by Rhoda Baxter
Grumpy bugger.
* * * *
To: Tom Blackwood
From: Olivia Gornall
Tom. Do you fancy a game of squash this eve? Stress relief. How'd it go showing the house to the lovely Vienna?
J
##
From: Tom Blackwood
To: Olivia Gornall
Vienna hasn't been yet. I'm busy trying to stay out of the party planner's way. She keeps giving me things to do.
##
From: Olivia Gornall
To: Tom Blackwood
Sounds like a right battleaxe.
##
From: Tom Blackwood
To: Olivia Gornall
That's the trouble, she's not a battleaxe. She's only 22 and very attractive in a young and nubile sort of way. Trouble is, she doesn't seem to realise this. Today, she gave me a lecture on how it would be easier to get through the project if I was civil to her. She was standing in the light, wearing a thin cotton shirt and, with the sun shining behind her, I could see right through it. It was all I could do not to stare at her tits.
Of course, she thought I was just being rude and avoiding eye contact.
##
From: Olivia Gornall
To: Tom Blackwood
So, ask her out then.
Of course, you'd have to let the lovely Vienna down gently.
##
From: Tom Blackwood
To: Olivia Gornall
I keep telling you. Vienna and I aren't an item. We just have a friendly arrangement, that's all. Friends with benefits, if you like.
I can't ask Stevie out. There's a bit of history there from a long time ago.
##
From: Olivia Gornall
To: Tom Blackwood
History ? Ugh. She's 22.
##
From: Tom Blackwood
To: Olivia Gornall
For heaven's sake. Wash your filthy mind out!
It's not that sort of history.
Gotta go. Vienna's here.
* * * *
Stevie and Alice were walking around the garden, making a list of jobs that needed to be done. It had once been beautiful, but had been left to itself for too long. The only things that had been cared for were the lawn and the gazebo, although closer inspection revealed that the benches inside the wooden structure were in need of attention. Stevie's planner's mind was whirring away, listing all the things that had to be done. Beyond the lawn was what would have a been rose garden and around the corner, the remains of an herb garden. Stevie stopped and breathed in the smell of rosemary and thyme. It was salvageable. It just needed work.
She was scribbling notes when there was a peal of feminine laughter. Both she and Alice looked up to where Tom was standing in the veranda outside the conservatory, talking to a woman with sleek blonde hair.
"Who's that?" Stevie whispered.
"That's Vienna. She's Uncle Tom's booty call."
"His what?"
"Booty call. You know, dial-a-shag. They used to go out. Now they just meet up every so often for a shag."
Stevie stared at Alice in disbelief. "Really?" She looked back. Tom and the woman were coming down the metal steps into the garden. Vienna was wearing tight black jeans, a figure hugging white t-shirt and stilettos. Her hair was a perfect curtain of palest blonde. Her makeup was immaculate. Everything about her screamed "city girl".
As she watched, one of Vienna's heels got caught in the grillwork. Tom knelt down and gently freed it. Vienna laid a hand on his shoulder. The gesture was somehow intimate. Tom took her hand and helped her down the last couple of steps.
Yes. They're definitely sleeping together. For some reason, that irritated her.
"She's half Scandinavian," Alice whispered.
That would explain the hair. She didn't even need to bleach it for it to look like that. Cow. Stevie lowered her head and focused at her clipboard. She was here to do a job. Not ogle the boss's son. "We'd best carry on with the list."
"Oh Tom, the house is simply da-arling!" Vienna's voice drifted across the lawn. "And this garden, it's so charmingly wild. I love it. It's so...atmospheric."
"Charmingly wild," Alice muttered. "Why doesn't she just say 'overgrown'? Silly bitch."
Stevie eyed the tumbling petunias and bleeding heart flowers. "Charmingly wild... Do you think we could get away with that?"
"What? Calling things by stupid euphemisms?"
