The Birds and the Bees

by Milly Johnson

  Matthew was shocked, puzzled, confused, bewildered. Matthew felt like he had just been punched in the stomach.

  ‘Sorry, it’ll just be fish and chips,’ said Stevie. ‘I haven’t been shopping these past few days, I’ve been a bit…preoccupied.’

  ‘It would be better if you went for the fish and chips,’ said Adam. ‘It looks then as if I’m already established in the house.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Stevie, seeing the sense in that. ‘Danny, get your shoes on, pet.’

  ‘Aw, Mummy, can’t I stay here with Well Life Man?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ said Stevie.

  ‘Pleee-ease!’

  ‘He’s okay,’ said Adam, not immediately seeing the problem. ‘We can talk about hero stuff.’

  ‘Cool!’

  ‘I don’t want my son used as a tactic, Mr…Adam,’ said Stevie quietly near his ear. Well, three foot beneath it, which was as close as she could get without stilts.

  ‘He won’t be. If the wee guy disnae want to go, I’ll look after him till ye get back. I don’t mind at all.’

  ‘Absolutely no way. No chance. Impossible.’

  Stevie shook her head again and in such a way that it switched on a three-million watt light bulb in Adam’s head.

  ‘You think I might hurt him, is that it?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know you all that well, do I, to leave my child in your capable or incapable hands?’

  ‘Surely you wouldn’t think that your child isn’t safe with me?’ MacLean looked genuinely taken aback, as if she really had hit him where it hurt.

  No, she didn’t think that at all, really. Ignoring the fact that he looked like a primitive heavyweight boxer-cum-maniac-savage, in her heart of hearts Stevie didn’t think Adam MacLean would hurt her child. Even if he could duff up a duplicitous adult bitch in the comfort of their own home.

  ‘Please, Mummy!’

  ‘Here, take this,’ said Adam, stretching a ten-pound note out to her.

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ said Stevie, pushing it back. ‘I owe you one for helping me out earlier anyway.’

  Adam ignored her and stuffed it in her handbag whilst she was preoccupied with calming down her son.

  ‘Please, Mummmeee!’ whined Danny.

  ‘No, you come with me.’

  ‘Awww!’ Danny’s face creased up and threatened tears, but Stevie did not give an inch.

  ‘Look, Superheroes need er…privacy to set the table. We’ll only be five minutes. Come on, get your shoes on.’

  ‘Please, Mummy!’ With the non-negotiable obstinacy of a four year old, Danny was not going anywhere.

  ‘C’moan, leave him, you’ll only be five minutes,’ said Adam.

  Danny turned on his most charming blue-eyed smile. Stevie knew when she was beaten.

  ‘I’ll be less than five minutes,’ she said, making it sound more like a warning than a statement of fact.

  Her boy would be okay. Her maternal instinct had no doubts on that score. But still, she ran up the road like a hungry Linford Christie.

  Across the road, Matthew had just about shut his jaw when he saw Stevie come out of the house, on her own. That meant she had left Danny and MacLean alone together. She would do that? After all she knew about him? Then again, it hadn’t stopped her snogging him, had it? Or worse. My God, he was a true charmer, that much was true, and Stevie must be very vulnerable at the moment, especially today, the perfect time for such a manipulator to take full advantage of her. Matt felt a huge pull to go over there and check everything was all right. He really would never forgive himself if MacLean hurt Stevie too. Or Danny.

  ‘What are you looking at, babe?’ called Jo from the sofa, where she was painting her toenails.

  ‘Er…nothing, darling.’

  It crossed his mind to tell Jo her ex had just been snogging his ex, but he couldn’t gauge what her reaction would be. Recently her selfless, caring consideration for Stevie’s welfare had segued into jealous sulks every time her name came up. So Matthew kept to the safe path, buttoned his lip and came away from the window. He didn’t want to spoil this lovely weekend they were having, although a letter from the bank to inform him that his loan payment had bounced had rather done that already. Could he please rectify the situation immediately? Oh, and he had been charged fifty quid for the letter.

