Chapter 19
Fiona had only been to Meeko’s flat once before. That had been during lockdown when they’d met on the pavement outside to go for a walk. Meeko had suffered financially during the pandemic and had had to dip deep into his savings to pay his rent. Fiona counted herself as one of the lucky ones — being in IT, she’d been able to work at home, and most days had featured several online meetings. By the time evening came she’d been glad to escape the laptop and take her prescribed daily exercise.
Meeko’s flat was in the attic space of a tall Victorian house. Fiona picked out his bell at the bottom of a column of four and pressed. A minute later a slightly breathless Meeko appeared, gave her a hug and gestured her through an inner door leading to a stairwell.
His flat was tiny. Washing hung drying on a rack, a slight smell of garlic tinged the air, and the door to a tiny bathroom was wide open, showing the toilet with a raised seat. The kitchen took up the back third of the living area and had a window over the sink which, she guessed, must look down into the garden. The window at the front, in the sitting area, had a view over the road she’d just walked up.
“Sit down.” He gestured at a settee draped with a burnt-orange tie-dyed throw. Fiona wondered whether it was left over from Lynn’s occupancy.
“Breakfast.” She made a show of handing over a small brown paper carrier from the delicatessen containing croissants (for him), a perfectly ripe avocado plus a tub of prawns (for her) and a cardboard tray holding two takeaway lattes, one normal (for him) and one decaffeinated oat milk (for her). “Plate, bowl and spoons only are required.” Surreptitiously, although Meeko couldn’t have failed to notice, she placed a supermarket bag-for- life behind the kitchen counter containing muesli, bran flakes, a loaf of bread and a premium lasagne ready meal.
Meeko provided the crockery and Fiona decanted the foodstuffs, adding paper serviettes with an exaggerated flourish.
“Sorry about . . .” He licked croissant crumbs from his lips and gestured around the flat. “It’s cheap and, well, there’s only me now . . .”
“I like it.” It wasn’t a lie; the flat had a lived-in, cosy feel. There were full bookshelves and only a tiny TV — signs of someone who has their priorities right. It was just a bit chaotic for her. And there was nowhere to store or hide the chaos. “So, how does this card thing work?”
“You’re going to ask me simple questions about your future and I’m going to answer them using an ordinary deck of cards.” He pointed to a pack of playing cards on the windowsill. “But first, we finish eating.”
Fiona scraped the inside of the avocado skin and double-checked the prawn container was empty. Meeko had nearly finished his second croissant, spread thickly with jam that he’d produced from the kitchen. After the third and final croissant was gone, he gestured that he needed to wash his hands.
A few minutes later they were seated across the table from each other with only the takeaway coffee cups and deck of cards on the surface. Fiona felt a seed of apprehension in the pit of her stomach. She reached for the coffee. Was she going to learn something she’d rather not know?
“First we need to calm our minds and release all that inner chatter.” Meeko closed his eyes and took deep breaths. Fiona followed suit, imagining it was the introduction to one of his yoga sessions. After a couple of minutes Meeko opened his eyes and repeated his earlier instruction. “You need to ask the cards a question.”
Fiona chewed the inside of her cheek and then rubbed her arms. Logic told her this was all mumbo jumbo but still a swirl of nerves mixed with the prawns and avocado. Meeko looked at her intently and for a second their eyes locked. Something sudden, awesome, tingly and infinitely more pleasurable replaced her fear. She looked away from him, confused.
“There must be something you’re curious about,” Meeko persisted. “Your life is upside down at the moment and you hate it. Don’t you want to know if you’re ever going to be its ringmaster again?”
He didn’t need cards in order to read her like a book.
“OK.” She took a breath. It had only been a week since she’d finished work and Joe had moved in, but it felt like years. During that time, the tight rein she’d kept on her life had begun to slip. Did she want to pull it tight again? Yes, and no. She remembered the warmth of opening up and letting Adele have the spare room. And then the painful memories of Amber triggered by the pregnant girl’s presence. She remembered the shock and shame of discovering exactly how lonely her mother was. And the relief that the old lady had finally felt able to open up to her. Fiona didn’t want to strangle these two fledgling relationships by pulling too hard and clanging doors shut. But the presence of Adele meant Fiona and Joe had no privacy and she missed the fun they used to have on their weekly date nights. And father and daughter weren’t getting on well — which fed into the disquiet between Fiona and Joe. It would get worse when the baby arrived. If Rose didn’t reappear from India, Fiona’s precious home office sanctuary would have to be converted into a nursery. She couldn’t bear that. Such a conversion had almost happened once before. In another house. A long time ago. That had been a welcome conversion, but bar the paint buying, it had never taken place. Which relationship should she prioritise? Adele would disappear when her mother returned but, now the teething problems were sorted out, she and Joe might make it in the long-term. It might be kinder all round if she plucked up the courage to ask Adele to leave now. Joe’s brother, Adele’s uncle, lived nearby in a big house with empty bedrooms. That would keep the new baby at a more tolerable arm’s length and leave her and Joe free to concentrate on each other.
