The Birds and the Bees

by Milly Johnson

  ‘Wow!’ said Danny.

  ‘Chicken nuggets!’ Stevie alerted her son to the table. Was it her imagination, or had Adam MacLean given special emphasis to certain words just then? She had only seen the man for five minutes today and already she wanted to slap him.

  ‘So, any mair news from Midnight Moon?’ he casually asked later, whilst checking the television page.

  ‘No, why would there be?’

  ‘I have no idea why there would beee.’

  Stevie put down her sewing. Danny’s collars were getting ruined but there would be hell on if she threw this pyjama top away. It was one she had converted from an ordinary blue top to Dannyman super-pyjamas.

  ‘Why are you looking at me as if you want me to buzz awf?’ asked Adam with an angelic smile.

  ‘You know, don’t you?’

  ‘Know what?’ He looked so much the picture of innocence he should have been hung in the National Gallery. Or was it ‘hanged’? Either sounded good to Stevie.

  ‘Okay, I write Midnight Moon trashy, crappy romance books for a living. Satisfied?’

  He jumped back in mock surprise. ‘Naw!’

  ‘I presume Crystal said far more than you admitted.’

  ‘Perhaps. I seem to recall an extra minor detail or two.’

  ‘Yes, I can imagine. Anyway, you may not like them, Mr MacLean, but thousands of other people do!’ What was it about the man that got under her skin so much? He was the human equivalent of ringworm.

  ‘I’m sure they do.’

  Commonsense told her to walk away and go to her office. His mocking was attracting to him the anger that was swirling inside her for Jo; for her scratched car; for Matthew’s pathetic unhappy face; and most of all for Adam Bloody MacLean because she couldn’t stop thinking about his lips on her arm. All afternoon her imagination had been taking those lips and putting them on other places on her body, and she didn’t know why but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. This wasn’t in ‘the plan’. But she did not walk away from his baiting. She not only took it, but she stuck her teeth into it too.

  ‘In fact, I don’t know why I didn’t tell you before. It’s not as if I should be ashamed. There’s a skill involved, unlike managing a place where people pay an obscene amount of money just to lift up heavy objects and sweat!’

  Oh, she wants to fight, does she? he thought, crossing his arms and preparing for battle.

  ‘So, is that all I do then? And there was me thinking I work quite hard for my money.’ He knew the next bit would infuriate her, but he didn’t care. He was enjoying the verbal parry. It was making him forget all about the visitor who had weighed down his head for most of the day. ‘Well, at least I don’t sit on my bum all day.’

  ‘Me sitting on my bum all day has put money on the table to feed my child. Yes, I’m a Midnight Moon writer and I’m proud of it!’ Stevie jutted out her chin and nodded her head by way of an exclamation mark.

  ‘I’m sure sad people all over the world appreciate you.’

  This, unfortunately, didn’t come out quite as his gentle teasing had intended, adding a pint of petrol to her already blazing temper.

  ‘Yes, sad people with a brain who can do joined-up lettering! You patronizing Scottish git.’

  She had a silly smattering of freckles on her nose. He had the sudden desire to kiss them. That would shut her up.

  ‘I was trying to give you a compliment actually.’

  ‘Stick your compliment up “yer ers”, Mr MacLean,’ said Stevie. ‘I don’t need compliments from a man like you.’

  ‘And what sort of a man am I, Ms Honeywell? I see we’re back on formal terms again.’

  ‘The sort of man that I can’t wait to see the back of on Sunday! I’m going to work. Good night,’ and off she went in the direction of the office, chuntering expletives, to write about Damme MacQueen being thrown off a cliff.

  Adam smiled. The angrier she got, the funnier she was, but as soon as Stevie left him, his thoughts started to drift back to the afternoon and a life that felt a million light years away from this crazy set-up. A life he had the chance to go back to. A life with a beautiful house and a beautiful woman in it. The life he had fought to win back. The life he surprisingly found he had won back.

  So what was it that was stopping him?

