Chapter 28
The next day Rob followed up on his coffee shop promise to stay in touch about the two of them working together on gambling awareness talks. His text was straight to the point:
Have you had chance to check in with the people you needed to talk to? What about your other half? There’s nothing for him to disapprove of, is there? Or do you want to introduce us so that he can see I’m harmless?
Fiona had been trying to build up to the necessary conversations but it wasn’t something that could be just dropped into small talk. A couple of times she’d jogged out to the hotel, all prepared to be honest with Meeko, but she’d missed him every single time. Proper conversation with Joe was almost impossible, he was either at work, out with his mates or Adele was floating around. The prospect of telling Dorothea was most scary but also the most urgent.
“I will do that today,” she muttered to herself. Her fists were clenched tight. “After I’ve spoken to Rob.”
Doing the talks would get her away from the increasingly claustrophobic situation at home and give her something to think about other than babies and second-guessing the men in her life. She sent a message back:
No need for Joe to vet you. I’m up for it. Let’s discuss details in One More Bean this afternoon.
Her ex-husband replied with a smiley face and a thumbs up emoji. She grinned — it felt good to be part of a team after losing the camaraderie of work. And she had a question to ask him about something that he did all those years ago.
If she was going to become part of this project it was only fair that she took something to the table and didn’t expect Rob to do all the legwork. She opened her laptop and started researching gambling addiction. Fiona had done enough public speaking in her career to know it was essential to find an angle on her subject that enthused her and made her feel passionate, otherwise there’d be no fire in her words and what she had to say wouldn’t hit home. There were many case histories online of middle-aged men whose home lives had fallen apart as their gambling losses mounted. Fiona felt for them and their families but she wasn’t left brimming with enthusiasm to spread the word and prevent others following this same path. But her pulse quickened when she came across some articles about female gambling addiction. Women of all ages were risking their household’s money for a quick thrill. It was a total contradiction that the ‘homemaking’ sex would stake everything in that home on the pull of a virtual fruit machine handle or the turn of a card.
There was a blog post about a female gambler in her early sixties. “My age,” Fiona whispered. Suddenly this addiction felt closer to home and she needed to know more.
The anonymous blogger revealed that the only reason she wanted to win was to have the funds to carry on gambling — not to use the prize money to improve the life of her or her family, as one might expect. Sometimes this sexagenarian could keep herself away from gambling for a week or two, or even, more rarely, a whole month, before being sucked back into the vicious cycle. Elsewhere on the internet, younger women revealed how no one questioned why they were glued to their phones. “They don’t suspect at all that I’m gambling,” said one interviewee in her twenties. “In most people’s heads, gamblers are male.”
Another article described how the traditional gambling support groups are predominantly male, which puts women off attending and leaves them to battle the devil alone. Then Fiona discovered an interview with the founder of the first all-female gambling support group. “Women can be drawn into gambling when on maternity leave and struggling with the isolation and frustration of caring for a newborn. Existing support groups can be difficult for them to access because they make little allowance for women’s responsibilities. Female support groups need to take a different route to those for their male counterparts.”
Yes! This was it! This was Fiona’s angle into speaking passionately about gambling addiction. She wouldn’t be focusing solely on her experience as a victim of Rob’s gambling, she would also be an advocate for increasing the help specifically targeted to women with a gambling problem.
“What do you think?” she asked Rob after telling him about the information she’d dug up. “Can part of what we do be aimed specifically at women? I don’t want to be seen solely as a victim.”
Rob sipped his black Americano. “It’s so good to see you fired up about this, Fi.”
Fi. That was his old nickname for her. His use of it simultaneously warmed her and put her on the alert.
“What you’re suggesting is a brilliant idea. Let’s get in touch with the organiser of this support group you’ve found and get some advice on how to initiate a similar group in this area.”
Fiona nodded. “We’ll need professionals on board, and funding and all sorts of other things.” Her logical planning process kicked into gear and a surge of excitement raced through her body. “I think I’ve just found my retirement raison d’être !” Somewhere within Fiona was the sound of a door clicking open. It was louder and more echoey than the doors to those other compartments; this was the sound of the entrance to a long, dark tunnel clanging open. It would take time to clear out all the debris and cobwebs, but hope was already creeping inside. By bringing the hurt from thirty years ago into the light, there was a chance that Fiona could strengthen herself and her current relationships for the future. She felt a bubble of elation.
