Chapter 40
Fiona turned on her laptop, created a new folder called ‘Project Meeko’ and, within that, a spreadsheet. Focusing on a concrete task offered a blissful release from somersaulting over and over the romantic relationship problem. She needed a list of required steps to get her friend where he wanted to be with his career.
‘ Fiona to talk to Frank, hotel leisure club manager ,’ she typed on Row One. But Meeko had already pleaded his case. What good would an outsider like Fiona do turning up and telling this Frank how to run his hotel? She needed a legitimate interest in what classes were available and her friendship with Meeko shouldn’t be obvious to Frank, otherwise she would be ignored — and Meeko might be branded a troublemaker.
Fiona inserted three rows above Row One and typed, ‘ Adele to Join Hotel Leisure Club .’ Beneath that she wrote, ‘ Adele to request post-natal/baby yoga sessions (need to research whether these exist and whether Meeko can teach them). ’ Row Three became, ‘ When Frank says there isn’t the demand, Adele canvasses other new mums and shows the positive result to Frank. ’
Then she changed Row Four (originally Row One) to read: ‘ Fiona to talk to manager of Dorothea’s sheltered flats about using Meeko to deliver chair/elder yoga (need to research whether these exist and whether Meeko can teach them) .’
Then she went to put her ideas to Adele.
“I love the idea of doing something to help flatten my baby bump.” The young woman patted the small bulge that had once nurtured Natalie. “But there are two obstacles to my involvement in this plan. Firstly, membership of that hotel leisure club is way more than I can afford. Secondly, I don’t know any other new mums — I parachuted in here a month ago without the chance to attend any antenatal classes or anything.”
“First point easily solved. I didn’t get you a proper Christmas present, so I’ll pay your membership. And I had anticipated your second point. There is a local Facebook group where people trade, advertise, offer services and so on. Put a post in there asking if anyone can recommend a post-natal or mothers and babies group you could join. That would be a big benefit to you anyway, wouldn’t it?”
Adele nodded. “You’ve noticed that I’m going a bit stir crazy in the house all the time? But won’t they think it odd if I’m trying to get support for this yoga thing at my very first meeting?”
“No, people like it when others take the lead and get things started. It benefits them without any work or organisation involved. People are inherently lazy.”
“But aren’t you jumping the gun by not running this past Meeko first — especially since you don’t know anything about yoga?”
Fiona was doing what she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do in retirement — be over-controlling. One of the points of Project Meeko was to see if she and Meeko could still get along when working together, therefore she had to bring him in on this now. She called and invited him around the next morning, after he’d taught his one and only class for the day. When he arrived, they were alone in the hallway and he looked questioningly at her. He was obviously thinking about their conversation the previous day. Fiona gave a slight shake of her head to indicate that now was not the time and directed him into the lounge.
“Post-natal yoga is definitely a thing,” he confirmed. “I’d have to create a routine and gen up on the health and safety warnings for a class of new mums. But I can do it. And, for everyone’s peace of mind, I’ll investigate whether I need a DBS check — or whatever certificate is needed for working with potentially vulnerable people. The elderly people in Dorothea’s flats might fall into that category.”
“What would we do with the babies during the class?” asked Adele.
“Ah!” Why hadn’t she thought of this problem? Because she’d never been a mother.
“A crèche? Meaning more money for the hotel and thus pleasing Frank?” Meeko suggested.
“A lot of us might not be able to afford it.”
“Or we could have pushchairs and car seats around the edge of the room — my yoga music would be soothing for babies.”
“And most of them would sleep through the class,” Adele added, “if they’d been fed and pushed or driven there. And if we’re all mums together it won’t matter if some cry and have to be attended to.”
“We’ll offer both options to Frank.” Fiona felt like she was leading a band of musketeers.
A couple of hours later Meeko and Fiona were sitting in Dorothea’s flat watching her reaction as they explained the plan to save Meeko’s career and, in the process, introduce some gentle yoga into the lives of her fellow residents. The old lady had a half-smile on her face as she looked from one to the other of them.
“What do you think?” Fiona asked as she finished explaining.
“I think,” Dorothea paused and sat back with a self-satisfied expression, “I think something has changed between the two of you.”
