The Birds and the Bees

by Milly Johnson

  Matthew wished they were. He had just paid fifty quid off his credit card and he was going to be loading another hundred on. Did they really need to celebrate their first full day of living together by spending so much?

  ‘We could stay in and eat each other,’ he suggested, which he would prefer, financial reasons or no financial reasons.

  ‘No, I want to see and be seen–with you, obviously,’ she said, smiling a smile that would melt him into spending every last penny he didn’t have. Did life really get any better than this? Then his mobile rang.

  He was in such a dreamlike state that he never checked the caller ID and clicked straight onto answer.

  ‘Hello, Matthew Finch.’

  ‘Hello, Matthew, it’s Stevie.’

  Damn!

  ‘Oh hi, Stevie,’ he said, tightening. Jo mouthed, ‘What does she want?’ to which Matthew shrugged innocently as if he had just been accused of something.

  ‘Sorry to bother you, it’s just a quick call. It’s about my post.’

  ‘Oh of course, your post,’ he said aloud for Jo’s benefit.

  ‘I have informed people of my new address, but just in case any stray letters slip through the net…’

  ‘Course, I’ll forward them to you,’ he said, butting in, anxious to get her off the line. Jo was looking distinctly territorial and it was making him nervous, and slightly horny too. He grabbed a pen and notepad. ‘Okay, give me your new address and I’ll post them on.’

  ‘Er…well…there’s no need,’ said Stevie.

  Hell, she wants to call and get them, he thought, and quickly jumped in to head her off at the pass.

  ‘No trouble at all. So where are you?’

  ‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you,’ said Stevie. ‘You can just pop them through the letterbox if you wouldn’t mind.’ She took a huge breath to prepare herself for dropping the bombshell. ‘I’m in the cottage across the street.’

  ‘You’re what?’ Matthew drained so white that Jo poked him with her sharpest nail to get his attention to find out what was going on, not that Matthew felt it as he headed for the window to peer through the curtain. Sure enough, there at the other side of the street, was the figure of a person also on a mobile waving at him, although the voice was loud and clear in his ear. It was the most uncomfortable stereo experience he could remember.

  ‘Hi, there you are!’

  ‘W…’ he said, but the word, whatever it was, refused to be formed.

  ‘Anyway, that’s all for now. So thanks, and er…good night.’

  Matthew didn’t say a word. He just clicked off his phone and answered Jo’s flurry of questions with a flat, disbelieving voice.

  ‘That was Stevie. She wants her post. She’s moved into that cottage.’

  ‘Which cottage, where?’ said Jo, flicking back the curtain herself but seeing only a square of light from the big pretty house opposite. ‘There?’ she said. ‘No, not there–tell me not there!’

  ‘Yes, there.’

  ‘How there? Why there?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘What’s she playing at?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, it’s obvious isn’t it? She’s flipped!’ said Jo, shaking her head wearily. ‘I knew this had gone too smoothly to be believed. Matt, you have to talk to her. She’s nuts. Poor, poor Stevie. Does she really think you’ll go back to her if she stalks you? She’s doing what she did with her husband all over again, isn’t she?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Matthew, who didn’t. It was certainly going to be an expensive way to tail him and for no end. He should have seen this coming, really, because she did have some history as a bit of a hanger-on when it was obvious the relationship was dead. Maybe he should go over and talk to her about it and spell it out that he really was not coming back. Jo was right, though, it certainly explained why she had ‘let him off’ so lightly. She had obviously been saving her energies for this pièce de résistance. Did she see Jo’s car arrive? Did she see him carry her inside? So then, did she realize Jo had actually moved in? How mad would that make her feel? Had she copied his keys? Could he smell prawns? The questions got too big and he suddenly wanted to get away from it all.

  ‘Come on, let’s just get ready and go out. We’ll deal with this later, but for now, let’s go eat.’

  ‘And drink,’ said Jo, who threw down the useless, thin, bendy Ryvita of a towel that was wrapped around her hair but had absorbed nothing. Then she skipped upstairs to her extensive designer wardrobe, throwing behind her, ‘I’ll need champagne to drown out this little revelation!’

