The Birds And The Bees Part 16

'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 mintnice 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 ignitionAlvin 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 endowednot too big, not too smalland 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 w.i.l.l.y 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 Strangulatorno prizes for guessing that would be his choice, thought Stevieor 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 ( b.u.g.g.e.r! ) 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 c.o.kes 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 b.a.s.t.a.r.ds '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 pa.s.sed 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 k.n.o.bs 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 goodwell 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 amus.e.m.e.nt, 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 p.r.i.c.k 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, p.r.o.ne 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.

'No, it's all right, thank you. I'll get her a taxi,' said Stevie, a bit too quickly.

He was laughing now and shaking his head. The nicer he was to her, the more it seemed to annoy her. That made him want to be even nicer, because getting under her skin was the only bit of fun he was having at the moment.

'Okay, spend your money,' he said, 'but don't say I didnae offer.'

They pulled up outside the cottage. The lights were on downstairs in Matthew's house and the curtains were still open.

'We'll sit here for a wee minute,' Adam MacLean said, 'and give them a chance to see us.'

Great! thought Stevie, but then again, the sooner they were seen, the sooner it would all come to whatever head it was going to come to and be over.

'After aw,' Adam went on, 'that's what lovers dae...do, isn't it? Sit in the car and talk and kiss and stuff.'

'There's no way I'm kissing you,' said Stevie, horrified.

'Don't worry yerself, lady,' said Adam, jerking backwards. 'I'm just trying to make this as realistic as possible. Without stooping to bodily contact. Agreed?'

'Agreed,' said Stevie.

He grunted.

'Would this be a good time to talk about money then?' said Stevie.

'Look,' he said, sounding a little bit strained, 'I'll work out some figures. I certainly can't afford to pay for the entire cottage and my mortgage for very long...'

'I'm not asking you to! That's my point!' Stevie burst out.

'Stop yer blethering, woman! I know you're no' asking me to!' he snapped, then made an open-palmed gesture that suggested he was trying to calm himself. He had ma.s.sive hands that looked more than capable of landing a painful wallop.

'Look, if it bothers you that much, I'll make it my priority, okay?'

'Yes, it does bother me, Mr MacLean,' said Stevie, 'so I'd appreciate it if you would, thank you.'

'My name's Adam, by the way. Might sound a wee bit odd if we're trying to convince people we're a couple when there's you calling me by my t.i.tle and surname.'

'Okay...Adam,' she said. It sounded rather intimate to call him by his Christian, or rather heathen name, especially after she had gotten used to calling him 'MacLean' for so long. Well, that and a selection of fruitier alternatives.

'So, is Stevie short for Stephanie?'

'No, it's just Stevie. Like the poet.'

'Stevie Smith?'

Crikeyhe's heard of her. 'Yes.'

She's surprised I've heard of Stevie Smith. She thinks I'm b.l.o.o.d.y illiterate! Cheeky wee...Adam tried to contain his annoyance but it leaked out in the way he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in an angry little tattoo.

They waited a tad longer, but there was no activity from across the road. Matthew and Jo had probably gone to bed and left the light on in their hurry to get upstairs and bonk each other's head off. Both she and Adam started to say together that maybe they should go, and likewise, together, they thought, So this evening's been for nothing, after all.

'Maybe better luck next time then,' said Adam.

Oh, G.o.d forbid a next time! Although that thought was quickly pushed out of the way by a more serious one as Adam got out of the car. Where's he going? Oh, please don't tell me he wants to come in for coffee!

However, he was only doing his gentlemanly-type duty in opening the door for her, then he got back in the car after a gruff and sarcastically toned, 'Good night and thanks for the popcorn!' and after doing a three-point turn in the little lane, he zoomed off with a frustration-laden squeal of tyres. Stevie flinched. She hated loud noises of any kindbangs, shouts, popsthey upset her, made her feel insecure, took her back to childhood days she would rather not think about. He couldn't wait to get away from me, as much as I couldn't wait to get away from him, she mused, staring into the s.p.a.ce his car had just occupied.

Suddenly her heart was in her mouth, for out of the corner of her eye, she saw a figure at Matthew's window, obviously alerted by the noise of the car.