  There was a queue at the chip shop as a fresh batch of fish had only just gone in. The shop-owner made a joke about it, and though Stevie smiled politely, she didn’t find it in the least bit amusing. Her nerves were as tight as harp-strings.

  I shouldn’t have left him with MacLean, she thought after foot-tapping in the queue for what felt like an eternity. She was on the verge of exiting empty-handed when the chip man eventually said, ‘Right now, love, what can I get you?’

  She ran back with the warm parcel in her hands, her head playing the most awful tricks on her. Danny and MacLean alone together! What sort of mother was she? To make it worse, she could hear sounds of distress that grew louder the nearer she got to the cottage. They weren’t in her over-active imagination either–her boy really was screaming.

  Stevie sprinted to the door and threw it open to find Danny squealing and MacLean attacking him. She threw down the parcel on the nearby dining table and launched herself at MacLean, climbing fearlessly on his back and trying to get a grip on his cropped hair. Failing, she started clobbering him with her handbag instead.

  ‘Get off my son, you animal!’ she screeched.

  ‘Ow!’ said Adam, the one word recognizable amongst the guttural exclamations of pain.

  ‘Mummy, what are you doing!’ said Danny, watching her in a most unharmed way.

  Stevie stopped mid-batter. ‘Are you okay, love?’

  ‘Yes, Adam was showing me some Well Life Man Superhero moves.’

  Stevie slid down off Adam’s back. ‘Sorry,’ she said meekly, ‘I thought…’

  ‘S’okay,’ said Adam, rubbing his head and wincing. ‘It’s just a bit of jujitsu. It means “the gentle art”. Maybe you should come tae a few classes. That’s a heavy wee bag ye’ve got there.’

  Stevie didn’t mean to burst into laughter, but then it was a very odd day. The sort of day, in fact, that made the Big Dipper at Blackpool look like a baby ride. Adam’s laugh joined hers, and then they both stopped abruptly. That was twice they’d shared laughter now; it was in danger of becoming a habit.

  Adam arranged the fish on the plates and fish bits for Danny, whilst Stevie shared the chips out.

  ‘No chips for you, Dannyman?’ said Adam.

  ‘I don’t like chips,’ said Danny.

  ‘Wannae try some of mine? Potatoes are really good for you, you know. They teach you that at Superhero School. Carbohydrates–give you energy. Isn’t that right, Mammy?’

  ‘Erm…yes,’ agreed Stevie.

  Danny’s face registered total amazement. ‘Really?’

  There and then, the little boy rediscovered a fondness for the potato.

  ‘She’s been for fish and chips,’ said Matthew. He had unconsciously gravitated back to the window and become so engrossed in what he was witnessing that he hardly realized he was thinking aloud. Stevie was running back to the house as if the devil was on her heels–as if she couldn’t keep away from him–which annoyed Matthew even further. ‘So he’s eating there…’

  ‘Who is eating where?’ said Jo. Realization dawned on her face and soured her smiling expression. ‘Oh I get it, you’re spying on her. Why? Why are you so interested in her all the time?’

  ‘I’m not. Nothing could be further from my mind. Just thinking something through for work. Just looking into thin air, not over there. Pah!’ said Matthew, desperately trying to head off an argument. Not wanting her to see MacLean’s car, he whizzed the curtains shut. ‘Look, that’s how much I care about her. Let’s go into the garden, my love. Shall we open a bottle of wine? I think I could do with a glass.’

  ‘Yes, that would be nice,’ said Jo, uncurling her lip. ‘Oh that reminds
me–do you think ordinary champagne or vintage for the wedding toast?’

  ‘Er, let me think about that one,’ said Matthew, and reached for the last remaining bottle of Chablis in his once impressively-sized wine cache.

  ‘So what was going on at the party then, with that idiot?’ said Adam, helping Stevie to clear the table as Danny took an Alp of ice cream into the lounge.

