The Birds and the Bees (7 page)

Matthew had worn a path into the carpet by the time he heard the footsteps creak up the staircase outside the hotel room. He checked his watch for the eighteenth million time–
six minutes to six and six seconds
–threw open the door before the soft knock had ended and fell upon a wide-eyed Jo.

‘I was so worried!’ he said, taking her in his arms. He had his mobile in his hand, ready to ring the police. It had been a close call.

‘Sorry,’ she said, sniffling. ‘He was there. It was pretty gruelling.’

He pulled her away from him and studied her, looking for signs of violence but thankfully there was nothing, only pale lines on her face where tears had cut through her make-up. Then again, MacLean didn’t hit her where it showed, did he?

‘Are you okay? He didn’t—?’

‘No,’ Jo said, snuggling further into him to take his warmth and comfort. ‘Not really.’

‘What do you mean, “not really”, darling?’ said Matthew, rearing a little.

‘Well, at least I got away. Let’s just say, he started getting a bit rough.’

She winced as his hands fell on her shoulder and she let him gently unbutton the top of her shirt to find small deep fingernail-shaped crescents on her shoulder, and bruising already forming around them.

‘The swine! I’m getting the police.’

Matthew pulled out his mobile, but Jo stilled his hand.

‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s over. I don’t want any more police. I’ve seen too many of them in the past. I don’t want to file another report. Nothing ever comes of it anyway, except he gets more annoyed. Please, darling. Let’s just get on with the rest of our lives now. I’m free of him.’

She looked at him with her heavily fringed dark treacle eyes glistening with tears and he relented.

‘Oh baby!’ He squeezed her tight and then let go temporarily when someone else knocked on the door. Matthew opened it to find three porters standing there with six massive suitcases. ‘Wow!’ he said.

‘It’ll be a relief to get them over to your house,’ Jo said, adding pointedly, ‘sooner rather than later.’

‘Stevie is going to move out as soon as she can,’ said Matthew.

‘How was she? Upset?’

‘No, actually,’ said Matthew, shaking his head, as if he didn’t quite believe it himself. ‘She was…er…very understanding. Very understanding indeed.’

He thought back again to how calmly she had smiled goodbye. She hadn’t even blown her top when she found out he’d ransacked the joint account, considering he had
only put fifty quid in it towards the holiday in the first place. Had he looked at Jo at that moment, he would have seen something cross her face like a cloud. A cloud that was full of the grey shades of confusion that said, ‘Now
that is odd
…’

The scent of Jo’s hair chased the image of Stevie away and Matthew found himself looking forward to the night, instead of backwards at the afternoon. Still, it niggled him that something wasn’t quite as it should be, and Stevie ranting and raving would have unsettled him far less than her smiling at him.

Eddie walked in from work and straightaway asked his wife,

‘So, how did Stevie get on with Buggerlugs today?’

‘Don’t ask,’ said Catherine, giving him her customary peck. They had kissed each other hello and goodbye for eighteen years now and saw no reason to ever break the habit. ‘Apparently Matt came in, packed a bag and sodded straight off.’

‘Never! Where’s he gone?’

‘To a B&B, she said. He didn’t give her the name of it. Told her he wanted a bit of space before the wedding.’

‘The wedding? Still on then, is it?’ Eddie shook his head. ‘Blimey.’

‘He’s moved out for a few days.’

‘Just a few days?’

‘Until Stevie moves out.’

‘What?’

‘He wants her out.’

‘Eh?’

‘I couldn’t have put it better myself, babe,’ said Catherine, who was wondering when the Doppelgänger had taken over Matthew’s soul because this was so not like
the nice guy she knew. He was everything Mick wasn’t, so why was he acting just as idiotically as him? Had it been anyone else but Matthew, Catherine would have advised her friend to get out and draw a line under it all without so much as a backward glance, but Matt was a great bloke–steady and quiet, well, at least he had been before he went batty. He was fond of Danny too, and that was something of paramount importance to Stevie.

‘What’s she going to do?’ asked Eddie, stripping off his orange skip-deliverer’s tunic. He was a plasterer by trade but he’d done a day here and there helping out his old friend Tom Broom in refuse and recycling since they had left school. Tom made even big Eddie look like a midget but he was a really sound bloke. Like Matt used to be.

