Page 70 of Out of Control

It was too late to say the refreshments were for yoga participants only, but Fiona wasn’t going to let these hangers-on get away with snaffling biscuits when Meeko was desperate for class members. “Apologies. I am taking biscuit requests from session participants. Let me make a note against your name.” She picked up a piece of A4 paper on which Meeko had jotted the running order of his class. “What name is it?”

Even beneath the woman’s heavy make-up, Fiona could see her cheeks redden. “No need. A custard cream will do just as well.” The woman grabbed a mug and biscuit and disappeared into a huddle of similarly dressed ladies.

The volume of chat in the room was a reward in itself — even if at least half of them hadn’t participated in the yoga. Knowing how lonely and frustrated Dorothea became in the prison of her own four walls, this happy atmosphere, with so many keen to get a slice of the action, would surely please Mrs Fairchild. And the cost to the residential complex could be justified by the myriad of health benefits, both physical and mental, emanating from yoga. Meeko was an expert at explaining those. She could see him now, deep in conversation with the manager, and was tempted to rush over and interrupt to make sure that Mrs Fairchild took on board the additional benefit of the after-class refreshments in reducing social isolation. No. She held back. Meeko’s future was his own. She’d given him a little push, likea teenager leaving for university, and now it was up to him. Neither of them wanted to accept the terms offered for being involved as a partner in the other’s life, and so they each had to go it alone from now on.

Afterwards, when she realised Dorothea had invited Meeko back to her flat for a debrief, Fiona tried to slip away on the pretext of a dental appointment.

“Balderdash! I can read you like a book, Fiona Ormeroyd, and that is a lie.” The old lady opened her front door and ushered them both in ahead of her. “If you check the fridge, you will see that I’m not lying when I say I am out of milk. You two have thirty minutes to slay the elephant in the room while I go to the shop.”

“It’s a ploy on her behalf,” Fiona said when she was alone with Meeko. “Look.” She slid back the door of the cupboard under the sink to reveal a two-litre plastic container of milk, which was almost full. “I remember seeing it at breakfast. And under the sink is where she always used to hide sweets when I was a kid.”

Meeko managed a smile. “Mrs Fairchild was pleased with the turnout. Apparently, it needs fifteen to make any activity eligible for funds, but she said we had one of the main resident personalities there. If she enjoyed it then it’s likely she will corral her acolytes into attending next time.”

“That’s good — I wish you well with it. And with the post-natal group — but that will be fine; Adele’s got your back there. If you need help with the refreshments again here, drop me a text — I’m happy to come and boil a kettle and do some washing up.” And at least we will still have some contact with each other, however tenuous.

“I’d love that. Thanks.” Did his swift response mean Meeko wanted to rebuild the ‘best friends’ thing?

“I’ll put the kettle on ready for when Mum gets back.”

“Can we search her shopping to make sure she actually has bought more milk?” Meeko was grinning at her. The dimples that made her toes curl were there but his eyes were missing their dancing feet. She wanted that happiness back for him. For both of them. She missed their camaraderie, his calming supportive nature, the way he was so good with Dorothea and the way he understood her own needs. Everything had been so easy when she’d thought he was out of reach. She’d been able to say to herself that,ifshe was looking for a committed partnership, she would choose Meeko. Now she knew he was available, she still thought that. And he wanted that.But was she looking for a committed partnership? Trust. Absolute trust in another person. Her lack of trust was the elephant that Dorothea was talking about. But he’d been the person her mind had flitted to when she’d panicked about her disappearing imaginings of Amber.

“Mum will let you delve in her bag but not me!” They were mildly flirting with each other. It wasn’t what best friends did. She took a breath. “We do need to clear the air, don’t we?”

He nodded. For several moments they looked at each other. Words wouldn’t come and so she touched his hand. The shock of their mutual attraction made her pull away. Trust. Other people managed it. That trust sometimes got broken or misused but they found a way back. She thought about Rose’s ability to weigh up what really mattered to her and then consider starting again with her ex-husband. She thought about Adele and the misplaced trust she’d put in the boyfriend who’d dropped her as soon as she announced her pregnancy. The girl had been shattered but she was coming out of what might be considered a catastrophe, as a stronger, more mature person — with no regrets about bringing baby Natalie into the world. And she thought about Dorothea and that failed attempt at dating — her mother had gone into that knowing she was never going to re-create the closeness of her long marriage with Fiona’s dad, but she still thought it worth the gamble. Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all — wasn’t that the old adage?

Fiona was broken when she lost Amber but she didn’t regret having become pregnant with her. She’d been catastrophically bruised by Rob’s abuse of her financial trust, but was that reason never to let anyone else become close to her — ever? Was she cutting off her nose to spite her face? If you looked hard enough, it was possible to find a positive in every experience, no matter how bad it had seemed at the time. In their brief meetings, she’d started to see the old Rob, the one she’d chosen to marry, and now he was intent on giving back to society. And helping him was giving purpose to her post-work life. Their marriage had ended in a bad way but she couldn’t regret taking those vows.

Fiona looked at Meeko. He’d created within her a strength of feeling that she’d never had for any other man. And it frightened her. It was turning out impossible for them to be ‘best friends’ again. It didn’t work because this fierce emotion, now it had been acknowledged, was growing by the day. She had to act or regret it forever.

