The Birds and the Bees

by Milly Johnson

  ‘And I am getting to know all about you, Mr MacLean, or should I say Mr MacQueen.’

  ‘All good things, I hope,’ he sparkled back.

  ‘Well, if the hero of Highland Fling is based on you, I think we can expect to have a bit of a bestseller on our hands.’

  What was that name she’d asked for at first? B something or other? Adam reached over and picked up a nearby Midnight Moon by Betty Proctor and said craftily, ‘Do you think it will be better than Forever in Dreams?’

  ‘Oh, good God, I hope so. Betty Proctor isn’t a patch on Beatrice Pollen. She only lasted two books. Bea, sorry, Stevie, has a very great following. Can you ask her to give me a ring and tell her, in the interim, that I love Damme MacQueen, I love Evie Sweetwell and I want the rest of the chapters of Highland Fling finished ASAP. I’ll simply die if he doesn’t kiss her soon.’

  ‘I will do that indeed.’

  ‘And tell Miss Honeywell that she is a very dark horse and I expect a full update when she calls. She’ll know what that means.’ Crystal gave a very salacious giggle and finished with a ‘ciao’ that was as rich as a tiramisu. Adam put the phone down slowly. Well, well, well! No wonder she wouldn’t tell him what she did after all the scorn he had, inadvertently, poured on her stories. So that’s why there were Beatrice Pollen books all over the place. He worked his way along the shelf until he came to a book written by Ms Pollen, then he got himself a coffee from the nice full percolator that belonged to Beatrice, aka Stevie, settled down with book and breakfast in the sunroom, and began to read.

  Matthew rang Jo to see if she wanted to go out for lunch but once again, she declined. Then their paths crossed when he was going out for ‘his dentist’s appointment’. She scurried away from him, which confused him, because he thought they were friends again now, what with all that sex and promise of more. She looked quite worried about something. Maybe it was delayed shock after what he had told her last night. He would buy her a present on the way back from the bank, he decided.

  ‘Flaming heck!’ said Robert Gilroy, Matthew’s account handler. He looked about twelve and made Matthew feel the same age with comments like, ‘What a blooming mess!’ No doubt he would send out for lashings of ginger beer in a minute.

  Matthew nodded regretfully.

  ‘Is this the full picture or is there more? People do tend to hide stuff and it’s hardly wise if you want help.’

  ‘That’s it,’ said Matthew. ‘Honestly.’

  Robert Gilroy tapped away on his laptop, and then twisted it round for Matthew to see.

  ‘That’s how much interest you’re paying per month at the moment on all your debt.’

  ‘Bloody hell and a half,’ gulped Matthew.

  ‘The thing is, we’ve given you one consolidated loan already and what did you pay off?’

  ‘Er…’ said Matthew, feeling that he was going to be asked to bend over in a moment and have a cane applied to his rear end.

  ‘Enough said, I think,’ said Robert Gilroy. ‘For a person who earns this much money per annum, you should have a good amount of disposable income. I’m having trouble believing how you actually manage to eat.’

  ‘I need help,’ admitted Matthew, closer to tears than he had been in years. ‘I’m a spendaholic.’

  ‘Do you spend to make yourself feel better? Spend to win and influence people?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Have you considered counselling in tandem with this?’

  ‘I can’t afford any,’ said Matthew despairingly.

  ‘It’s free if you go through your doctor.’

  ‘I may need to,’ said Matthew. ‘But so far as the actual money goes, can you help?’

  ‘Well, yep,’ said Robert Gilroy, and watched as Matthew’s tense shoulders dropped with relief. ‘You’ll be tied to this debt for at least five years but it will give you breathing space to have some quality of life. The debt will be cheaper if you secure it against your home, obviously. That wouldn’t be a problem–you have plenty of equity in the house, I see. How solid is your job?’

  ‘Rock solid,’ said Matthew with absolute surety. He was good at his job, knew what he was doing and the company was financially stable and growing healthily so there were no worries about securing the loan against his house.

  ‘Right, now get out your plastic,’ said Robert Gilroy.

  ‘What–now?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘All of it?’ Matthew started to cold sweat.

