Out of Control

Chapter 36

Christmas and New Year’s Eve had been the bleakest Meeko had ever known. Except for his Boxing Day visit to Dorothea, he had spoken to no one. In previous years Lynn had been there and there’d been classes to teach. This year the hotel had taken the penny-pinching action of making all classes in Christmas week virtual online recordings supplied by head office. And Fiona had been out of bounds.

There were three reasons why he hadn’t accepted her Christmas Day invitation. Firstly, Joe’s presence meant there was no Meeko-sized hole for him. Joe had barged in permanently, albeit as the consequence of a flood rather than a positive move on his part, and Fiona had accepted him. Secondly, Fiona had told her ex-husband that she didn’t trust Meeko. Thirdly, he couldn’t accept festive hospitality while giving only second-hand chocolates in return. Adding all of that to his job problems meant this was going to be one of the worst years ever.

Over the last few days, he’d attempted to learn more about Tarot from books and the internet and he’d asked it about his future — several times, in order to get a conclusive view. To his untrained eye, the cards’ verdict indicated he should talk honestly with people. That had become his new year’s resolution, to be carried out today.

On Boxing Day, Dorothea had intimated that there were things about Fiona’s divorce from Rob that she wasn’t at liberty to tell him. Things that he ought to know in order to fully understand his best friend, but Fiona had to be the one to tell him those things. Following the cards’ direction to talk honestly, he had to ask her about the past in order to fix the future and to sort out her lack of trust in him.

He’d texted Fiona to invite her to run with him. Apparently, it was easier to talk when side by side rather than face to face, which was why strangers on trains so frequently exchanged life stories. Meeko thought that was also helped by knowing the other person would never be seen again, but it was worth a try. Fiona had replied almost instantaneously, which made him think she’d been waiting for his message and hadn’t needed to give his invitation any consideration. He wasn’t sure whether this was good or bad. He wasn’t sure about anything in their relationship anymore.

They’d agreed to meet at the park, five minutes from Fiona’s house. The nerves kicked in as he saw her approach out of the murk of the wintry morning. She stopped a couple of feet away and neither took a step closer to go in for their usual hug.

“Happy New Year,” she said.

“And to you.” They were speaking with the formality of strangers.

She rubbed her arms vigorously and gave a little jog on the spot. “Shall we start?”

It was the first time they’d actually run together rather than meeting for breakfast afterwards. Meeko tried to match his pace to her slightly slower one. He wondered if she was also trying to match him, and if, gradually, they’d be reduced to a snail crawl as neither felt brave enough to take the lead.

“How are mother and baby?” The atmosphere between them needed relaxing if he was going to bring up the difficult subjects of Rob and Joe.

“Healthwise — fine. Coping-wise — not so good.” She described Adele’s exhaustion, Natalie’s constant crying, and how Dorothea had had to be taxied over the previous evening. “It was the New Year’s Eve from hell. And, though it pains me to say it, Mum was right. Natalie was picking up on all the tension and nervousness surrounding her. When Mum arrived Natalie imbibed her relaxed demeanour and went out like a light.”

“And Joe?” He kept his voice deliberately light, not even glancing at Fiona. Let her think it was the most casual of small-talk questions.

“Joe is . . .” Fiona paused, breathing heavily as she got into their running rhythm. Meeko slowed in case he was pushing her too hard. She wouldn’t complain or give in but he wanted to keep the pace suitable for conversation. “. . . Joe.”

“That tells me nothing.” From the corner of his eye, he saw her glance over at him. He kept his gaze forward, watching their matching streams of breath cloud in the cold air.

“I thought I knew him but I didn’t really. In hindsight, I enjoyed his absence more than his presence.” This time Meeko couldn’t stop his head from turning towards her, but her eyes were fixed forward and then down on the ground as they entered the wooded area with tree roots to negotiate.

“And now you do know him?”

“Different situations reveal different personality aspects. He’s probably having the same thoughts about me.”

Meeko let the silence hang between them until they came back out onto damp grass at the other side of the small copse. He didn’t want to fire a series of questions that might make her clam up.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Before he moved in, we were always on our best behaviour with each other. Like a series of dates that we wanted to make special because they were just once a week. We always wanted to leave the other with positive memories — so there was something good to hold on to until next time.” Talking made her breathe more heavily and she paused before picking up the thread again. “Living together makes keeping up that perfection difficult. And when you add in the stress of Adele and Natalie, our true colours have started to leak out.” She continued running without talking and Meeko wondered if that was all he was going to get. Then she spoke again, almost under her breath, as if she might be ashamed of it. “And I don’t like the true Joe.”

