The Birds and the Bees (17 page)

‘So, what are you going to wear?’ said Catherine.

‘Dunno, what you do think?’

‘That green crossover top, definitely. That was Matthew’s favourite so that’s bound to strike a chord if he sees you.’

‘
If
? How do I make that a definite, so all this will be worthwhile? What if they don’t see us? What if they don’t happen to be looking out of the window watching us go off together? I mean, it’s highly unlikely they will be, isn’t it really? It’s mad, totally mad.’

‘It’s a mad world though, Steve. And if they don’t see you, then you have to keep going at it until they do.’

‘I was afraid you’d say that.’

‘Well, it’s all part of the plan!’ Catherine laughed, although she was getting less keen on the idea of a Stevie and Matthew reconciliation every day. Even though she wanted her friend to be happy, she also wished she would stuff it home to Matthew that there was life without him, and if it took Adam MacLean to help her do that, then so be it. She hoped Stevie wouldn’t give in too easily when Matthew came crawling back to her because he would, nothing surer. Catherine wanted Matthew to realize what he
was missing in Stevie, although she was becoming increasingly confused as to what Stevie was missing in Matthew.

‘I’ve to be ready for seven thirty.’

‘Well, Kate will be over for seven.’

‘Great–I’ll direct her to the cheesecake and the other food stocks. She’s a good girl.’

‘She’s an extortionist. Twenty quid! I’d do it for nothing if there was a cheesecake involved.’

‘I’ll get her a taxi back. I won’t let MacLean drive her.’

‘Thanks,’ said Catherine. ‘Ooh, those legs though. If I babysat for you, I’d let him drive me home.’

‘You’re one sick woman, Catherine Flanagan.’

Catherine laughed. ‘Nervous?’

‘What have I to be nervous about? I’m only going out with a wife-beating psychopath.’

‘I don’t think he’s anything of the sort,’ said Catherine. ‘I think the bloke has got some bad press. We believed everything Jo said–and look what a calculating cow she turned out to be. We only have her side of things. I tell you, Steve, I took a long hard look at him at Pam’s wedding, and he looked like a pretty decent guy to me.’

‘Pretty?’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Oh Cath, come on. There can’t have been that much smoke without fire. You only have to look at him to know he’s not Mr Fluffy!’ Stevie gave a disbelieving laugh. ‘Have you seen that scar on his face? What the hell could have caused that? He didn’t get
that
making daisy chains.’

‘Well, he was certainly Mr Fluffy with Pam and Will’s old relatives.’

‘All show!’ said Stevie, who remained unconvinced. ‘He was playing to an audience. He would have kissed babies too if there had been any. Politicians’ tricks–and we all know how wholesome they are, don’t we?’

‘You really don’t like him at all, do you?’

‘No,’ said Stevie, ‘but we need each other, it seems. And at least being at the pictures means I don’t have to talk to him.’

…Which had been Adam MacLean’s precise thought when he proposed the venue. The cinema was central, popular and he would not have to converse with
her
much. Plus there was a good chance someone would spot them together and report their presence back to Jo. Even though she might not want him herself now, she wouldn’t want anyone else to have him either. He knew what a jealous creature she could be, a fact that would work very much in his favour here.

Matthew was actually filling the kettle when he noticed Eddie’s van at the other side of the lane dropping off his daughter. Kate had babysat for them a couple of times, which was the only reason she ever came round. Stevie must be going out, he concluded. Probably to Catherine’s.
But then she would have taken Danny with her, surely?
Stevie never went out by herself, unless it was to Catherine’s. So where was she going? On a Saturday night too.

He mentally slapped himself; it wasn’t any of his business–they were separated. He was with Jo now, so why should he even be interested?

But still…

‘You look nice,’ said Kate, trying not to fall over as Danny wrapped himself around her very long giraffe-y legs.

‘Do I?’ said Stevie.

‘Green looks great on you,’ said Kate. ‘I wish I were blonde.’

‘You are!’ laughed Stevie. Kate was naturally the platinum blonde that people aspired to, but she persisted on dyeing her long, long hair Goth-black with various shades of wild colour shot through it. At the moment, the
couleur du jour
was electric blue. She carried it off with the confidence of youth and looked stunning.