'Steady,' she told herself, and raised her hand, waving a fond farewell at the car that had already gone, not that whoever was at the window would know that. Then she slowly opened the cottage door and walked in, with another lingering stare up the lane for good measure.

After Kate's taxi had ferried her home, she made a quick call to Adam MacLean who was more than surprised to hear from her.

'I think we were spotted,' she said excitedly. 'Well enough to set the cat amongst the pigeons, although I could be getting it out of perspective.'

'Calm down, woman, and talk English,' said Adam. 'I cannae underston' you.'

Which is rich coming from a person who makes Rab C. Nesbitt sound intelligible, thought Stevie.

'Your tyres made a bit of a noise as you sped off,' she said, enjoying making the point. 'You must have alerted them across the road because someone...'

'Jo?'

'I don't know, I didn't dare look, but there was definitely someone watching through the window. I pretended to be waving goodbye to you, although you'd already gone. Rather loudly.'

'Awright, awright, I get your point. Anyway, it obviously did the trick,' said Adam, fending off her obvious criticism of his driving abilities. 'That's good news. I just wish they'd seen me too and, you know, linked us together.'

Stevie caught sight of the invoice for the wedding stationery and a beautiful little plan hatched before her eyes.

'I think I know a way to do that if you've got what I need,' she said, trying to fight off the strangest feeling that what she planned to do next felt dangerously akin to fun.

Chapter 29.

Stevie's idea was as simple and delicious as a stuff-in-the-oven part-baked loaf and was ready to be implemented three days later on the Tuesday when she got a quick call from Adam to say that he was finally in possession of the required item. She met him briefly at the gym where he handed it over, and after an accident-free half-hour walk and periodic sprint on the treadmill, she went home to plug away at her new work brief until Matthew got home from work.

The realization that this plan of Adam's might not be as daft as she had first thought and might actually work had brought such a light feeling to her heart that she had found herself able to sort out Paris and Brandon's final chapter at long last. Their wonderful, idyllic ending was created from a happy, hopeful bubble in her brain, and it was quite an impressive one, if she said so herself. Blissfully, the ma.n.u.script was emailed over to Midnight Moon HQ by start of business that morning, as promised. Stevie was resolute that she would never cut it so fine again. You could only let people like Crystal down once, and then you were toast. Ashes of toast, even.

It was a big relief, to be back on track writing. The pretty room she was using as an office made a major contribution to that. It was s.p.a.cious but cosy and peaceful, with a bonny view of the long garden. Nosy roses poked in through the windows, which had been thrown open to let in some fresh air, along with the comforting rumble of the odd train in the near distance. It was the sort of room she could imagine sitting in and writing her big blockbuster. Not that she wasn't grateful for her position at Midnight Moon. She and 'Alexis' and 'Paula' were privileged in that they received a monthly salary in advance of any royalties, and that gave them a steady income. Crystal also pushed a few magazine articles her way, paying her a separate amount for those, and Stevie b.u.mped up her savings by writing some long, traditional poetry for a greetings card company. She had been doing a lot of extra work to finance her wedding. Now it seemed she had been working for months for nothing.

Stevie took a walk into town to get some fresh air and stretch her legs and do the final but hardest jobletting go of the wedding rings. She was going to sell them on to the jeweller who was well-known in the area for giving the fairest prices. The man offered her one hundred and twenty for the two wedding bands, which would cover half the cost of the order-of-service booklets, and a further one hundred and five for the engagement ring. Stevie took it without even trying to barter him up to a better price. It wasn't as if she could ever have worn it, not with the memories it had collected. Ifwhenshe and Matthew got back together, she would choose a new one, not pearls next time though. She should have listened when her mother had inspected it and said, 'Pearls mean tears, I hope you know.'

When she got home, she chased away the dip in her spirits by scribbling some rough notes for Highland Fling. She decided to make her heroine small and feisty and the 'hero' mean and moody. Possibly give him a scar, one that had been very painful to receive. The heroine would outwit him at every turn. Ha! Once she had pictures of 'Damme MacQueen' and 'Evie Sweetwell' in her mind, the ideas started to come through thick and fast. She felt she just might have a winner on her hands.

