Dorothea pondered for a moment, then she looked straight at Fiona and spoke decisively. “I want the right man to present himself to my daughter so that I can die happy. I want to know that she will have someone to love, care and worry about her even after I am gone. I don’t want her to be alone in the world.”
Everyone’s eyes swivelled from Santa to Fiona. She turned away from the stares, wanting the ground to swallow her whole. Dorothea was drunk and maudlin. Why was she making such a request, and publicly, when she knew Fiona and Joe’s relationship had become more serious with him moving in? The evening had suddenly taken a turn for the worse, especially coupled with Meeko’s strange attitude towards her.
Santa seemed as taken aback at Dorothea’s words as the rest of the guests. Fiona plucked up the courage to look at Adele. She wanted to signal to her that Dorothea was talking rubbish, but Adele’s eyes were switching between Santa and her grandmother-by-proxy. Now the old lady was looking at Meeko, waiting for his answer to her gift request. He had to say something, everyone was waiting. Fiona started to sidle towards the hallway — she couldn’t face any further embarrassment.
“Santa can’t bring living things,” he said eventually. “They are difficult to wrap and tend to suffocate when parcelled up for the long journey from the North Pole.” A whisper of laughter went round the guests like a Mexican wave and the atmosphere eased. The tension in Fiona’s shoulders subsided a little.
Then there were calls for Adele to open the shower of baby gifts provided by the guests and Fiona brought in the surprise cake she’d had specially made. The baker had decorated it with exquisitely formed pink roses and a tiny crib. There was a round of oohs and aahs as she set it on the table and, after everyone had finished capturing it for digital posterity, Fiona sliced it andDorothea handed out the serviette-wrapped pieces of Victoria sandwich cake covered in thick icing. Meeko took the activity of cake eating as his cue to disappear back upstairs.
A plain-clothes version of Father Christmas, with a miraculously reduced and toned stomach and bum, re-emerged after the last guest had left. Fiona surreptitiously handed him an envelope holding his fee in cash.
“Thank you so much.” Adele stood on tiptoe to kiss him on his now whisker-free cheek. “You were wonderful.”
Meeko gave her a hug in return. “Good luck for all that is to come.” Then he hugged Dorothea as well. Fiona was next in line. He looked at her sadly, gave her a polite hug, picked up his holdall and left. Fiona stared at the inside of her front door and felt she’d lost her best friend without having a clue as to what she’d done wrong.
Chapter 27
Fiona woke too early again the following morning. Still twenty minutes to go before Joe’s alarm went off for work. She lay still to avoid waking him. He’d arrived home the previous evening just as Meeko left and he’d brought Indian food.
“I didn’t want to sit at a table for one and eat alone,” he’d explained, setting out what plates and cutlery hadn’t already been used for the party. “And I reckoned you three would probably be hungry — buffet food never fills me up.”
Fiona had been about to protest that they’d all had plenty, but once she smelled the Kashmir chicken and special fish balti she realised she’d done more serving than eating and was ravenous. After tucking in, Adele’s eyelids drooped, she pushed her plate to one side and said she couldn’t possibly eat another thing. Dorothea had fallen quiet after an excited, conversation-monopolising monologue about how wonderful the whole evening had been and what a good man Meeko was and how nice Adele’s friends had been to her.
“I felt like a youngster again today,” she said. “It was a shame Santa couldn’t grant me my wish but I’m sure we’ll make it happen somehow, won’t we, Fiona?”
Joe looked up questioningly. Adele looked embarrassed. Fiona caught her mother’s eye and shook her head. The old lady gave a little shrug. To shut the subject down, Fiona had suggested it was time she drove her mother home.
And now here she was, the morning after the night before, worrying about Meeko’s coolness and remembering that the party clearing up was still waiting to be done downstairs. Last night’s atmosphere had smothered her anxiety about mess, stains, crumbs and footprints, but now it sat in her mind with an evil grin and, coupled with Meeko’s weird attitude, made the whole event seem a terrible mistake.
“You were brilliant last night.” Joe was awake and whispering in her ear. “I am so grateful. And how wonderful to see three generations of women getting along together.”
“It was good while it lasted.” Fiona sat up. “But the clearing up is waiting. Even the smelly takeaway cartons didn’t get put outside.”
Joe failed to notice that the last sentence was a dig at him. “Adele will help.”
No chance — she never surfaces before eleven. The house can’t stay in a mess until then.
Fiona slipped out of bed and into the shower. Pounding hot water followed by caffeine and toast should energise her sufficiently for the task ahead. Downstairs she attempted to act like a blinkered horse, forbidding herself to look around until she’d eaten and drunk. But in the kitchen, she was forced to clear the sticky containers from the table to make room for breakfast.Why didn’t Joe do this while I was taking Mum home? He had the time — he wasn’t in bed when I got back.Her brain paused in mid-thought.No relationship was perfect and most of the time he was considerate. She thought of the pleasure his impromptu balloons had brought to her mother and how they’d given the house a party atmosphere. The ruby pendant proved his generosity. Perhaps she needed to cut him some slack, as she would expect him to do for her. How many times had her mother told her to stop treating life like a computer project with milestones and deadlines? Was that why the old lady had asked ‘Santa’ for such an embarrassing ‘gift’ — she was worried that her daughter’s personality made her unlovable? Was Meeko’s cold shoulder last night related to her controlling nature as well? But she couldn’t recall any incident when she should have been more tolerant of Meeko or he of her. She loved the man.
Fiona was studying her toast crumbs as though they were tea leaves when Adele walked into the kitchen yawning. She waswearing an old tracksuit with the waistband pulled tight across her bump.
“Here she is.” Joe, dressed in his work polo shirt, followed behind. “Ready and willing — but you might need to direct operations. Got to rush — I’ve slotted in an early patient.”
“Eat first. And then we’ll get started.” Fiona didn’t know whether Adele was going to be a help or a hindrance.
Adele did everything she was asked, but slowly. She operated at ‘Dorothea speed’, interspersed with intervals of examining the baby gifts and exclaiming over tiny sleeves, cute motifs and adorable teddies. Fiona powered away in the background with the vacuum cleaner, cloth and duster. At least doing things herself meant they got done properly.
“I told you nothing would be damaged, didn’t I?”
Adele had been right and the house was almost back to normal. A thought grew at the back of Fiona’s mind. The warm camaraderie of last night had been wonderful. And Adele would need a christening party, wouldn’t she?
“What your mum asked for was odd.” Adele broke into her thoughts. “About finding the right man? It was as though she’d completely forgotten about Dad and you living together.”
“She gets funny ideas. It could have been her oblique way of hinting that she wants me and your dad to stay together long-term.” Fiona didn’t believe this but she wanted to skip over the subject until she’d got things clear in her own head.
“No. There was more to it than that.” The girl’s face was serious. “She’s got Meeko in mind for you.”
Fiona’s heart missed a beat. “Mum barely knows the man. And anyway, he’s sworn off all women after Lynn.”