Page 11 of Out of Control

Joe glanced over at Fiona and she caught his unspoken plea. He wanted her to take control. She didn’t know what was going on, but order was better than chaos.

“I’ll put the kettle on.” It was a cliché used by generations of women to wave magic wands over the calamities brought home by their families.

“I only drink coffee,” the pregnant girl declared, then she hesitated and touched her belly. “Decaffeinated.”

“I can do that.”

Joe ushered his daughter into the lounge, and the pair were sitting in an awkward silence when Fiona carried in three mugs. “Sorry, I’ve got no biscuits.” She attempted an apologetic laugh but no one smiled.

Adele took a sip of coffee. “I need answers, Dad. I’ve been trying Mum on her mobile ever since I got on the train from uni this morning. It goes straight to voicemail. It says she won’t be picking up messages for an indefinite time.” She stared at her father. “Then when I get home there’s someone else in the house. They said it’s on Airbnb and shut the door in my face. By that time, and with this to look after—” she pointed at her stomach — “I’m having a nervous breakdown.”

“Your mother shouldn’t have let you find out like that.” Joe pushed his glasses up his nose.

“How did you know where your dad was?” There was something going on with Rose that Joe hadn’t told Fiona about. Early on in their relationship they’d decided not to spoil their evenings together with any mention of Joe’s ex-wife or his children or any other domestic minutiae relating to either of them. But this sounded like something that Fiona needed toknow about. Something that might have an impact on her. “And what’s going on with Rose?”

“I tried to phone him, but as usual he didn’t pick up.”

“I was on the football pitch!”

“I went to his house and there was a skinny man with a beard just getting out of a car.”

“The letting agent — he’d have been there to see the damage.”

“He said you’d left this house as a forwarding address.” Adele took another mouthful of coffee. “Where’s Mum?”

“India.”

“India!” Fiona and Adele spoke in unison.

“She sent me an email from the airport on Friday just as she was leaving. What with the flood and everything else going on, I never got chance to tell you. Either of you.”

He swiped at his phone and handed it to Adele. She read aloud, “Hi Joe. In thirty minutes I will be on a plane to India for a Gap However-Long-I-Choose-To-Stay. I have informed no one else and have left it so close to departure because I don’t want you, or anyone else, to persuade me not to go. After years at the beck and call of others, now it is MY time. I’m going to find the real ME. Please deal with anything that arises in my absence. The children are adults and wrapped up in their own lives — they will be OK. Adele told us ages ago she wouldn’t be home for Christmas and Dan only turns up when he wants something. Don’t try to contact me — we have to hand our phones in on arrival at the retreat. Digital detox and all that. Rose.”

Adele handed the phone back. Her hand was shaking and her voice cracked as she spoke. “What happens to me now?”

There was an awkward silence. Joe glanced questioningly at Fiona. She kept her face blank; this was his family’s mess, not hers. He looked over at his daughter. “When’s it due? And what’s the story?”

“January fifth,” Adele mumbled, and shuffled in her seat. “You met Nicholas in the summer.”

“Briefly, and only because your mother insisted we check on you when you said you were staying in Sheffield for the holiday.” Fiona could see Joe mentally counting the months. “Why didn’t you tell us then?”

Adele picked up the coffee mug again and kept her head facing down. “I suspected then, but I wasn’t brave enough to find out definitely until it was obvious I was getting fat. Two months ago I told Nicholas and he finished with me.” She pulled a tissue from her jumper sleeve and blew her nose. “Then I didn’t know what to do. I did nothing until almost the end of term and then I came home.” Joe took the full force of a venomous glare. “At least I thought I was coming home.”

Joe stood up and paced the distance between the window and his chair. He picked up the advent calendar and offered it to his daughter. “We’ve jumped ahead on this. But you and er . . . my grandbaby can have the next chocolate. I’m losing track of days.” He was out of his depth and casting around for anything that might make the situation better. His small gesture touched Fiona.

“Do you want to be a granddad?” Adele was looking at him hopefully. Fiona willed him to say the right words.

Adele hadn’t taken the chocolate from the calendar. Joe gently opened the door numbered ‘3’ and put the chocolate on the table in front of his daughter. “Of course I do!” The atmosphere in the room went down a notch. “And your mum will love being a grandma, I’m sure.”

“Can we tell her? I want her to come home.” The rest of Adele’s words were lost in sobs — a tsunami of tears that appeared to have been held back for months. “I’m . . . scared . . . look after me.”

Joe perched on the arm of Adele’s chair and held her close. The two of them rocked in silence. Fiona was superfluous. Unwanted. She went upstairs and sat in her office. It was now fully dark outside. She pulled down the blind and switched on the desk lamp. The yellow glow and the sound of rain outside made her feel cosy and safe. Unlike how Adele must be feeling. A vulnerable pregnant woman couldn’t go cap in hand to her friends and ask to sleep on their sofa. She couldn’t give birth with no home for the new baby. There was no convenient stable with a hay-lined manger.

Back in the day, she and Rob had had plans for Amber’s nursery. They’d taken meandering walks around Mothercare and The Early Learning Centre, each pointing out what they would buy as soon as Fiona tipped past the twelve-week danger line. None of it had come to pass — she’d been naive and oblivious to the financial catastrophe around the corner. Unaware that her husband was gambling at all, never mind chasing his losses with increasingly large bets in a vain attempt to secure his family’s future.

There was no other option. She had to offer Adele a home, at least until Joe got his own place back or found somewhere else. This office-cum-spare-room was too crowded with desk and filing cabinet to fit a bed. Adele would have to take the guest room. The one that Fiona had been about to ask Joe to sleep in.

Her mixed-up feelings about her lover were ebbing and flowing as each new happening buffeted her closer to him or highlighted a less attractive personality trait. Last night she’d been sure they had no future together. Then she’d switched to thinking that, with compromise, they could make things work. Even before the burst pipe, she’d recognised he was ready for more than just their weekly dates. Once, he’d suggested a holiday together, and another time that she accompany him to a friend’s birthday party. Fiona was sure he wanted somethingdeeper and more long-term than their previous relationship, and talking to Meeko had helped her make sense of her own feelings. She wasn’t ready to completely give up on what she and Joe had together, especially now she’d seen his tenderness with his daughter. Fiona did want to be part of his circle of love. If, later, she felt the metal jaws close around her, she would deal with it then. She went to make her offer.

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