Page 38 of Out of Control

“It’s not enough. Please? Remember how good it felt when this place was full of people?”

Adele had chosen the right words. Fiona did want that warmth of feeling back. But that had been created by people, not trashy tinsel or gaudy baubles. But if they were what made the people in the house feel happy, maybe it was the right place to start. She was tempted to hand over money and send Adele on her own — the shops would be a nightmare. But it wasn’t fair to send a heavily pregnant girl on the bus to crowded shops.

The two of them shopped several times over the next few days. For decorations and for food. Fiona coped by persuading herself that, had Amber lived, she would have inherited hergrandmother’s love of the festive season. Adele insisted on plenty of cheeses and chocolates as well as the traditional turkey and pudding.

“The shops are only closed foroneday,” Fiona tried to argue. “We don’t need to buy it all now.”

“We do. Twixmas is hibernation time. That’s when we hunker down at home, watch films and eat Quality Streets. And your Meeko will expect a good spread,” Adele continued.

“He’s notmy Meeko.”

“Body language rarely lies . . .”

“You are imagining things, Adele.”

By the time Christmas Eve arrived both Joe and Adele seemed happy with the bulging fridge, crammed freezer, colourful fairyland lounge and the strings of tinsel adorning doorframes, banister, pictures and shelves around the house. Fiona had to admit that her home now looked warm and welcoming in the darkness of late afternoon. She crossed her fingers that she would receive help to put everything back to how it should be.

The physiotherapy practice was closed on Christmas Eve and, at lunchtime, Joe said he was heading out. “I’ll be back late evening.”

Adele had insisted Christmas was a big thing in their house so why would he go out? “Where are you going?”

“The boys. It’s traditional. We always meet for a drink and a curry on Christmas Eve — the table’s all booked and everything.”

Adele was looking from her dad to Fiona and then back again, waiting for the next volley. Despite her recent mellowing, the girl was still bigging-up Meeko and would probably be glad if she and Joe split up, paving the way for a reconciliation with Rose. “You always do this — and Rose didn’t mind?” His ex-wife must have been a saint.

“Yes. But if you feel strongly . . .”

“No, go ahead.” To say anything else would make her possessive, and she was doing her utmost to make this relationship work and to be part of a family instead of waiting for a sea of sharks to consume her in the form of loneliness, old age, infirmity and empty days. Her career had to be replaced with another sort of belonging. And any belonging had to be worked at and earned.

Adele picked a romcom for her and Fiona to watch and filled a bowl with popcorn. They sat side by side with a brand-new Christmas blanket over their thighs. The festive woven crib scene had been chosen by Adele on one of their shopping sprees; she swore that Fiona would get years of good use out of it. And if Fiona didn’t want it, Adele would take it with her when she got her own place. That last statement had been the deciding factor on the purchase for Fiona — her lodger was feathering her own nest for a departure at some point. Adele kicked off her slippers and put her feet on the low coffee table in front of them. Fiona stopped herself from criticising but refrained from following suit. From time to time Adele rubbed her belly with more vigour than usual. Then she shuffled her bottom and sat forward on the edge of the sofa, placing her hands in the small of her back and doing more rubbing.

“Are you OK?”

“Just some backache. I’ve had it all day, along with those pretend contractions. What do you call them?”

“Braxton Hicks?” Fiona could still remember every word of those baby books she’d devoured over the course of just a few weeks.

“I need the toilet again. The baby must have moved. Pause the film.”

After using the bathroom Adele circled the room several times. Mostly she looked comfortable and then pain or discomfort kicked in and she paused in her perambulation, bentover and attempted to rub her own back. A lump of fear grew inside Fiona. She looked at her watch and was shocked to see only ninety minutes had elapsed since she’d poured the first of two large glasses of wine. It was out of character, but her way of sticking two fingers up at Joe and his Christmas Eve night out with the boys, and also a means of not thinking about the correlation between his current absence and Rob being late home all those years ago. She wouldn’t dare get behind the wheel to drive Adele to hospital. “Should we call an ambulance? Or your dad?”

“No. It doesn’t feel like it’s for real — you know what I mean?”

Fiona nodded, but she didn’t know what labour, real or not real, felt like. She only knew the agony, physical and mental, of losing a baby before she’d even had chance to meet it. “Why don’t you have a bath?” It was something the books had recommended to ease the discomfort of the early pains.

Fiona ran the bath and gathered a couple of clean towels. She was about to add bubbles so that Adele could luxuriate for a while and then decided that might not be the right thing if the baby was imminent.

Downstairs Fiona stared at the frozen film image on the TV. It was part way through a Christmas party scene that had been about to throw together the two soon-to-be lovers who had proclaimed that they hated each other. Above her she could hear the noise of water sloshing in the bath as Adele shifted position. Fiona tried to use the time to mentally go through her checklist for the next day. Cooking Christmas dinner was an exercise in logistics as well as culinary skill and Fiona didn’t know how she’d compare to the phantom of Rose. Even so, knowing Adele and Joe’s liking for junk and takeaways, she’d decided to take the easier route and not do everything from scratch. The fridge was laden with packs of ready-prepared roast potatoes, pigs inblankets, bread sauce and red cabbage. The turkey breast joint was defrosting and would require a fraction of the faff and oven time of a full-size bird. Fingers crossed that her mother would still be so enamoured with her granddaughter-by-proxy and/or busy picking fault with Joe that she wouldn’t notice what she was eating.

There was more sploshing from upstairs and then the sound of water draining down the plughole. A few minutes later Adele appeared wrapped in a towelling robe and her hair still wet.

“It’s getting worse,” she said weakly.

“Don’t panic.” This might have been an instruction to herself or to Adele. “I’ll phone your dad to come home.”

“He went in an Uber, remember? He’ll have been drinking and be no use at all.”

Fiona couldn’t deal with the situation alone. “He’s your father and he needs to know.” She tried his mobile three times in quick succession. It went straight to voicemail each time. “Damn! He’s switched it off.” In her head she screamed expletives.

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