Page 57 of Out of Control

Fiona turned on her laptop, created a new folder called ‘Project Meeko’ and, within that, a spreadsheet. Focusing on a concrete task offered a blissful release from somersaulting over and over the romantic relationship problem. She needed a list of required steps to get her friend where he wanted to be with his career.

‘Fiona to talk to Frank, hotel leisure club manager,’ she typed on Row One. But Meeko had already pleaded his case. What good would an outsider like Fiona do turning up and telling this Frank how to run his hotel? She needed a legitimate interest in what classes were available and her friendship with Meeko shouldn’t be obvious to Frank, otherwise she would be ignored — and Meeko might be branded a troublemaker.

Fiona inserted three rows above Row One and typed, ‘Adele to Join Hotel Leisure Club.’ Beneath that she wrote, ‘Adele to request post-natal/baby yoga sessions (need to research whether these exist and whether Meeko can teach them).’ Row Three became, ‘When Frank says there isn’t the demand, Adele canvasses other new mums and shows the positive result to Frank.’

Then she changed Row Four (originally Row One) to read: ‘Fiona to talk to manager of Dorothea’s sheltered flats about using Meeko to deliver chair/elder yoga (need to research whether these exist and whether Meeko can teach them).’

Then she went to put her ideas to Adele.

“I love the idea of doing something to help flatten my baby bump.” The young woman patted the small bulge that had once nurtured Natalie. “But there are two obstacles to my involvement in this plan. Firstly, membership of that hotel leisure club is way more than I can afford. Secondly, I don’t know any other new mums — I parachuted in here a month ago without the chance to attend any antenatal classes or anything.”

“First point easily solved. I didn’t get you a proper Christmas present, so I’ll pay your membership. And I had anticipated your second point. There is a local Facebook group where people trade, advertise, offer services and so on. Put a post in there asking if anyone can recommend a post-natal or mothers and babies group you could join. That would be a big benefit to you anyway, wouldn’t it?”

Adele nodded. “You’ve noticed that I’m going a bit stir crazy in the house all the time? But won’t they think it odd if I’m trying to get support for this yoga thing at my very first meeting?”

“No, people like it when others take the lead and get things started. It benefits them without any work or organisation involved. People are inherently lazy.”

“But aren’t you jumping the gun by not running this past Meeko first — especially since you don’t know anything about yoga?”

Fiona was doing what she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do in retirement — be over-controlling. One of the points of Project Meeko was to see if she and Meeko could still get along when working together, therefore she had to bring him in on this now. She called and invited him around the next morning, after he’d taught his one and only class for the day. When he arrived, they were alone in the hallway and he looked questioningly at her. He was obviously thinking about their conversation the previous day. Fiona gave a slight shake of her head to indicate that now was not the time and directed him into the lounge.

“Post-natal yoga is definitely a thing,” he confirmed. “I’d have to create a routine and gen up on the health and safety warnings for a class of new mums. But I can do it. And, for everyone’s peace of mind, I’ll investigate whether I need a DBS check — or whatever certificate is needed for working with potentially vulnerable people. The elderly people in Dorothea’s flats might fall into that category.”

“What would we do with the babies during the class?” asked Adele.

“Ah!” Why hadn’t she thought of this problem? Because she’d never been a mother.

“A crèche? Meaning more money for the hotel and thus pleasing Frank?” Meeko suggested.

“A lot of us might not be able to afford it.”

“Or we could have pushchairs and car seats around the edge of the room — my yoga music would be soothing for babies.”

“And most of them would sleep through the class,” Adele added, “if they’d been fed and pushed or driven there. And if we’re all mums together it won’t matter if some cry and have to be attended to.”

“We’ll offer both options to Frank.” Fiona felt like she was leading a band of musketeers.

A couple of hours later Meeko and Fiona were sitting in Dorothea’s flat watching her reaction as they explained the plan to save Meeko’s career and, in the process, introduce some gentle yoga into the lives of her fellow residents. The old lady had a half-smile on her face as she looked from one to the other of them.

“What do you think?” Fiona asked as she finished explaining.

“I think,” Dorothea paused and sat back with a self-satisfied expression, “I think something has changed between the two of you.”

Fiona glanced at Meeko and found him looking at her. There was a flash of electricity and a feeling she’d never had before, not even in the early days of being married to Rob; that ability of couples who are close to know what the other is thinking. She felt herself flush and tried to change the subject. “The communal lounge would be perfect for classes. Meeko could get here early to push the armchairs to one side.”

“I know what I’m seeing pass between you,” Dorothea persisted. “Even if you two won’t admit it to yourselves yet. And it has my blessing.”

“The yoga . . .” Meeko said. His cheeks had gone pink and he seemed as much thrown off course as she was. “The yoga,” he repeated. “Is it something you’d take part in, Dorothea? Would your neighbours be interested?”

“I’d take swinging trapeze lessons, Meeko, if it would help cement things between the pair of you. Just get me the sparkly leotard and tassels. Fiona needs someone like you to make her later years a pleasure. Arthur and I were married for fifty-five years and the ones we shared in retirement were the best.”

“Mum! Meeko needs to be able to say there is a definite interest among the residents.”

“I can’t force them to attend but I guarantee that if you advertise there will be tea and biscuits at the end, they will be there in droves. And don’t worry, I’ll make the tea while Meeko finishes up his dead dog or curled cat or whatever the names of those positions are.”

“Would you come with me, Dorothea? To see Mrs Fairchild?”

Fiona smiled inside; this was a good idea. It had taken a great act of will earlier not to argue when Meeko had said he wanted to see the sheltered housing manager on his own. As usual, she’d wanted to be in on whatever was happening but Meeko had put his foot down. “It’s my career, my self-employment. You have the best intentions but I have to do some of the fighting on my own.”

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