Chapter 8
Fiona drafted the ground rules for their cohabitation in longhand. She was itching to type them up with space at the bottom of the page for each of them to sign and date the agreement. But even she could see that was too formal. Perhaps she’d produce an ‘official’ document when she’d talked him through the draft. She stuck to the practicalities that would give this unplanned life as a couple a fighting chance. Since Rob had destroyed her trust in men, she’d created her own structure for living, which at times had been lonely, but the prospect of sharing her life again had always been too scary. It still was scary. However, stuff happens and you have to adapt or walk away. She could say goodbye to Joe or she could give their relationship a proper chance. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye, so devising the ground rules felt like building essential scaffolding to keep everything in its place:
Separate bedrooms except for ‘date nights’ (this is proven to give each person a better night’s sleep).
Finances kept completely apart. NO joint accounts of any kind (probably not an issue for now but a rule for the future should this turn into a long-term living-together arrangement).
Joe to pick up the extra costs of him being here, e.g. extra council tax because the single person discount will disappear, fuel and water bills (I will pay the standing charge and the broadband because they will be unchanged) and food.
Housework to be shared — we need to discuss a rota.
She put the list to one side to ‘settle’ and then turned her mind to Christmas and the tasks it demanded, even from a non-religious person who had little in the way of family.
* * *
Fiona was updating the Christmas card spreadsheet on her laptop when she first noticed the girl. The little digital numbers in the bottom right of her screen said it was 15.03. It was a crisp, clear afternoon — one of those days that make you prefer the clarity of winter to the heat exhaustion of midsummer. The girl didn’t appear to share those feelings. It was impossible to see her facial expression — she was walking on the opposite side of the road — but the silhouette of her body sagged. Only the girl would know whether this was with tiredness or depression, or perhaps it was the effort of keeping a steady gait when loaded with a large rucksack at the back and an obviously pregnant stomach at the front. Fiona contemplated the figure for a few seconds, hoping she didn’t have far to go. Then the list of cards received last year reclaimed her.
She made a little test scribble with the gold gel pen on a piece of scrap paper. Then she tried the silver and the scarlet. She smiled and remembered her favourite childhood treat — a brand-new pack of felt tip pens and a colouring book. Not one of those cheap books with absorbent paper that encouraged the ink from felt tips to bleed outside the lines or go right through to the picture on the other side of the page. When she had one of those books, Fiona had always checked both pictures to make sure she chose the best one to colour in — invariably the one with the most scope for using a range of bright colours, for example, a girl in a striped party dress would always win over a picture of a fox or a badger in woodland.
She wrote the first five cards on her list. On the left-hand side of each card she wrote a couple of personal sentences. Something that had happened in the last twelve months which would amuse that person, or asking after their family. Then she laid them open for a couple of minutes for the ink to dry.
As she reached for the envelopes, the girl walked back down the road in the opposite direction and on Fiona’s side. This time, because she was nearer, the girl’s face was more visible. Tiredness was reflected in her face and the way she walked. Black leggings were visible beneath the coat, along with heavy black shoes that were probably fashionable but added weight to every step. The girl glanced at each house as she passed. Her eyes lingered on Fiona’s front door. The young woman was looking at the numbers. Suddenly on her guard, Fiona stared at the girl, willing her to carry on walking. She didn’t want to be picked out as a burglary target. The girl looked directly at her. Fiona leaned back in her chair, trying to put herself and her laptop out of sight. The girl carried on slowly down the road, but now she was continually glancing back at Fiona’s window. Fiona drew the curtains even though it wasn’t quite dark.
Fifteen minutes later there were voices outside the front door and then the key in the lock. She tensed; Joe had said nothing about bringing a friend home with him. She bundled the Christmas cards back into their box and closed the laptop. The rest of the room was tidy.
“Fiona! We’ve got a visitor.” She went into the hallway and Joe kissed her cheek. His skin felt cold from the December air. The pregnant girl had dumped her rucksack inside the front door. She was looking around and frowning.
“I’m sorry, Joe,” Fiona said. “You’ve caught me on the hop. I don’t remember . . .”
“Fiona, this is my daughter, Adele. Adele, this is . . . Fiona. I’m staying with her at the moment.”
Masking her shock with a smile, Fiona offered her hand, keeping her eyes on the girl’s face and not her bump. Adele shook hands briefly and then turned to her dad. “Why has Mum disappeared? And where am I supposed to go?”
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 to know 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 something deeper 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.
Joe looked up from his phone when she came into the room. “I’ve just booked a week at the Holiday Lodge. After that I’ll try and get us an Airbnb.”
“No need. You can both stay here.”
Joe looked shocked. “Are you sure? It was different when it was just me, but you’ll be swamped with both of us, especially if the baby comes early.”
Images of a newborn baby in this room blurred with emotional thoughts of what might have been with Amber. Fiona hadn’t factored in the baby arriving early. She nearly retracted the offer and then realised it was impossible without explanation. “I’m sure we can make it work for the time being.” She hoped she sounded positive and upbeat.
Joe flashed her a look of gratitude and Fiona tried to quash her anxiety. How difficult could it be to share her home with a pregnant young woman over the Christmas period? The painful memories of losing Amber would never go away but that was no excuse to turn away a desperate young mum-to-be. Despite the nerves, she had a feeling of easing open a long-closed compartment and letting light in. It was a new but not unpleasant feeling.
Besides, first babies were always late; there would be time for Joe to sort out alternative accommodation before the birth.