She carried the pie in to him, smiled bashfully and then doubled back quickly into the study, although she wanted to sit with him, wanted to be near him. But she couldn’t. She wasn’t slim or tall or pretty enough for him to cast that sort of glance in her direction.
Adam sighed deeply as the study door closed behind her because he really wanted just to sit with her, wanted her to be near him. He shifted his attention to the thick-crusted pie she had set in front of him. She’d even made a pastry thistle on the top of it for him. He hadn’t really eaten properly since Jo had come to see him. Strangely enough though, his thoughts had not been for her tonight whilst he stood at the window and looked across at the house opposite. They had all been for Finch, who hadn’t a clue yet that the awesome hurricane which had swung into his life, would rip out his innards when it left–and that would be soon. He almost felt sorry for him. His stomach suddenly gave a big growl as the smell of the thick onion gravy drifted up his nostrils, but his heart gave a louder, hungrier growl for what that fool Finch had thrown away. Sadly, the thing that would have satisfied it was not on the menu.
Chapter 49
Matthew went into work alone again the next day, leaving Jo behind to pack for a two-day conference she had suddenly announced she was going on. A very short time ago, he couldn’t bear to be out of her sight for even a few minutes, but now he was glad she was going. He would appreciate the space from her and her white-knuckle-ride moods. They were barely talking at home, they hardly spoke at work, and he knew she was avoiding contact with him there. The only place they interchanged was in bed, and even that was becoming tiresome. Her sexual demands were becoming stranger and rougher, the sulks greater when he denied her. He had come to hate the sight of that mouth gathered into a spoilt-child moue that he once considered so sexy.
He tried not to let himself believe that he had made a fatal error exchanging what he had with Stevie for this, but the evidence was piling up by the binful and he could no longer ignore the stink it made. He had been an idiot. Take away the sex and the temporary joy of spending money from his relationship with Jo and there was nothing left. Theirs was a simple arrangement: he gave out and she took. He realized he was exhausted emotionally and physically as well as financially.
He had a lunch meeting at noon in the boardroom, which was, at least, something to look forward to. There would be a few big execs present and as such, the in-house catering would be top-notch. They always rolled out the posh sandwich fillings when people like Bill Phillips and Jim Leighton made an appearance. It promised to be quite a jolly affair, with a few other faces present that he hadn’t seen much of recently. Matthew badly needed the lift of spirits such good company would give him. He passed the morning quietly, with his head down, biding his time until then.
At twelve, he walked into the boardroom and instantly felt the air temperature drop, as if someone had switched on a fan. There was nothing he could actually put his finger on. People spoke to him and greeted him, but with a hint of coolness, an awkward reservation of which he was all too aware. Maybe he was just worn down with all this business at home; maybe he needed to get some anti-paranoia pills. Or Maybe he needed to be bitten by a werewolf and become one, because that’s what Jo seemed to want in bed. He felt worse than ever when he came out of the meeting, which had only served to depress him more than he was already. Then, if that wasn’t enough, he got a call from Personnel at two-thirty to ask if he could bob down to see Colin Seed for a few minutes.
Colin Seed was slightly different from his usual dull, brown self when he let Matthew into his office. He was sporting a trendy tie with fish on it and his hair looked slightly darker, as if he had been experimenting with some ‘Just for Men’ but had got it ever so slightly wrong.
‘Please sit down,’ he said politely enough. Matthew sat and waited for Colin to begin, not able to imagine what this was about. He didn’t have to wait long to find out.
‘It’s come to my attention that you are making quite a lot of personal phone calls.’
Oh, that old chestnut! Matthew breathed out two lungfuls of relief. God, Seedy really was desperate for his backside!
‘Colin, I’ve made a couple, and they were local and important.’
‘…And you’ve been lying about your whereabouts.’
‘My what? My where—’
‘Even though you are a Departmental Manager, Matthew, this company has always prided itself on equal rights for all. If you had discovered that one of your staff was at a personal meeting at the bank after filling in a request form for time off for a dental appointment, would you or would you not take action?’