  Chapter 46

  Unless a miracle happened in the next twenty-four hours, Adam’s prophecy that all would be settled by Sunday was not going to come true. Matthew and Jo were very much still together, although a sneaky few spying looks in the mornings had revealed that they weren’t half as hand-holdy or snoggy as they used to be, and there was even less smiling going on than at Princess Diana’s funeral.

  Adam had started gathering up his stuff and sorting out his laundry. His undies were drying on the line–they were white and Calvin Klein. Matthew was more of a briefs bloke–black and designer label also, but they paled into sexual second place as soon as she saw those white boxers. Matthew’s bum had been a bit skinny for Stevie’s tastes; Adam’s was quite chunky. Not that she’d looked at it much. Well…

  They hadn’t seen a lot of each other in the last few days. He hadn’t been in the house much, and when he had, Stevie had found herself avoiding him, shutting herself away in her office to work. Damme MacQueen was a good man–misjudged, kind, and wonderful. He didn’t beat up women and he was safe to love. Evie was going to be a lucky lady.

  Adam had deliberately been coming home after Danny had gone to bed, for which Stevie was grateful. It was going to be bad enough having to uproot her son again to find yet another place to live, without finding out he’d got attached to ‘Well Life Man’ too. It all felt terribly scary and unsettling, and she was cross at herself for believing Adam MacLean could really get them reunited with their rightful partners. He might not have been Mystic Meg, but he had her hopes up so high, the only way was down and they were coming down fast. It was something else to blame the man for.

  ‘Can I do anything to help?’ he asked, as she stomped around the kitchen, making a big noise as she transferred the crockery out of the dishwasher into the various cupboards.

  ‘No!’ she said. Then softer, ‘No thanks.’

  ‘Why the brass band?’ he asked as the pans crashed together as she put them away.

  ‘Because I want to.’ Yes, she sounded petulant and she expected him to make some sarcastic comment. He didn’t disappoint.

  ‘Do you want to throw a few of your toys aroon as well while you’re at it?’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘Watch that bottom lip afore you trip o’er it!’

  ‘Not listening, sorry.’

  ‘I’ll get you a teddy that you can throw oot your cot and make yersel’ feel better.’

  ‘Very funny. Ha ha!’

  ‘Ah, so y’are listening! Maybe you need burping. Want me to pat your back a wee bit?’

  She cast him a look that tried to kill him. She would like to have screamed at him to bugger off, but Danny was on his bicycle in the garden so she couldn’t. She was finding that the pressure of keeping her feelings in was making her blow steam out of her earholes, so she rough-handled the crockery instead and dropped one of the nice plates which crashed to the floor, spattering the pieces everywhere.

  ‘Och, now you’ll have to pay for that oot your pocket-money!’

  That’s it!

  She turned on him. ‘Everything’s a big joke to you, isn’t it?’

  ‘No, it isnae. But pretending you’re at a Greek wedding isn’t going to bring Matty Boy back to you any quicker. And there’s no use snapping at me–this isnae my fault.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ Stevie laughed, a hard unjolly sound. ‘This situation is all because of you, Adam MacLean. All!’

  ‘Okay, stop there,’ said the sensible part of her brain, looking around for the brake, whilst in the meantime, her mouth carried on in fifth gear.

  ‘I’ve lost my home and my man, and my little boy has lost his chance of a family. You might have th
rown your relationship away, but I didn’t. Make no mistake–this all happened Because. Of. You!’ She barged past him to get the cutlery, not noticing that the highly amused and gentle teasing smile had dropped like a hot rock from Adam’s lips and he moved quickly to block her way.

  ‘Whoa, whoa! Now you ho’d on a wee minute, lady. I need you to rewind this conversation. What was that bit about throwing my relationship away?’

  There was something in his manner that made Stevie realize she had gone too far and was on dangerous territory, but there was no taking it back.

  ‘Nothing, I meant nothing.’ She moved to skirt him and he moved with her and put his hands on her arms to pull her back in front of him. The startled little yelp she gave made him drop his hold immediately.

  ‘Sorry, did I hurt you?’

  ‘No,’ she said, because he hadn’t, but he saw in her eyes a flashing thought that he might. That fear. He knew that look so well. He had seen it in his mammy’s and his sisters’ eyes so many times.

