Out of Control

Chapter 44

They travelled down to London by train, arriving mid-afternoon Friday, and checked straight into the hotel. The room was the largest Fiona had ever seen; the bathroom was more than twice the size of her own at home and boasted two sinks.

“Why?” she said to Meeko. “Washing isn’t a team sport.”

He pointed to the elephant in the room: the one king-size bed.

She swallowed hard and tried to keep her face expressionless. Don’t moan. Meeko wants you to enjoy this and someone else is paying for it. Go with the flow, that was your intention when you accepted the invitation. It’s too late to change things.

“I could ask at reception,” Meeko said. “Sometimes these can be split into twin beds. Would that be more comfortable?”

She wanted to say yes but she didn’t want him to feel humiliated or awkward asking for something different to what they’d very kindly been given. It would be embarrassing if one of his family overheard or saw what was going on. “No. It will be fine. The bed is huge anyway.” A look of relief whispered over his face.

There was a family dinner that evening. They were placed on a table with several of Meeko’s cousins and their partners. Fiona immediately felt comfortable among them and they didn’t question Meeko’s introduction of her as ‘Fiona — my best friend’. It was a good label. The cousins lived across all areas of the UK, in a variety of occupations, and caught up with each other rarely, except during lockdown it seemed — there was much talk of a Zoom quiz league they’d set up to help beat the boredom. Someone suggested they breakfast together the next day and then take a boat trip down the Thames, arriving back at the hotel for a quick lunch before donning their glad rags for the ceremony, which was due to happen in the hotel ballroom.

“Is lunch here included?” someone asked.

“Don’t think so.”

“Think arm and a leg,” Meeko warned.

“Then we’ll pick up a Subway on the way back from the river,” someone else suggested.

Fiona had only one glass of wine with dinner, even though Meeko kept reminding her it was free and she wasn’t driving. She didn’t explain that the thought of the one bed was looming and she wanted to be sober enough to not do anything either of them might regret. She’d brought her most puritan, long-length, long-sleeved and high-necked nightdress with her. It wasn’t the most comfortable of her nightwear options, and definitely not the most attractive, but the aim wasn’t to portray herself as a sexual being. She washed, brushed her teeth and changed in the privacy of the giant bathroom. When she came out Meeko had already shed his one pair of good chinos and best shirt and was wearing a style of blue and red paisley pyjamas that a grandfather might choose. He was fiddling with the huge teal sofa that sat beneath the bedroom window. “This converts into a sofa bed,” he said. “And there’s spare bedding in the top of the wardrobe. It would save us any . . . embarrassment.”

He turned his back and ran his fingers along the floor edge of the settee, as though searching for a magic catch that would spring the whole thing open. This was what she’d wanted, separate sleeping arrangements so they each knew where the line was drawn. But now that Meeko was trying to make it happen, it felt like an insult. Did he not want to be near her? Had she misread the signs? Neither of them had openly voiced their attraction. Perhaps it wasn’t mutual. She tried not to be disappointed that the thing she’d previously been hoping for was happening. She was over-tired and things were getting warped in her brain. It was gone midnight and they’d agreed to meet the others for breakfast at 7.30. Plus, she’d started the day exhausted after a night listening to Natalie crying and finally getting up herself to offer moral support to Adele before the poor girl cracked, ordered an Uber and abandoned her baby on the steps of the hospital. Meeko was making no progress with the bed-settee.

“Leave it, Meeko,” she said. “This is a huge bed. We can manage for a couple of nights.”

He jumped up immediately. “If you’re sure?”

She nodded and then watched as he took the four spare pillows from the wardrobe and built a cushioned wall down the centre of the bed. She loved and hated him for it at the same time. Then she surprised herself by closing her eyes and being aware of nothing else until Meeko gently tapped her on the shoulder at 6.45 and asked if she’d like to use the shower first.

“I’m not trying to say that you need to shower,” his face coloured. “But I thought you might like first go. And I’ve made coffee.”

They pussyfooted around each other until they reached the dining room and were waved over to a table full of the cousins they’d sat with the previous evening. Family in-jokes were batted around along with reminiscences of previous reunions and comments on family members who had been lost. Fiona was finding it increasingly difficult to pretend active involvement and keep a smile on her face.

“You go on the boat trip without me,” she said to him afterwards. “We’re both feeling awkward, let’s give each other some space and then reconvene to dress for the ceremony.”

“Will you be OK on your own?”

She nodded. It wasn’t her ideal weekend in London, but she didn’t want to be an interloper in a family who rarely had a chance to catch up with each other.

Meeko kept his expression blank so she couldn’t tell if it was what he wanted. She suspected it was and, from his actions last night, that he was also happy with a purely platonic friendship between the two of them. This thought made her mood descend even lower than when Joe was comparing her to Rose and finding her wanting. She had to make herself more positive before the wedding this afternoon. After the boat trip party had gone, Fiona went off to indulge herself in history at the British Museum.

