She went over to Matthew’s house at nine-thirty as she said she would. The sunlight didn’t do him or the house any favours. He hadn’t slept, that was obvious. Or shaved, or showered.
‘Who do I need to ask for?’ said Stevie, picking up the phone.
‘Colin Seed. He’s Head of Personnel. He’s been giving me the evil eye. Obviously hates my guts.’
‘What’s he like?’ said Stevie.
‘Rich, mid-forties, looks seventy, fat, 1982 trousers, eyebrows that vultures could nest in, jowly, drives a Bentley, lives in a big house. He’ll be the next CEO in a year, if they don’t ship him over to New York now that his mother’s carked it,’ said Matthew bitterly.
‘Rich, did you say?’
‘Loaded.’
‘And this evil eye–can I make a guess that it’s happened quite recently?’ said Stevie, her brain downloading info faster than high-speed Broadband.
‘Yes. Do you think that’s relevant?’
‘I think it may be,’ said Stevie, and picked up the phone.
An hour and a half later, Stevie had just got out of Matthew’s car and was walking across the forecourt to the entrance of ‘Doyle International Foods’ by the Leeds canal. It was a hip, buzzing, colourful place, full of vitality and people who looked happy enough to be working there. She booked herself in at Reception, under the name Ms B. Pollen, her business with the Head of Personnel being research for her latest book. She had told Colin’s secretary on the phone that she only wanted five minutes of his time, and the secretary, who was an avid Midnight Moon fan, had pushed her in a free eleven o’clock slot, on the proviso that she would autograph her copy of Golden Bride.
The secretary collected her from Reception and was twitteringly delighted to meet her in the flesh. After Stevie had autographed the well-thumbed book, she was shown through to Colin Seed’s huge corner office, overlooking the canal. It was a very neat, modest office; the office of a man who obviously liked straight lines and things ordered and above board. Minutes later, when Colin Seed walked in, Stevie caught an imaginary whiff of mothballs. It was a shame really, because he wasn’t a bad-looking man at all. The love of a good, caring woman could easily have transformed him.
‘Ms Pollen,’ said Colin, with a strong handshake but a surprisingly warm smile too that knocked a good fifteen years off his age. He gestured to Stevie to sit down. ‘How can I help you? I’m very intrigued.’ He did not say that his recently deceased mum used to read Midnight Moon books, and that the last one she had read was by Beatrice Pollen. That alone had won her court with him today.
‘Mr Seed,’ began Stevie, tremulously because Colin had a strong persona and she felt way out of her depth here. ‘I confess, I’m here under false pretences. Yes, I am Beatrice Pollen, but I’m not here about any research. Please forgive my duplicity. I’m here about,’ Stevie gulped, ‘Matthew Finch.’
Stevie watched Colin Seed’s welcoming smile elope with the warmth in his eyes, and his Adam’s apple jump up and down like a fairground test-your-strength machine. However, he surprised her by saying, ‘Go on.’
‘I’m Matthew’s ex-partner. I understand he’s been sacked for harassing an ex-friend of mine,’ the name stuck in her craw, ‘Joanna MacLean.’
‘Amongst other things, yes, that is correct,’ Colin answered, stiffening before her eyes.
‘I’m here on my own volition, after I heard the news. Matthew is not a sexual predator. Jo MacLean, however, is an incredibly devious wom—’
‘Thank you, Ms Pollen, but I really do not think this is a matter for discussion with an outside body.’ Colin rose, preparing to show Stevie out, but Stevie stood her ground, or rather sat it, and continued to speak. She felt sure now that Colin Seed was personally, as well as professionally involved with Jo MacLean.