Fiona glanced at Meeko and found him looking at her. There was a flash of electricity and a feeling she’d never had before, not even in the early days of being married to Rob; that ability of couples who are close to know what the other is thinking. She felt herself flush and tried to change the subject. “The communal lounge would be perfect for classes. Meeko could get here early to push the armchairs to one side.”
“I know what I’m seeing pass between you,” Dorothea persisted. “Even if you two won’t admit it to yourselves yet. And it has my blessing.”
“The yoga . . .” Meeko said. His cheeks had gone pink and he seemed as much thrown off course as she was. “The yoga,” he repeated. “Is it something you’d take part in, Dorothea? Would your neighbours be interested?”
“I’d take swinging trapeze lessons, Meeko, if it would help cement things between the pair of you. Just get me the sparkly leotard and tassels. Fiona needs someone like you to make her later years a pleasure. Arthur and I were married for fifty-five years and the ones we shared in retirement were the best.”
“Mum! Meeko needs to be able to say there is a definite interest among the residents.”
“I can’t force them to attend but I guarantee that if you advertise there will be tea and biscuits at the end, they will be there in droves. And don’t worry, I’ll make the tea while Meeko finishes up his dead dog or curled cat or whatever the names of those positions are.”
“Would you come with me, Dorothea? To see Mrs Fairchild?”
Fiona smiled inside; this was a good idea. It had taken a great act of will earlier not to argue when Meeko had said he wanted to see the sheltered housing manager on his own. As usual, she’d wanted to be in on whatever was happening but Meeko had put his foot down. “It’s my career, my self-employment. You have the best intentions but I have to do some of the fighting on my own.”
“I intended seeing her alone but that will look like me touting for business.”
“Which you are,” Dorothea said pointedly.
“Which I am. But I want it to look like this request is coming, at least partly, from the residents. Otherwise, it’s likely to be refused because ‘there is no demand’.” Meeko added the air quotes and mimicked an official voice.
“I’ll come. We get precious little in the way of entertainment for all the money we pay in service charges.”
They had to wait until Mrs Fairchild was back from her extended Christmas break the following Monday in order to get an appointment with her. During that time Fiona continued to meet Meeko for breakfast. Neither of them mentioned their relationship, either obliquely or openly. Meeko was less generous with his hugs and she wondered whether he’d decided that platonic was best. That thought planted an unexpected kernel of disappointment in her heart.
Fiona was waiting with her mother when Meeko arrived for the meeting.
As Dorothea stood to switch from slippers to shoes, her eyes were ablaze and she was full of suffragette-like enthusiasm to fight tooth and nail for the yoga class. Meeko placed his hands on the old lady’s shoulders. “Stay calm. We don’t want to get this woman’s back up before we’ve even started. Be complimentary and nice to her.”
Dorothea harrumphed.
Fiona waited in the quiet of her mother’s flat, the fingers of her left hand crossed tightly. Since she’d explained Project Meeko to him, Meeko had regained some of the confidence that had been slowly eaten away as he lost class after class and had to scratch around for other bits of piecemeal work. He’d been fired with a new zest for life — which was attractive. The kernel of disappointment grew and pointed itself towards her and her inability to take risks as its cause.
She loosened her fingers and picked the topmost issue from a pile of women’s magazines by her mother’s armchair. It was mostly filled with adverts for fashion and ‘healthy’ convenience foods and pages of celebrity gossip. Towards the back a problem page headline caught her eye: ‘ When one pal wants more than friendship ’. The reader’s letter outlining the dilemma was almost a carbon copy of what was happening between her and Meeko. The senders of the letters were identified by their initials and town only. This one was written by D.O. from their very own town. A line of tension strung itself between Fiona’s shoulders. Would her mother have dared write a letter like this and then leave the magazine for Fiona to read? She looked at the date on the front cover: mid-December. To allow for journalistic deadlines, the letter must have been written weeks before Joe moved in. Had her mother been wishing her and Meeko together for a very long time? Fiona read the advice of the agony aunt:
Close contact with a person of the opposite (or same) sex such as a working relationship, neighbour or a close ‘platonic’ friendship can often lead to the growth of an attraction. Often this attraction is merely fleeting and not acted upon because one or both parties is already in a relationship or because workplace affairs are not allowed or because whatever has brought the people close disappears, for example a particular project, and with no longer anything in common, the attraction and thoughts of the other person disappear. This is not the case for the daughter of D.O. The friendship is long-standing. There is a well-known risk of a friendship being lost if a subsequent romantic relationship between the pair fails. But what is often overlooked is the fact that the friendship may also be lost if one or both of the pair can’t tolerate the constant unfulfilled nature of the relationship. Situations like this always lead to a situation where the people involved must take a gamble. My advice to these friends is to talk, Talk, TALK and then talk some more. Heartbreak will be minimised if the lines of communication are kept open in this way.