  Matthew groaned.

  Stevie breathed slowly in and out as she had done in labour to steady herself. She could barely press the disconnect button on the phone for trembling. Then, when she felt able to cross to the window again, she snapped the blinds shut, cocooning herself safely away from the rest of the world, and leant against the wall for some badly needed support because this was the closest she had ever come in her life to fainting. Then she stabbed in the text lettering Mission accomplished, and sent it to Adam MacLean.

  Chapter 25

  A parcel arrived for Matthew just as he and Jo were setting off for work the following morning. He threw it in the porch to deal with later because he did not have the time to open it then. He locked up the house and looked across at the old cottage before getting in the car, half-expecting to see Stevie framed in the window, staring back wistfully at him. Or tapping an axe in her hand. Or holding a rabbit and a big stew pot. As it was, he saw only a cottage with all the curtains drawn and blinds dropped, but knowing that Stevie was moving behind them still made him feel uncomfortable.

  Jo had been right, scorned women were dangerous, irrational beings and she couldn’t have moved in across the road for any other reason than to wreak havoc in his life. He should have realized she had trouble dealing with rejection. By her own admission, Mick’s leaving had driven her half-mad. Certainly, her little phone call had put a big damp cloth over their whole evening. All roads of conversation bent back to Stevie and her new living arrangements, however much they had tried to get on with enjoying the meal. They hadn’t succeeded and Matthew had driven straight home, with no detour down Lovers’ Lane. It had not been ninety-two quid well spent.

  Matthew had struggled to get an erection in bed because the thought of his ex-lover living directly across the lane had got in the way and stirred up all sorts of feelings that had fingers in all sorts of emotional pies. He had managed to perform in the end, because who couldn’t when they were in bed with someone as gorgeous as Jo, but it wouldn’t have gone down as his best performance. Although it was still bloody good.

  Jo was taking him shopping at lunchtime for an iron and a microwave and some towels that didn’t scratch her skin off, and some decent sheets. He pocketed the invitation to get a new Platinum Visa that arrived with that morning’s post from one of the few remaining banks with whom he didn’t have one. His emergency Goldfish was starting to drown.

  Catherine was already at the garden centre café when Stevie rolled up. Catherine had suggested lunch out, away from Blossom Lane and the gym. She thought some country air and carbs might do her friend good. They hugged hello and plonked themselves at a nice table with a view of the stream, heavily populated by ducks and a gangsta goose.

  ‘So how’s it going, dare I ask? Got back into your writing yet?’ asked Catherine, after they had sent the young waiter off with an order for caramel lattes and two pasta carbonaras. Stevie’s shiny-eyed silence made any verbal answer unnecessary. Catherine reached over the table and gave her hand a comforting squeeze.

  ‘Stevie, I’ve not really a doubt in my head that Matthew will come back to you after he’s realized that Jo is a cold, calculating bitch who probably deserved to get clobbered by Highland Hairy Legs, but—’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘But is he really the person you thought he was, to put you through this? Would you ever be able to trust him a
gain?’

  ‘I want him back, Catherine,’ she said steadily. ‘We’ll sort it out between us afterwards, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘It will happen,’ said Catherine, who was totally convinced of it. ‘Both Eddie and I think that Matthew’s weak rather than wicked. Anyway, what’s the update?’

  There was a brief pause whilst the coffees arrived. Then another brief pause whilst Catherine sent them back for being lukewarm.

  ‘At these prices I should get third-degree burns off this!’ she said to the waiter, who went off hunched over with humiliation, as if his mum had just smacked his legs.

  ‘I met Adam MacLean in the gym yesterday,’ said Stevie.

  ‘And?’

  ‘He told me what to do and I did it.’

  ‘Which was?’ said Catherine eagerly, rotating her hands as if to wind her friend’s clockwork up.

  ‘To ring Matthew and tell him if I had any post to drop it off at the cottage opposite.’

