Page 20 of Out of Control

In her letters she’d already knocked ten years off her age but, even with the thickest layer of foundation and under-eye concealer, there was no way she could pass for sixty-five — that was only five years older than Fiona. He was coming on too strong. But she should give him the benefit of the doubt. It could be nerves. Men got nervous about meeting women just as much as the other way around. She needed to show some interest in him. “You mentioned the U3A History Group in your letters. What period are you studying?”

He looked awkward and mumbled something about Henry VIII. “But we don’t want to be young ones discussing school. Shall we skip dessert and cut to the chase?” The waitress was clearing their plates. “Can we have the bill, please?”

“What do you mean? I could pay for pudding.” Dorothea had had her eye on the giant pieces of carrot cake inside the glass counter. She could never indulge when Fiona took her out because of her daughter’s unbelievable self-control. Eating such treats in front of Fiona took away the enjoyment. The waitress hovered, looking from Tony and back to Dorothea.

“We’ll have cake to take away.” Tony gave Dorothea a meaningful look. “Add two pieces of that red velvet cake to the bill.”

Surely he didn’t intend them to sit on a park bench in the biting December wind to eat the cake? It was sunny, but not sunny enough for a picnic — however romantic that might be. And it would have been polite to ask which cake she preferred. He carried the white cardboard box as they left the café.

“Where are we going?”

“I suspected you might be reticent about giving me your address on our first meeting, and . . . there are reasons we can’t go to mine. I’ve booked a room at the Birnside Hotel.”

“The Birnside Hotel?” Dorothea was totally flummoxed.

“It’s walking distance.” Tony offered his arm. Feeling unsteady on her feet after all that had happened, she took it. “And very discreet.”

Discreet.Suddenly the alarm bells jangled. She extricated herself from his arm and they both stopped walking. How had she not realised before? There was only one reason for a man to take a woman to a hotel room in the afternoon.

“No thank you, Tony.”

“What?”

“There’s been a misunderstanding. Thank you for the lunch but I’m not going to the hotel. Please don’t contact me again.”

“Wait a minute! You can’t lead a man on and then scarper. I’ve taken the Viagra and paid for the room.”

Trembling, Dorothea turned and walked towards the centre of the town. She was aware of Tony following her. She couldn’t go straight home; he mustn’t know where she lived. Loneliness had made her let down her guard. She had been incredibly stupid. Please God, don’t let Fiona find out. Something like this would never happen in Fiona’s ultra-controlled life. She went into the library and straight to the ladies’ toilets. She didn’t come out of the cubicle for thirty minutes. Then she asked the library staff to call her daughter because she wasn’t feeling well. Tony could easily follow her onto a bus but, unless he was hovering outside in a car, it would be impossible for him to tail Fiona.

For a panicky few minutes, she’d half expected her daughter to refuse to come because it wasn’t one of those days marked in bright orange on the calendar. But Fiona didn’t let her down. And her face was full of concern when she arrived.

Dorothea had intended to plead a headache but as soon as she was safely in Fiona’s car she couldn’t stop shaking and sobbing. The whole story came out and Fiona was more understanding than Dorothea had dared to hope. There was no reprimand, just consolation.

“Don’t worry, Mum. You did all the right things, using a PO number and meeting in a public place. When Joe and I met . . .”

“When you and Joe met, what?” Had she ever asked how Fiona and Joe met?

“Need to concentrate.” Fiona clammed up and gestured at the lorry in front of them, which had suddenly decided to stop and reverse.

Later, Dorothea tore all of Tony’s letters into tiny strips and sobbed for a full half-hour for the companionship she thoughtshe’d found with a new man, for the naivety she’d shown in believing it was possible to find a second life partner, and for all that she’d lost when Arthur died. She even began, very vaguely, to understand Fiona’s philosophy on staying in control of each and every relationship. It wasn’t right under all circumstances, but it was now obvious to Dorothea that there were certain men who couldn’t be trusted. Then she broke her own rule about not drinking alone and had two glasses of brandy to help her sleep.

Chapter 16

Dorothea played on Fiona’s mind while she was cooking the evening meal. She hadn’t truly understood the gap her father’s death had left in the old lady’s life. Guilt seeped around her as she realised that, even though she knew Dorothea was struggling to make friends in the sheltered complex, she rarely opened the compartment in her life labelled ‘Mum’, except on orange days. It didn’t mean there was no love there; it was just the best way of ensuring that there was a time and a place for everything in her life.

She stirred the pan, tasted and added more black pepper to the bolognaise. She’d thought this need for control had started after Amber, but, if she was totally honest with herself, she’d always been a private person, preferring to cope alone rather than being fussed over. Evidenced by the fact that she had wanted to delay announcing her pregnancy until at least twelve weeks, and by not wanting her mum to know about the miscarriage because Fiona knew it would lead to an influx of parental attention, which would only increase her emotional pain.

She dropped spaghetti into the pan of boiling water. Earlier this afternoon she’d seen her mother at her most vulnerable. And she’d been glad that her mother had called her and told her the truth about what had happened. She wished that Dorothea had told her weeks ago that she had started corresponding with Tony. Perhaps Fiona would’ve put more orange sunshine on the calendar or opened her mother’s compartment wider and discovered that, as with Adele, she enjoyed letting more light in. Now she understood the pain her mother must have felt over the years when Fiona had kept things hidden from her. Was it time to build a better relationship with her mum? Did she even know how to do that?

Fiona’s phone vibrated with a text message:

Feeling a bit queasy. Staying up here for a nap instead of eating dinner. Please can you tell Dad for me. He’ll likely go ballistic and think I’m doing it on purpose.

Fiona sensed fireworks ahead but did as she was asked, pleased that now Adele, as well as her mum, had felt able to confide in her.

“Adele! You are expected downstairs at mealtimes.” From the bottom of the stairs Joe hollered into the empty space above him. “We are causing Fiona enough trouble without also refusing to eat what she has gone to the trouble of cooking for us.”

“Leave her.” Fiona tugged at his arm. None of them would enjoy the meal with one of the diners there under duress and, after realising how broken her relationship with her mother had actually become, Fiona couldn’t cope with any further upset. “I’ll save her dinner and she can have it when she fancies.”

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