Stevie laughed. "No, I meant having a part of the garden that looked a little wild. The lawn is pretty well kept. We can tidy of the herb garden and the rose beds. But we could leave the path with the flowers on as it is, like we've done it on purpose."
Alice looked across the lawn at the riot of blossoms. "So there'd be lots of flowers for people to see."
"We'd have to trim things back a little bit, so that they can walk on the path," said Stevie. "We could try and run some lights out into the bushes so that it's all lit up when it gets dark."
"Ooh, that sounds lovely," said Alice. "I think Gran's got some outdoor lanterns she uses for Christmas. We'd have to get some more though. Hers would only do about one tree."
"I've got some," said Stevie. "I bet the other ladies do too."
"We can get Gran to ask." Alice eyes sparkled. "That sounds brilliant, Stevie." She looked at her with frank admiration. Stevie suddenly felt awkward. Alice was only about fourteen and was clearly starting to see Stevie as some sort of role model. Flattering though that was, Stevie didn't feel like a grown up. The idea that someone might consider her to be worth emulating was laughable.
"Stevie. Alice." Tom was walking across the lawn, with Vienna tottering along behind him. "Have you got any tickets for the ball? Vienna wants to buy one."
"Alice? Little Alice?" said Vienna. "Oh my goodness, you've grown. You were just a little girl when I last saw you."
Alice gave Vienna a poisonous glare. "People get older." She looked Vienna up and down.
"Sad but true." She smiled at Stevie and extended a hand. "And you must be one of Alice's little friends. I'm Vienna."
Stevie drew a sharp breath, too taken aback to shake the offered hand.
"This is Stevie. The new event organiser," said Tom. "We're hoping she will rescue the whole project and turn it round."
Vienna gave Stevie an appraising look. "Gosh. Sorry. You have such lovely young skin." She flicked her hair back over her shoulder. "So you'll be the girl with the tickets, then?" She gave Stevie a winning smile. Clearly, she'd reassessed Stevie as an adult and decided that she was no threat. "I've got an early meeting the next day, so I won't be able to stay the whole night." She looked meaningfully up at Tom. "But I'd love to support such a good cause."
"Of course. I always carry a ticket book with me, as it happens." She whipped a booklet out of her shoulder bag. "Just the one ticket? Or will you be bringing a friend?"
"No, just the one." Vienna grinned, showing perfect teeth. "My usual date will be here already." She put her hand on Tom's arm.
Tom's smile looked a little uncomfortable.
* * * *
Later that day, Priya came round with a list of ingredients that she needed for the Sri Lankan snacks. "They're all available from a place in Cricklewood, in London," she said. "I can make the order by phone and make sure they have everything ready, but I'll need someone to pick it up."
Stevie was gazing out of the window. Vienna had left and Tom was mowing the lawn. It was a hot afternoon, so his rugby top lay crumpled on the steps. His iPod was clipped to his waist and looked almost luminous w
hite against his tan. She watched his muscled back as he pushed the mower up and down. He had a very nice back. Why was it that all the nice looking men in the world were either taken or grumpy buggers. Or, in Tom's case, both.
Stevie sighed. Still, there was nothing wrong with admiring him from afar, was there.
"Stevie?"
Stevie jumped. "Sorry Priya," she said, turning round. "I was thinking about the garden. What was that?"
Priya repeated what she'd said and handed her the list. Stevie scanned through. There was quite a lot of stuff. It looked like it would be heavy. She wouldn't possibly be able to carry all that back from London on the bus. She said so.
"Oh dear," said Priya. "What can we do?"
"I could hire a car," Stevie suggested.
"Tom's got a car," said Evelyn. "He can pick it up. And give you a lift too, next Sunday. You can save on bus fare."
While the idea made sense, that would mean that Stevie and Tom would be stuck in the same car for a long time. Somehow, Stevie didn't think he'd go for that. "Shouldn't we ask him if he minds?"
