Chapter 6
“I don’t know why you’re so nervous,” Joe said, as Fiona stood in front of the mirror and tried to decide whether her floor-skimming scarlet sheath dress was too over the top. “Stop examining yourself. I will feel a million dollars with you on my arm.”
When she’d pressed him for more details about what to expect of his colleagues, he’d described a mix of other physios, podiatrists, a chiropractor, an osteopath, a couple of receptionists and someone who did Botox. Thoughts of the latter made her lean closer to the glass and examine her face. As her mother had forewarned, things were sagging, and she lacked those wonderful high cheek bones that act as scaffolding to keep everything in check. Joe eased her back from the mirror and kissed her.
She pulled away and looked at herself again. The phrase ‘scarlet woman’ came into her head. Conclusions would be jumped to that she had been instrumental in the break-up of Joe and Rose’s marriage. Had Joe emphatically told his workmates that he hadn’t met Fiona until after the divorce? A subtle outfit would be better, unless she wanted to star in the workplace gossip that would surely follow the party. She changed into her ubiquitous, knee-length little black dress, which went anywhere without problem.
Joe looked disappointed. “I preferred the other one. It made a statement.”
“I don’t want to make a statement. Let’s focus on us before worrying about how we appear to others.”
“That sounds like fun.” He pulled her close and kissed her again. Her toes curled and she warmed inside at the memory of the rationed evenings they’d spent together, making the most of every minute. Then she gently pushed him away. Now they had all the time in the world to do that sort of thing, it wasn’t so important to take every opportunity.
“Talking of the future . . .” Joe produced a small black box from his trouser pocket. Fiona’s heart went cold. Please don’t go down on one knee. Please don’t ask the question. Please make that box disappear. “I got you this. Wear it tonight.” She closed her eyes and tried to concoct a neutral reply. She couldn’t agree to a marriage proposal. He opened the box. “It’s a pendant,” he said.
Her chest deflated like a balloon. The relief was overwhelming.
“You always wear that old amber thing and I thought it was time for a change. And since we’re going to paint the town red, a ruby seemed most appropriate. Let me.” His hands went to the back of her neck to unfasten the pendant she’d had specially made three decades earlier in memory of her lost baby daughter.
Fiona’s hand immediately went to the stone. “No. I . . .”
“Don’t be silly. Amber and ruby together will look out of place.”
She wanted to tell him to return the ruby to the shop. She would never wear it because the amber pendant only came off when she was in water. But he’d undone the catch and the chain cascaded into her hand, making a curled shiny nest around the bespoke mustard-coloured stone. He fastened the new gold chain at the back of her neck. It was just the right length and the red stone nestled neatly in her collar bone. Joe stood back to admire his choice. “That looks much better than the old yellow one. You are keeping those red heels on, aren’t you?”
That had been her intention but she disliked the way he was toying with her outfit and the impression he wanted her to project. Had this sort of interference been instrumental in his divorce from Rose?
“Joe, I am going to wear the amber pendant. It has sentimental value to me.” She fiddled with the fastener on the ruby’s chain and then handed it back to him.
“What sentimental value?”
“Just something from . . . it was a long time ago.” Her fingers were rubbing the smooth surface of the amber stone. She couldn’t talk about it now, casually, when they were in a hurry to go out.
He frowned but didn’t pursue it. Only in the car did the cost of the ruby occur to her.
“I appreciate the thought behind the pendant.” She tried to be diplomatic. “But I thought all your capital was tied up until the house can be sold next year? And you’re paying an arm and a leg to keep Adele at uni.”
He glanced across at her. “My house is uninhabitable so I’ve stopped the standing order for my rent. Fiona — for once just relax and enjoy. Let someone else be in control. You don’t have to be the boss all the time. And it’s not your money I’m spending.” His sharp voice was a shock. They’d never argued because they each had their own space and their own private lives to return to, and they both knew where the line was drawn. They’d been sharing their domestic lives for only twenty-four hours and already it had become difficult not to challenge where the new line now sat.
Fiona took a breath. She wasn’t ready to tell Joe the whole story around her divorce and reveal her vulnerability. But she wouldn’t allow herself to be treated like ‘the little woman’ who didn’t understand finance. “When I was married there were . . . money issues. That makes me want to know the ins and outs of where any cash is coming from.”
He patted her knee, his eyes still on the road, and then spoke flippantly. “Thanks for telling me. But don’t worry. I won’t bring the bailiffs to your door.”
Fiona went cold inside. “Don’t treat it as a joke.”
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 ‘significant other’; 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.