Adam did a sweep of the place an hour and a half later and saw that Stevie was still pounding away on the treadmill. He almost felt sorry for her, before remembering it was her fault they were all in this position. He noticed that she was glaring in his direction and so he glared back. Then she suddenly buckled, lost her footing, tripped over her own trainer and fell on the treadmill, which transported her backwards, made her do a reverse roly poly then rudely deposited her with a thud on the floor. Buster Keaton couldn't have choreographed it better. A couple of people started to come over to help, but they were mainly pensioners around at this time, and Adam beat them to it.
His long legs thundered over to her. She was a customer, after all, and he had a responsibility to her. Even if she was the one who had wrecked his relationship with the most wonderful woman in the world, he still had his professional duty to do.
‘Are you awwwrrright?' he asked, helping her up.
When she realized who it was helping her up though, she shrugged him right off. People were looking at her and she felt a total idiot and, even though she knew it was a huge cliché, Stevie really did want the ground to open and swallow her up whole and get her out of there via an underground network. It was her own stupid fault, she knew, for not eating enough. In the past five days she had eaten little more than three bites of that ham and Brie panini, and was surviving mainly on the milky coffees she had been drinking on a half-hourly basis. It wasn't as if the caffeine would interfere with her sleep patterns, because she wasn't getting any sleep. As a result, she felt totally wired all the time, a condition not helped by the adrenaline surging through her veins, generated by the anxiety of waiting for this week to be at an end.
Now the only thing she could feel was embarrassment. People were going to go home tonight and say, ‘Ha ha, this woman fell off the treadmill today big time – it was hilarious,' and just to add total humiliation to the mix, Bigfoot had tried to lift her up. Her nose felt clogged up and was swelling before everyone else's eyes, and she wasn't going to be eight stone and beautiful by tomorrow. She would still be plump, but with blonder, shorter hair and a big, fat, swollen, split-open, red nose. There was no way she was going to cry in front of him, though, however defeated she felt . In fact, thinking about it, this was his fault as well. If she hadn't looked over and seen him staring at her, she would not have lost her running rhythm. Bloody Scottish jinx. Was he making it his new mission to screw up her life totally?
‘Let's get you tae the First Aid room,' Adam said.
‘I'll fix it at homeb,' said Stevie, cringing with embarrassment as a big splodge of nose-blood landed on the floor. She hadn't a tissue or even a long sleeve, and was forced to accept the soft white hankie he offered her from his pocket. His best one too, he thought. He wouldn't see that again.
‘Dank you,' she said grudgingly.
‘Come and sit down for a minute.'
‘Doh. I just wand my bag and do go homeb,' said Stevie, sniffing and then wincing because it hurt to do so. ‘I'b bring dor hankie back dext timeb.' That is, if she could bear the indignity of everyone pointing her out as the in-house entertainment.
She did look hellish pale, thought Adam, and a wee bit woozy. He would be failing in his duty if he didn't advise her not to get into her car, even if home was just down the road.
‘I really don't think you should drive for a wee while,' he said, attempting to take her arm again. ‘Trust me, I'm Firrrst-Aid trained.'
‘I'mb fine,' she insisted, pulling back as his hand made contact.
‘Well, I cannae force ye, of course,' he said, holding up his hands in a gesture of defeat.
‘Really? Ad there's be thinking dat's your sbeciality!' said Stevie, and with as much dignity as she could muster in the circumstances, she turned on her heel and headed towards the changing rooms, leaving a stunned Adam thinking,
Now whit the hell did the stupid woman mean ba' that?
Chapter 10
Matthew packed the little red-hearted G-string into the side of Jo's case, sighing as he remembered the fun they'd had with it the previous night. Jo came out of the bathroom, brushing her teeth as if she had sensed that his brain was occupied with some very naughty thoughts about her.
‘All set for tomorrow, darling?' she said.
‘No, I want to stay here for ever,' he said, adjusting himself as his pants suddenly felt very tight. She noticed the impressive bulge and her eyes rounded.
