The Birds and the Bees (23 page)

‘No, I think today’s probably done the trick,’ said Stevie, and she giggled suddenly without planning to. The sound
resonated like a bell in the air. It was a sound that belonged to someone with a great capacity for joy, a merry heart. It jarred with the image he carried of her and was thus indigestible, and it made him feel uncomfortable for a reason he didn’t understand. Grabbing up the coffee packet, he said stiffly, ‘Think I’d better make a move.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Stevie responded, wondering what she had done to send him back into Gruff Land.

‘I’ll ring you to discuss what we do next. Let me know if you hear anything.’

‘You’ll have to say goodbye to Danny. You promised,’ said Stevie.

‘Of course I was going tae,’ he snapped back. They glared at each other, enemies again, until she broke contact and called Danny through.

‘I’m off, pal,’ said Adam, bending to him, and then gently jabbed his cheek with his enormous fist.

‘Awww. Are you coming back soon?’ said Danny.

‘No doubt I will see you again,’ said Adam, flashing a quick look at Stevie, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was too busy trying to work out what her son was making of it all, checking that he wasn’t confused or upset by Adam’s visit. Adam understood that and respected it. More than she could ever know.

‘Shall we colour co-ordinate when I call again?’ he asked her once he had stood again to his full height.

‘I’ll be in yellow and pink,’ said Stevie.

‘Well, maybe not,’ said Adam with a cough. Then he left.

There was no one across the road watching Adam go, although he did leave with a tyre squeal just in case they needed to know he was on his way. He could still feel where Stevie had scratched his head, but he smiled as his hand came up to rub at the slight raised weal. You wouldn’t have thought there was such a tigress in her tank to look at her. Therein lay the trouble. He had thought he had known her, before he had even laid eyes on her. Her reputation had preceded her and, respecting the source of the gossip, he had taken it as gospel. Really, tonight was the first time she had acted anything like Jo’s reporting of her.
But wasn’t that understandable, if she thought he was hurting her son?
So far, he had to admit, there hadn’t been much evidence of her being a fraction of the lazy, unhinged, crockery-throwing harridan Jo had said she was, and the selfless defence of her child wasn’t the action of a mother who was borderline abusive.

He wished his mammy had been like Stevie in full flow, in the times when they got hurt. Especially the day when his da had been skelping wee Jinny with a heavy, drunken hand for weeing the bed and Adam had stepped in to stop him. He wasn’t a big boy then, but he was getting stronger by the day, and for the first time Andy MacLean had struggled to overpower him. So he had gone for the hot poker and burnt his son on the face. Branded him like an animal. Said that every time he looked in the mirror from then on, he’d remember how he raised a hand to his daddy. And his maw had stood there like a scared ghost, watching it happen. She had not stepped in, like he’d seen Stevie do, mad for the safety of her wean.

He was a hell of a big man now but that still hadn’t stopped Stevie going for him. She had run at him like a ram and had not given a single thought to what damage he could have done her. And he had the strength of a bull and could have done her a lot.

And when they said he’d be scarred for life, he’d thought, Surely my mammy’ll leave him noo? But she didnae
.

‘If you could give me a little more time, I get paid in a week,’ said Matthew down the phone, believing he was whispering and not aware that his fellow office workers could easily overhear him.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Finch, but I can’t stop the interest being charged, nor can I authorize to refund you the overdue fee for the reasons you’ve given me for non-payment. Plus as you are paid monthly, you will have to find two months’ mortgage from that single salary. Have you thought about that?’

‘Of course I’ve sodding thought about it. I can’t think of anything else!’ snarled Matthew.

‘I’m sorry, but I won’t be sworn at,’ said the mortgage advisor, and she put the phone down on him.

‘Bloody bitch!’ said Matthew, a little too noisily.

‘Personal calls, Mr Finch?’ said a starchy voice behind him.

‘Just the one urgent one, Colin, just the one,’ said Matthew, inwardly cringing. It would have to be
him
–Colin Seed, Head of Personnel, doing his rounds. Creepy Colin, Seedy Colin, Colin the Cardigan and, rather cruelly given the recent circumstances, Norman Bates. He couldn’t
have been more than ten years older than Matthew, but he looked near to retiring with his Shredded Wheat comb-over, ill-fitting brown suits that struggled to close over his paunch and a face guaranteed to cure hiccups. He spoke to every man as if they were naughty schoolboys and he was their headmaster. Even Matthew, who was the thirty-four-year-old Head of Concessions.

