“I intended seeing her alone but that will look like me touting for business.”
“Which you are,” Dorothea said pointedly.
“Which I am. But I want it to look like this request is coming, at least partly, from the residents. Otherwise, it’s likely to berefused because ‘there is no demand’.” Meeko added the air quotes and mimicked an official voice.
“I’ll come. We get precious little in the way of entertainment for all the money we pay in service charges.”
They had to wait until Mrs Fairchild was back from her extended Christmas break the following Monday in order to get an appointment with her. During that time Fiona continued to meet Meeko for breakfast. Neither of them mentioned their relationship, either obliquely or openly. Meeko was less generous with his hugs and she wondered whether he’d decided that platonic was best. That thought planted an unexpected kernel of disappointment in her heart.
Fiona was waiting with her mother when Meeko arrived for the meeting.
As Dorothea stood to switch from slippers to shoes, her eyes were ablaze and she was full of suffragette-like enthusiasm to fight tooth and nail for the yoga class. Meeko placed his hands on the old lady’s shoulders. “Stay calm. We don’t want to get this woman’s back up before we’ve even started. Be complimentary and nice to her.”
Dorothea harrumphed.
Fiona waited in the quiet of her mother’s flat, the fingers of her left hand crossed tightly. Since she’d explained Project Meeko to him, Meeko had regained some of the confidence that had been slowly eaten away as he lost class after class and had to scratch around for other bits of piecemeal work. He’d been fired with a new zest for life — which was attractive. The kernel of disappointment grew and pointed itself towards her and her inability to take risks as its cause.
She loosened her fingers and picked the topmost issue from a pile of women’s magazines by her mother’s armchair. It was mostly filled with adverts for fashion and ‘healthy’ convenience foods and pages of celebrity gossip. Towards the back a problempage headline caught her eye: ‘When one pal wants more than friendship’. The reader’s letter outlining the dilemma was almost a carbon copy of what was happening between her and Meeko. The senders of the letters were identified by their initials and town only. This one was written by D.O. from their very own town. A line of tension strung itself between Fiona’s shoulders. Would her mother have dared write a letter like this and then leave the magazine for Fiona to read? She looked at the date on the front cover: mid-December. To allow for journalistic deadlines, the letter must have been written weeks before Joe moved in. Had her mother been wishing her and Meeko together for a very long time? Fiona read the advice of the agony aunt:
Close contact with a person of the opposite (or same) sex such as a working relationship, neighbour or a close ‘platonic’ friendship can often lead to the growth of an attraction. Often this attraction is merely fleeting and not acted upon because one or both parties is already in a relationship or because workplace affairs are not allowed or because whatever has brought the people close disappears, for example a particular project, and with no longer anything in common, the attraction and thoughts of the other person disappear. This is not the case for the daughter of D.O. The friendship is long-standing. There is a well-known risk of a friendship being lost if a subsequent romantic relationship between the pair fails. But what is often overlooked is the fact that the friendship may also be lost if one or both of the pair can’t tolerate the constant unfulfilled nature of the relationship.Situations like this always lead to a situation where the people involved must take a gamble. My advice to these friends is to talk, Talk, TALK and then talk some more. Heartbreak will be minimised if the lines of communication are kept open in this way.
No definite advice. It seemed that no one could light the way forward through this mess other than her and Meeko. She closed the magazine and put it back where she found it, trying to make it look as though it had never been touched.
Fiona jumped at the sound of a key in the lock. “Well?” Within a second, she was in the hallway greeting them. Their expressions were solemn. She’d built Meeko up for success — please don’t let everything crash down now.
“She talked about the cost-of-living crisis.”
“And inflation and the difficulty in getting staff.”
“I pointed out that residents were getting antsy about the lack of entertainment.”
“And I told her I’d had interest from some of the other retirement complexes.”
“And I reminded her about next week’s visit from the head office bigwigs to run a members’ forum.”
It was like watching a game of tennis as Meeko and Dorothea recounted the conversation without getting to the point.
“She drives a hard bargain.”
“But I think she was definitely swayed by me being there on behalf of the residents.”
“So, she’s hired you?”
“Not hired me, exactly.”
“She’s given him three unpaid trial sessions. If they are well attended then he can continue — and be paid from then on.”
“And for me that counts as a success.” Meeko raised his hand, Dorothea followed suit and their palms met in self-congratulation.
Fiona pulled them both towards her in a hug. Things were on the up.
When Fiona got home Adele was flapping around trying to put on make-up at the same time as rocking Natalie’s car seat with one foot. “I was trying to take her out for the first time but it’s too difficult.”
“I’ll take her while you get ready. And have I got success news for you! Meeko has got three trial sessions at Mum’s flat complex.”
Adele turned round from the mirror. “You really like him, don’t you? When Dad was here you were trying to quash it but it’s written all over your face now. And when I say ‘like’ I don’t mean any of that platonic best friend stuff either.”
Fiona was mortified. She was sure she’d kept her feelings well hidden, especially when Joe was around. Even though Adele had previously voiced suspicions, she didn’t want her to think she’d been fancying other men when her father was still in the picture. “I’m just pleased for him. Like I would be pleased for anyone who achieved the success they deserved.”