‘Well, it'll be like this from now on, won't it?'
‘Exactly – only colder.'
‘I'll think of lots of ways to warm you up,' she said smokily and his pants got even tighter. In fact, they were in danger of exploding. He hadn't thought it was possible to sweat as much as he had done this week. If he died tomorrow, he would have enough memories to keep him happily entertained for all eternity. Although really, he shouldn't joke about dying tomorrow, because he just might, if Adam MacLean got hold of him. That thought made his pants suddenly have more than enough room in them.
‘Will you be okay, going to pick up your stuff from your house? Do you want me to come with you?' he asked Jo softly.
‘I'll be fine,' she said. ‘It's not as if Adam knows about us.'
‘If he did, then he'd be pretty angry, right?' said Matthew with a gulp.
‘He'd be waiting for us at the airport with a flamethrower if he did,' said Jo. She stroked his face soothingly. ‘But he doesn't, so relax.'
‘No, of course not – how can he know?' said Matthew, more to himself than to Jo, but wondering if they sold Kevlar body armour in the airport duty-free shop all the same.
‘So, you're going to tell Stevie tomorrow to move out then?' said Jo.
‘Well, I'll have to give her a bit of time to get packed up and find somewhere else. She has got Danny to think about.'
‘Poor little Danny,' said Jo, sniffing sadly. ‘This is going to be awful for him too. I can't bear to think about it. She'll probably … ' Jo cut off and shook her head.
‘She'll probably what?' urged Matthew.
‘Nothing,' said Jo. ‘Forget it.'
‘No, what were you going to say?'
‘No, it'll come out wrong if I say it,' said Jo. ‘Just leave it.'
But Matthew wouldn't.
‘Well, I think that you should be very careful how you handle Stevie,' said Jo. ‘She may turn … feral.'
‘She won't. She's not like that,' said Matthew. Jo gave him an ‘I know better than you about women' look.
‘Trust me, I'm not trying to be awful,' she said. ‘God knows, this is going to be a living hell for the poor darling. It's just that … well, she herself told me how it was – last time.'
Matthew had to conclude that, actually, Jo might be right on that one. He rewound to some old conversations he'd had with Stevie about how she had reacted to Mick's infidelity. There had been lots of shouting, ripping things, throwing things, emotional blackmail, even a bit of stalking, and generally going nuts – totally out of character for the gentle person he knew and had loved. Had loved. He noted that he was already thinking of her in the past tense. It was just as well that all he was going to tell Stevie was that he needed some space and it might be better if she moved out for a while. Once she was out of the way, he would pretend to get together with Jo, who would move in soon after, of course. Playing it that way meant that they (hopefully) wouldn't have to worry about coming home to a bunny stew.
After this week, he hoped Stevie would be out of the way pretty soon because he could not wait long to carry on at home where he and Jo would leave off in Majorca. It had been so good to wake up with her after a long night instead of skulking about, snatching moments when Stevie's back was turned. He didn't know at what point he was going to tell Stevie the wedding was off. He was sort of hoping she would draw that conclusion for herself and save him the hassle. It was a cliché all right, but all was fair in love and war. He had to keep thinking that or he would never be able to look at himself in a mirror again.
Obviously, Adam MacLean might not quite see it in those black and white terms. Jo was going to tell him that she wanted some space too, and then join Matt at the Queens Hotel in town, when she had packed up a few essentials. She hadn't been quite so keen on his first suggestion of the B&B on Lunn Street, but what the hell – it wouldn't be for long, then any money worries would be over. No doubt Jo would go for a quickie divorce on the grounds of MacLean being a violent git, and the latter would have to pay her out once their house was sold. Matthew presumed then that she would buy half his house in Blossom Lane and all money pressure would be right off him. Then they could really start to enjoy themselves from a steady financial platform. Plenty of holidays in the sun like this one, plenty of cosy romantic meals for two at home and cuddle-ups on the sofa, plenty of tiny little Agent Provocateur red G-strings to pull off with his teeth. His perfect life was just around the corner.