  ‘What’s going on, Stevie? What’s happened? What did you mean?’

  Stevie wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  ‘Please, Stevie!’ He was desperate now to find out what she meant. She knew something about him that he needed to know. That look she had given him scared him. ‘What am I supposed to have done in my relationship that all this was my fault? Please–what did you mean? What do you know? What have you heard? You have to tell me now.’

  He wasn’t going to let up on this, she knew. She slumped down on the kitchen table. She wasn’t sure what was true or not any more, but at least she wasn’t about to add to the mess by lying herself.

  ‘It’s what Jo told us about you.’

  ‘Jo?’ He paled. ‘You spoke to Jo? When?’

  ‘Lots of times.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Stevie sighed. It was like trying to get an octopus back in a bag. She wouldn’t be able to do it. It would be better to let it all out and stop struggling against it.

  ‘Matthew and Jo got friendly at work,’ Stevie began.

  ‘Aye, I know. You two weren’t getting on.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That’s what Jo told me. That you two were going through a rough patch.’ He didn’t see the need to tell her that apparently she was also dirty and lazy and a terrible mother. She would spontaneously combust.

  ‘Jo said what?’ Stevie’s mouth dropped so far open, it was in danger of crushing her foot. ‘God, this just gets better and better. We were fine! The reason he befriended her is because you…you…made her unhappy!’

  ‘In what way?’ Now it was Adam’s turn to look shocked.

  ‘She never stopped crying! I felt so sorry for her.’

  ‘You met her?’ He was breathless.

  ‘She rang for Matthew one day, too scared to go home to you. I told her to come around to the house.’

  ‘Scared–of me? What on earth for?’

  ‘She was terrified. Shaking when she got here.’

  ‘But she never said she met you!’

  ‘Adam, we became friends, we went shopping together–I made her tea whilst she read to Danny. I even let her see my wedding dress. She was on our guest list!’

  ‘Friends? She said Matthew loathed you!’

  ‘She said you took all her money!’

  ‘She said he’d called off the marriage but you were carrying on with the arrangements regardless!’

  ‘She said you put her through hell with the names you called her!’

  ‘She said you used to get drunk and throw things at Matthew!’

  ‘She said you used to smack her around!’

  The words hung in the air like a discordant bell. Of all the lies Adam MacLean was hearing, he found this one hard to stomach most of all. Not after all he had seen as a child, the way his daddy laced into his mammy and he had to stand there and witness it all with his arms around his crying sisters, fearful in case his mammy died but scared to move in case he got hurt too. He never quite lost the guilt of thinking of his own needs, even though he was only a wee boy.

  ‘Stevie, I’ve never laid a hand on a woman in my life,’ he said. A shock of tears sprang involuntarily to his eyes and he wiped them away, embarrassed. ‘The reason I got together with Jo in the first place was to rescue her from some crazy guy that she was living with. He’d kicked her in the leg and she was limping. I found her crying outside the gym where I worked before this one.’

  Stevie gulped. ‘Top of her left thigh?’

  ‘Aye,’ he said.

  ‘She said you did that.’

  ‘Me!’ He spun around, his voice booming, his bulk filling half the room, but he still didn’t look in the least bit harmful. ‘I cannae hit anyone. Look at the size o’ me. I’d kill anyone I hit!’

  ‘So you’ve not been in Barlinnie?’

  ‘Barlinnie?’ Adam laughed through the tears. ‘Whit the hell for?’

  ‘GBH.’

  ‘Grievous Bod…? Stevie, they wouldnae give me a job at Well Life sweeping flairs if I’d mair than three points on my driving licence! I’ve never been in a jail in my life. I’ve no’ even hed so much as a parking ticket!’ He dropped to the sofa. ‘I can’t believe aw this,’ he said, rubbing his head with his huge hands, though it brought him no comfort. He had trusted Jo with all the horrors of his early life and she had used it against him. He really had been a fool. Would he ever learn?