“Should I ask Adele to leave before the baby is born?” She spoke slowly and deliberately, addressing her question to the pack of cards, not directly to Meeko. Looking at Meeko might cause that awkward tingling inside her again and there was no future in such a tingle.
“Good. That’s exactly the sort of yes/no question that the cards can answer.” He shuffled the cards, cut the deck and then merged the two piles back into one. “Red cards mean yes , and black cards mean no .” He asked Fiona to turn over the top card. The three of spades.
She stared down at the black card and the answer she didn’t want.
“You can ask another question, if you want?”
“Will Joe and I be happy together?”
Meeko shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. He looked uncomfortable but gestured that she should take a card.
The next card was the six of clubs. Another no . The cards were talking rubbish.
Fiona asked no further questions and turned over no more cards. “There’s no science behind this. I could go home now, ask Adele to leave and build a happy love nest with Joe. My free will is more powerful than anything the cards might say.”
“But you won’t, will you? Nobody could be that heartless to a heavily pregnant woman.”
He was right. But any one of a hundred scenarios might also happen.
“Adele has free will too. The father of the baby might turn up and whisk her away. Or her mother might return.”
“Possible, and the cards might give a different answer tomorrow. Today’s answer is unique to you and this moment in time.”
Fiona picked up the cards and shuffled them again. “I’d rather play Snap! and make my own decisions about the future.”
Meeko shrugged and took the pack from her. Their fingers touched and that weird feeling fizzed in the pit of her stomach again. Did Meeko feel it as well? His face gave no indication.
“Changing the subject.” She averted her eyes from his and stared at the wall behind him, alighting on a wedding picture. He’d told her about it. He’d acted as best man at the wedding of two of his closest friends, just after gay marriage had become legal. Apparently, after waiting for so long to be able to tie the knot, the couple had pushed the boat out and the wedding had been an extremely joyful occasion, full of family and community. The sight of Meeko in his top hat and tails made her catch her breath and then look away. She softened her gaze so that she was looking at nothing in particular when she next spoke. “I’ve offered to host a baby shower for Adele and she’d like a real-life Father Christmas to be there. Can you take bookings on the side? I’ll pay you the going rate.” She made a mental note to add a big tip — today’s visit had shown her how precarious her friend’s financial situation was.
Meeko didn’t hesitate. “I’d love to. It sounds like fun. And don’t worry about payment. At mates’ rates it will cost you nothing.”
She brought her eyes back to his face. It was impossible to converse properly looking over someone’s shoulder. His face was twinkly and enthusiastic. She loved him for his zest for life and his generosity. For his inability to hold a grudge or remain in a black mood. She wanted his secret to seeing the joy and positivity in anything and everything. And his ability to go through life so unselfishly.
Her mind jumped forward to the practicalities of his appearance at the baby shower: the Santa outfit belonged to the garden centre — should Meeko ask their permission? Did Adele simply want a few ho-ho-hos or would there be gifts to distribute? Gifts would help her back into Adele’s good books; Fiona would fund them. Then she took a breath — it could all be sorted out in the coming days. It didn’t have to be done this very moment. Learn to go more slowly and give others a chance to catch up. “All you have to do is turn up. And it will be all women — no men allowed apparently.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” His eyes twinkled again.
“And I nearly forgot — Mum and I are no longer eating out on Christmas Day; it makes no sense now that Joe and Adele have landed. We’d all love it if you could join us?” With Lynn no longer on the scene, Fiona couldn’t bear to think of her best friend sitting alone in this flat, and she was already mentally preparing the doggy bag of food she’d give him to take home.
“Try keeping me away from a free dinner plus the company of three ladies!”