Page 28 of Out of Control

Fiona touched the amber pendant. “I . . . it didn’t seem appropriate . .. too showy for this occasion.” Why was she making up excuses? “And I’ve already told you, this one has sentimental value.”

A frown lingered on Joe’s forehead and then he called into the lounge, “Adele, what takeaway do you want tonight?”

His daughter came into the hallway. “Indian.” Then she raised her eyebrows and silently said ‘I told you so’ to Fiona.

It was his money and she wasn’t going to spoil her evening by leaving the house with an argument hanging. The bolognaise had hardly started to thaw. She pushed it back in the freezer and threw the note in the bin. They were trying to control each other, she by dictating what Joe should eat and, therefore, how he should spend his money, and he by wanting to know every detail of her forthcoming evening. She needed to treat Joe how she would like to be treated herself.

Chapter 22

Fiona was missing her usual confidence when Joe left her in the car park of the pub. Confidence went hand in hand with control and there were people and situations in her life now that she couldn’t control. People who, even though they didn’t say so directly, disapproved of tonight’s outing and felt she was neglecting some sort of duty that she owed to them. It was this sensation of doing wrong that was sapping her confidence. She was about to phone Joe and ask him to come back for her when she heard her name.

“Fiona, isn’t it? You’re new to the group?”

Fiona nodded, trying to conjure up a name for the short, silver-haired woman in front of her. She might be the club treasurer. “I’m sorry, I’ve had to miss a couple meetings and I can’t remember your name.” It was always best to be brutally honest.

“Alison. I’m the programme secretary.”

“Of course, I remember now.” They went through the door together and someone else waved a greeting and pointed the way to the function room.

“Can I get you a drink, Alison?” Queuing at the bar would give Fiona a few minutes to pull herself together, gather some topics of conversation and see if she could spot any vaguely familiar faces. She didn’t want Alison to think that she had to nursemaid her all evening.

The function room was heavy with the drone of voices. Fiona glanced from her place in the bar queue to the closed groups and huddles of friends catching up; none of them looked sufficiently open for her to gatecrash. She let her eyes rest on the Christmas tree, dressed in red and gold ribbons with a waterfall of tiny scarlet lights trickling from top to bottom by the magic of a microchip and electricity. The staff behind the bar were sportingmatching Santa hats and scarlet T-shirts emblazoned with ‘Merry Christmas’. The piped music was cycling all the seasonal classics. As she shouted her order she was in competition with Slade’s ‘Merry Xmas Everybody’.

“Two medium glasses of house red, please.” She swiped her credit card, picked up the glasses and tried to find a pathway through the growing throng of people in the room. Then she saw him. At first, she wasn’t sure. His face was fuller and his hair thinner but the height was right. He was broader in the torso but, in full conversational flow, his gestures and facial expressions were unmistakable. It was Rob. She felt like someone had punched her in the gut. She looked around wildly, not sure whether she wanted an escape route, a quiet corner or to actually go up to him. Did he remember that this Christmas Eve would be their thirtieth anniversary? Pearl, in wedding speak. Pearl — she liked that thought: a gentle white gem for the loveliest, most innocent baby. Had he written the letter about reparation because he knew it was a big anniversary?

“Fiona, are you all right?” Alison arrived by her side and claimed one of the glasses. “You look dazed. Do you need to sit down? The place cards are all out, so feel free to find where you’ve been plonked. It’s all random, so don’t take it personally if you end up next to the biggest bore in the room.” The programme secretary moved away.

Fiona felt too blindsided to approach Rob immediately. She needed to decide on her opening gambit and what she wanted to get out of the meeting. Did she want to speak to him at all? There was nothing to be gained by going over old ground. They hadn’t been able to help each other back then and it was highly unlikely he could offer her any empathy or understanding now, despite his apologies in the letter.

Fiona turned away and found the place card with her name in stylish black italic handwriting. She put down her wine next toan unlit scarlet candle embedded with glitter, its base encircled by a miniature wreath of fresh green leaves. She fiddled with a cracker and then noticed her glass was already half-empty. She drank more when she was nervous, and talked more too. She was at the very end of the table, which would give her fewer conversation options, either the person opposite her or the person on her right. She tried to decipher the name card opposite in order to determine whether it was a man or a woman but it was impossible to read the fancy writing upside down. Then she saw the name on the card to her right: Robert Washington. No! Her heart thudded and then missed a beat. It must be someone else with the same name as her ex-husband. But she couldn’t risk being trapped for the whole meal. She took Rob’s card, meaning to swap it with another one further down the table.

“Not allowed!” Alison had reappeared. Her voice was jokey and she was smiling. She meant no harm but Fiona still felt chastised and immediately put the name card back down in its original position. “Ah! This is unfortunate,” Alison continued. “The lady who was supposed to sit opposite you has cancelled. Upset stomach. But I’m sure Rob will look after you. He’s fairly new to the club as well. And here’s the gentleman himself! I’ll leave you to introduce yourselves.”

Now he was next to her. His mouth dropped open in the same way as when she’d told him she was pregnant.

“Hello, Rob.”

“Fiona! I heard via our mothers that you were a member here.”

“And that’s why you joined?”

“Not the whole reason. Did you get my note?”

She nodded.

“I had to send it via your mother because she was very cagey about giving your address or mobile number to my mum.”

Thank you, Mum.At least you do have my interests at heart some of the time.

“I’ve recently moved back to the area, obviously. Joining Retired Means Active is partly a way to get to know people — and partly I hoped to see you too.” He paused and looked across the table at the empty seat opposite Fiona. “Where’s your significant other?” He’d chosen his words carefully, she realised, because her bare left hand was laid in full view on the table. She moved it to her lap, her empty fourth finger making her feel vulnerable.

Acknowledging a significant other existed was a new experience for Fiona. Although, given Joe’s performance over her outing tonight, he might not be forever. “At home. I’ve only just joined and I didn’t realise bringing partners was a thing. The lady who was supposed to sit there is ill.”

Fiona took a sip of wine while she waited for Rob’s reaction to the news that she had a partner; she was sure her mother wouldn’t have divulged this. Rob picked up his pint. The silence seemed to elongate awkwardly, though it was probably only a few seconds. Then they were saved from any further explanation by the arrival of their starters. Unsurprisingly, Rob had gone for the chicken wings; he’d been an avid carnivore when they were together.

“Still on the healthy stuff?” He gestured to her salad. “You always did have more self-discipline than me.”

There was nothing to add to that; he wasthe compulsive gambler.

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