‘Going to help me demolish this then, Dans?’ asked Kate, her big sapphire eyes rounding at the sandwich fest and cheesecake which Stevie had left out for her. ‘Have you had your tea?’

‘Yes,’ said Danny. ‘I had beans off toast.’

‘Beans
off
toast?’ Kate looked to Stevie for further explanation.

‘He means beans minus toast,’ Stevie sighed. ‘My little boy has suddenly decided he doesn’t like bread.’ In the same way that halfway through a McDonald’s a couple of months ago, he had decided that he didn’t like chips any more and hadn’t touched a potato since. At least he was an Atkins-friendly child.

‘Bread’s really good for you, Dans. Especially this brown stuff. I eat loads, it’s
cool
,’ said Kate, giving Stevie a wink and stuffing a sandwich in her mouth.

‘Is it? Do you?’ said Danny in amazement. ‘Mummy, could I have one like Kate’s got, please?’

Stevie was quite sure that Kate could get Danny to eat horse manure if she tried.

As the second hand began its slow descent towards half past, Stevie was feeling more and more nauseous. The evening stretched excruciatingly long and hard in front of her and she had thrown the free newspaper supplement away so she didn’t even know what was on at the ‘picture hoos’. No doubt she’d have to sit through some all-action movie with a big macho hero who shot lots of people with huge guns whilst a little girly, accidentally caught up in the action, teetered behind him with stilt high heels and massive knockers.

‘I think he’s here,’ said Kate, peeping out of the window.

‘Shit!’ said Stevie.

‘Mummy!’

‘Sorry, Danny,’ said Stevie, slapping her hand over her mouth.

‘Where are you going?’

‘It’s…er…a business meeting about Mummy’s writing,’ said Stevie. ‘You go in there with Kate, darling,’ and she ushered him towards the lounge before he could see MacLean and get nightmares.

‘Come on then, Dans, let’s go and watch a DVD with the cinema surround on full vol,’ said Kate, taking him into the lounge. ‘Give Mums a kiss.’

‘Bye, darling, be good for Kate,’ said Stevie, although she knew he would be an absolute angel for Kate. Then, as soon as the lounge door closed, there was a battering-ram-type boom at the front door. Stevie grabbed her jacket and handbag and reached for the handle, noticing how much her hand was shaking as it stretched out in front of her. She opened it to find Adam MacLean
colour-co-ordinated with her in a pale green shirt and stonewashed jeans.

‘Both of us in mint–nice touch,’ he said appreciatively. ‘I took a slow walk from the car to the door,’ he went on. ‘Now we’ll take a slow walk back to it.’

‘Okay,’ said Stevie. He opened the car door for her (for show obviously), closed it behind her and then climbed in the driver’s seat. The CD switched on with the ignition–Alvin Stardust. She had been expecting something a lot heavier: the Prodigy maybe, or some other group with a lead singer who bit the heads off live rodents.

They didn’t speak at all. Stevie wished she’d brought a knife to cut the atmosphere between them, though actually, just bringing a knife would have been sensible. Adam drove steadily despite his car being such a long, fast, sleek number. She knew the myth about men and big cars, although she doubted very much that Jo was the sort of woman who would have entertained a man who was short in that area. Matthew was nicely endowed–not too big, not too small–and from the size of the rest of Adam MacLean, he looked as if he might have a bit of a monster in his trousers. Then she wondered why on earth she was thinking about Adam MacLean’s willy and cut off those thoughts there and then.

They arrived at the car park, which was just around the corner from the cinema. Still not speaking, they crossed the road and joined the queue for the ticket booth.

‘Whit do you want to go and see?’ he asked.

There were two films showing. One was something like
The Strangulator
–no prizes for guessing that would be his
choice, thought Stevie–or a psychological thriller with Denzel Washington, who, Stevie thought, was quite dishy and would certainly take her mind off the fact that she was on an obligatory evening out with
him
.

‘Er…what do
you
want?’ said Stevie diplomatically.

‘It’s up to you.’

‘Well, the, thriller’s got good press,’ she suggested, hoping he would say that he was off to see
The Strangulator
and would meet her in the foyer after the film was over, but (
bugger!
) he simply said, ‘Aye, that’ll dae then.’

Stevie rummaged in her bag for her purse but he said, ‘I’ll get these. You awa’ and get the popcorn.’