‘Well…’ Matthew couldn’t think of anything, except that the only person who knew about that was Jo.
‘Quite frankly, Matthew, your work attitude stinks. I can’t count the number of times you’ve been late in recently.’
This wasn’t happening.
‘The worst, I’m afraid, is yet to come,’ Colin said, his voice tightening like a tourniquet. ‘Your blatant harassment of Miss MacLean will not be tolerated by this company.’
‘My what?’ He rose.
‘Sit down!’ barked Colin. ‘I myself have been witness to your phone calls to her, obsessively keeping tabs on her, deluging her with unwanted gifts, seen first-hand the disgusting violence you’ve subjected her to…’
‘Hang on, what’s this got to do with work? We live together, Colin, we’re lovers! You’ve got no right to interfere…’
‘Miss MacLean asked me for help.’
‘Whaaat?’
‘I think your inability to realize that your relationship has ended has greatly affected your function in this company and made your position untenable. We are a big family here, we protect our people, we don’t want men like you working here and threatening the safety of our females. So it is with great regret, especially after such an unblemished career, I have to announce that we shall have to let you go.’
Matthew laughed derisively. He was in a bad dream, brought about by the stress of performing sexual gymnastics fourteen times a night.
‘What do you mean, I can’t accept my relationship’s ended? This is nuts! It hasn’t ended–it’s still going strong! We are still going strong! We’re planning our bloody wedding, for God’s sake!’
Colin shook his head as if Matthew had just proved how delusional he was and so there was no point continuing this conversation.
‘You’ll be paid until the end of the month and obviously your holiday entitlement will be converted into salary.’
‘You have to be kidding.’ Matthew felt sick, light-headed. This was surreal. ‘I’m being sacked? For living with my girlfriend?’
‘No, Matthew, for gross misconduct,’ said Colin Seed with loud disgust. ‘At Miss MacLean’s request, though frankly I think it’s a hideously overgenerous one, I will not record on your personnel record what a disgusting, violent little bully you are if you go quietly and discreetly. The poor girl is a wreck. She can’t breathe without your permission. You’re lucky she isn’t pressing police charges. Now get out, and if you aren’t out of this building in ten minutes, I’ll get Security to throw you out.’
Security threat or no, the first thing Matthew did when he got back to his office was ring Jo’s mobile. It clicked straight onto voicemail. He grabbed his coat and blindly stuffed things into his briefcase because a Countdown-type clock was ticking in his ears. So he hadn’t been imagining things; people really had been looking at him strangely. Worse than that, even, with sex-beast specs on. He felt like crying from the injustice of it. He didn’t look up; he didn’t want to see the stares of people who had it all wrong. But then, not meeting their eyes made him look guilty. He didn’t know what to do for the best and he couldn’t bear it. It was like being trapped in a nightmare. There was no oxygen in the building. He left quickly and quietly, and almost fainted when the fresh outside air rushed into his lungs. He would sort this; he would clear his name. He needed to see Jo–she would
back him up against that twisted, sex-starved old woman Colin Seed. She would make everything all right.
Jo MacLean heard the mobile ring and she clicked ‘ignore’. It was Matthew. She relished the thought of the panic he must be in now, but she felt no sympathy. Not once had he convinced her he was the Golden Goose but a second time, with that ridiculous paltry lottery win. What he had coming to him would serve him right, because if she had known the truth about his financial state, she would never have left Adam.
Out of all the men she’d had, she really had regretted letting Adam go the most. He’d been lovely–kind, generous and so very gentle. She hadn’t even minded that much about the revolting ponytail and long straggly beard he had been growing to shave off for charity, and that spoke volumes. She wished now that she had stayed and married him–well, for a while anyway. He had been bitten hard before and was nervous about taking that step, but she would have won him over to the idea, had she not been distracted by Matthew and his hot-air talk about his so-called investments.