  ‘On our own card account we can give you zero per cent interest for fourteen months. You will be able to transfer sixty per cent of your debt over to it, but when the card itself arrives, I suggest you cut it up, although I haven’t said that. Okay, let’s have the cards.’

  Matthew felt like a child that had been asked to turn out his pockets and have all his sweets confiscated. For his own good though, before they rotted all his teeth.

  Robert Gilroy handed him a pair of scissors.

  ‘I’ve got a present to buy. For my girlfriend,’ Matthew whimpered as the scissors scraped his emergency Goldfish.

  ‘Give her a massage,’ said Robert Gilroy. ‘She’ll only moan that you’ve made her fat if you buy chocolates.’

  ‘I was thinking of a gold necklace.’

  Robert Gilroy raised his eyebrows. ‘She’ll leave you anyway if you continue to wake up screaming and sweating in the middle of the night because you’re so debt-ridden. If your heart doesn’t give out first. Cut, please.’

  Matthew sliced. So severe was the pain, he had to look down because he thought he had cut his finger off.

  Chapter 44

  When Stevie came home with four big bags of shopping, it was to find Adam MacLean in the sunroom, nearing the middle of a book. He had tidied around and vacuumed up. Something else she couldn’t remember Matthew doing much of.

  ‘Hello,’ he greeted her.

  ‘Hello,’ she said a trifle awkwardly. She still hadn’t quite got over the embarrassment of their little staged scrabble on the floor. She had kept having burning flashbacks since. Then she realized what he was reading: Winter of Content by herself in disguise as Beatrice Pollen. It was one of her more passionate pieces, in which an imaginary Grand Duke of Russia falls for a servant girl. She tried to ignore the fact that he was reading it. At least he didn’t know she’d written it, for then, she suspected, her life wouldn’t be worth living.

  ‘I had a day off today. Didn’t bring any books to read with me so I thought I’d have a go at this,’ he explained.

  ‘Oh right,’ said Stevie. She refused to give him any ammunition to shoot her with and acted disinterested.

  ‘I can see now why people buy them. There’s actually quite a nice story go’n on here.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, but not trusting him. There was a sting around the corner, she could almost smell it. He put it down, saving the page he was on with a comb from his pocket.

  ‘Here, let me give you a hand,’ he said.

  ‘I’m all right.’

  He ignored her and started to take things out of bags.

  ‘No not that one!’ she screamed as he put some tampons down on the table.

  ‘Christ, woman, I do know women menstruate. It’s of no great surprise to me!’ He moved his attentions to a carrier that looked full of bulky veg to save her further blushes, though. ‘By the way, you had a call from someone called Crystal. Wanted you to phone her back,’ he dropped casually.

  ‘What did she say?’ asked Stevie. Trying to sound as casual in return.

  ‘Nothing really. Funny, she kept getting my name wrong and calling me Damme MacQueen.’

  Bugger!

  ‘Oh…er…she’s like that. Bit old and doddery. Thanks for taking the message.’

  He grinned behind her back. ‘I thought I might take you and Danny out for a pizza, if you like.’

  ‘There’s really no need.’

  ‘I want to. I fancy a pizza and didn’t want to eat out alone.’

  ‘Thank you for t
he offer,’ she said, not looking directly at him, ‘but I don’t want my son getting too excited about you being here and becoming attached to you. He’s already far keener to see you than I ever expected. I don’t want him getting hurt.’

  ‘Okay, I understand,’ said Adam and he did, but he could not quite manage to mask the note of disappointment in his voice. He liked the little boy. Danny reminded him of himself at that age, quiet and intense with a head full of stories about outsmarting life’s baddies. Not that his mum had been anything like Stevie, and that, he considered, was a great shame.

  As a courtesy to Stevie, Adam made himself scarce after saying a quick hello to Danny when he came in from school. He went off for a long run, making sure he wasn’t back before Danny went to bed at half-past seven. He returned warm and sweaty to find Stevie outside deadheading a few of the roses that trailed up the front walls of the cottage, twisted up with the sweet perfumed honeysuckle.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, going into the cottage. ‘Can I get you a cold drink?’