  ‘Hang on a mo,’ said Catherine as the waiter came back with two fresh coffees and stood there dutifully whilst she tested the temperature. She nodded her approval and he went off smiling with relief, as if she was the man from Del Monte.

  ‘So, Matt knows where you’re living then–oh wow!’ carried on Catherine, as they spooned off the froth and drank the lovely sweet coffee. ‘And how did he take it?’

  ‘I think he was too shocked to say anything then, but I had a peep through the kitchen blinds this morning and saw him staring over–sorry, glaring over–at the house before he got into the car. He didn’t look very pleased at all.’

  ‘Good!’ said Catherine. Then the pasta arrived.

  ‘Not good really,’ said Stevie. ‘I don’t want him to hate me. I want him to love me.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Steve,’ said Catherine crossly. ‘He doesn’t own the whole town–you can live where you like! Tough tits if he doesn’t like it. There’s Danny’s school to think of, more than his inconvenience.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ said Stevie, marking those points down for possible regurgitation later. ‘Although, it does look a bit obvious why I’ve moved there, doesn’t it? He’ll think I’m stalking him.’

  ‘Not if you ignore him he won’t, and certainly not if you’re seen on the arm of another bloke.’

  ‘Don’t remind me.’ The prospect of that part of Adam MacLean’s so-called ‘plan’ was starting to make her feel ill. For a start, they would look the world’s most ridiculous couple, and what would they talk about? His experiences in Barlinnie? The best way to garrotte someone? She despised people like him–pathetic bullies who used their size and looks to intimidate. The fact that she could join forces with someone who actually deserved to be deserted by his partner spoke volumes of her desperation to get Matthew back, and as soon as she had, she hoped Jo and Adam MacLean would disappear back to hell.

  The two women filled their mouths with the spaghetti and the waiter picked that moment to pop back to make sure everything was all right, to which they both nodded vigorously and made primeval noises.

  ‘They teach them that at waiter school,’ said Stevie after she had swallowed. ‘To wait until everyone has their mouths stocked before asking it. They love it. It’s a perk of the job.’

  Catherine laughed. It was good to hear Stevie make a joke.

  ‘It’s actually perfect, you moving across the road,’ Catherine said. ‘Old Thunder Thighs is right, you know. It will confuse them both. They’ll be on constant red alert waiting for something to happen. He’s quite a clued-up bloke, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, well, we’ll see,’ said Stevie, who had yet to be totally convinced. She was sure she would be in for just as many nasty surprises from MacLean.

  ‘So when’s the next attack?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Stevie. ‘I think the idea was to wait and see what the fall-out from stage one was. Sort of a softly, softly approach.’

  ‘It’s like Mission Impossible,’ said Catherine.

  Stevie nodded, knowing what Catherine meant, but her words did sound a depressing, prophetic note. She really was starting to wonder if fighting back was just going to make everything so much worse.

  Matthew went into the house, forgot the box was there and tripped right over it, which only added to his mood of annoyance. Not that opening the box did anything to take those feelings away.

  ‘What are those?’ said Jo, looking over his shoulder as he unpeeled layers of tissue around some very pretty, be-ribboned stationery. It was funny to see his name there still together with Stevie’s. It felt like years ago since they had been together choosing the paper and the lettering and the picture on the covers, when, in real time, it had been less than three months.

  ‘Order of services and an invoice for…HOW MUCH?’

  Jo eased it out of his hand.

  ‘You aren’t going to like this but hear me out,’ she said calmly. ‘This bill is in Stevie’s name. You need to take it across the road now and let her deal with it.’

  ‘I’d feel a bit rotten doing that,’ said Matthew with a stab of guilt, not saying that it had been he who picked such an ornate and expensive design.

  ‘As I say, hear me out,’ admonished Jo softly. ‘The reason you need to do what I say is that if you are nice and offer to pay for these, Stevie will misread your actions and see hope where there is none. You have to be cruel to be kind here, Matt. You need to be hard with her. Go across the road and insist she pays for these. Don’t play her game, for all our sakes–especially Stevie’s, darling. Just give her the box and come straight back. Don’t let her use it as an excuse to engage you. You won’t be doing her any favours in the long run. Trust me. We don’t want her to be hurt any more than she is already, do we?’