‘She hasn’t a bloody clue,’ said Catherine.

‘Well, you’d better ring your Auntie Madge and tell her that Stevie won’t be going to Pam’s wedding on Saturday.’

‘I’m doing nothing of the sort,’ said Catherine. ‘Stevie’s going and that’s that. It’ll do her good.’

‘Nay, Cath…’

‘Eddie, apart from the fact that Pam would kill her if she didn’t go, I’ve told Steve that she needs to be seen enjoying herself and getting on with life, not moping about. That’s not going to attract Matt back to her, is it?’

Pam was Catherine’s rather formidable cousin. She was getting married to William, the really nice guy who ran Gym Village, and they had all been invited. The tartan-ribboned invitation was on Catherine’s pin-board in the kitchen, as it was in Stevie’s; her own and Matthew’s names on it bracketed together as a still-present couple. The
groom was a native Scot and getting married in full tartan regalia, and it promised to be a jolly affair.

Eddie scratched his head. It was all harder to understand than a David Lynch film.

‘What if Matt goes and takes that Joanna? Have you thought about how that would make Stevie feel?’

‘Don’t be daft, he wouldn’t dare! And even if he did think about bringing her, she wouldn’t be that iron-faced as to come. Besides, I reminded Stevie how she’d promised Danny that he could stay at ours that night with Kate. She wouldn’t dream of letting him down.’

Kate, who loved the little boy to bits and pieces, and was adored in return, had volunteered to babysit him, along with her other brothers and sisters. Volunteered after being offered a lump sum, that was. Danny was going to top and tail in little Gareth’s pirate-ship bed and he’d had his Mr Incredibles bag packed for a fortnight waiting for it.

‘That’s below the belt,’ said Eddie, wincing.

‘I know, I’m a total witch,’ said Catherine with a very self-satisfied grin. ‘But it worked. She’s going. I’ll ring Auntie Madge and get her to jiggle the seating arrangements a bit though.’

‘Cath,’ said Eddie kindly, ‘are you sure it’s the right thing for her?’

‘Sure as eggs are eggs,’ said Catherine. ‘Think about it. If Matt had truly known what he was doing, he would have cancelled the wedding. He’ll come to his senses, I’m totally convinced of it. He’ll be holed up in a grotty B&B wrestling with his conscience and having a last-minute
commitment panic. Soon as he sees that Stevie is fine without him, he’ll want her back.’

‘And where’s this Jo then?’ said Eddie. ‘Has she gone back to her husband or what?’

‘My guess is that she did. I tried to get Stevie to ring MacLean to find out, but she wouldn’t. Do you think I should?’

‘No, I bloody well don’t,’ said Eddie. Much as he loved his wife, it niggled him sometimes that she always thought she knew better than anyone else. He had a feeling that one day she was going to get it so very wrong. Or maybe, by getting Stevie and Matt together in the first place, she already had.

Adam MacLean spotted Stevie on the weights. She had her headphones on and was watching the television screen. Now which channel would she be tuned into? he mused. Sky News? The Music Channel? Or
Morning Coffee
with Drusilla Durham and that smarmy Gerald ‘The Man’ Mandelton bloke talking about cakes?

He wondered how the day before last had gone at her end, when Matty Boy returned home. Not too well, if her serious, pale face was anything to go by. If only the daft woman had listened to him, this stupid business might all have been over and done with now. No doubt she had shouted at Finch, pleaded with him, screamed, cried, and embarrassed him back to his Jo faster than if he was Sir Roger Bannister and his backside was on fire. How
not
to win your spouse back in one easy lesson.

He could see that her teeth were gritted as she tackled far bigger weights than were on her toning programme. He should have gone over and told her she needed to do more reps on smaller weights, otherwise she would end up like a miniature Hulk Hogan, but he sent Hilary over instead because he would not have been able to resist asking how
things were and she, no doubt, would have replied with some cocky remark that made him even more disgruntled than he was already.

The seven nights in bed without Jo’s body beside him were hard enough, but the last two had hurt more than all of them put together, knowing all her wardrobes were empty and her jewellery and toiletries and make-up were gone from cupboards and drawers. Poignantly, she had left her long, pink toothbrush behind. It leaned against his own in the glass.