‘Please hear me out, Mr Seed, then I will go quietly, but there is too much at stake here for me to leave before I have said what I came here to say. I happen to know Jo MacLean’s ex-partner very well too, a lovely, respectable, gentle man–a Mr Adam MacLean–the local Father Christmas for the hospital. He first met her in a car park, crying that she was in a violent relationship…’
‘Ms Pollen…’
‘…and though not “rich” rich, he’s comfortably well off. Then Matthew, Head of Concessions, high-flyer here caught her eye and she was led, I think, to believe that he was quite rich. Surprise, surprise, when did he first start talking to her? In the car park here, crying that she was in a violent relationship and needed to get away. Funnily enough, that relationship started to sour round about the time that she discovered he made church mice look like members of the Getty family. That, for your information, was very recently.’
Colin looked as if he was going to interrupt again, but stayed silent.
‘Then suddenly, Matthew is accused of being violent and predatory, and loses his job. Now, I was very hurt when he left me, so much so that I could have let him rot in this mess, but I can’t stand back and watch someone’s life be destroyed by malicious lies. Matthew Finch might be guilty of many things, but I’d stake my life on it that sexual violence wouldn’t ever be one of them.’
Colin Seed was processing the information. He was using his professionally trained brain to study body language and voice inflections, sifting for lies and truths.
‘One more thing, Mr Seed,’ said Stevie with an air of innocence. ‘I’d deduce from Jo MacLean’s modus operandi that she has probably found a new partner. A sitting target with a nice house and plenty of money. Someone who happens to meet a crying Jo MacLean in a car park with a heart full of sob stories about her violent ex. She’ll probably show them a supposed boot mark on her left thigh that Matthew did. In the same way that she showed it to Matthew and told him Adam did it, and in the same way she showed it to Adam and attributed it to the violence of the ex before that.’
Stevie had only guessed that Jo would have done that to Colin, but from his small cough, she knew she had guessed right. Colin seemed to pale before her very eyes. She felt quite guilty that she was the one to bear the news that would probably break his heart.
‘I understand you’ve had a recent loss,’ said Stevie tentatively.
‘Ms Poll…I don’t see…’
‘Sometimes when we’re in pain, we’ll snatch at anything that promises to stop it. Hope makes us see what we want to see.’
‘I really must end…’
‘All I’m saying is that if something appears too good to be true, it’s probably because it is.’
Colin Seed gulped. That was one of his mother’s sayings and as such, it resonated loudly within him.
‘I won’t take up any more of your time, Mr Seed. I thank you for agreeing to meet me. Please think about what I’ve said,’ and with a gentle, caring smile, Stevie added, ‘And good luck.’
There was a nerve ticking in Colin’s neck, Stevie noticed. He nodded goodbye as if his throat was constricted and held his hand out towards her. Stevie shook that hand, warmly with both of hers, and then she left and closed the door quietly behind her.
As she walked out of the building via the revolving door, Jo MacLean came in from the opposite side. As if in slow motion, they turned to stare at each other. For once, Jo’s eyes had none of that victorious haughtiness in them. Stevie’s cocksure presence in her workplace unsettled her greatly. She hadn’t bargained on Matthew finding a champion after her claims, because no one wanted to stick up for a sex beast. Least of all a disgruntled ex!
Stevie fought down the impulse to double-back, grab the bitch by the hair and proclaim it to the busy atrium of people just what a life-wrecker Miss Gorgeous Body really was, but instead, she held onto her dignity, turned her head away and walked out into the fresh air of the day. Let someone else clear up the rest of this mess now; she was done with it.
Outside, sitting in his car, Matthew watched Jo MacLean strut towards the offices like an arrogant peacock. He almost didn’t recognize her, for there was little resemblance to the soft
and fragile woman he had met that day in the car park. She looked cold and proud and hard. He didn’t even think her very beautiful any more; she was a stranger to him. Then, seconds later, he saw the familiar unchanging form of Stevie emerge from the building and he automatically smiled. The sunlight had lodged in her hair and she looked like an angel coming towards the car. That’s what Stevie was, an angel. A lovely, sweet, golden-hearted angel.
He drove home, unable to stop beaming gratefully over at Stevie and saying that he couldn’t thank her enough. Stevie nodded, but didn’t say much. She just wanted Matthew to stick his foot down and for her to be home. With Adam.