  ‘Yes okay,’ said Matthew, before any of his more honourable thoughts questioned Jo’s logic. He hoisted the box up, marched across to the cottage, and rapped loudly on the door.

  When Stevie saw Matthew approach, she put two and two together to make a very accurate four. She straightened her back and opened the door, half-closing it behind her so Danny wouldn’t see or hear. The straight-backed, unthreatening sight of her stole a hundred knots of wind from his sails. She looked so together, and her stiff body language was not saying to him, ‘How nice to see you, I’m so glad you called.’

  ‘These arrived for you,’ he said, thrusting them forwards.

  ‘The order of services, I presume. Yes, the printer said they were on their way,’ she replied, without making any attempt to take them from him.

  ‘Well, here you are.’ He rattled the box at her, but her hands stayed by her sides.

  ‘You could have saved yourself a trip and just put them in the bin,’ she said flatly. ‘I have as much use for them as you do, Matthew.’

  ‘There’s…er…an invoice.’

  Despite her attempt at indifference, Stevie found herself unable to disguise the flare of contempt in her eyes, which hit him at point-blank range and stirred up something within him that didn’t make him feel very good about himself. He deflected it back, attack being the best form of defence, etc, and surprisingly found he didn’t need to fake his annoyance.

  ‘Why are you here, Stevie?’

  She could have been glib and explained that the birds and the bees visited her mother and father one day, but decided to play it straight.

  ‘You wanted me out, quickly, and this house was available.’

  ‘But why here? Why this street?’

  ‘Matthew,’ she began calmly, without surface emotion, even though she was bubbling inside with a cocktail of anger and frustration with base flavours of hurt and despair, ‘this was the only house I could get that was near to Danny’s school. You didn’t exactly give me the luxury of time to shop around, did you? Besides, you have made it perfectly clear that you have another life now, and so have I–one that you’re not part of any more. I am a free agent too now, remember, and can live where I like.’

  She whipped the invoice from t
he top of the box.

  ‘My wheelie bin’s full so I’ll deal with this and you deal with those. Please let’s keep this civilized, Matthew. Thank you for bringing the bill.’

  And with that, Stevie slowly but firmly shut the door in his face.

  Matthew hadn’t been expecting that. He felt as if he had been slapped, even though she hadn’t been aggressive or shouted or tried to use the parcel as a way to keep him there, as he had been led to believe by Jo that she would. There was no pleading, no trying to win him back. It has to be a double bluff, he thought. Then again, she was acting ‘indifference’ awfully well . Too well, actually. If he didn’t know Stevie so intimately, he would have thought she really meant what she had just said. She couldn’t have forgotten him that quickly really, could she?

  He was well aware that Jo was staring at his progress through the window opposite as he walked back over with the box, so he was jolly glad Stevie had taken the invoice. He was, after all, thinking of her emotional welfare in the long run. So why then did he feel like an absolute shit?

  Stevie patted her heart and wondered how she could have spoken so coolly with the acrobatics it had been doing simultaneously in her chest. She had not a clue how she had held it together, but she had and she was proud of herself. Any weakness, any show of hurt, would have proved all his suspicions right but she had given him none. Her little victory did not stop her feeling inordinately sad, though. How could she and Matthew be such strangers to each other, when less than three weeks ago they had made love in the bed he now shared with another woman? She started to think about the details of that last time, how he had been mentally in another place whilst his body had been beside her, although he had put it down to being tired and she’d had no reason to disbelieve him. She had even given him a long massage to ease him to sleep. With the clear eye of hindsight, she realized that it wasn’t an act of love after all but a red herring shag to put her off the scent that he was about to go on holiday with another woman. The thought opened the catch to a big box of hurt that sprang its lid and filled up her heart to bursting-point. He had cared for her once–very much, she knew–so where had those feelings gone? Why hadn’t she felt him slipping away?