He knew he had played it like a master when she walked through the door looking beautiful and tanned and glowing and telling him how wet Wales was. Like he had tried to say to Mrs Universe over there–
basic psychology
. Jo had been shaking when she left him, and even though she had gone out of his door with her suitcases, climbed in her car and driven off–no doubt to the arms of her lover–he would have bet his own car on the fact that Round 1 had been to him.

‘Mummy, is “happily” an adverb?’

‘Yes, it is, love,’ said Stevie, changing his wet pyjama top. Now his Superman short bottoms were teamed up with a Shrek T-shirt, ‘as in “Danny Honeywell chews his pyjama collar
happily”.’

‘Sorry, mummy,’ said Danny.

‘It’s okay.’

‘Can I wear my Dannyman top instead?’

‘It’s in the wash, pet.’

‘Mummy?’

‘Yes, Danny?’

‘Where’s Matthew?’

‘Weeelll…’ she began, then realized she hadn’t a clue how she was going to answer that, or even if she could because her voice felt as if it would be too wobbly to deliver the words, if she opened up her mouth. She wasn’t quite sure where tears came from, but they seemed to be taking a fast-speed train up to her eyes these days, and the pressure of holding them back physically hurt.

‘He’s just living somewhere else for a while and we’re going to live somewhere else for a while,’ she said, trying to make it sound like a jolly adventure.

She knew this wouldn’t be enough to satisfy his inquisitive little mind though and, sure enough, four seconds later he asked, ‘Why?’

‘Because that’s what grown-ups do sometimes.’

‘Why?’

Oh farts!

‘Because they sometimes live apart to see if they miss each other. You see, when they get married, they want to make sure they live happily ever after.’

‘“Happily” is an adverb, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, Danny,’ said Stevie, seizing him and putting him on her knee and cuddling him tightly. ‘Yes, “happily” is an adverb.’

She put him to bed after reading him
The Useless Troll
yet again. He knew what the ending was and still delighted in hearing the gruesome ‘sting’. Stevie wished she knew what the ending to her story was, and whether it was one she could look forward to with as much
enthusiasm, although she also hoped her ending would be less hideous. Then again, with her luck, it would probably be worse.

Admittedly, she had not done a thing as regards finding somewhere else to live. The thought of leaving Matt’s house was awful, but she knew she must–and soon. It would be far better, she supposed, to play the game and make all the necessary arrangements and then have to cancel them at the eleventh hour when Matthew came to his senses than dither and risk Danny and her being thrown forcibly out. That wouldn’t exactly help any future reconciliation plans.

It had been Matthew who had badgered her to move in with him, with the ‘two could live as cheaply as one’ philosophy, although she had ended up paying most of the bills and the mortgage since she’d been there. She had even cleared a few of his arrears, thanks to a nice profit from the sale of her old house. She had also recently paid for her own wedding dress, Matthew’s wedding suit (which cost more than her whole outfit, accessories included), Catherine’s bridesmaid dress, Danny’s pageboy outfit, the rings and the deposits on the reception, flowers and honeymoon. At least the money for the balances was safe in her own account, thank goodness.

Matthew’s plans to contribute were tightly bound up in procrastinations, not that she minded because life with someone was about sharing, wasn’t it? After Mick, she had thought she would never trust anyone enough again to unlock the door to her heart and throw it open. Until Matthew. Maybe she should have realized she wasn’t
destined for happiness and that keeping the chain on might have been a safer option.

So Stevie settled down with a coffee and the
Properties
section of the local newspaper. Buying somewhere wasn’t an option at this stage, just in case Matthew came to his senses and asked her to come back, so, as far as rental accommodation went, it had to be somewhere nearby for Danny’s school, which ruled out most of the houses available. Of those that were geographically suitable, one was a seven-bedroomed barn conversion and the other a one-bedroomed flat in an infamous drug-riddled street. Of course, the cottage across the lane was featured, as always, but the bond alone was enough to have most people voicing the message to the landlord, ‘Hope the sun shines for yer, mate!’

Stevie made a mental note to ring some estate agents very soon, but the thought filled her with dread and she knew she was stalling, waiting for a miracle to rescue her. The miracle that was, unbeknown to her then, just around the corner.