  ‘I’m okay, thanks,’ she said, and carried on snipping. He wondered if she was wishing each one was his head. He had gone a bit far the other day, chucking her on the floor and tickling her. Although Matty Boy’s reaction had proved the end justified the means. He had seen the spark of jealousy flaring in his eyes, the anger that Adam was messing with something he still considered his. Matthew actually looked as if he might hit him at one point. In saying that, he was still living with Joanna, so they weren’t quite home and dry yet.

  He heard Stevie yelp and the secateurs drop to the ground and rushed out to see what the matter was.

  ‘I think I’ve just been stung,’ she said, trying to shake off her glove. Sure enough, in the crook of her arm was a still-throbbing sting.

  ‘Here.’ He pulled out her arm, then pincered out the sting, lowered his lips and started to suck.

  ‘Ow!’

  ‘Wheesht, woman, I’m trying to help you.’

  He sucked and spat, sucked and spat.

  ‘Christ, can’t they get a fucking room,’ said Jo, who had just gone to the sink for a glass of water and seen them in passing. She couldn’t bear to stand and watch, but she couldn’t move away from the window either. The sight of Adam with her was driving her mad. He was actually kissing her up the arm in full view of the street. They looked bloody ridiculous. She tore herself away and jumped onto Matthew’s lap on the sofa, knocking away the newspaper he was engrossed in.

  ‘Make love to me now,’ she said. Take away the picture I have in my head.

  ‘Er…okay,’ said Matthew, as Jo unleashed her breasts, but in the end, it was only her he satisfied. There was a picture in his own head that just kept getting in the way.

  Stevie watched Adam’s lips work on the soft skin on the inside of her arm and suddenly felt a greater sting inside her than the now-dead creature had given her. She gently pulled her arm away.

  ‘I think that might have done it,’ she said stiffly, to over-compensate for the swirly, heady feelings that were taking over her brain. Obviously the effects of insect poison. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Poor wee thing,’ said Adam.

  ‘Sorry, wasp,’ said Stevie.

  ‘It’s a bee,’ Adam corrected her. ‘Wasps just keep on stinging, but alas, when a bee does it, it gives its all.’

  Stevie felt ridiculously and inexplicably tearful.

  ‘I didn’t even feel him on my arm or I would have knocked him away.’

  ‘Her,’ said Adam. ‘The drones don’t have stings. They’re only made to mate. It’s the women that dae aw the damage.’

  ‘Bee expert are you now?’ said Stevie, the snap in her voice masking the wobble in her legs.

  ‘My granda’ used to keep bees. We lived on honey pieces–bread and honey–when we were wee. He knew everything there was to know aboot bees.’

  ‘Is there that much to know?’ said Stevie.

  ‘You’d be surprised. I could wax lyrical, or should that be “beeswax” lyrical on the subject–they’re marvellous wee creatures. For instance, did you know honeybees dance to tell aw the others where the nectar and pollen is? It’s called a waggle dance. And that bumble bees come oot earliest in the year because they’re basically wearing fur coats. And did you know that the bee is the only insect that produces food eaten by man? Unless you’re partial to ant spittle, that is.’

  Stevie smiled. Bees with fur coats on, bees dancing. Danny would have been fascinated by all that.

  ‘I’ll go in and get a plaster,’ she said, suddenly uncomfortable in the silence that hung warm and heady between them, thick and sweet as the honey in their conversation. She retreated inside.

  Adam looked across at Matthew’s house. The light had just gone on upstairs and Jo was holding the curtains. She looked down at him, glared, and tugged them shut. Yes, it was the women that did aw the damage.

  Chapter 45

  Jo had a headache the next day and phoned in sick. Although she put it a little more dramatically than that, Matthew noticed as he eavesdropped over the upstairs balcony. She seemed to sob a little and say she couldn’t get in and would explain later. Matthew volunteered to stay off and keep her company but she said she just wanted to sleep it off. For once, he didn’t try to change her mind and went out to the car alone. The sight of Adam MacLean’s fancy car across the lane greeted him once again, and though he wasn’t a violent man, he wanted to rush across to it and smash into it with a sledgehammer.