  ‘Oh, he’s one of the dads,’ Stevie started to explain. ‘Once upon a time he found out that I can’t stand loud noises–party poppers, crackers….’

  ‘Tyres squealing…’

  ‘Precisely, and I hate–loathe–balloons. So he thinks it’s hilarious to torment me with them every time he sees me.’

  ‘Could you no’ tell him to bugger aff?’

  ‘I don’t want to cause trouble,’ said Stevie. ‘I can live with it. It was just that today he stepped over the mark. Said something a bit offensive.’

  ‘Whit?’

  ‘Oh nothing. It’s probably just me over-reacting.’

  ‘No, c’moan, whit was it?’

  ‘No, really I can’t, it’s embarrassing.’

  ‘C’moan, tell me!’

  Stevie pulled in a deep breath and told him.

  ‘Whit? Cheeky swine!’ said Adam. He felt offended and angry for her. Why were some blokes such pigs? If he’d known that, he’d have…he’d have…

  ‘I would have batted it away, but today being today, well, it didn’t help, I suppose,’ Stevie went on, forcing out a smile.

  ‘Was it your…er…today?’ Adam struggled and coughed over the key words.

  ‘Yes,’ said Stevie, quickly changing the subject. ‘Anyway, coffee?’

  ‘Aye, please.’

  She put the box of chocolates on the table that Crystal had sent her after reading the Paris and Brandon manuscript. She had loved it, apparently.

  ‘Oooh, choccies! And very expensive choccies tae!’ said Adam with delight, and aimed for a knobbly-looking nut one.

  ‘Present from my boss,’ said Stevie.

  ‘So what do you do again?’

  ‘Not telling.’

  ‘Oh come on, spill the beans. It cannae be that bad.’

  She opened her mouth to tell him, then recalled that look he had given her book. It had been one of Midnight Moon’s bestsellers too. No, she wouldn’t tell him. There were only so many batterings her ego could take at the moment.

  ‘Have as many chocs as you like. An extra sorry for trying to scalp you,’ said Stevie, putting a cafetière on the table.

  ‘No real damage done, so far as I can tell. I’ve a heid like a coconut,’ he said with a twinkle and rapped on it with his knuckle. ‘That smells nice–what sort of coffee’s that?’

  ‘Madagascan vanilla. I get it from the coffee shop in Town End, where they sell all the gorgeous puddings. I’ve a spare packet if you want to take it home with you. I always go a bit mad in the shop and overbuy.’

  ‘Thanks, that would be very nice,’ said Adam, watching as Stevie crossed to the cupboard. Then he snatched his eyes away, suspecting he might have actually been on the verge of assessing her in a boy-girl way.

  ‘What flavour do you want?’ Stevie started to read the labels. ‘Vanilla, Irish Liqueur, Maple Syrup and Walnut…er…Death by Chocolate?’

  ‘Oh, Death by Chocolate definitely.’

  No surprise there then.

  Stevie handed it over to him. ‘It’ll make your house smell like a cake shop, that one.’

  ‘I’m no’ bothered aboot the house,’ said Adam quietly. ‘I don’t want to be in there without Jo really, and there are just too many reminders of her around. If she doesn’t come back, I’ll sell it.’

  ‘Where would you go?’

  ‘I’d have to stay around the area for my job. I like it here, we made friends–you know, people like Will.’

  ‘He married my friend Catherine’s cousin.’

  ‘Aye, so I gathered. He’s a great guy. For a Lowlander.’

  They sat in contemplative silence for a moment, both realizing that they might actually have to start making alternative plans for their lives soon, if Jo and Matthew didn’t come back to them. Adam was going to move, it seemed. What would Stevie do? Where would she go?

  Adam took the initiative and poured the coffee before it climbed out of the cafetière itself.

  ‘I don’t think we need the hired-car adventure tomorrow now, do you?’ he said, as he was halfway down his drink.

  ‘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.

  Chapter 36

  ‘If you could give me a little m
ore 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?