Meeko’s heart filled with shocked relief. They had to stop and look both ways to cross the main road. Was Fiona exaggerating the side-to-side movements of her head so she didn’t have to look at him?

Running became easier along the tarmac path. “Is there anybody else?”

“Anybody else?” She repeated the words as though she didn’t understand the question.

“For you. I just wondered . . .” She was throwing him weird looks. He kept his head forward, remembering it was supposed to be easier to talk like that. “I saw you come out of One More Bean about ten days before the baby shower with a man. You were . . . confiding in him.”

The only sound was their feet and their breathing. Bedroom curtains were still closed. A dog walker said ‘Happy New Year’ as he passed them going in the opposite direction. Meeko gave him an acknowledging nod.

“That was Rob. My ex-husband.”

“Are you getting back together?” He couldn’t stop the questions coming out like an inquisition now.

Her head swivelled towards him and, at the last moment, she was forced into some fancy footwork to avoid tripping over a protruding manhole cover. “I can’t talk about this while I’m running. Can we cut it short and go straight for breakfast?”

Meeko was struggling as well. Without eye contact, body language or facial expressions, half of the conversation was lost. So much for the philosophy of having a deep conversation side by side while carrying out another activity. They upped the pace and took a shortcut directly to the hotel.

* * *

“. . . and that’s the story. He basically gambled away everything we had.” Fiona pushed away the plate loaded with scrambled eggs and beans. She added sugar to her coffee and stirred for a long time. Fiona didn’t normally take sugar. When she lifted the cup, it trembled slightly. She took a tiny sip before returning it to the saucer with an uncontrolled clunk.

Meeko didn’t speak for a long time. Her story had been a shock. He was torn between taking her in his arms and protecting her forever from the big, bad world, and admonishing her for keeping such a significant part of her life secret from her supposed best friend. Jigsaw pieces were slotting into place. The reason she needed relationships that could be controlled, plus the source of her lack of trust, was now crystal clear. But he still didn’t understand why she deemed him untrustworthy. And he got the sense that Fiona was still holding something back.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that,” he said. He reached across the table and touched her hand, the fingers of which were agitating the tablecloth. As the bolt of electricity hit, his eyes went to hers. “But why didn’t you trust me before?”

She pursed and unpursed her lips and then gave him a wry smile. “I know I should’ve told you — and I nearly did, several times. But I thought the knowledge would change how you saw me. You would feel sorry for me — exactly like you do now. And I didn’t want that to happen.”

Her hand had calmed beneath his. He did feel sorry for her. But he had to be worthy of her trust and react in the right way, without drowning her in sympathy and without building up or belittling what had happened to her.

“Why have you told me now?”

She turned her hand over so that their palms were in contact and gently squeezed his hand. The gesture was tiny but it felt significant. “When I met Rob, we completely cleared the air between us. And it felt good. It felt good to be with someone who knew absolutely everything. But clearing the air with him was low risk — there was no ongoing relationship to damage.”

Now their fingers were interlaced. “That good feeling showed me what is to be gained by properly trusting someone. It made me realise that the benefits of opening up to you would be even greater. And I wanted those benefits.” She looked him directly in the eye and squeezed his hand again.

He sensed there was more of the story to come, but now wasn’t the time to push her. Instead, he returned to the present. “So why, after all those years and after what he did to you, are you back in communication with him?”

Fiona slowly stretched her fingers and slipped her hand from his. Meeko felt oddly bereft and busied himself by spreading butter and then marmalade on his toast. He tried to pretend that he wasn’t invested in what she might say next.

Fiona looked like she was struggling internally.

Please don’t tell me you want to give him another chance.