  Later at work, Adam was trying to catch up on some paperwork in his office but his head was all over the place. He thought of little Danny’s face lighting up every time he saw him. He thought of his own heart warming up every time he saw little Danny. Then he thought of little Danny’s mother and he didn’t know what the hell happened to him when he saw her. She was quite the most infuriating woman he had ever met, the antithesis to everything that had ever attracted him in a woman. She was nothing like Jo or Diane, or the others before them, in their tall, slender, cold, dark-haired moulds.

  There was a confident knock on his door, and he yelled out his customary, ‘Come awn in.’

  It wasn’t a member of staff wanting help or keys or a word. It was a woman looking tall and slender, cold and beautiful in a powder-blue suit with long, swishy dark hair and eyes the colour of molasses.

  ‘Hello, Adam,’ said the smiling red lips of the last person in the world he expected to see.

  Stevie pulled into the gym car park next to a red Golf. Jo had a red Golf, although it was hardly likely to be her car, thank goodness. At least in the gym Stevie was spared the sight of her destructive beauty, daring her to confront Jo with what she had done. Stevie had once purposefully confronted Linda and come off worst, and vowed she would never again sacrifice her dignity like that, but if she bumped accidentally into Jo MacLean she couldn’t guarantee that her primal instincts wouldn’t take over, leading her to launch herself at her rival and punch her treacherous, lying face in. She wanted to hurt her more for what she had done to her son’s life than her own. It was just as well it wasn’t Jo’s car, after all.

  She transferred the burst of energy that her sudden fury had triggered off in her by managing to do a fifteen-minute run on the treadmill, her best yet. She had grown to like coming to the gym. The physical exercise of running cleared her head–even if it was on a rubber belt indoors and not in the fresh air and the sunshine. Having such a sedentary job, she needed to get her heart pumping a bit more, although it had been on an emotional treadmill that had made it pump quite enough recently. At least it would all be over soon. One way or another.

  Matthew had always been smiling in the old days when they had been together. Now every time Stevie saw him, he looked totally miserable. Crazy, really, when he had everything he set out to get. Jo didn’t look much happier, either. She was always scowling, which was warped because Stevie had nothing she wanted. Jo had Matthew and his house and, with a snap of her fingers, she could have had Adam and his big house back. S
he couldn’t imagine that Jo was jealous of her figure and short legs, so if she wasn’t happy with the lot she had created for herself, then she could rot in hell as far as Stevie was concerned. Some people just wanted what they couldn’t have, until they got it–only to find they didn’t want it after all.

  She had a quick shower and went back to her car to find that the red Golf had gone, and that someone had scraped their key viciously along her driver’s side door.

  When Matthew got home, Jo was still in bed. She looked really ill actually, pale and puffy-eyed, from a lot of crying.

  ‘You need to take tomorrow off work too,’ he said, soothing her brow.

  ‘No, I need to go to work tomorrow more than anything,’ she said, shrinking away from his hand. ‘Please, Matthew, just leave me alone.’

  And so he did.

  ‘Guess what? Mum got stinged last night,’ said Danny, flinging himself at Adam as he came in through the door.

  ‘Yes, I know, I was there,’ he said, attempting a smile, but he felt so tired, so drained.

  ‘Come on, Danny, let Adam get in through the door,’ said Stevie, pulling him gently away.

  ‘Honey is bees’ poo.’

  ‘Danny!’

  ‘That’s what Curtis Ryder says. And milk is cows’ wee. Mrs Apple Crumble made him sit on the naughty chair today for trumping in storytime.’

  ‘Mrs Abercrombie did the right thing then, didn’t she?’

  Despite his far from jolly spirits, Adam let loose a lion’s-lungsworth of laughter. It felt so good to laugh, he needed to laugh and it felt even better to be home with a family, even though it wasn’t his home or his family. Nevertheless, he was grateful for the welcoming presence of a child and the warm no-nonsense of a woman.

  ‘I don’t know where they get these ideas from,’ said Stevie crossly.

  ‘Well, that Curtis Ryder has things a little wrong there,’ said Adam. ‘Bees make honey for food, and they have been doing so for millions and millions of years. They collect pollen as food for their young.’