"Oh yes. Hang on." Evelyn struggled with the sash window and got it open. She leaned her thin torso far out of it.
Stevie had sudden visions of the sash window crashing down and chopping Evelyn in half. She hastily put a hand on the window, ready to catch it if it slipped.
"Tom," Evelyn hollered. "Oi, Tom!" She waved her arms to get his attention.
Tom stopped, removed his earphones and stopped the mower. "Yes?"
"Come here a minute, we've got to ask you something."
He nodded. Much to Stevie's disappointment, he retrieved his t-shirt. She caught a glimpse of an impressively toned stomach as he pulled it over his head, and then he was covered up.
"What's up?" Tom sauntered into the library a minute later, bringing the smell of freshly cut grass with him. "Oh, hi Priya."
"We need someone to pick this stuff up from a place in Cricklewood." Evelyn took the list off Stevie and pushed it into Tom's hand. "Priya will get them to have the whole order ready. All you'd have to do is pick it up."
Tom frowned as he scanned the list. "Okay."
"Oh, and you can give Stevie a lift in. It's pointless her spending all that money on the bus when you're coming here anyway."
"I can get to the shop early and check that the order is all there," suggested Stevie quickly.
"In fact," said Evelyn. "Why don't you give Stevie a lift home tonight? There's no point her sitting on a bus when you're going the same way."
"Oh, no," Stevie protested. Spending hours trapped in a car with a handsome man who thought she was a brainless child was fine when there was a good reason, like her needing a car to get the stuff to Oxford. To do it with no good reason was just madness. "It would be out of your way."
"You don't know where Tom lives. How can you know it's out of his way," Evelyn pointed out. "Besides, you can tell Tom all about the plans you have for the garden and advertising and things. He might be able to add some helpful suggestions."
Yeah, right. Tom Blackwood, offer her helpful suggestions. Like that was going to happen.
Tom gave a long-suffering sigh. "Fine. Where do you live?"
With Evelyn standing over her, Stevie had no choice but to tell him.
He sighed again. "That's not out of my way," he said with no trace of enthusiasm in his voice. "I'll give you a lift."
"No, I'm sure you need the down time to think through your work problems," said Stevie, trying to give him an out. "I'll be fine on the bus. I've already got a return ticket anyway."
Tom glanced at her. She thought she caught a glimmer of something in his eyes. Relief, probably. "Are you sure?"
"Absolutely."
Tom turned to Evelyn. "If you don't mind, Mum, I'm going to head off as soon as I've finished the lawn. I've got a pretty important interview tomorrow and I need to prepare."
Evelyn shrugged and Tom left.
Stevie couldn't help but feel slightly offended. He hadn't even bothered to pretend that he'd like to give her a lift. She shook her head and turned her thoughts back to the tasks at hand. The less time she spent thinking about Tom Blackwood the better.
Chapter 7
From: Tom Blackwood
To: Olivia Gornall
I rock! I totally aced that interview. They liked my presentation. They liked my ideas. I'd like to see Dierdre top that!
##
From: Olivia Gornall
To: Tom Blackwood
Okay. I take it the interview for Doha went well then. Good for you. Is the job in the bag then?
##
From: Tom Blackwood
To: Olivia Gornall
Well, it depends on Dierdre's performance. You never know, she might pull a rabbit out of a hat. She's a devious one.
All I can do now is wait and see.
I am off to have a drink or two to celebrate the whole thing being over. After that, it's back to the grindstone.
T
* * * *
The idea planted during her conversation with Alice had been growing slowly in Stevie's mind. The only thing that was causing her pause was the fact that she would have to talk to Jane. Still, there was less than two weeks left before the ball, so if she was going to do it, it would have to be now. She took a deep breath and punched out her brother's number. No, she reminded herself, it wasn't just Marsh's number. It was Jane's home too. And would soon be the baby's.
Jane answered after two rings.
"It's Stevie."
