Page 51 of Out of Control

It was the first time they’d actually run together rather than meeting for breakfast afterwards. Meeko tried to match his pace to her slightly slower one. He wondered if she was also trying to match him, and if, gradually, they’d be reduced to a snail crawl as neither felt brave enough to take the lead.

“How are mother and baby?” The atmosphere between them needed relaxing if he was going to bring up the difficult subjects of Rob and Joe.

“Healthwise — fine. Coping-wise — not so good.” She described Adele’s exhaustion, Natalie’s constant crying, and how Dorothea had had to be taxied over the previous evening. “It was the New Year’s Eve from hell. And, though it pains me to say it, Mum was right. Natalie was picking up on all the tensionand nervousness surrounding her. When Mum arrived Natalie imbibed her relaxed demeanour and went out like a light.”

“And Joe?” He kept his voice deliberately light, not even glancing at Fiona. Let her think it was the most casual of small-talk questions.

“Joe is . . .” Fiona paused, breathing heavily as she got into their running rhythm. Meeko slowed in case he was pushing her too hard. She wouldn’t complain or give in but he wanted to keep the pace suitable for conversation. “. . . Joe.”

“That tells me nothing.” From the corner of his eye, he saw her glance over at him. He kept his gaze forward, watching their matching streams of breath cloud in the cold air.

“I thought I knew him but I didn’t really. In hindsight, I enjoyed his absence more than his presence.” This time Meeko couldn’t stop his head from turning towards her, but her eyes were fixed forward and then down on the ground as they entered the wooded area with tree roots to negotiate.

“And now you do know him?”

“Different situations reveal different personality aspects. He’s probably having the same thoughts about me.”

Meeko let the silence hang between them until they came back out onto damp grass at the other side of the small copse. He didn’t want to fire a series of questions that might make her clam up.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Before he moved in, we were always on our best behaviour with each other. Like a series of dates that we wanted to make special because they were just once a week. We always wanted to leave the other with positive memories — so there was something good to hold on to until next time.” Talking made her breathe more heavily and she paused before picking up the thread again. “Living together makes keeping up that perfection difficult. And when you add in the stress of Adele andNatalie, our true colours have started to leak out.” She continued running without talking and Meeko wondered if that was all he was going to get. Then she spoke again, almost under her breath, as if she might be ashamed of it. “And I don’t like the true Joe.”

Meeko’s heart filled with shocked relief. They had to stop and look both ways to cross the main road. Was Fiona exaggerating the side-to-side movements of her head so she didn’t have to look at him?

Running became easier along the tarmac path. “Is there anybody else?”

“Anybody else?” She repeated the words as though she didn’t understand the question.

“For you. I just wondered . . .” She was throwing him weird looks. He kept his head forward, remembering it was supposed to be easier to talk like that. “I saw you come out of One More Bean about ten days before the baby shower with a man. You were . . . confiding in him.”

The only sound was their feet and their breathing. Bedroom curtains were still closed. A dog walker said ‘Happy New Year’ as he passed them going in the opposite direction. Meeko gave him an acknowledging nod.

“That was Rob. My ex-husband.”

“Are you getting back together?” He couldn’t stop the questions coming out like an inquisition now.

Her head swivelled towards him and, at the last moment, she was forced into some fancy footwork to avoid tripping over a protruding manhole cover. “I can’t talk about this while I’m running. Can we cut it short and go straight for breakfast?”

Meeko was struggling as well. Without eye contact, body language or facial expressions, half of the conversation was lost. So much for the philosophy of having a deep conversation side by side while carrying out another activity. They upped the pace and took a shortcut directly to the hotel.

* * *

“. . . and that’s the story. He basically gambled away everything we had.” Fiona pushed away the plate loaded with scrambled eggs and beans. She added sugar to her coffee and stirred for a long time. Fiona didn’t normally take sugar. When she lifted the cup, it trembled slightly. She took a tiny sip before returning it to the saucer with an uncontrolled clunk.

Meeko didn’t speak for a long time. Her story had been a shock. He was torn between taking her in his arms and protecting her forever from the big, bad world, and admonishing her for keeping such a significant part of her life secret from her supposed best friend. Jigsaw pieces were slotting into place. The reason she needed relationships that could be controlled, plus the source of her lack of trust, was now crystal clear. But he still didn’t understand why she deemed him untrustworthy. And he got the sense that Fiona was still holding something back.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that,” he said. He reached across the table and touched her hand, the fingers of which were agitating the tablecloth. As the bolt of electricity hit, his eyes went to hers. “But why didn’t you trust me before?”

She pursed and unpursed her lips and then gave him a wry smile. “I know I should’ve told you — and I nearly did, several times. But I thought the knowledge would change how you saw me. You would feel sorry for me — exactly like you do now. And I didn’t want that to happen.”

Her hand had calmed beneath his. He did feel sorry for her. But he had to be worthy of her trust and react in the right way, without drowning her in sympathy and without building up or belittling what had happened to her.

“Why have you told me now?”

She turned her hand over so that their palms were in contact and gently squeezed his hand. The gesture was tiny but it felt significant. “When I met Rob, we completely cleared the airbetween us. And it felt good. It felt good to be with someone who knew absolutely everything. But clearing the air with him was low risk — there was no ongoing relationship to damage.”

Now their fingers were interlaced. “That good feeling showed me what is to be gained by properly trusting someone. It made me realise that the benefits of opening up to you would be even greater. And I wanted those benefits.” She looked him directly in the eye and squeezed his hand again.

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