‘Of all people to be there when you’re on the phone to someone not work-related,’ said Matthew, telling Jo about it on the drive home. ‘That bloke is always lurking about. He’s got a real personality problem.’

‘Who were you ringing?’

‘Oh…er…just the bank, to see if a cheque had been paid in that I was expecting. Interest owed to me.’
Damn, what made him lie again?

‘Why didn’t you use your mobile?’

‘Can’t find it,’ he said. Lying again. He had finally cancelled it in a desperate economy measure. That, and cancelling his gym membership, would save him a hundred quid a month easily.

‘Anyway, why do you think the man’s got a problem?’

‘Well, you only have to look at him,’ said Matthew. ‘He’s a total numpty. He was born middle-aged, he’s never had a girlfriend and he’s never likely to get one either.’

‘He could be gay,’ said Jo.

‘No chance. He likes to hang around women too much. Not that he’d know what to do with one. Unless he found a blind one into trainspotting.’

‘Bitchy! I’ve always found him quite amiable in passing,’ said Jo, slapping Matthew gently.

‘Well, you are a very beautiful girl and will no doubt have charmed him where everyone else has failed.’

‘Aw, sweetie,’ said Jo and stroked his hand, making his skin purr with pleasure. ‘He’s probably just lonely.’

‘Seedy? Yeah, probably is,’ said Matthew. ‘Anyway, I think he’ll be leaving soon, thank God. They’ve wanted him to go over and run the New York offices for ages, but he lived with his mum and that stopped him going. She died a couple of months ago and left him a stack.’ Lucky bugger, thought Matthew. What he wouldn’t give for a windfall like that. And the chance to go and live in New York. He’d gladly swap places with Seedy for all that–brown suits, fat gut, comb-over, Hallowe’en face and all.

‘Poor man,’ said Jo, with a heavy sigh.

‘Poor man, nothing! He’s a frustrated git who is jealous of anyone who looks as if they are getting a shag,’ said Matthew, ‘and the reason he is nice to you, darling, is because you are simply gorgeous and he probably wants to eat you all up, like I do.’

‘Thank you,’ said Jo, giving him her most beautiful smile. ‘Talking of eating, shall we dine out tonight and celebrate how lovely I am then?’

‘Oh what the hell, why not,’ said Matthew, who found he really did not want to be at home amongst the negative energy of a stack of unpaid bills, or drawn to the window to see what was going on across at the cottage. Not that anything Stevie did could affect him, you understand, she was out of his life. That’s what he found he had to keep telling himself anyway.

Adam MacLean rang her just as she was making up a cup of Horlicks to take to bed. It was ten o’clock and Matthew and Jo were just coming home from somewhere. Stevie watched as Jo slammed the door of the car and fumbled angrily with the house lock, leaving Matthew in her wake and looking very sheepish. He flashed a look towards the cottage to see if anyone was witnessing his humiliation and for once Stevie didn’t step back from the shadows. Why shouldn’t she be at her window, closing her blinds? If Matthew wanted to play with fire, let him get burnt. She hadn’t done anything to skulk into the shadows for.

‘Hi there,’ Stevie drawled into the mouthpiece, looking very dreamy as she was talking.
Let Matthew Finch observe that as well–ha!

‘It’s me, Adam,’ he said, thinking she couldn’t have realized. She was talking like Emmanuelle.

‘I know, I’m being watched.’

‘They cannae hear you!’

‘No, but the voice comes free with the expression.’ Honestly, what did he think? That she was actually trying to seduce him? She watched as Matthew followed Jo into the house and closed the door meekly behind him. Boy, what Stevie wouldn’t give to be a fly with big ears on
that
wall.

‘It looks to me as if my neighbours across the street might just have had a row. She’s stomping about and he looks totally whitewashed,’ reported Stevie.

‘Guid. Wonder if it’s anything to do with us?’

‘No doubt we’ll get to know in due course if it is.’

‘Have you got your invite?’

‘What invite?’

‘For Will and Pam’s barbecue.’

‘No.’

‘Well, it’s on its way. You know what I’m going to say, don’t ye?’

It wasn’t hard to work out.

‘What? You and me to go together?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Colour co-ordinated?’

‘As long as it’s blue. No yellow or pink.’

‘When is it though? It all depends if I can get a babysitter.’