No definite advice. It seemed that no one could light the way forward through this mess other than her and Meeko. She closed the magazine and put it back where she found it, trying to make it look as though it had never been touched.
Fiona jumped at the sound of a key in the lock. “Well?” Within a second, she was in the hallway greeting them. Their expressions were solemn. She’d built Meeko up for success — please don’t let everything crash down now.
“She talked about the cost-of-living crisis.”
“And inflation and the difficulty in getting staff.”
“I pointed out that residents were getting antsy about the lack of entertainment.”
“And I told her I’d had interest from some of the other retirement complexes.”
“And I reminded her about next week’s visit from the head office bigwigs to run a members’ forum.”
It was like watching a game of tennis as Meeko and Dorothea recounted the conversation without getting to the point.
“She drives a hard bargain.”
“But I think she was definitely swayed by me being there on behalf of the residents.”
“So, she’s hired you?”
“Not hired me, exactly.”
“She’s given him three unpaid trial sessions. If they are well attended then he can continue — and be paid from then on.”
“And for me that counts as a success.” Meeko raised his hand, Dorothea followed suit and their palms met in self-congratulation.
Fiona pulled them both towards her in a hug. Things were on the up.
When Fiona got home Adele was flapping around trying to put on make-up at the same time as rocking Natalie’s car seat with one foot. “I was trying to take her out for the first time but it’s too difficult.”
“I’ll take her while you get ready. And have I got success news for you! Meeko has got three trial sessions at Mum’s flat complex.”
Adele turned round from the mirror. “You really like him, don’t you? When Dad was here you were trying to quash it but it’s written all over your face now. And when I say ‘like’ I don’t mean any of that platonic best friend stuff either.”
Fiona was mortified. She was sure she’d kept her feelings well hidden, especially when Joe was around. Even though Adele had previously voiced suspicions, she didn’t want her to think she’d been fancying other men when her father was still in the picture. “I’m just pleased for him. Like I would be pleased for anyone who achieved the success they deserved.”
“Yeah, right.” Adele turned back to the mirror and began brushing mascara onto her lashes.
“Where are you off to?” She’d been so full of Meeko she hadn’t properly registered what Adele had said about going out.
“I’m following your orders. I joined a couple of online neighbourhood groups and asked about stuff for new mums and babies. There’s a group that meets at St Michael’s church hall at two p.m. I believe my instructions from you are to infiltrate and then brainwash them into marching on the hotel to demand post-natal yoga sessions.”
“You are a star, Adele. I’ll give you a lift, it’s already almost two.”
“Thanks. And don’t worry, I won’t let lover boy down. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you and Dad were a good fit anyway.”
Fiona couldn’t meet the young woman’s eyes. Adele’s perspicacity made her feel like a teenager caught with an illicit boyfriend in her bedroom — even though it was unlikely she and Meeko would get that far.
“Now I’m seeing you properly in action,” Adele continued, “rather than merely reacting to the awkward position that me and Dad bamboozled you into, it’s obvious that you’re too independent and go-getting for him. Dad’s a staid traditionalist. I thought Mum was as well, but now I’m not sure.”
After dropping her at the hall, Fiona drove to the hotel and enquired about Adele joining the club, specifically questioning the availability of post-natal yoga classes. The woman on the desk had the joining form out in a split second but became less positive when pushed on the specialised yoga classes. Instead, she talked broadly about how the club was constantly innovating, and perhaps Fiona’s friend could put in a formal request once she was a member.
“Oh, she’ll definitely be doing that,” Fiona said with a smile as she swiped her debit card for Adele’s membership.
An hour later, Fiona helped Adele fasten Natalie’s seat back into the car. “Well?” she asked. “Were there any takers for Meeko’s yoga?”
“Well and truly smitten. There is no other verdict.”
“What?”
