Page 42 of Out of Control

Joe shrugged, as if dismissing the situation. Then he smiled and sat up straight. “Meeting your first grandchild is an instant cure for a hangover and it deserves a proper breakfast. I’ll cook.”

Later they made love. And that felt magical too. Fiona put it down to the emotional wringer they’d both travelled through. It was more than a physical act performed with the aim of pleasuring and self-indulgence. They clung to each other like a sailor with his lifebelt in a tumultuous sea, as though they each wanted to squeeze as much comfort and emotion from the act of placing naked flesh against naked flesh as possible. Afterwards they lay hand in hand and with their legs still wrapped aroundone another. Fiona was grateful for the privacy of Adele’s absence.

The landline interrupted the sated feeling of togetherness.

“Fiona! I thought you were picking me up at ten?”

She glanced at her watch. Five past. “Mum! I’m so sorry. We overslept — it’s been an exciting night.”

“I don’t want to know about the pair of you getting excited. When will you be here?”

“Thirty minutes. I promise.” For once she didn’t feel bowed by her mother’s criticism. “And have I got news for you!” She kissed Joe’s forehead in the same gentle way she’d kissed Natalie’s hours earlier. “Read the turkey joint instructions while I’m gone and preheat the oven,” she told him.

Dorothea was in seventh heaven when she learned about Natalie’s birth and demanded they go straight to the hospital instead of back to Fiona’s house.

“No. The nurse told Joe that they both need time to rest and get to know each other. She suggested visiting this evening.”

Dorothea was happy to be plied with chocolates and sherry to make up for the late appearance of Christmas lunch. Fiona applied herself to warming, decanting and throwing away packaging. She felt both guilty and relieved for not adhering to her usual ‘cook from first principles’ rule. Joe helped Dorothea set up her new smartphone. The old lady came into the kitchen with it when the Yorkshire pudding box was still on the counter. Fiona held her breath, determined not to let whatever her mother said next spoil her Christmas.

“I can’t wait until the next coffee morning! Brenda and Sonia will have to sit through these at least five times, and listen to my commentary.” Her mother was beaming as she leaned in front of Fiona and slowly swiped through an album labelled ‘Natalie’. Joe had obviously taken his proud grandfather role seriously. She and Meeko had been too shell-shocked by the whole eventto take a single picture. “And by then I’ll probably have even more — we must make sure to get one, or ten, of me nursing that little darling. After all the hours I’ve spent smiling, nodding and asking polite questions about other people’s grandchildren, I deserve some air time of my own. Joe said he’ll show me how to send the pictures to other people next.” Her mother walked out of the kitchen without remarking on the Yorkshire pudding box.

Fiona grinned. It was unbelievable how much nicer her mother became when she had something to capture her attention and passion. Having something that mattered in life, be that a career, a relationship or a family, was truly important. The residents of Dorothea’s block didn’t know what was about to hit them, and it was likely the old lady would become a star turn because few of the others would have a great-granddaughter-by-proxy.

Lunch was ready to go on the table an hour later than originally planned but Meeko still hadn’t arrived. Fiona was sure he would have had second thoughts about refusing her dinner invitation.

“How much longer?” Joe called from the lounge. “Our stomachs are beginning to think our throats have been cut.”

“I was hanging on for Meeko.” Her disappointment at his non-appearance was like a physical pain.

Joe walked into the kitchen and put his arms around her. “Is that really necessary? He’d be here by now if he was coming. I think yourbestfriend has let you down.”

Fiona tried to analyse Meeko’s cool attitude when he’d dropped her off. Could his financial worries have caused something to sour between them? But how? If Joe and her mum weren’t here, she would’ve gone round to Meeko’s flat immediately to check on him and put right whatever had gone wrong between them.

Then her phone beeped with a message:

It’s best I stay away. You’ve a lot going on. I’ll let you concentrate on those you trust.

Meeko didn’t even soften his words with a smiley face. And the last sentence was weird. Something cold settled in the pit of Fiona’s stomach. This was a long-term rebuttal, not just a refusal of today’s invitation. Losing your best friend on Christmas Day hurt like hell. And why was he talking about trust?

Fiona pasted on a bright smile and called her diners to the table. She buried her feelings beneath the excess jollity necessary to carry off a regal paper crown, a dire joke on a slip of paper and Dorothea demanding that they each have several turns with the flimsy, curling fortune fish from her cracker.

“It’s a shame that nice young man with the Santa outfit couldn’t make it.” Dorothea sat back in her chair after managing to squeeze in a second helping of pudding. Unusually she hadn’t had her annual moan about a homemade pudding giving far superior results than a bought one zapped in the microwave.

“Not much of a friend if he lets you down at the last minute on Christmas Day. It’s been better just the three of us — all family, and that’s what Christmas is about.” Joe’s antipathy, maybe even jealousy, towards Meeko was obvious. He looked at his watch. “I think it’s time we went to see the newest addition to that family.”

* * *

Adele looked as tired as Fiona felt after a night with negligible sleep. She’d been moved into a ward with five other women and babies, but her curtains were drawn along both sides of the bed and open only at the foot end. It made Fiona think of a blinkered horse. Natalie was sleeping in an opaque Perspex fishtank.

“Oooh! Let me at the little munchkin,” Dorothea said excitedly as they approached the bed.

Fiona pulled on her mother’s hand. “Wait. Let Joe and Adele have a couple of minutes together before we go barging in. It’s tiring work being a new mum.”

“In my experience mums always want as many people as possible to admire their offspring.”

After giving his daughter a hug and a kiss, Joe turned and waved them over.

Dorothea stared into the fishtank with a mesmerised expression and gently stroked the baby’s cheek with her forefinger.

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