There was a pause. "Stevie. How are you? We've been worried about you."
"I'm fine thanks. How are you? Everything still going okay with the baby?"
Jane gave a little sigh. "Yes. We've got another scan coming up soon. We'll be able to see more then. But so far, touch wood, it all seems to be okay. No more scares."
"That's good." Stevie cast about for more pregnancy related chitchat. There were standard questions one was supposed to ask, but she couldn't think of any. She should have looked this up on the web before phoning Jane.
"Stevie," Jane took what sounded like a deep breath. "I'm so sorry about what happened. You really shouldn't blame Marsh for not telling you. He wanted to. I asked him not to. If you're angry with anyone, it should be me."
Stevie closed her eyes with the effort of not responding the way she wanted to. She and Marsh had argued before and they'd always worked it out between them. That was easier when Marsh had time for her. Which he no longer did now that he was married. Through gritted teeth, she said, "I understand."
"Good." The relief in Jane's voice was clear, even over the phone. "Marsh is out at the moment. He'll be really glad that you phoned. Are you at home? He'd love to talk to you."
"Actually, Jane. It's not Marsh I wanted to talk to. It's you."
"Me?"
"I...er...need a favour." She knew this was a very cheeky thing to be doing, but was going to do it anyway. She needed this gig to go well. It might be the springboard to the whole of her career. Before Jane could reply, she ploughed on. "I'm organising this charity ball in Oxford. It's to raise money for a children's hospital in Sri Lanka. Maybe even equip the baby care unit..." She added, hoping to appeal to Jane's maternal instincts.
"I know. Louise told us."
"I need to do some publicity work. And I was hoping you could put me in touch with your friend Pete."
"Pete? What do you need Pete for?" For someone who was normally so on the ball, Jane was being really dim.
Stevie rolled her eyes. "I was hoping I could persuade him to come. That would be great publicity for us and it would look good on him too."
"You want me to give you Pete's private number, so that you can rope him into doing some free publicity for you?"
That wasn't quite how Stevie would have put it, but it did cover w
hat she meant. "In a manner of speaking. Yes."
"And you might happen to mention the fact to a couple of magazines, maybe?"
"Er... maybe."
"No." There was no hesitation in Jane's voice. "No way."
"But Jane..."
"Stevie, you know how I feel about the press. I can't let you throw Pete to the press hounds like that."
In the past Jane had been the focus of a magazine campaign. It had caused her untold grief and had nearly ruined her relationship with Marsh. However, Stevie felt it was a little unfair of Jane to assume that everyone else felt the same way about the press as she did.
"Jane, Triphoppers isn't doing as well as it used to. They haven't had a top ten hit in ages. Pete might relish the chance to raise their profile a little bit. Maybe rebrand themselves as a more grown up band with a social conscience. I know his lyrics have been tending towards more serious subjects lately."
"No, Stevie."
Stevie sighed. "Okay. Okay. I'm sorry I asked. I just thought you'd be able to help out, you know, with it being my first job. Now I know otherwise. That's fine."
"Don't try to guilt trip me, Stevie. That's not fair."
What's not fair is you pushing me out of my own brother's life.
She didn't say anything. The silence stretched a little beyond a comfortable gap in the conversation.
"I'll tell Marsh to call you as soon as he gets back," Jane said.
"Actually, I'm going to be quite busy in the next couple of weeks. I have to try and drum up some support for this ball somehow. Tell Marsh I'll call him sometime after."
"Stevie..." A pleading note came into Jane's voice. Perhaps she was feeling guilty about not helping. Or maybe about shutting Stevie out of the important family news for so long. Either way, Stevie pursed her lips. She felt nothing but anger towards Jane at the moment.
"Stevie? Are you still there?"
Stevie hung up.
* * * *
From: Olivia Gornall
To: Tom Blackwood
Hey, looks like I'll be there to see your performance at the Pickering meeting. I'm keeping the side up for Legal.