‘Okay,’ said Stevie, thinking, Popcorn? This is looking too much like a real date! However, she then realized that he didn’t want her to think she was getting away with not paying for anything.

‘
He thinks I’m a freeloader!
’ she said to herself. ‘
Right, I’ll show him!
’

She was served, just as Adam appeared with the tickets. She was struggling with a ‘small’ popcorn the size of a mop bucket and a ‘large’ which was roughly a skip, and had cost as much. She had plumped for the special offer and got two drinks as well. Not having a clue what he wanted, she had chosen Diet Cokes seeing as a gallon of Bells and Irn Bru wasn’t an option. He had the nerve to look taken aback.

‘I wes actually joking,’ he said.

‘Well, unfortunately I’m not yet fully acquainted with the nuances of your wit,’ said Stevie, grappling with a sweet smile as well as with the enormous feast.

‘So which is mine?’ he grunted.

‘This big one, of course!’ said Stevie.
Is he joking or does he think I’m a hog?
She had just found out it was possible to dislike him a little more.

‘Ba’ Christ, it’ll take me aw night to eat this.’

‘I didn’t want you thinking I was mean,’ said Stevie purposefully, with a tight smile. It was, after all,
his
race renowned for parsimony, not hers. ‘Which brings me around to say that I do very much want to get the financial side of our arrangement sorted soon too. I don’t want to be in for any nasty shocks.’

‘Aye,’ he said without elaboration, then turned his back on her and led the way into the darkened cinema.

‘Here,’ said Adam, picking one of the big cushioned seats with the row in front of them a distance away. ‘I paid extra for the superior seats. Ma legs get aw crunched up in the ordinary wans…ones.’

He did have very long legs, thought Stevie, who reckoned both hers placed end to end must equal the length of one of his. He must have to go to special shops for his jeans. ‘Big Ignorant Scottish Bastards ’R’ Us’, possibly.

The lights dimmed and the adverts and trailers came on and Stevie took a long look around. The place was full of couples, silhouettes of their heads coming together as they passed a joke or a sweet nothing, so it felt odd to be part of them, and yet not part of them. How many others here were sitting with people they couldn’t stand, and who they knew couldn’t stand them either?

She and Matthew loved the cinema. Quite a few times he had rung her from work to say, ‘See if Kate can babysit
and we’ll go and see a film.’ Then they would invariably make a night of it and have supper somewhere afterwards and blow the expense. Like he would do with Jo now.

A rush of tears blindsided her and she coughed them down. Then she felt Adam MacLean nudge her to inquire if she was choking on popcorn. It was like being hit by a bus.

‘No, unfortunately for you, I’m fine,’ she said, and he laughed a big ‘ha’.

They munched and watched in entertained silence. Denzel was gorgeous and the plot was twisty and thrilling. It was obvious from the off who was the bad guy but that fact didn’t detract one iota from the enjoyment. At the end, the lights came up and Adam got up, stretched, and knocked all the stray knobs of popcorn off his shirt into his container. Between what he and Stevie had left, there was enough to feed a third world country for a week.

‘That was quite good–well picked,’ he said.

‘Yes, I enjoyed it,’ said Stevie. ‘The film, I meant,’ she added. Just in case he thought she meant his scintillating company.

She really doesn’t like me very much at all, he thought with faint amusement, although he couldn’t for the life of him think why that was. Had he not treated her with anything but absolute courtesy, that first meeting excepted? None of this situation was his fault. He had gone over his relationship with Jo with a finer than fine-tooth comb in his head, but he still couldn’t work out where he’d gone wrong. It was torturing him, not knowing why she preferred a prick like Matthew Finch to someone who had
treated her like a queen. It was Miss Stroppy Drawers here that hadn’t made Matty Boy happy and he had strayed. It was
her
fault, not his. Slatternly, verbally abusive, prone to violent outbursts when she was drunk, and they were just at the beginning of the list. If she was adamant about flinging blame about, she should look nearer to home.

He led Stevie out and back to the car, where the cheesy seventies CD blasted out ‘Wig Wam Bam’ and ‘Do You Wanna Touch’. It seemed to her that his music taste was as dubious as everything else about him. They both sat in stone-faced silence, each wanting to get away from the other as soon as possible.

‘Want me to run your babysitter hame…home?’ he offered, as they turned into Blossom Lane.