unsurprising though it might be. If his information was accurate, one Neale or Nigel had paid her life a year-long visit and left it unceremoniously a few months ago. Most of that, too, was hard to square with the little girl he remembered, but not with the woman scrutinizing him now.

"Something bothering you?" she asked impassively.

"Do I look it?" he asked, grinning resignedly.

She chuckled and raised her right foot onto the back of the sofa to rest her chin on the knee. His eye seemed to zoom out and for a moment he had a vision of her sitting at a friend's sickbed.

But they had never been friends and he couldn't imagine they ever would be. She had been closer to Carol in childhood but now barely had any connection to his family at all. Her drowsy, benign interest and the sudden ease of their talk felt mildly surreal, like something from a parallel life where the Dwights and the Pewcheers were neighbours.

"You woke me talking," she said matter-of-factly. "Sounded like trouble with a girl."

"I thought you thought I was dad."

"He has trouble with mum."

"Oh." He was taken aback at her frankness. He doubted his parents had ever heard this in so many words.

"Well?" she said, as though asking for repayment in kind.

"Yeah, it's a girl --woman," he admitted with less shame than telling his parents or sister would have cost. "It's not your average case ... But I'm getting to grips with it."

"Okay." He couldn't blame her for sounding skeptical. "How's it special?"

"I can't go into all the detail," he said, almost regretting it. "We've basically agreed to be free and I'm getting used to the consequences."

She took a moment to answer. "You mean she sees other guys too?"

"I don't know what she does," he confessed, feeling a squirm. "As for us ..." He left it hanging.

"Sure, that'll suck," said Julia coolly. "Best to keep perspective."

"I know ... It's just taken me by surprise. I didn't expect her to be the type."

"You'll see the bright side," she said. "Freedom avoids loads of shit. I'm the same ... dad doesn't like it, but I don't give a shit."

"Wouldn't have guessed either, to be honest ... before today, that is."

She grinned, then turned away.

"I just wish I knew what's going on inside her," Felix said wretchedly.

"Asked her?"

He looked at her and they both laughed. "I know it's obvious," he said. "But we haven't met since I realised how much is going on and she's been too sick to talk."

"Too sick to talk?"

"Yep," he said firmly, defying her doubt and to some extent his own. "And I want to think what to say before we do."

"Scared to mess up?"

"A bit," he confessed. "We agreed to tell each other what's going on, but not when or how much. I really don't want to be a control freak ... But I'd love to know the general shape of things."

Julia looked at him curiously. "Do you need the details, though?" she said, lowering her right leg on the inside of the sofa to straddle its back. Felix budged to let her knee squeeze in.

"I want us to know each other," he said sincerely, folding his arms behind his head and gazing back at the rich, dark ceiling.

"People can have secrets," said Julia. "Makes them interesting." She grinned at him. "Let her have her adventures. Maybe she'll let you have yours."

"I suppose ..." said Felix uncertainly, half-grinning himself. "It depends on the secret. And I don't even want ... hmm ..."

"What?"

"Oh ... never mind."

A sense of possibility was stealing through him and drew back his shying eyes. "Mind that thing, though," he said, tapping a sharp piece of metal protruding from the sofa's back a foot in front of her. "Or you'll tear your pyjamas."

"About time," she said. "Had them since I was twelve."

"I'd save expenses and hang onto them," he said as calmly as he could. "They still look decent." It was not exactly the truth. The looked striking, rather. And what struck him was the contrast between the shape they'd been made for and Julia's present reality.

"Thanks," she said, smiling a little. "They're getting small, though," She widened the gap between top and bottom with her hands to illustrate it, drawing in her stomach. "Mum always says you could lay the table here." She patted her navel, caught his eye and gave a short laugh.

'Theresa', he thought. 'I love Theresa. But whoever says love makes you blind, hasn't seen Julia.'

"Shows how much you've come along," he said helplessly. "Anyway," he went on to forestall a silence. "I wish I could relax about ... everything."

She sighed. "Maybe you're letting it mean too much," she suggested with exasperation.

"What do you mean?"

"The stuff she does."

Felix considered this. "I get not being anxious," he said. "But I don't want to stop caring about her."

"Right," said Julia. She had raised the leg at his side and her right foot was boring past him into the crack of the sofa, its quivering impatience at odds with the sensible tone of her voice. "So you're worried because she's with other guys, right?"

"More or less."

"Is she well into you?"

"You'd better ask her," he said, trying to concentrate. "She seems happy."

"Right. So she's not dumb. Is she the type to be charmed off a guy?"

Felix frowned, trying to focus on the question only. He was suddenly back in the library with Theresa and Alice. What had she said? 'I want to keep a level head and be dependable.' Was Theresa the person she wished to be?

"Probably not," he ventured.

"Then you'll be fine," Julia said forcefully.

"I suppose," Felix said, feeling overrun by her decisiveness, but grateful all the same. "Thanks."

"And..." She hesitated. "Look at it the other way. If you have fun with someone, will you stop being her man?"

"No," Felix said slowly. "It's not like I've never wondered ... But I'd want to let The-- her know what's going on ... and who's involved." He looked up again to find her eyes very steady on his face.

"But you could," she said. She had leant forward to place her palms on the back of the sofa in front of herself. He felt her leg quiver at his side and knew she could feel the same.

He looked at her, putting everything into a poker face that belied his fear and curiosity. "But would the other woman let me tell her?"

Julia's expression was quite as blank as his own. "Sure," she said.

He felt her foot at his side jolt like a started engine waiting to move. But at that moment there were two sounds in succession and he thanked the stars for their order.