She had started to notice weeks ago that Colin Seed was a far more frequent visitor to the department than usual. Matthew had hit the nail on the head thinking Jo was the attraction. It had been so easy to hook him: a few tears by his Bentley in the executive car park and he was putty in her hands. He was the contingency plan she put into place, just in case things soured with Matthew. Jo MacLean always liked to have a contingency plan. She made sure she was in total control of her own destiny.
Then she had seen Adam with Stevie and it had driven her half-crazy. It surprised her, because she didn’t think herself capable of feelings that deep. She wanted him back immediately, and it never occurred to her that the space she had left in his life would not still be open to her. She had gone to see him at the gym, wearing one of the suits he had bought for her, her hair down as he liked it best, but he had turned her down. He said he didn’t love her any more.
Now Jo’s suitcases were in her car ready to take to Colin’s house–Colin’s monstrously huge eight-bedroomed house in the most elegant part of Leeds suburbia–and even better, she had persuaded him to take the position in New York.
Adoration, love-gifts, a new life in the Big Apple and pots of real money to look forward to–this time Jo MacLean, the ultimate bird of passage, thought she really had cracked it.
Matthew drove carefully home because his hands were shaking too much to speed. He felt as if he was in The Blair Witch Project–a big foresty mess that he couldn’t get out of, and things could only get worse. He pulled up noisily outside his house, plunged the key into the lock then crashed through the rooms, calling out Jo’s name in despair. She was not there, and nor were any of her things. His house looked shabby and dusty and full of ugly unwanted bits. It wasn’t unlike his life.
Jo rang Adam from the car, just before she turned into Colin’s drive. She told him she had left Matthew and had nowhere to go. She found herself sobbing real tears, and when she told him that she was sorry for everything and loved him, truly loved him, she meant it.
He told her she had no idea what love was and he put the phone down.
Chapter 50
By her own admission, this was ridiculous. Stevie had all the same feelings as a seventeen year old on her first date as she waited for Adam to come home from work that night. She had been so full of nervous energy back then, waiting for David Idziaszczyk to knock on her door and take her to Rebecca’s nightclub, that she had been sick on her shoes in the hallway and had a mad scramble to wipe up and spray her legs with her mum’s Youth Dew. She dipped into the memory of her first love and smiled. On the day she finally learned to spell his name, he’d dumped her. She thought her life had ended and there were many dramatic wailings to be had. The heartbreaks didn’t get any easier with age but neither did the love-bugs, now tickling the walls of her tummy, get any less active.
Danny was staying the night at Catherine’s because there was a teachers’ ‘inset’ day at school tomorrow, whatever they were. Latin for ‘a rest from the little buggers’ probably. Cath was always offering to babysit at the moment, for her own mischievous reasons, and tonight, well, Stevie was not prepared to look a gift horse in the mouth.
She checked the large coffee cake cooking in the oven. She was quite proud that she had managed to make it without blowing up the lovely cottage kitchen. The vegetables were all ready in their pans, the fillet steaks in the fridge waiting to be cooked, the wine breathing on the work surface. Why she was going to all this trouble was anyone’s guess. Adam MacLean wouldn’t look in her direction in a million years, she knew that, but some little romantic (and stupid) part of her wanted to run with the feeling that he might. Just for a few days. Just until her head could get around the fact that soon they would go their separate ways and probably only see each other in passing in the gym. Then one day she would see him roaring past her in a sports car with a gorgeous, tall, slim woman next to him, her long, dark hair streaming behind and Stevie would be a distant memory, an amusing after-dinner tale at best. I once knew a woman who wrote for Midnight Moon. Now, what was her name again…? And Stevie would still be alone, still writing out fictional lives full of the hope and love that she wanted so much for herself.