Chapter 30.

In stark contrast, Matthew was finding it hard to concentrate at work. He had acted upon the letter asking him to apply for a Platinum Visa by ringing this number for an instant decision, only to be told that he had been instantly rejected.

'So why the h.e.l.l did you invite me to get one if you were going to tell me I couldn't?' said Matthew, taking their decision extremely personally.

'Sorry, sir,' said the levelheaded operative, who'd had this conversation many times before. Then she went into automated spiel about how he could find out his credit rating. Matthew knew exactly how he could do that. He also knew that the fact he had been refused their Visa would show up on his rating and influence future lenders. He hung up when she was in mid-flow and immediately felt guilty about being so rude and acting so out of character. Then again, he seemed to be doing quite a lot of things lately that were out of character and of which he didn't feel particularly proud.

One of his Visa bills had arrived that morning. The holiday cost had been added on to the amount outstanding, plus the charge for a cash advance that he had totally forgotten about, which had taken him over the limit. This needed settling immediately, so the urgent block-capital-written message emblazoned across the top had commanded. Plus something was niggling him and that wasn't helping his mood either. He just happened to be about to close the curtains on Sat.u.r.day night, when he saw Stevie standing on the doorstep of the cottage waving someone off. She had her best green top on and a big dreamy smile, the sort of smile you didn't wear for a friend, either. Why that had affected him so much, he didn't know because it was none of his business; she was no longer in his life. He was with Jo now . He had put it out of his mind numerous times, but it seemed to be on elastic and kept bouncing back.

The sunlight was streaming through the window when he got home that evening, highlighting how grubby the kitchen had become since Stevie had left. The work surface was full of crumbs and the floor badly needed a good scrub. He'd have to get a cleaner in. Jo wasn't the type to put on an ap.r.o.n and wear down her long, deliciously scratchy fingernails doing domestic ch.o.r.es; she wasn't a 'Stevie'. There wouldn't have been much point leaving Stevie for her if she was.

Jo relaxed in the bath for half an hour whilst Matthew rustled up something tasty in the kitchen. She had been through so much and he wanted to cosset her and spoil her. That wasn't to say that he didn't miss coming home to sparkling work surfaces and delicious cooking smells, especially tonight, when his spirits felt as if they had been steamrollered, but what he lost with one hand, he gained with the other and twice over. How could he compare what he had rejected to what he had now? Jo was a different creature entirely, one built for pleasure and luxury, not for comfort and reliability. Jo and Stevieit was like comparing a brand new sports car with a Vauxhall Cavalier. Although that was an unfortunate simile, he thought straightaway. He'd had a faithful Vauxhall Cavalier for years and loved it, and the new sporty black Punto he had traded it against in the end hadn't been a patch on his old car friend.

Whilst the pasta was boiling, he thought he might just snap around with a duster and tidy a few things away. Jo's detritus seemed to have taken over every surface like a virulent ivy, and how the h.e.l.l could they roll around on the mat in front of the fire, like he intended to do that evening, when it was dull with dust and mysterious house 'bits'. He went into the cupboard for the vacuum cleaner. Where on earth was the Dyson? Oh b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l!

Stevie waited a good three-quarters of an hour after she had seen Matthew come in from work before going over the road. She had to be seen to be extra casual. Luck was on her side as Matthew's head seemed to be zipping across the window as if he was moving things from one place to another.

'I'm just popping across the road. I'll be ten seconds, poppet!' she called to Danny.

'Okay, Mummy!'

Stevie lifted up the Visa bill that Adam had given her, and walked slowly and deliberately across the road. She had been dying to steam it open, but hadn't fallen prey to the temptation.

He's seen me, she thought, on noticing how Matthew jumped back from the window. That hurt a lot. Did he really have to insult her by pretending he wasn't in? What had she ever done to him to deserve this? The small act turned her jellied nerves to steel. She put the envelope through his letterbox without ceremony and returned home, not looking behind her. Then she texted Adam to tell him that she'd done it. Then she waited.