The Consultant - NaNoWriMo2021

Chapter 8

 Felix's home was nothing like I had expected; we came to a halt in a spray of gravel as Aubrey braked hard and suddenly, we were no longer in genteel Oxford with its dreaming spires and timeless architecture. This was a Scandinavian style eco home, drawn straight from the pages of Architectural Digest. I followed her through an immaculately tended but uber-minimalist courtyard and into the house. Massive plates of glass showcased expansive views across the city and beyond to the Oxfordshire countryside. Parquet floors grounded the interior and white walls with enormous, striking canvases; great swirls of colour and contrast assaulting the senses adorned every wall. Modernist furniture that looked as immaculate as the day it was purchased, littered the huge room and far in the distance, at the opposing extremity of the house, was a gleaming stainless steel kitchen with a huddle of aproned chefs and white shirted waiters having their pre-event briefing. The place was like a museum of modern art, or a swish gallery in the city; never would I have imagined Felix to live in a place like this. Clearly, my expression was effectively communicating my disbelief.

'You look confused Fin.' Aubrey had stashed her bags somewhere and returned to the house's entrance.

'It's just...it's so...'

'Not a home?'

'Well.' I was trying to be polite but I was genuinely confused. There was no stuff anywhere. People, even globetrotting minimalists who live out of a backpack accumulate stuff. Books, spare socks, favourite spices, sex toys; who knows? But no one, and definitely not two middle aged academics, accumulate nothing.

Aubrey laughed, the same way as she had laughed about the portraits.

'This is Daniel's gallery; the house is on the other side of the garden, but we had this old barn, and Daniel needed space to display his work, so we figured why not. It doubles as an entertainment space. Felix and I are extremely private people; the idea of someone nosing through my bookshelves or knicker draw after supper fills me with dread.

Ah, this now made sense. Somehow though, I had to make it in to the house.

'Here he is – the beau of the ball. Happy Birthday Daniel darling. Would you like some champers?

The taciturn man who had appeared seemed less than thrilled about his imminent party. Between the black jeans and hoodie, he looked like an urban skateboarder who hadn't yet realised he was a grown up. He ignored his mother, instead walking over to a set of canvases and tutting in annoyance at some undetectable affront to his artistic nature.

In return, Aubrey poured him a glass of champagne and handed it to him, slightly embarrassed by his childish display in front of me.

'Daniel, this is Fin; she's a colleague with whom I'm working. I invited her to the party; I thought you might like to meet someone your own age instead of being surrounded with just a bunch of old fuddy-duddies. Perhaps you could show her around?'

I shot an evil look at Aubrey but she was too intent on willing her son to engage with me. So that was why she had invited me. Nothing to do with our work together at all, I was simply a blind date for her hapless fucking son who seemed utterly unable to engage with other human beings without his mother choreographing every interaction. I tensed my jaw; annoyed that I had been used and angry that I hadn't worked it out in advance, but I had been too focused on Felix and how I was going to explain this. Fuck them all. If she wanted to play matchmaker, let her. Perhaps I could use this to my advantage.

There was no way I was going to shake hands. Whatever had happened with Aubrey was a one-off; I'm definitely not ready to start touching people, but I walk over to Daniel and clink his glass with mine. He reluctantly meets my eye and grimaces rather than smiles, but it's a start.

'So, birthday boy. You look like you are having a super fun time. What did you get for your special day, Lego? An action man? Or perhaps something a little more post-modern. Andy Warhol – the Ultimate Collection of Plastic Dinner Mats. No wait, let me guess. Socks. I bet your mother got you socks; with something arty about them. If I'm right, you have to show me around, speak to me at the party and be nice to me, and if I'm wrong, you can ignore me like you're planning to do anyway. Deal?'

Daniel just stared at the canvas, but eventually, he gave a little grin.

'You are very odd.'

'Right back at you. You're pretty weird yourself. So, did I guess right?' He didn't respond but continued to look at me. He was definitely Felix's son, all jutting chin and pale skin. I turned away.

'Aubrey!' Aubrey was harassing the caterers but she smiled when she looked up, and saw Daniel and I still standing together. 'I bet your son the contents of this room, versus the contents of my room in college that I could guess his birthday present.'

Daniel started to stutter next to me, but I completely ignored him, playfully fiddling with my hair. If I am going to flirt, get attention, and get everyone comfortable with me so that I could find out their deepest secrets, I am going to go all out.

'Well I'm afraid it wasn't very imaginative, but Daniel doesn't have too many interests. I got him socks, but at least it's something he'll use. Sorry again darling.' She glanced at her son who was smiling now. I turned back to Daniel and was about to brush off his concerns that I now owned his entire portfolio, when Aubrey called out again.

'I did make some effort though; they each had a miniature of a renaissance painting on them.'

'Bingo.' Daniel laughed.

'Bingo indeed, now let's make like a fart and blow this shithole.' I strode off, leaving a stammering Daniel scrambling to catch up.