On her way back to the hotel she picked up a prawn sandwich and a banana from the M she’d been hoping to have a relaxed session getting ready without the need to hide away in the now steamy bathroom.

“Hi,” she called through the bathroom door. “Won’t be a minute. Just getting dry.” She towelled her arms and legs again and tried to think of a plan. Her deodorant, body lotion, moisturiser, in fact everything she needed to make her sixty-year-old self presentable, were in her overnight bag which sat in the corner of the bedroom. She could ask Meeko to pass the case and her dress and the fresh underwear which she’d unpacked into the top drawer, and just open the bathroom door a few inches for him to do so. Or she could brazen it out by appearing before him in her towel and then attempting to get dressed behind it, like she used to do in the school changing rooms after PE. Then she had a better plan.

“Meeko? Will you be showering next?”

“Yes. Even I know putting a brand-new shirt and freshly hired suit over a slightly sweaty body is not the best thing.”

“Why don’t you slip into the bathroom as I slip out so that we both get some privacy to paper over the cracks of age?”

There was the sound of fumbling and a suitcase opening. “Can you throw me a fresh towel out.”

It was only after she’d tossed a large dry towel into the main part of the room that Fiona realised Meeko hadn’t properly understood what she meant. She had wanted him to enter the bathroom fully clothed carrying all his wedding stuff while she slipped out.

Too late. “I’m ready if you are!” he called.

She opened the bathroom door slowly. He was immediately in front of her wearing only a matching towel tied around his waist. She remembered the two robes in the wardrobe, which would have offered both of them better protection, but they’d ignored them. He was standing too close. She turned sideways to edge past. He misread her movements and stepped the wrong way. They collided. Bare arm against bare arm. Fiona jumped as though a red-hot iron had branded her skin. Meeko’s eyes were wide and he was rooted to the spot. Move! she wanted to urge him. Lock yourself away and keep that body of yours out of my sight. But she couldn’t speak. He stepped forward again and this time his skin lingered slightly longer against hers, giving strength to the ensuing heat that travelled to her groin. She wavered, wanting to stride away from danger but also wanting to stay and find out what might happen.

“Just testing,” said Meeko. His eyes bored directly into hers.

“Testing what?” Her words came out little louder than a whisper.

“That the magical feeling was real and that you felt it too. You did, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” A squeak was all she could manage. There it was, their mutual attraction openly acknowledged. Neither of them moved. She’d never been a daredevil wanting to jump out of a plane with only a flimsy parachute between her and a horrific death. But now they’d both taken this massive leap of faith without knowing the landing place.

Meeko stepped away first and shut the bathroom door behind him. Was that good or bad? Was he shutting the door permanently on what might come next?

Concentrate on the wedding. In thirty minutes, we have to be seated in the extremely posh ballroom of this incredibly expensive hotel looking smarter than we’ve ever looked in our lives. We need to appear relaxed and at ease with each other in the way that only best friends can.

She moisturised from head to toe and applied extra deodorant — anxiety made her armpits continually damp. When she heard the shower switch off, she wriggled hurriedly into her dress to avoid Meeko marching straight out of the bathroom and catching her in bra and pants. Her best bra and pants, bought just before Joe moved in and never worn — which sort of made them virgin. When Meeko emerged a couple of minutes later in morning trousers and shirt, she was spraying perfume on her neck and stepping into heels that would give her blisters within the hour.

“Ten minutes before we need to head downstairs.” He paused and she felt her cheeks grow hot as he made it obvious that he was inspecting her from top to toe. “You look fabulous.”

“Thank you. Do you need a hand with your tie or cuff links?”

“Cuff links? Didn’t they go out with the ark?”

“Sorry. Childhood memory — I would sit on the landing and watch Mum and Dad get ready for a dinner dance and she always asked him that question.” She prattled nonsensically when she was nervous.

Meeko knotted his gold tie. He’d chosen it when she’d told him the colour of her dress. He looked more handsome than ever.

Fiona checked the contents of her evening bag while Meeko put on his tailcoat and black patent shoes. “I feel like I’m on Strictly ,” he complained.

“Good, because the invitation said there would be dancing until midnight.”

The ballroom was spectacular. Huge crystal chandeliers hung from gold chains, the walls were unblemished buttermilk with occasional alcoves housing claret-coloured velvet sofas. The rows of chairs had thick seat pads covered in the same dark fabric, and the chair backs were decorated in wispy netting which matched the pink silk dresses of the eight bridesmaids: four adult and four cute, tiny ones. The bride wore a figure-hugging cream sheath with a huge train and carried a bouquet of red roses and greenery. The groom, his best man and groomsmen were in top hat and tails with scarlet ties plus single red roses in their buttonholes. The whole ceremony and the dinner that followed felt to Fiona like a fantasy filmset. The real world had receded and she was playing a part in a fiction or a dream. The best part was being on the arm of the most handsome man in the room. Finally, she was the princess in all those fairytales her mother had read to her decades earlier. With Meeko as her Prince Charming.

