Page 8 of Out of Control

The practice had two reserved tables at Moorcroft Hotel’s Christmas Dinner and Disco evening. As they walked into the large function room, hands from a far table were up in the air and waving madly in their direction.

“They do know I wasn’t involved in your marriage break-up?”

“It will all be fine.” He squeezed her hand.

Fiona felt her stomach clench with nerves as they approached the table.

“Joe, my mate! My fellow, fizzy physio!”

“Evening, Mark, I think you’ve already been on the pop.” Joe went round greeting his colleagues with play pushes, back slaps and warm hugs. “A quick introduction everyone. This is Fiona, the significant other in my life.”

Fiona gave an acknowledging nod around the two tables, relieved that she was not expected to listen to or remember the names of the people gathered there.Significant other. It was less clinical than partner and didn’t give the impression they were joined at the hip. It would do.

Joe located the seats with their names and poured them both a glass of red wine. Fiona drank gratefully and tried to get her bearings. The tables were round and already littered with bottles and spent Christmas cracker debris. The background music was too loud to allow natural conversation and raised voices were batting back and forth across the table.

“Cracker?” Joe turned towards her and brandished the shiny red paper cylinder from his place setting.

Fiona angled herself so that she could take a grip of both the open end and the snap hidden by the frippery.

The cracker snapped, spilling its contents in front of Fiona. “You have them.” She pushed them sideways to her ‘significantother’; reading out jokes and brandishing a cheap plastic water pistol in front of curious strangers didn’t appeal.

Joe picked out the scarlet paper crown. “Here.” He indicated she should lower her head.

Fiona glanced around the tables. Everyone else was wearing the spoils from their cracker. Refusing would bring more attention to her than just putting up with the thing. She bent her head and Joe placed the crown gently on her carefully blow-dried hair.

“What happened to the pendant?” Mark’s words fell into the lull between two tracks of music and everyone heard. “The one you were showing off in the staffroom this afternoon?”

Fiona’s gaze was on her cracker debris. Her cheeks went hot and she slid her eyes to the left in an attempt to see Joe’s reaction. His initial frown turned into a forced grin.

“It cost an arm and a leg, didn’t it?” Mark continued, oblivious to the discomfort he was causing.

“You know women.” Joe gave a little laugh. “Always fickle. Lucky I kept the receipt.”

Fiona was grateful for the sudden return of the loud music and the appearance of waitresses with plates at some of the other tables. Their own food couldn’t be far away. A woman she took to be the party’s organiser came over from the adjacent table. “Sorry, Fiona, but because you were a very late addition, you’re stuck with the menu choices that the hotel has a surplus of. I hope you’re not vegetarian or anything?”

She’d become the centre of attention. Carol was waiting for a response and the rest of the table had fallen silent again. “No allergies?” Carol prompted.

“No. It’ll be fine. I eat anything and everything.”Please go away and let people stare at their soup and their goat’s cheese tarts and their garlic mushrooms instead of at me.

* * *

Once the Christmas pudding, strawberry trifle and cheeseboard plates had been cleared, Fiona excused herself and went to the ladies. It had been the right decision to leave the scarlet dress at home. And that’s where she ought to be right now.

“Remind me how long you two have been together?” Carol emerged from one of the cubicles as Fiona was tearing the paper crown into tiny strips over the waste bin. “And why have we never met you before?”

Here was her chance to stop any gossip. “We’ve been seeing each other about a year, but not seriously.”

Carol smiled into the mirror. “Joe can be a sly old fox. Did you know Rose? No, of course you didn’t. I liked her. She was completely different to you. The divorce surprised me.”

Fiona escaped into a cubicle before there were any further questions. For the rest of the evening she alternated between trying and failing to get Joe on his own so she could suggest they leave early, and making sure he didn’t drink any more than the two glasses of wine he’d had with the meal. It had been his suggestion that he drive rather than booking a taxi, but she was worried it would slip his mind the longer he spent in the company of Mark. She wasn’t familiar with the version of Joe heavily under the influence; previously they’d had that wonderful rule about him driving home every night, so alcohol had never been a major part of their time together.

It was much later that he pulled carefully out of the car park onto the dual carriageway. “That was a success. They liked you. It was a good night, wasn’t it?”

“It . . .” She had to tell him that his attitude towards her had been the problem with the evening, from trying to influence her choice of dress to the debacle over the pendant. It was an attitude she couldn’t live with and, therefore, he had to find somewhere else to stay.

But she was too tired for a showdown tonight. In the morning she would ask Joe to leave. As a temporary compromise, he could have the spare room for a couple of weeks until he got himself sorted with non-flooded accommodation, but they could no longer be a couple. He hadn’t made a positive decision to be with her, it had arisen out of necessity, but it definitely wasn’t a necessity on her part. Over the past twenty-four hours she’d had her belief that a part-time man suited her needs best confirmed.

Chapter 7

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