She was just rolling the edges of the big cake in battered-up Flake when he came in, dropped his bag by the door and smiled as the cocktail of nice domestic aromas hit him at full pelt. He carried a couple of bottles of wine in his hand. He just wanted to savour the last few days of being with her, he knew that was all he had left. He should have told Stevie that Jo had gone, but he feared that would accelerate her journey back to his arms. He should leave now and not prolong the heartache, but he just wanted to be with her, a little longer, an hourglass-worth of time with someone who had the same voluminous capacity to love as he did. Someone warm and generous, imperfect, irritating, annoying, frustrating, bloody lovely.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘I got some steaks, if you want one. Nothing special.’
She had baked. This was special. Well, to him. No one, except his Granny Walker, had ever made him a cake before.
‘I got some wine, if you fancy a glass.’
‘Yes, I do, thanks. There’s a bottle open already over there.’
‘Ho’d on a wee minute until I get oot o’ this clobba.’
He said he liked his steak well done, not still moo-ing and struggling on the end of his fork, as she had once thought he might. She slapped them in the pan and as they sizzled in the hot olive oil, she smiled to herself, thinking about him upstairs, changing out of his work ‘clobba’.
He poured two glasses of the open red, when he at last came down in a T-shirt and jeans. She tried hard not to look at his muscular arms, the definition of his chest under the snow-white material, his fantastic chunk of a bum and big crushing thighs shaping the denim.
‘Where’s the wean?’
‘He’s at Catherine’s. They’re having a cinema night. The Incredibles again, I think, for the forty-billionth time.’
‘Och, that’s a shame. I was going to have a kick aboot wi’ him in the garden.’
Fond of him as Matthew had been, he had never once said ‘that’s a shame’ when Danny wasn’t around, Stevie suddenly realized. Then again, she had realized quite a lot recently. Mostly how pale her real relationship with Matthew had been, even when placed at the side of this imaginary one with Adam.
‘Can I help?’ he asked.
‘Yes, you can pass me the brandy and those peppercorns, unless you want your steak plain.’
‘Aye, plain for me, please. I want to taste that meat, it looks braw…good.’
‘I understand you now, you don’t need to translate.’
He smiled. The wine swirled in his head already. He wanted to get horribly plastered and rip all her clothes off, but for now, he got on with slicing some tomatoes.
‘Bea Pollen!’ he chuckled, when they were sitting down on the sofa, mellowing after a lovely meal and gentle banter. They had both suggested havin
g a sobering raspberry-truffle-flavoured coffee afterwards. He, before he really did rip her clothes off, and she before she leapt on him and made a complete twat of herself. They had both kicked off their shoes and their feet were inches apart on the big long footstool. She couldn’t imagine ever borrowing his socks. He had the biggest feet she had ever seen. She tried hard not to think what that might mean, scale-wise.
‘Whatever possessed you to call yourself Bea Pollen?’ he asked suddenly.
‘It’s Beatrice Pollen, actually. It was my granny’s name. Crystal didn’t like me to use the name Stevie, said it sounded too much like a man. Men don’t sell well, you see, and my granny always wanted to see her name on a book. So…’
‘Oh, I see. Is Honeywell your married name then?’
‘No,’ said Stevie. ‘I went back to my maiden name after Mick was killed.’
‘What happened? Only if you want to talk aboot it,’ said Adam, twisting his position so he was sideways on to her, his arm dangerously close to her head.
‘He was in a car crash. On the way to the airport.’
‘Och no. Business trip?’
‘No, it was most definitely pleasure,’ she said with a mirthless little laugh.
Adam looked at her in a quizzical way that prodded her to go on.
‘If you must know, he was running off with another woman. She was killed outright too. Apparently they didn’t suffer, which I’m glad for, if you know what I mean. Whatever they did, they didn’t deserve to suffer.’
‘Oh God no! I’m sorry. Did you know about her?’
‘I found out about a month before. I’d had my suspicions but he denied it. Then one day, he just stopped hiding her away. He would ring her in front of me, come in stinking of her. It was a nightmare time. Sometimes he was away all night, sometimes he got into bed beside me but he wouldn’t let me touch him. I didn’t know where I was. I was out of my skull with pain.’
The Birds and the Bees Page 30