Chapter 35
Thirty minutes later Dorothea arrived. As soon as she had her coat off and the slippers that she’d brought with her on, she plonked herself in an armchair and almost snatched Natalie into her arms when Adele offered her. “You’ve no idea how lovely it is to hold new life close when you are as old as me.” The old lady shut her eyes for a moment and appeared to be breathing in great lungfuls of Natalie’s sweet milky smell. “This makes me feel like a solid cog in the circle of life rather than a spare part that’s not needed anymore. Natalie’s heart beating so close to mine is better than a rejuvenation drug.”
Joe rolled his eyes to the ceiling. Fiona swallowed tears and wondered if it would have been an even more potent drug if the baby were an actual blood relation.
“That’s a really lovely thing to say.” Adele paused for a couple of seconds before adding, “Gran.”
Dorothea’s eyes opened wide and a huge smile made her look like the young woman that Fiona remembered from her childhood. Fiona wanted to hug the tableau in front of her and never let it go: her mother nursing her great-granddaughter-by-proxy, whose startling screams were now replaced by gentle snuffles, and the baby’s mother, who was staring at the old lady in wonder, as though she had woven a magic spell to calm and quieten the infant. But she also wanted to wade in and urge her mum-to-be cautious with her feelings because these were not blood relatives and liable to slip away like sand through an egg timer.
“Thank goodness for that.” Joe picked up the TV remote.
Fiona took it from him. “No. Let’s just enjoy some quiet time.”
Adele indicated that she was going to bed for a little while. The three adults sat in silence until it became obvious that Natalie was sleeping the sleep of the exhausted.
“Shall I transfer her to the car seat,” Fiona asked, “to give you a break?”
“No. Let’s not take the risk of disturbing her. And, like I said, it’s really nice having the heart of another living thing beating so close to my own.” Then she looked pointedly at Joe. “A cup of tea would be nice right now.”
Dorothea spoke in an urgent whisper as soon as Joe was out of the room. “Have you spoken to Meeko?”
“No. I think . . .” She might as well be honest since their estrangement now seemed permanent. “I think I’ve done something to upset him but I don’t know what.”
“He came round on Boxing Day. With a present. Well, I think the chocolates were just an excuse — he’d forgotten to remove a gift tag addressed to him that was hidden in the folds of the wrapping paper, so he was regifting — and really he wanted to talk about you.” Dorothea paused, as if for dramatic effect. “I think he is available — to you, anyway. And please trust him with your . . . history. He’s a good man.”
“What?” Fiona’s brain cartwheeled.
Dorothea spoke again before Fiona could engage logic. “Meeko saw you and Rob together and he heard something he didn’t like.”
Her mother’s accusatory tone put Fiona on the defensive about her brief encounters with her ex-husband. She felt like a little girl caught with her hand in the biscuit tin. She tried to channel her inner grown-up. She’d done nothing wrong. She remembered her sighting of Meeko walking away from One More Bean. “And what did he hear?”
“Something about you not trusting him.”
Fiona felt like a skittle caught full-on by a bowling ball. “Of course I trust him.” Then Dorothea’s other declaration hit home. “And how is Meeko available? He told me he’d sworn off meeting women for the time being.”
“He has designs on you.”
“He actually said that?” Now the skittle was horizontal and skimming across a highly polished surface towards oblivion. This wasn’t making sense. The words circled in her head — He is available. He has designs on you . He thinks you don’t trust him.
There was a thud as Joe kicked open the lounge door. Both women jumped. Dorothea’s sudden wide-eyed expression made Fiona confident that her mother wouldn’t breathe a word of this in Joe’s presence. He carried in three mugs held in two fists, slopping brown liquid as he bent to put them on the coffee table. Dorothea placed a protective hand over the baby still sleeping in the crook of her other arm. Joe disappeared again and came back with a small red cardboard box. “I managed to find the last of the mince pies.” He pulled a moulded plastic tray from the box and offered the pies, in their foil cups, to Fiona and Dorothea.
“I’ll swap you,” said the old lady, looking fixedly at Joe. “You take Natalie while I eat and drink.”
“No. Let me go first. I eat quicker than you.” After licking the pastry crumbs from his fingers with satisfaction, he spoke again. “Rose was always anti shop-bought mince pies but they’re nearly as good as homemade, aren’t they?”
Turn the knife a little further in the Rose v. Fiona scorecard, why don’t you? Or did you overhear the talk about Meeko from the kitchen and now you’re getting your own back?
“My daughter is perfectly capable of making mince pies that are a hundred times better than these.” Dorothea’s voice was strong and she was staring defiantly at Joe. “But she’s been rather busy with house guests lately.”
Fiona found herself sitting up straighter and grinning at her mother. These rare words of praise would sit in her mind like pearls. What had she done to earn both Adele and Dorothea on her side?
Just before midnight Joe insisted on opening the prosecco. “We can’t let the moment go unmarked. Shall I wake Adele?”
“No!” Fiona and Dorothea spoke in unison.
Joe gave an exaggerated performance of being cowed by the majority verdict. “Resolutions?” he asked as Big Ben stopped chiming from the TV and the fireworks started, both on screen and with huge bangs outside. The sudden loud noises made Fiona glance apprehensively at Natalie but she slept on.
“To get out more,” declared Dorothea. “I’m going to check whether there’s an age limit on volunteering on the children’s or maternity wards. Being with Adele and Natalie is doing me a power of good. Young people keep you young.” Fiona was silently impressed.
Joe took his turn next. “I guess I should say, be a good granddad. But I want to build on all the important relationships in my life, and especially with my significant other.” He put down his glass, took Fiona’s from her as well and kissed her passionately and embarrassingly in front of her mother. If Dorothea had been a ten-year-old boy instead of an octogenarian, she would have been sticking two fingers in her mouth and making gagging noises. After everything Fiona had recently witnessed from Joe, she felt like doing that herself. She pulled away from him. He frowned and then asked about her resolutions.
“Making the most of my time now I’m retired,” she said lamely, while mentally quaking at what the events of the evening had actually made her want to do: get to the bottom of the Meeko bombshell her mother had dropped and ask Joe to leave. She crossed her fingers that the latter could be achieved without destroying her links to Adele and Natalie.