When she got to Humbleby Cottage, Adam was gone, and so were his clothes. There was a note on the table that said Dear Stevie, We both need some time to think. I will be in touch. Love to Danny, goodbye–Adam.
Her eyes bloomed with tears, as once again she thought, How final goodbye sounds.
Chapter 53
Of course, Adam had lied. He didn’t need any time. He knew what he wanted but he had to get out of the way and not complicate things for Stevie. She had waited so patiently for Matthew to come back to her and now she had him. So how could he upset all that for her by declaring his feelings now?
He pushed the door open to his house–only a house, never his home. It was so chilled and without heart, warmth, laughter or little boy’s mess. There was no Mr Greengrass Head on the windowsill, no comfy clutter of pens or books with clocks-and-moons motifs on the covers. There were no clouds of flour billowing from the kitchen and no monster pans of chilli on the hob. He had never liked this house, but now he hated it. It was big and bare and echoey, and the memories stored within its walls were cold and hollow. He would ring the estate agent that afternoon and get it on the market. Then he would award himself some time off work so he didn’t bump into Stevie.
Stevie.
Adam MacLean dropped himself on the cold leather sofa and thought of the softness of her face as he held it, remembered how she had gulped as he stared into her eyes and how his heart had trembled when her lips had touched his. He had never loved anyone in this way before, with a depth that made cheap parodies of all the other times he thought he had been in love. Stevie deserved to be happy, and he so much wanted her to be happy–with him or without him. And it looked as if it was going to be without him.
At that thought, big fierce boxer-faced Adam MacLean’s head fell forwards into his hands. He didn’t stop the tears when they came.
Chapter 54
Jo sat in her bedroom in the Queens Hotel staring into her compact mirror as she applied a slick smear of lipstick. Was that a line appearing under her eye? she wondered. It was becoming more and more urgent to hook a rich fish who would be able to finance her fight against the ravages of time. Beauty was a talent on a timer.
Suddenly Jo lauched the compact across the room, smashing it against the wall. She didn’t even think of clearing it up. Any mess outside the boundary of Jo’s clothes was of no consequence. She was interested in nothing but the fulfilment of her own needs.
‘Damn you, Stevie Fucking Honeywell,’ she snarled. Had it not been for that short, fat cow she would be in Colin’s lovely oak-panelled house now, being petted and fussed over, and not in the cheapest room in a glory-faded hotel paid for by pawned jewellery. Or better still, she would be with Adam. He wasn’t as rich as Colin, by far, and no one was more surprised than her to realize that it didn’t seem to matter. Jo MacLean’s mantra had always been, ‘Happiness doesn’t bring you money.’
There was a two-day Porsche business convention going in the hotel, and a wealth of suits spilled into the large reception area, the wine garden, the bars and restaurant. Jo slipped on a plain black dress that emphasized her long, slim body, the cut of it adding the illusion of curves. She had never failed to ‘pull’ in that dress.
But before she explored the potential downstairs, there was one final thing she needed to do. She couldn’t just leave it there with Adam and Stevie. If she couldn’t have what she wanted, then why the fuck should they?
Jo MacLean picked up her pen.
Chapter 55
On the last day at work before his self-imposed break, Adam’s hand stilled on the envelope in the middle of the pile of post in his office at Well Life. There was no stamp on it, so it had obviously been hand-delivered for maximum effect. He knew the beautiful precise writing with the artistic loops well. He should have thrown it out, but curiosity got the better of him. It was Jo at her manipulative best.
Dearest Adam, whatever you think about receiving this from me, grant me one final kindness and read it to the end, I beg you.
They were iron words, cushioned in a velvet glove of girly curls. I’m so sorry I hurt you…I will always care for you…I have to say this…He didn’t want to read it, but the masochistic part of him couldn’t rip his eyes away from the hypnotic soft swirls of ink.