“You! You are well and truly smitten with Meeko and his future. Or, dare I say it more specifically, with your joint future. You haven’t asked me how I enjoyed it or did Natalie behave.”
“Sorry.” Damn! She gave Adele a tight hug by way of apology. She was falling back into her old habit of obsessing over one train of thought and forgetting that other people had their own concerns too. It came from living alone and not needing to consider anyone else. It had made her good at her job — she could follow projects through without going off at tangents — but she’d often been criticised for excluding the opinions of others, thus missing beneficial ideas and failing to give the members of her team room to grow. “How was it for you? Tell me all!”
“Weird but reassuring. Full-on baby talk, but it made me feel better that I’m not the only one struggling and feeling a failure and sometimes wanting to go and dump Natalie on the doorstep of the hospital and demand they take her back.”
“Tell me you don’t really feel that way!” Still standing beside the open passenger door, Fiona held both of Adele’s hands and squeezed them. She had never wanted this girl to cross her threshold; two months ago, she was happy for her to be a nameless blur somewhere in Joe’s invisible ‘other’ life. Now, what she felt for her could only be described as love and respect. An infinite amount of respect for a girl who had found herself accidentally pregnant by a boyfriend who didn’t want to know, with a mother who’d scarpered without a word to ‘find herself’, and a father who’d been forced to move in with his reluctant girlfriend. Yet Adele had pulled herself together, matured at the speed of light and was becoming confident in her new maternal role. “Please say you don’t really want to abandon Natalie?” Fiona had tried not to love the baby. Then circumstances had given her no option but to get involved. Still she’d tried to hold back because she knew having Adele under her roof could only be temporary and any attachment that grew would eventually be torn apart. Temporary for all the right reasons: Adele needed to be independent, Fiona needed her own space, and maybe, subconsciously, she’d always felt her relationship with Joe wouldn’t last. However, despite her best efforts, Fiona did love the baby and the thought of her being dumped somewhere was abhorrent.
“Don’t look so shocked, Fiona. Yes, I have felt that way several times. Just like all the other new mums in there — and a couple of them are over forty — but none of us would ever do it. And I especially wouldn’t do it now I know I’m not the only one feeling that way — they’ve put me in the WhatsApp group and we can sound off in there whenever we need to.”
Over forty — Adele said it like it was a terminal disease. If Fiona hadn’t wasted her forties still laser focused on keeping any male emotional attachment at bay, she might have sat in a church hall and felt the support of other women around her. Women who, through that shared experience, might have become lifelong friends and still be supporting each other into their sixties. Suddenly she was aware of Adele speaking to her again.
“Calling planet Fiona! Calling planet Fiona!”
“What?”
“You’re hurting my wrists. Please can we get in the car and go home? It’s cold standing here.”
Adele’s words flicked Fiona back to reality. She immediately loosened her hands, stamped her feet and pulled her jacket closer across her body, trying to appear nonchalant instead of embarrassed.
Once they were on the main road, Adele picked up the conversation again. “Eventually I brought up the subject of post-natal yoga. Don’t forget it was my first time in a room of strangers and a brand-new environment — I couldn’t do it straight away.”
“No, of course not. What did they say?”
“They all patted their flab and moaned about the lack of time to fit in an exercise class and the lack of money for gym fees. And, well, how difficult making it to the hotel leisure club would be for various reasons.”
It was a blow. But Fiona had weathered greater storms at work. All it would take was another brain dump.
“Then I had an idea!” There was excitement in Adele’s voice now and, in response, Fiona could feel her heart lifting with anticipation. “If they can’t get to the yoga, why doesn’t Meeko bring the yoga to them. He wouldn’t have the security of a regular payment by the hotel — but that security has turned out to be worthless anyway — and we could only pay him according to how many people turned up. The church lets the group use the room for free and each time you attend you put a pound in the kitty to cover tea and biscuits, and any excess buys toys for the older babies to play with. It was agreed that if a yoga class was included, people would be happy to pay five pounds for the session. Meeko would get four pounds per person and attendance can be anywhere between ten and fifteen people.”
Fiona tried to compute the practicalities. “That sounds like an outcome with possibilities. And the potential to grow.”
“You sound like an estate agent describing a property ‘in need of modernisation’.”
“Let’s get Meeko round tomorrow to discuss. This evening’s job is taking down the tree — I’ve just realised it’s Epiphany today.”