‘Saturday. Apparently, the weather at the weekend is going to be gorgeous and the good news is that you don’t need to find a babysitter because the kids are invited too. Pam’s organized a Bouncy Castle and a magician and thousands of e-numbers-worth of sweets and pop. Will asked me if I minded him inviting Matthew and Jo and I said not at all. In fact, I positively encouraged him to do so.’

‘I don’t know if I dare.’

‘Oh, you dare,’ said Adam with a sort of jolly threat. ‘And what’s more, we’ll take centre-stage on this one, lady. Just you wait and see.’

Jo had never really forgiven Matthew for carrying no cash with him at Will’s wedding. She had got sick of dipping into her purse to pay for all the drinks at the reception that night, but she swallowed it because she thought it was a one-off genuine mistake on his part. But tonight was unforgivable! First she had to bear the embarrassment when
his card was declined, then she had to stand by as he looked hopelessly through a wallet he knew was empty, as if he was Paul Daniels and would suddenly shout, ‘And that’s magic!’ and flourish up two fifty-pound notes. They were starting to attract attention for all the wrong reasons, and so she whipped out her Amex to reclaim some dignity, only to have to bear the
in
dignity when that too was declined. Luckily, she had her chequebook and in anger and embarrassment, she had written out the wrong amount and had to do another. She would never go in that restaurant again, at least not with Matthew. How dare he treat her like that? Funny how he always had money on him when he went shopping for those poncey male moisturizers and face packs. Adam would not have been seen dead with a mudpack on.
And
he had paid her Amex bill every month. Foolishly, she had not considered that he might have cancelled his direct debit and that she would have to stump up for it from now on. She had taken his generosity for granted for so long. Not even the prospect of Matthew’s half a million to come could salve the humiliation of this evening.

‘Please, sweetie, I’m so sorry. I’m so stupid. Please, let me make it up to you,’ Matthew pleaded in bed and started to smudge his mouth down her body, but she pushed him away and presented him with her back.

‘Matthew, just go to sleep,’ she said. Sex might have had a big place in Jo MacLean’s life, but next to money, its importance was negligible.

‘Have you got your invite?’ said Catherine, with a just-dropped-the-kids-at-school Tuesday-morning phone call.

‘It’s just arrived now in the post.’

‘And?’

‘Yes, before you ask, I’m going with Adam MacLean.’

‘Fandabidozy!’

‘Is Matthew going?’

‘They’ve been invited. Apparently, Will asked Adam first if he minded and he said no, and Pam asked me to ask you if it was okay.’

‘Yes, it’s fine.’

‘I said that. In fact, I insisted she invite them because I just know that you two have a plan up your sleeves, don’t you?’ laughed Catherine.

‘I wouldn’t say it was a plan exactly. We just want them to see us together.’

‘About time too,’ giggled Catherine. ‘Anyway, what are you going to wear?’

‘I’m going shopping for something new.’

‘When?’

‘Towards the end of the week, probably.’

‘Can I come?’

‘Absolutely.’

They met for their shopping trip on Thursday, mainly because Stevie needed to get in a couple of days’ hard writing on the story of Damme and Evie. Even with his (battle) scar, the big Scot was turning out to be an incredibly powerful character–against her will, it had to be said. He was evolving all on his own. Obviously, as a
Midnight Moon
hero, he had to be wonderful, but Damme MacQueen definitely had the McX factor. Evie presumed his roughness was not consigned to his exterior, and he thought her beauty was only skin deep–it was sexual Semtex. They were far too good for Crystal’s conveyor-belt fiction and Stevie wished she had saved him for the long romantic novel she so wanted to write. She was having a great deal of fun writing the lovers’ verbal battle scenes, each one of them misjudging the other totally.

Was that what she and Adam were doing? she had thought more than once recently. She had seen the scar on Jo’s leg, witnessed her tears and fears but really, it was all circumstantial evidence, as they said on
A Touch of Frost
. Stevie had made herself a firm promise that she would butt out of the Honeywell/MacLean alliance at the first sign of violence, but there had been not even a hint of it so far. Could Jo have been telling lies? Did women have the same capacity for deception that men had? Was there really that much smoke without fire? Not that it mattered really, since Stevie’s involvement with Adam was merely a means to an end, as was his involvement with her. She couldn’t give a
damn what happened to either him or Jo after she and Matthew got back together. Really.

Catherine picked out a very floaty summer blue dress from the rack. ‘Try this on.’

‘Wow, that’s perfect,’ Stevie said. Just the colour Adam had said he was going in too–although she would be dressing for Matthew, not Adam, a nudging thought reminded her.

‘Go try.’

