A Lesser Evil - Lesley Pearse [3]
The lap of luxury was perhaps an exaggeration, but Fifi was aware that her family’s standard of living was much higher than average. Their semi-detached house in Westbury-on-Trym, one of Bristol’s most pleasant suburbs, was large and comfortable, and as her father was a lecturer at Bristol University, that placed them firmly in the upper-middle classes. Although they were not rich by any means, there had always been month-long holidays in Devon, bicycles, dancing and tennis lessons. Fifi had gone to a private secretarial college after leaving school. But she’d never really thought of herself as particularly fortunate because almost all her friends came from similar backgrounds.
‘I don’t get on that well with my mother,’ she blurted out.
She didn’t really know why she told him that, true though it was. Maybe it was a way of distancing herself from her background. ‘I really ought to leave home and get a flat of my own.’
In the pub over a drink Fifi told Dan about her younger siblings, Patty, Robin and Peter, and that there were only fourteen to sixteen months between each of them. ‘They are all more like Mum and Dad,’ she explained. ‘They’re docile and obedient. I was a disappointment to Mum from the start because I was weird.’
‘You don’t look weird to me,’ Dan said. ‘Far from it.’
‘You wouldn’t say that if you could see the photos of me at five or six.’ Fifi giggled. ‘I was as thin as a rasher of bacon, my hair was snow-white like an albino’s, and I had a huge mouth and bug eyes.’
To illustrate this she pulled at her eyes and lips to make herself grotesque, a trick she’d found always made people laugh.
‘So the good fairy came along, did she?’ Dan chuckled, sounding as if he didn’t believe her. ‘Or am I looking at you with magic eyes?’
‘What’s that?’ Fifi asked.
‘My one talent,’ he said. ‘I don’t ever let myself be disappointed. Looking at things with magic eyes makes me see how they could be when I’d rearranged them, painted, repaired or tweaked them. Take that room up the road. I imagined it with nice wallpaper and a rug on the floor, then it wasn’t so bad.’
Fifi thought that was a lovely idea. She wondered if she could apply it to her mother and see how she would be if her critical manner, her sarcasm and suspicion could be removed. ‘So do I need tweaking or rearranging?’
Dan shook his head. ‘No, you’re just perfect. I can’t really believe that on my first night in Bristol I’ve got such a pretty girl with me. Even if you did only come with me out of pity.’
It wasn’t pity Fifi felt for him, far from it. It wasn’t just that he was so handsome, it was the sparkle in his dark eyes, the fullness of his lips, the sheen on his skin, the lithe animal grace with which he moved. He made her giggle and her heart flutter. She couldn’t remember any man having this effect on her before, but then the kind of men she normally dated were usually smooth, besuited office workers.
‘Now, what makes you think I came out of pity?’ she said archly, raising her eyebrows.
‘So what was it then?’ he grinned.
‘Curiosity. I’m famous as a nosy parker. When I was a kid I used to embarrass my parents by asking total strangers the most personal questions.’
‘Go on then, ask me one,’ he dared her.
Fifi had a hundred questions she was dying to ask, but if she could only pick one it had to be something that would move things on to a more personal level.
‘Have you got a hairy chest?’ she asked.
He looked a bit stunned, but grinned and unbuttoned his shirt, just enough for her to see smooth, hairless skin, still retaining the remnants of a golden tan. ‘Any good?’ he asked.
‘Perfect,’ she laughed. ‘I can’t bear hairy men.’
‘Can I ask one now?’ he said.
‘As long as it doesn’t involve me unbuttoning my blouse.’
‘Would you kiss a man in his working clothes?’
Fifi spluttered with laughter. It was true she’d noticed his clothes were a little grubby, but it hadn’t put her off him one iota. In fact his checked flannelette shirt, worn jeans and donkey jacket suited him.
‘It would depend on the man,’ she said. She nodded towards a man standing