Chapter 11
The atmosphere over the pizza and salad wasn’t good, even though the meal was Adele’s choice and Fiona forced herself to remain quiet about the pizza’s unhealthy stuffed crust and feign enjoyment. The green salad, grated carrot and dish of vine tomatoes were ignored by Adele as she went for a second helping of pizza. Fiona longed to advocate for the baby’s wellbeing and vitamin needs. Instead, she had more salad herself and mentioned how increasing her plant intake had done wonders for her energy levels. Adele speared a piece of pizza crust with her fork and chased a lump of melted cheese around her plate.
“Can’t beat a pepperoni stuffed crust,” Joe said.
Fiona wanted to talk about processed meat and the link to bowel cancer. She tried to catch his eye. As a physio he should know better than to encourage the consumption of junk food. He looked her way and she deepened her frown.
“But all things in moderation,” he said quickly, and dropped a tomato onto his daughter’s plate.
The possibility of a scene like this had never entered Fiona’s head when she’d first clicked on Joe’s profile just over a year ago. His picture had shown him to be attractive. In fact, she had wondered whether he’d used an old photo because he looked younger than his date of birth indicated. But then she’d enlarged the picture and noted there were laughter lines, silver hairs and the ruggedness that indicated a life well lived. He was muscular, broad-shouldered and five feet ten inches tall, which would make him a few comfortable inches taller than her. In the photo he was wearing a polo shirt branded with the logo of the clinic where he worked as a physio, and tracksuit bottoms. This had enabled her to double-check that he was who he said he was.
She’d narrowed down his profile because they shared an interest in fitness, books and music and, unlike many of the profiles she’d skipped over, he hadn’t ticked the box to indicate he was looking for a life partner. His ‘About’ information stated that he was newly divorced and dating for the first time in decades. He described himself as ‘dipping a toe in the water’. All of this was true for Fiona as well. Except that it had taken her nearly thirty years from her divorce to actively dip a toe in the water. She certainly wasn’t looking for or expecting a great romance, but with retirement on the horizon, it would be pleasant to have someone to share activities with. Especially if that person wasn’t expecting to muscle in on all areas of her life.
When they met for a drink for the first time, she immediately confirmed there was no ring on his left hand — just a faint white line to show there’d been one sometime in the past. His face was weathered in a good way, indicating that he actually was, as mentioned in his profile, a fan of the outdoor life. She liked that he didn’t have the vanity to cover the initial grey in his hair with stuff from a bottle.
He’d asked her why she’d left it so long before dating again. Without details, she’d explained that it had been a case of once bitten, twice shy. That she’d had a demanding career and simply hadn’t felt the need to add complications to her life. Which was all true. She didn’t tell him that, for years, when her path had accidentally crossed witha handsome unattached man, she used to think of Rob, the rat she’d married. She remembered the way he’d covertly robbed her of the savings she’d brought to their marriage, the way he’d faked her signature, and his superb ability at cloak-and-dagger subterfuge. At that point she could almost feel the cramping in her stomach and the wetness between her legs as the bleeding started. Having mentally relived the worst time in her life, there was no danger that her body would betray her and accidentally give out any ‘I fancy you like hell’ signals. Time had dulled this reaction to the point where there was now pleasure from having a man in her life — as long as that person understood the strict boundaries she placed on their relationship. It had been no surprise to Fiona that this stipulation alienated most men. Online dating was attractive because she could easily make any possible dates aware of the situation from the outset. But this narrowed down the type of men who made contact to either married men looking for a weekly dalliance or those who would not be immediately attractive to women, for reasons including body odour, an obvious mismatch to their profile picture, and conversational technique based solely around football, their ex-wife or their career ‘success’.
When she first spoke to Joe he immediately understood. “That suits me, too. It’s not long since I got divorced so I’m still feeling my way about how I want my life to be.”
And, until the day of the flood, he had never tried to break through her safety barriers.
But now the basis of their relationship had changed. She was on a bullet train to an unknown destination, her hand hovering over the communication cord.
“Blueberries and extra thick Greek yoghurt for pudding,” she pulled herself back to the present. “Are we all up for it?”
“Not for me.” Adele took the last piece of pizza from the serving plate and left the room before Fiona had chance to mention that blueberries were supposed to be a ‘superfood’, or to suggest the use of a plate to avoid greasy, cheesy crumbs being trodden into the stair carpet.
Joe shrugged his shoulders and his expression said, What can you do?
When Fiona came back into the room with their desserts the fourth advent calendar chocolate was sitting in the bowl of her spoon.
“My way of apologising for her,” Joe said.
Fiona bit the chocolate in half and shared it. Joe rewarded her with a grin that reminded her of the pleasure of their weekly date nights. Maybe there was a reason to stay on that bullet train. Adele wouldn’t be here forever.