“I’ve been thinking.” Their words collided in mid-air.

“You first,” he said.

She wanted him to speak first, before she said the wrong thing. Perhaps he’d decided marriage wasn’t an essential backdrop to an intimate relationship between them. Perhaps he’d realised he could trust her not to drop him into a steel compartment. But in either or both of those cases, she knew she was only offering a chunk of herself rather than the whole package, as he was prepared to do. Fiona had too much respect for him to not give equally of herself.

This time it had to be her who went down on one knee. “Michael Woods, please will you do me the honour of becoming my lawful, legally wedded, official, public-facing andnon-compartmentalised husband?” From his initial shocked expression, the biggest smile she had ever seen erupted.

“I will.” Then he was on the floor beside her, pulling her into his arms. They were still wrapped in a kiss when Fiona became aware of her mother standing over them.

“I see you chased the elephant away.”

Chapter 48

Snowdrops were emerging in the garden, darkness was no longer cutting the afternoons brutally short, and everywhere had the smell of new beginnings. New beginnings. Fiona rolled the phrase around her mind. New beginnings. For the first time in her adult life she had no idea where the coming months would take her, what she would achieve by the end of the year, or whether she would even be the same person by then. Something inside her still wanted to grab the reins, impose a structure on the coming weeks, days, hours, and to control those around her. But the last three months had taught her there were great benefits to be had by going with the flow and following the lead of others

Fiona’s eyes drifted back from the lounge window to the rows and columns on her laptop screen. Most of the steps on the ‘Naming Ceremony’ spreadsheet had been completed. Invitations had gone out and been returned. The function room at the Birnside Hotel had been secured. Several of Meeko’s classes had been reinstated following vocal protests and a sit-in at the hotel reception by his long-standing class attendees. This had increased his profile and he’d got a staff discount on the room hire as his contribution to the party. Rose had arranged outside caterers to provide a savoury finger buffet and there would be two glasses of sparkling wine for each of the forty guests. She was adamant there would be plenty of toasts because, although baby Natalie would be centre stage, the occasion wasn’t just to celebrate the beginning of life for her first granddaughter. It was to mark new beginnings across the lives of so many of the guests and to thank them for their support of Adele and Natalie over the last few months.

Rose hadn’t been allowed to push the boat out on her own; everyone wanted to help and be a part of things. Dorothea hadbeen baking cakes for the last week and sticking them in her freezer and those of her neighbours, to ensure they were all at the peak of freshness on the day. Adele and Natalie had been regular visitors to the old lady’s flat as Adele learned the ancient art of scone making — finally she’d found perfection and the last four batches would be served with jam and cream after the sandwiches and sausage rolls but before the cakes. “I’ve also done some more of those healthy flapjacks,” she’d told Fiona. “We’ll hide them behind everything else — just for you. And Mum’s asked the caterers to do some salad options alongside all the sandwiches and stuff — you’ve done so much for me that I don’t want you to be forced to eat things you’d prefer not to.”

Words had failed Fiona and she’d felt tears pricking her eyes. She’d hugged her daughter-by-proxy and swallowed the lump in her throat. She didn’t regret one minute of her relationship with Joe or all the upheaval of Christmas and New Year. Those events had catapulted her out of her comfort zone into an unknown galaxy. And navigating that difficult time had brought her this whole new family and freed her from the addiction of controlling her life into specific, sterile compartments.

She closed the laptop and opened her wardrobe. The beige suit she’d planned to wear hung in front of her beneath its transparent dry cleaner’s wrapper. Both the skirt and jacket were fitted and the best effect came from having the jacket buttoned almost to the top. Previously the suit had clothed Fiona in confidence as she’d stalked around christenings and weddings; an outsider peeking in at scenes of togetherness. She’d always felt like an observer rather than part of the celebrations. But now things were different. She wasn’t going to be centre stage at the naming ceremony, but she did feel that she belonged and that her life was now flowing naturally rather than being carefully choreographed and channelled. Buttoned-up jackets weren’t part of her life anymore. At the back of herwardrobe was an unworn cream dress. She’d bought it in a sale, on a whim, straight after her first-ever yoga class with Meeko. Fiona never bought things on a whim but the class had made her feel lithe, flowing and young. The dress had stayed in her wardrobe because, until now, social occasions had always made her crave a feeling of control. Cap sleeves, a full knee-length skirt and a collarbone-revealing neckline whispered ‘relaxed and flowing’ not ‘I must be in control’. She put the dress on and positioned the amber pendant in full view. She twirled and the skirt spun outwards ‘a la Marilyn Monroe’. This was a party she was going to enjoy.

The ceremony went like a dream. Afterwards there was the food and getting to know the other guests. Adele and Rose introduced her and Meeko as ‘close family friends’ — the relationship with Joe was never mentioned. Joe himself kept his distance but Fiona spotted him on at least a couple of occasions catching hold of his ex-wife’s hands and whispering in her ear; she rewarded him with a broad smile. Fiona smiled too; all’s well that ends well — and she now knew from experience that temporarily losing something could make it better than before.

“He’s grown a foot taller since that diamond went on your finger.” Dorothea was at Fiona’s shoulder, pointing at Meeko, who was fiddling with the microphone attached to the sound system. He’d volunteered to act as MC for the speeches.

“One, two. One, two.”

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