Stevie go-ed and tried. Then she came out of the changing rooms and gave her friend a modest twirl.

‘That’s the one,’ said Catherine.

‘Do you think?’

‘Deffo.’

‘Well, that’s totally spoilt the morning then,’ said Stevie.

‘Nothing says you can’t buy the first dress you see,’ said Catherine. ‘Anyway, now we’ll have more time to accessorize and scoff buns.’

‘Well done, that woman,’ said Stevie, and went off to pay lots of money. She had so much spare this month. Even with the big wodge of rent money out of her account, life was infinitely cheaper living without Matthew than with him.

Salvation came for Matthew in the form of a letter from Goldfish, which arrived on the same day as his formal invite to Pam and Will’s barbecue. They had upped his Visa limit by two grand, so he immediately took out a cash advance and paid the mortgage arrears off before the interest crippled him any further. It was no big deal, he
told himself. Some people lived all their lives robbing Peter to pay Paul, although he wasn’t sure how much longer he could do that because Peter hadn’t anything left to rob and Paul was going to send some big mates round with knuckledusters on soon. He called the bank and made an appointment to see his account manager, in the hope of getting a consolidating loan. Then he planned, once and for all, how he was going to tell Jo the truth: that he wasn’t just in that house as a stopgap until his ‘family’ investments matured and allowed him to buy a nice pile in the country. That he couldn’t afford a fancy dancing wedding and the meals out every night would have to stop because he was
poor, poor, poor
. She would not be happy, but the scene at the restaurant had brought things to a bit of a head. He hadn’t expected Jo to react quite as badly as she did, and it made him aware that he needed to tell her everything, now, whilst things were the worst financially that they could possibly be. She loved him, she would understand. Of that, at least, he was totally convinced.

Jo still wasn’t talking to him. They hadn’t had sex since the weekend and nothing he did, or tried to do, had warmed up the frosty air between them. He saw her enter the office after her lunch-break, waved over and smiled, but she sailed past him, carrying a posh-looking carrier bag, and his expression dropped to that of a kicked puppy. He sighed and got out his Visa, then made a call to 118 118 to find out the number of an Interflora, then rang ‘Floral Fixation’ and ordered an extravagant bouquet to be sent to a Ms J.
MacLean in
Design
. He did not notice that Colin Seed was well in earshot behind him.

Meeting up deliberately early so they could have a quick natter at the school gates, Stevie filled Catherine in on all the details since their last meet. She had, of course, rung to tell her that Matthew had seen them together, but trying to have a long intense conversation with children on both sides continually interrupting meant only the gossip skeleton was delivered, in preparation for the flesh to be put on now.

‘You look better than you did,’ said Catherine, adding cheekily, ‘In fact, you looked bloody terrible at Josh Parker’s party. Adam must have rejuvenating lips.’

‘Don’t be obscene!’

‘Anyway, I’m glad he sorted Dickhead and his balloons out for you.’

‘Yes, he did,’ said Stevie, not realizing she was smiling. She had played that little scene over and over again to herself on a continuous loop–Adam MacLean coming around the corner just at the very moment when she felt at her most helpless. She had used it in her book where Damme arrived, just as the evil Richard had Evie pinned in a corner. The difference being that Evie’s heart had started fluttering, whilst her own had…er…started fluttering actually.
Stop that. That is a ridiculous thought, and not a true recollection
, she mentally slapped herself. That was the trouble with having the imagination of a romantic novelist: the story world and the real world blurred and crossed over in some cases. She had ended up on more than one occasion
seeing things as she wanted to see them and not as they really were. Men being the prime example.

‘So as we were saying,’ prompted Catherine, waving her hand in front of Stevie’s face to check she was still with them, ‘…about Adam. How did it feel to snog him?’

‘I didn’t snog him, Cath. I just kissed him very lightly once, and then we both went inside and started wiping our mouths.’

She had only been so playground puerile because she saw his hand come up to his mouth first and therefore she needed to prove that kissing him was every bit and more disgusting than he seemed to find it. Although it hadn’t been disgusting at all, she was forced to admit. He had very soft lips not that she wanted to dwell on that particular detail.

‘Steve, is all this worth it?’ Catherine asked suddenly. ‘Kissing men you can’t stand, buying expensive frocks…’

‘Yes, Cath, it is,’ Stevie said, picking up her carrier bag with the lovely blue dress in it. She had lost Mick to Linda, there was no way she would let history repeat itself by losing Matthew to Jo.