All the family reminiscing was done, his relatives were friendly, fun and fantastic to be with. The champagne flowed, the food was top notch and, as the evening progressed, the dance floor was never empty. At 11 p.m. the best man organised a gangway through the throng of guests for the bride and groom to take their leave. Meeko squeezed the two of them into a gap near the end of the guard of honour of waving hands. He positioned Fiona immediately in front of him and wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned back into him, completely relaxed by the continuous topping up of her fizz, the dancing and the convivial storybook atmosphere. She was happily tired and content in a way she couldn’t remember feeling since her own wedding to Rob — but today felt even better than that. There was much clapping, cheering and shouts of good wishes. Fiona raised both arms and waved and applauded as the couple passed in front of her, smiling as though they were on a royal walkabout. In the ballroom’s grand doorway, the bride, with her back to the throng, lifted her right hand and tossed her bouquet over her head towards the guests. Fiona’s brain had lost logical thought somewhere around the dessert course hours earlier and she’d been acting on instinct ever since. Something flew through the air and reflex made her step forward to catch it, just as she would have done long ago in the rounders or netball team.

There was a moment of hush and then more cheering. Fiona looked down; she was holding the bride’s bouquet of scarlet roses and green fronds. The implication made her stumble slightly and she looked around for a chair. Instead, she found Meeko’s face wearing a mask of shock.

“I . . . I didn’t realise what I was doing,” she said quietly. “What a waste when someone young and in love could have made wonderful things happen.”

“Does that mean that someone slightly older but still in love can’t make wonderful things happen?”

“I . . .” It was impossible to formulate words when she couldn’t move her eyes from his deep gaze. The green pools pulled with an irresistible magnetism. Now Fiona didn’t want to speak. She was done with words. She placed her free hand on Meeko’s waist and stepped into his personal space. Their mouths were inches apart and Fiona was desperate for that gap between them to disappear.

And then Meeko kissed her.

Fiona melted inside. Despite the blisters from dancing in ill-fitting heels, her toes curled. A sweet warmth travelled rapidly through her body, settling in her groin and breasts. Meeko’s arms felt safe, secure and immensely strong. She felt one of his hands travel down her back and rest suggestively on her right bum cheek. Forgetting the people around them, she pressed herself up against him, noticing that he was feeling the same way as her.

She was dimly aware that the DJ had taken back control of the evening and the next track was from those ancient days of the 1980s when she’d been experiencing the heady independence of student life. ‘Don’t You Want Me’ by The Human League. It was impossible to disobey its magnetic force. She gently led Meeko into the crowd of dancers and kicked off her shoes. Meeko picked her up and whirled her around. They danced until they failed to recognise a splurge of more recent tunes. Fiona retrieved her shoes and mouthed the word ‘bed’ at him. He nodded. Manners wouldn’t allow them to simply evaporate from the party. Breakfast arrangements had to be made with the cousins via shouting and hand signals because the music volume had risen. The bride’s parents had to be thanked. And then they were free to go.

The hotel corridors and lift were deserted except for a couple of uniformed bellboys collecting room-service breakfast orders from door handles. Meeko held her hand all the way into their room. Inside he reluctantly released it when she insisted on finding a vase for the bouquet. She had to make do with a pint glass located in the minibar.

“They won’t charge us for using that, will they?” All day money had been irrelevant but now she wanted to protect Meeko from any possible criticism or bill.

“Not as long as we don’t fill it from their store of alcohol. Kiss me again. I always knew that kissing you would be perfection, but it was one hundred times better.”

He was right. It was an experience better than any other. Better than Joe, better than Rob. The heat returned to her body. She kicked off her shoes again while their lips were still melded. Meeko had to pause briefly to undo his laces, remove his tie and toss his tailcoat over the chair. Still entwined, they sat down and then half reclined on the bed. Meeko put his hand on the gold silk of the dress covering her breast. Fiona shivered with anticipation and then sat up slowly, allowing in part of the logic battering at her brain — the part that would limit immediate physical damage to expensive clothing. The logic that would limit long-term emotional damage to vulnerable people and a best-friendship, she quashed. Or perhaps it was the champagne or the hazy veil of unreality that quashed it. “Shall we . . . I could do with some help with the zip. And . . . your shirt and trousers . .. they’re hired.”

Meeko was sitting up as well, staring at her with a serious but tender look on his face. She’d overstepped some invisible line. She’d misread the signals. But how? He’d drawn her into that kiss downstairs. He thought she wasn’t too old to catch a wedding bouquet. The feel of his body against hers had advertised his physical interest in her.