She put it oh so beautifully, how he could never be right for Stevie because he would never conform to her dull, vain type…and you deserve to find someone who will love you for the strong, selfless, unique, big personality that you are. She said that playing happy families with Stevie and Danny was a mere illusion, because Stevie’s own horrid experiences with step-parents would never allow him to be really accepted unless he were perfect. She was saying this to be kind, of course. Darling Adam, you were the best thing that ever happened to me and I shall always regret my stupid mistake at falling for the lies of another. I still love you and if you ever change your mind, I will drop everything and come to you. Be happy, you wonderful man. Jo x.
He read the letter through to the end and the words continued to sting him long after he had ripped it up and thrown it into the bin. Adam MacLean might have known his basic psychology well, but Jo MacLean was a past master.
Stevie found the letter on the welcome mat. It had been hand-delivered and bore her name in extravagant script on the front. There was a friendly little smiling face drawn in the final ‘e’ to lend it affection. Stevie didn’t want to open it, but its very presence gave her no choice.
Dearest Stevie, I know you will never forgive me but please allow me this one act of genuine friendship and read this letter to the end…
The words were exquisitely put, needles embedded in cotton wool. She knew this, but still she read on. Adam is using you…he never stopped loving me…He invited me to the gym to talk about a reconciliation…He told me evil things you had said about me…I so regret believing him and scratching your car in temper…
Stevie gasped. She remembered the day well. Why else would Jo have been at the gym, if not to talk to Adam?
Be careful of little Danny’s heart…as you know only too well, dear friend, step-families are doomed to fail. Jo told her how Adam’s ‘type’ would always be tall, beautiful, thin, dark-haired women, and how Stevie needed to find someone to love her for the wonderful curvy sunshiney woman that she was. You deserve so much more than any of us. You were the best friend I ever had and I shall always think of you with a smile. I so much regret that you will never be able to do the same for me. Be happy, darling Stevie. Kindest regards and love–Jo x.
Stevie ripped the letter up, but the words left a poison deep in her heart and there was no one on hand to suck it out for her.
Chapter 56
Catherine snuggled up to Eddie’s big body under the thin cotton sheet. There was a light breeze ruffling the curtain, blowing cool and gentle onto their skin. They only needed a cheesecake and it would have been heaven.
‘Can’t believe after all these years you’re still that good in bed,’ said Catherine.
‘Is that a compliment or not?’ laughed Eddie, slapping her on the backside.
Catherine sighed. If she could, she would have split her bliss and given half to Stevie. She was functioning day to day but Catherine wasn’t fooled. Her friend was an automaton, an empty shell bravely guarding the remnants of a heart that was smashed to pieces.
As if reading her
thoughts, Eddie asked her, ‘How’s Stevie getting on?’
‘You know Stevie,’ said Catherine. ‘She’s stuck a smile on for the outside world and says she’s fine, but I can tell she’s not good. Not good at all.’
‘I reckon Matt will try and get back with her.’
‘Probably,’ said Catherine. She didn’t voice it, but that’s what she was afraid of. Stevie and Adam MacLean might have been the world’s unlikeliest couple but there was something sparking between them that she doubted they even knew was there. She didn’t want Matt to slip weakly back into her best friend’s life. She wanted that big, strong Gaelic man to confess his undying love and live happily ever after with Stevie and Danny in that beautiful cottage.
‘I wish there was something I could do,’ she said absently.
‘You keep out of it,’ said Eddie with as stern a voice as he could muster.
‘I’m not the keeping-out-of-it type.’
‘Force yourself,’ said Eddie.
‘I wish Stevie could find what we’ve got,’ said Catherine with a heavy sigh. ‘Well, maybe not all seven kids.’
‘Talking of kids, I saw Rip Van Winkle today,’ said Eddie. ‘I said “By heck, James, it’s Saturday afternoon, what are you doing up?” And by the way, we’ve only got six.’
‘Aye, well, remember the night of Pam’s wedding, when you got all frisky dancing your big meaty legs off to that Birds and Bees dance and then came home and gave me what-for…’
The Birds and the Bees Page 32