“The old twosome rides again, Fi!” Rob reached across the table and gave her a gentle punch on the shoulder. “We used to be good together, and we can be again.”
Now added to that elation was a contradictory feeling of warmth and hyper-alertness. Rob was right, their relationship had been great, until his great big boot had crashed down on it. Having this feeling of partnership again was brilliant, but a leopard doesn’t change its spots. Plus, there was Joe to think of . . . but Joe didn’t need to get in the way of her and Rob working platonically together.
“Shall I concentrate on contacting that female group?” she suggested. “And you continue liaising with the existing support groups in this area about the best way for us to move forward?”
“Sounds like a plan, partner.”
Then they switched to small talk about their mothers while finishing their coffee. Fiona took a breath. This brought things very nicely around to the question that she wanted to ask. “Why did you tell our parents about the miscarriage when I specifically asked you not to?”
Rob looked taken aback and paused before answering. “Selfish reasons. You were drowning in grief. I wanted to grieve as well but one of us had to keep a stiff upper lip in order to keep the show on the road and feed us and shop and wash and everything else. I didn’t know how to cope with it all on my own.”
“We would’ve managed somehow. You knew that my mother would try to take over and that she’d feel insulted that we hadn’t announced the pregnancy earlier. You knew how deep their disappointment could be when anything went wrong in my life. That’s the problem with being an only child, you are the sole focus of your parents’ attention.”
“Yes, I knew all of that. But I wanted my parents to know why I was upset, why I was acting out of character. I wanted their support. But I couldn’t tell them without telling your parents as well.”
Shame stopped Fiona raising her eyes from the table. How could she have been so self-centred? Was that part of the only-child legacy too? No. Blaming circumstance led nowhere. She looked at Rob. “I’m sorry. I should never have expected you to keep such a huge secret.” She fiddled with her hands. “I realise now that sometimes we have to make welcoming gangways from one compartment to another for life to work properly.”
“What?” He looked at her as though she was talking in riddles.
“Nothing. Just something I’m struggling with at the moment.”
They parted on the pavement outside One More Bean. Again, Rob hugged her closely. Fiona shrugged it off as ‘for old time’s sake’ and then decided belt and braces would be safer. “Just friends? Yes?”
He grinned and high-fived her. “Absolutely.”
Before her determination could dissipate, she drove to her mother’s flat.
“Fiona! What a lovely surprise. I’ve made scones. I’m not going to offer you one because I know you’ll say no, but you will take a couple home for Adele and Joe, won’t you? Tea?”
“That would be lovely, Mum. Thanks.” Even though she’d just drunk coffee, Fiona knew this conversation would go better if they both had a cup of tea in front of them.
When her mother had stopped messing about with the milk jug and teapot, Fiona jumped straight in before courage deserted her. “I need to talk to you about my miscarriage.”
“Oh!”
“I always blamed Rob and the arrival of the bailiffs for what happened. But that isn’t the medical truth. The nurses told me it was probably just one of those things that would have happened with or without that event. And then they quoted statistics at me.” The words tumbled out of her without pause.
“I see.”
“I blamed Rob because I wanted him to suffer as much as me. And over time I almost started to believe my own lie.”
“Come and sit here.” Dorothea patted the empty seat next to her on the sofa.
Fiona moved over and her mother enveloped her in an embrace that smelled of baking, lemon soap, forgiveness and safety. “Thank you for telling me. But why now?”
Fiona explained about meeting Rob and his plans for them both to warn about the evils of gambling.
“That sounds good. Good for both of you.”
“One more thing.” This felt even harder to say. “Thank you. Thank you for looking after us when it all happened. I know I was surly, unwelcoming and downright rude, but you took no notice and stopped Rob and I sinking into a quagmire. Thank you.”
Dorothea embraced her again. “I’m your mother. I don’t need thanks.”
Fiona’s arms went tightly around her mum. When they pulled away, they were both crying and the old lady fetched a box of tissues.
Fiona went home with an old ice cream tub full of scones and the feeling that a massive barrier had come down. Going forward, mother and daughter would be closer and more honest with one another. And when Fiona thought about Rob, she felt energised. Having a project to get her teeth into was good. And it was helping her turn a life corner.