She took another sip of coffee, her hand still shaking. She added even more sugar and stirred for longer. Then she looked him straight in the eye. “I lost my unborn daughter on that evening. Initially I believed it was the shock of those men turning up, that it was Rob’s fault our baby died.” Meeko was thrown off kilter. “A miscarriage. Twelve weeks into the pregnancy.” Her voice was tight as she delivered these basic facts. “For all of those three months I had a very strong feeling I was carrying a girl. I called her Amber. We were going to announce the pregnancy on New Year’s Day.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Thirty years ago today, both sets of parents were supposed to come to lunch. Rob and I were so excited about having made it through the first three months and finally being able to tell them and the rest of the world. Instead, it was the second worst day of my life. Our parents helped us work out the finances and how we might manage going forward through all the debt. Mum and Dad brought us an old TV and video from their loft. It was humiliating. I was still wobbly from losing the baby and felt awful dumping all the gambling and debt stuff on them. I was trying to be strong and do the right thing because I felt I should support Rob through his addiction and keep my marriage vows. But in the following months I found I couldn’t live in a constant state of suspicion about what he was doing when he was out of my sight. He’d broken the financial trust I’d put in him — we’d pooled all our money when we got married because it was easier than watching who paid for what all the time. My view was that we were emotionally and physically bound together and therefore our finances should be joint too. I can’t believe how naive I was.”

Fiona paused. Blew her nose. Breathed deeply. Made coffee stains on the white cloth as she removed the teaspoon from the saucer and started to fiddle with it.

“You don’t have to carry on . . .” He tried to calm her fiddling hand with his own. “I shouldn’t have . . .” Watching her pain as she told him what had happened was far worse than thinking that she didn’t trust him. And he was causing the pain by asking her to relive it. It was the last thing he wanted to do.

“In April of that year I told him I couldn’t live like that anymore. He didn’t put up a fight. He knew I could never forgive him for the loss of Amber. I think he understood that he’d lost my trust too. That was the end of the marriage and the point at which I realised that relationships requiring trust weren’t for me. I decided I would never lay myself open like that to anyone ever again. I would rely solely on myself. Because I am the only person I can truly trust.”

So much of Fiona’s personality and lifestyle was now dropping into place for Meeko. He squeezed her hand again and she gave him a tiny apologetic smile as she pulled away to get her tissue. Apart from such quiet gestures, he didn’t know how else to respond to the terrible trauma she’d been through. He wanted to scoop her up and protect her forever from any further horrors. But he recognised that what she needed now was the time and space to get used to having shared such a key piece of her past. She did not need the claustrophobia of being wrapped in cotton wool. She needed him to continue being her friend.

“Does seeing Rob again help in some way?” he asked.

She swallowed and then blinked her eyes a couple of times. “We met by accident at a Christmas do a few weeks back. He said he wanted to do something to make amends. ‘Reparation’, he called it. He’s been a member of an ex-gamblers’ support unit for years and done well for himself in business. He wants to give talks to warn others of the dangers of gambling and he wants me to put across how the families suffer. We’ve met a couple of times to discuss that.”

“Keeping all that pain to yourself for three decades must have been so hard.”

“At least now I’ve had the chance to come clean and ease his guilt over Amber’s death.”

“How do you mean?”

Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. “The hospital staff told me that the miscarriage was probably ‘just one of those things’ and not caused by the bailiffs turning up. But I wanted to make Rob suffer. So I never told him, until just recently.”

Meeko could only imagine the depth of grief that had caused Fiona to act this way. Frustratingly, there was nothing he could do to make her feel better. If only it was as easy as taking a cloth and wiping away the suffering. Her face was anguished but, beneath the emotion, he noticed something else: a more relaxed, open expression, as though finally unburdening herself had broken a barrier in their relationship and built a new bridge of trust.

She blew her nose. “If we’re being open with each other, I’ve got a question for you. Are you still sworn off romantic relationships?”

The question took him by surprise. “Why do you ask?”

She blushed, looked down and started shredding her paper serviette. “After Lynn, you said you were. And then Adele said . . . and Mum said something in passing.”

“I don’t want a new woman in my life,” he said slowly, looking directly at her and taking care to emphasise the word ‘new’.

Fiona’s cheeks coloured and she dropped her eyes to the table and the remains of her serviette.

Meeko willed her to say something. He’d been as obvious as he dared without actually declaring how he felt — if he did that, and the feeling wasn’t mutual, their friendship would be destroyed forever. She looked up at him. There was no smile, just a confused frown. His heart sank a little.

The waitresses were clearing up around them but Meeko didn’t want to leave. They’d both had assumptions about the other knocked away and the boundaries of their relationship had blurred — but into what, he wasn’t sure either of them knew.

“I’d better go.” Fiona stood up. “I don’t know what catastrophe will have happened at home while I’ve been out.”

“Can’t Joe deal with it?”

“I’m learning he’s not good at that sort of thing.”