  Stevie had the overwhelming desire to go to him and touch him, hold him. She knew he had been hurt by her revelations. Never had she seen even the slightest intimation that Adam was the man that Jo had painted him to be, though she knew she had wanted to see him like that, because then she could blame him for what had happened and not her darling Matthew. Eddie had been right all along when he asked, what sort of a possessive psycho was it that let his wife go for away for a week to a health spa. They’d both been had. And Matthew was still being had. Should she tell him? What difference would it make, though? Hadn’t Catherine tried to tell her what a bastard Mick Rook was? And had she believed her? No, nor would she have done, not even if Mick had had I am a bastard, stay away stickers plastered indelibly over every part of his anatomy.

  ‘I’m sorry, Adam, I don’t know what to believe any more.’

  ‘Stevie, I’m no wife-batterer, I can tell you that. Is this true? Is this really what she said, because I don’t know what to believe any more either.’

  Stevie nodded slowly.

  ‘Ah well, that explains a few things,’ said Adam with weary resignation. ‘I wondered why Matty Boy was wagging his finger at me, telling me no’ to hurt you, and no’ tae spend all your money.’ His brain zapped to thoughts of mutual friends who no longer called, and a fresh wave of hurt engulfed him. ‘I can’t believe people think I’m that sort of guy. Catherine and Eddie–they know all this?’

  Stevie gave another nod.

  He looked cut down, felled like a big tree that wouldn’t ever get up again.

  ‘Well, if you think there is the slightest danger to you and your child from me, maybe it would be better if I just got out of your life totally tomorrow. We’ll forget our plan and you get Matthew back your way. I don’t think it will be long, for the record.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Stevie with a croaky voice. She didn’t want him to go, but she needed space. She needed to get away from thoughts of Adam MacLean’s lips on her arm and the feel of her hand inside his. ‘I think that might be for the best.’

  Chapter 47

  Adam lay on the treatment table and groaned in pain. He had thought a Sunday-morning Kahuna session at the gym might help to ease the tension in his back and neck and shoulders, if not take away the knot in his head. He never expected that the tiny South African masseuse Simone could be capable of such brutality.

  ‘My God, is it supposed to hurt that much?’ he gasped as the points of her elbows pierced his kidneys. He could hardly breathe. She should have had SS embroidered on her tunic, not WL.

  ‘You h
ave a lot of crunchy bits, Adam,’ said Simone. ‘I need to shift ’em’. Boy, you’re tense!’

  It was the sort of massage Stevie would have liked to perform on him, he thought. One that hurt lots. Then thoughts of Stevie rubbing oil in his back ran on ahead of him, her small hands kneading his muscles, her fingers tripping up and down his spine. Then he would reciprocate and dribble the warm scented oil onto her body and smooth it over her soft curves, his thumbs circling her skin and making her groan. A mutinous body part stirred and he groaned inwardly. Och naw, that wasnae supposed to happen at all! Then he knew why he had said ‘no’ when Joanna MacLean had turned up at the gym and asked then pleaded, then begged to come home.

  As Stevie was preparing the last meal she would share with Adam MacLean in this beautiful house, she saw Matthew through the window walking back home with an armful of Sunday newspapers. He looked like an old man with the cares of the world on his shoulders. Her heart lurched in his direction, in love or pity or both, she couldn’t tell. How was it that she could write about feelings so incisively for her characters, but when it came to her own she was such a mess? Her emotions were like a big ball of wool that had been snagged and ripped and tangled by a very vicious cat.

  Danny was colouring at the table. Stevie pulled his Dannyman collar out of his mouth.

  ‘You’ll suck all the dye out of your shirt and end up being blue like an alien, would you like that?’

  ‘Wow, yeah!’ he said, which hadn’t been the answer she had expected.

  ‘I give up. Suck your collar then, Danny, and don’t come crying to me when you go blue,’ she said impatiently.

  She turned her attention to the Yorkshire pudding mix. The flour rose up in a big cumulous cloud as the beaters hit it, blew it up her nose and made her sneeze. Adam, newly arrived in the doorway, hid the little smile that came because he was suddenly catapulted back to the first time he had seen her. It surprised him because he thought it would be a long time until he smiled again. His back was in pain from the Kahuna, his head was in pain from thinking of Jo’s treachery. But it was his heart that pained him most of all.