Page 68 of Out of Control

“My mum’s got a spare room that she won’t mind me filling.” Dorothea would be ecstatic to have her daughter as a house guest for a few days. “You two have got a lot to catch up onwithout me hanging around. And, without me here, you can have Joe over as well. And Dan, too.”

Chapter 46

Fiona left the three female generations of the Ferguson family to get to know each other in private, and told Dorothea that she was on her way to claim a bed for the night. But before that there were plans to discuss with Rob. The anti-gambling project was a welcome distraction from the mess-up she’d made with Meeko, and it made her feel useful too.

Rob was in the pub before her and Fiona found herself apologising for being late, even though she’d actually arrived with two minutes to spare.

He shrugged away her words. “I deliberately came early — I didn’t want you sitting alone in a pub waiting for me. You’d have had every local lech trying to hit on you.”

“I doubt that.” Fiona had often waited for female friends to arrive without any problems, but she appreciated Rob’s actions.

Rob handed her a menu. “Let’s eat and make an evening of it. Unless you’ve got other plans?”

Fiona felt suddenly hungry; with all that had happened she’d forgotten to factor in an evening meal for herself. She remembered the chicken casserole ingredients and wondered whether Adele or Rose would make use of them. “No plans.” After completely messing up with Meeko, rediscovering her increasingly easy connection with Rob felt like balm to the soul.

“Tell me how you got on contacting the female support group?” Rob asked once his steak pie and chips and Fiona’s salmon and new potatoes had arrived.

She explained about the invitation to visit the group and observe a session as well as spending time with the small staff and volunteers to find out exactly what was required.

“It’s a three-hour drive to Norfolk,” Rob said when she’d finished. “And it’s an evening meeting. We’ll have to stay over.”

How could she have missed that detail? Too much stuff on her plate domestically.

“I can book us a hotel,” Rob continued. “Are you OK with that?”

No. She wasn’t OK with that. She’d just spent a disastrous weekend in a hotel with a man.

“I . . .”

“Separate rooms.” The speed at which the words tumbled out meant he’d read the doubt on her face. She hoped her relief wasn’t equally as obvious.

She finished the last of the salmon, put her knife and fork together and smiled at him. “I’m glad you made contact. This project is just what I needed to get away from everything else that’s going on. It’s given me a new purpose.”

He looked her directly in the eye. “I’ve got good memories of our marriage, but we’ve been a lifetime apart and we’ve both changed.”

“I think we’ll work together well.”

“Absolutely. I’m passionate about this project and you’re the perfect partner in crime.”

Fiona paused before speaking again. “Being with you and talking about what happened is cathartic for me. It’s definitely helping.”

“It’s the same for me. Bringing the skeletons out of the cupboard and into broad daylight makes the past finally seem manageable.”

“You hit the nail on the head.”

Chapter 47

Dorothea had cleared away her latest jigsaw and dropped the leaves of the table. Fiona had opened the camp bed and added the bedding. A dining chair acted as a makeshift bedside table, holding an old desk lamp and acting as a resting place for glasses and a book. It was a tight squeeze.

The following morning Fiona was surprised to discover that she had slept well. It may have been the brandy her mother had insisted on as a nightcap.

“I don’t drink alone — because of our genes,” the old lady had said as she set up a couple of small tumblers. “So, when people are here, which is too rare, I take every opportunity.” As soon as their glasses were half-empty, she topped them up and then put the bottle away.

“What do you mean ‘our genes’?”

“I had an uncle with an alcohol problem and another who couldn’t go an hour without a nicotine hit. Lung cancer got him.” Then Dorothea’s voice softened. “And it looks like that same gene, coupled with Rob and the miscarriage, led to your need to be in control all the time.” Her mother put an arm around Fiona and hugged her tight. “But now I’m so proud of the way you’re letting people into your life and helping them: Adele, Meeko, Rob, and even me.” She kissed her daughter. “There was a time you wouldn’t have dreamed of leaving two almost-strangers plus a puking baby alone in your house for a week.”

“You say I’m helping other people, Mum. But it’s actually them, and you, who are helping me.” It really did feel like any aid she’d given was coming back to her in more generous dollops than she had offered.

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