Katie's sudden wail stopped them in their tracks.

"Bugger babies," muttered Julia.

"I'll check," said Felix tiredly, remembering what he was in the house for.

She stood aside to let him get to his feet. "Thanks ... I'll wait."

Then there was the quiet but unmistakeable sound of a key turning in the front door beyond the hall. He met her defeated glance.

"Too bad," she said, raising her eyebrows.

"No matter," he said, wondering whether 'I'm sorry' would have been more appropriate.

She was removing a sock and he watched in puzzlement for a moment.

There were voices in the hall now. Felix turned and headed for the baby's room, catching a final glance of Julia tossing the sock behind the sofa she had slept in. He felt both deprived and reprieved. He was not at all sure how things would have turned out for his conscience but for the interruption.

The living room door opened just as he entered Katie's room. The pacifier had fallen out of her mouth and rolled to the edge of her cot. He hastened to restore it, then strained his ears as she fell silent ...

"Hi mum," he heard from the living room. "I got back early."

"Hello Jewel! So I see ... Isn't Felix around?"

"I think he's with Katie."

Sibyl Pewcheer lowered her voice to an angry hiss. "Why aren't you dressed and helping him?"

"Lost my socks," said Julia, her tone discouraging all further inquiry.

"Oh Julia, where are your manners?" said Sibyl testily. "You'll never find a husband like this ... It's like you don't even want one."

"I want my socks."

There was a hopeless sigh. "Well, at least invite him for supper when you've got them."

"Sure."

Felix looked down at sleeping Katie, waiting for Julia, who seemed to be extending her search to a plausible length ... or delaying their meeting? Presently, he heard her approach the room and turned to face her with a benevolent grimace. He got the same in return.

"Did you hear?" she said, shutting the door behind her and turning the key.

He nodded. "Are you comfortable with it?" he asked, trying to sound neutral.

She looked away and shrugged. "Bit of a let-down," she said morosely, abandoning all pretence. There was obstinacy in her face. She turned her back on him and opened the wardrobe.

"I know," he said, trying to think clearly and say neither too little nor too much. He was battling. Chance had not exactly brought him to his senses. He was trying to tell himself that he had never lost them. "Probably better if I get going." ... But why not have dinner and see where it leads? ... No, he couldn't find the conviction to suggest it. He looked at her. "Are you okay?"

"Sure ... Just wish I'd woken earlier." She gave him a dejected grin.

"Should have lain down on the other sofa," he quipped.

She chuckled. "Yeah," she agreed. "Like I said, I haven't seen anyone lately ... not since Nigel."

He felt both pity and a guilty thrill at her confidence.

She plonked a shirt and trousers onto the bed. He was puzzled for a moment, then remembered that this was Julia's old bedroom. It seemed that she still kept clothes here.

"Got to change for supper," she remarked. "Are you bothered?"

"No," he said habitually, his mind still half on her confession.

Quite casually, she removed her pyjama top and tossed it onto her pillow. Before he knew it, she was stepping out of the other piece. He could do nothing about the wrenching pang he felt at the sight of Julia Pewcheer in only her underpants. How well she would fit into his arms. So warm, so protectable ... Theresa's face flickered feebly from beyond the moon. He had never wanted this, but it was happening and it might never happen again. If only he could film his life and rewatch it at leisure ...

'Whatever's coming,' he told himself, 'be grateful for this.' And with that, he managed to relax his breathless stare into something like a good-natured smile. She picked it up, gave him a quick grin in return and reached for her trousers.

"Sorry I've got nothing to change into," he said with an awkward laugh.

"I can lend you stuff," she said with a smirk, working her way into the trouser legs. She sounded quite at ease.

"Bit of a giveaway when I get home."

"Your problem, I guess."

"Do you prefer sleeping without a bra?" he asked, trying to sound cheerfully interested.

"Yup," she said. "Can't get a wink with it chafing ... No point either."

"Don't they get uncomfortable at night?"

"My boobs?" she said, buttoning up the trousers. "Can do. You want to try this," she said helpfully, pulling something from between her breast. "Catch."

He caught it, baffled. It looked like a tiny stuffed kitten, shaped to fit snugly into their cleft.

"Thanks," he said. "I'll bear it in mind if my moobs ever get off the ground."

She chuckled, pulled on her shirt and walked to a desk to write something down.

He held the kitten for a moment, imagining that it somehow connected his hand to the place it had come from. Then, reluctantly but gently, he laid it beside the pyjamas on her bed. He looked up to find her proffering a piece of paper.

"Want this?" she said, looking him straight in the eye.

He took the paper and beamed as he recognised the shape of a mobile phone number, a door to tomorrow ...

"In case you need another chat."

His ears seemed to be playing tricks. Had she really just said 'chat'? The 'ch' had sounded too soft, the word more like 'shut'.

"Did you do French at school?" he asked, still holding her number.

"Sure."

They both laughed. He wondered whether hers was as knowing as it sounded. He stepped forward to hug her, thinking they would both have baulked at the very idea yesterday. Now it barely felt enough.

"Well, see you about."

"Yeah ... see you."

Perhaps that was all. But something in her movement under his palms and the little breath she drew as they touched her bare waist seemed to say: 'if this is your No, what might your Yes be?'

***

Felix's father was snoring quietly in his armchair when he returned. He made to tiptoe from the room, but his presence must have betrayed itself, because Theodore Dwight started in mid-snore and opened his eyes.

"Hello Daddy."

His father jerked his head about in surprise, then relaxed. "Oh, hello Felix."