“What?” she said. “What?”

“I love you, Fiona.” His words were a great wave of warmth. “But I can’t make love to you.”

He wasn’t making sense. She stood up and walked away. When she reached the failed sofa bed, her legs would hold her up no longer. She sat down. “Why?” she whispered. “I thought . . .”

“I don’t want to become another Joe, kept in a little box on the periphery of your life.”

“But Joe moved in.”

“Not through your choice. You never wanted him there. I don’t want to be another man who is rationed because it’s more fun that way.”

He was making her sound cheap and heartless. He sat next to her on the sofa. She inched away until her thigh hit the armrest. He took her hand. She didn’t know whether to pull away. She wanted to grab the mocking wedding bouquet from its pint glass and decimate it.

Meeko squeezed her hand, then fetched the bouquet, the stalk now dripping with water. Had she spoken aloud?

“I don’t want to be in one of your little time-controlled boxes.” He slipped off the sofa and knelt in front of her, the wet bouquet held out towards her. “Fiona Ormeroyd, please will you do the honour of becoming my wife as well as my best friend.”

Fiona’s heart hammered in her chest. Her emotions were on a fairground waltzer. This moment was important. Whatever came out of her mouth next would make or break her relationship with Meeko as well as her own future. Her heart wanted to shout ‘Yes’ from the rooftops. But the logical-thinking part of her was recovering from the shock and was repeating ‘No’ louder and louder. She had been down the marriage route before and it would require absolute trust in Meeko. The last time she’d placed that trust in a man it had been abused in a life-destroying manner. She couldn’t do that again. But what she felt for Meeko was bigger, deeper and scarier than anything she’d ever felt for any man before.

“Meeko, I love you.” Now she understood that when she’d uttered those words first to Rob, and then to Joe, her feelings had been lukewarm, and that she’d hoped saying those words would make the feeling come true. Saying them to Meeko, she was speaking an absolute truth.

His lips curled into a huge smile and his eyes danced in anticipation. His whole face was illuminated.

“But it’s too soon. Too fast. Too scary. We haven’t even become ‘an item’.”

His expression crumpled and was replaced by confusion and frowning. “But not too soon to stick me in a sealed compartment?”

“It wouldn’t be like that. We’d be a normal couple — a ‘courting’ couple, to use my grandmother’s words.”

“I don’t want to be used at your convenience as Joe was. I want to give myself properly to you, hook, line and sinker. Or not at all. We’ve had years of being friends. There is no need for us to ‘court’ — we already know everything about each other. Unless there are more secrets that you’re keeping from me?” There was a crack in his voice as he stopped speaking.

“No. No secrets. You know everything.” Tears were pricking behind her eyes and it felt as though her world was tumbling in. They’d tried to move beyond friendship and failed because they had different expectations from a romantic relationship. This had always been the risk and now it was a reality. Unlike most of the other people she knew, Meeko had never tried to change her outlook or view on life. But could she expect him to compromise on what he wanted from their changed relationship?

“What do we do now?” He stood up, swallowed and blinked hard, putting the bouquet back in the pint glass. “Agree to disagree?”

“Can we go back to being friends until . . . there might be a time . . . ?”

“We can try. But I love you as a woman, Fiona. I always will. And that is different to loving a friend. I will try to pretend tonight never happened but I can’t guarantee how things will turn out. Sometimes broken hearts don’t mend.”

Fiona reached for the hotel box of tissues and blew her nose. She was trembling and felt slightly sick.

“I’ll sleep on the settee tonight.”

“There’s no need.” She tried to bar the way to stop him fiddling with the hidden lever that would perform the magic act of turning the settee into a bed. “We managed together last night.” She was crying now.

“Last night was different. We hadn’t blurred the line.”

Hardly able to see for the tears, she grabbed her nightdress and went into the bathroom. When she came out, he was already in his pyjamas and the sofa had become a bed. Meeko was tucking in sheets.

After they’d turned out the lights, he spoke gently into the darkness. “Everything you’ve done since losing Amber has been built around never trusting anyone ever again. Is that how she would have wanted her mother to live? Would you have wanted her to live in this artificial prison cell you’ve created for yourself? Stop making yourself suffer for something that was nobody’s fault.”

He was right but she could think of no reply. The following morning they were polite to one another and managed to appear as ‘best friends’ in front of his cousins at breakfast.

They said little on the train journey home. Fiona tried to imagine a future without even his friendship. He had taken the risk of trying to move their platonic relationship, which had worked fantastically well for years, into the unchartered waters of marriage. It was a risk that hadn’t paid off and now they were both adrift without a lifebelt. Both wanting the same thing but in different ways. Was it possible to find some middle ground?