Matthew was more worried about what MacLean would ‘kick in' when he heard that someone was moving in on his wife.
‘Trust me, Adam will be less "upset",' said Jo, loading the word with meaning, ‘to see us getting respectably together in front of him tomorrow than poking around to discover we've been having an affair behind his back for the past few months.'
‘What if there's a fight?' said Matthew, thinking about his skull and Adam's fist connecting with it.
‘Darling, William's family won't let anyone ruin his wedding day. If Adam starts any trouble at all then he'll be out on his ear. As for Stevie, well, I've been thinking, maybe we could find her somewhere ourselves. I've seen some lovely rentals out in Penistone.' She nibbled his ear on the final ‘nnn'.
‘Aaahhh! I think she'll want to stay in the area,' said Matthew. ‘Danny's school and all that. But that is so kind of you for looking.'
‘Come on, it's the least I could do. She's a nice person and little Danny is sweet too,' said Jo, and she smiled up at him through her long mascara-ed eyelashes. His legs felt weak, as if someone had taken all the bones out and replaced them with a Birds trifle.
‘Look, let's talk about it on the way to work,' he said, kissing the tip of her little pointy nose. He picked up her briefcase for her and they walked out into the corridor to find the lift out of order and the prospect for Jo of four flights of steps in very high stilettos.
‘Bloody hotel!' she said. ‘How much did you say you were paying for this per night?'
‘Don't ask,' he sighed, following her fuming passage down the stairs. He was just at the top of the second flight when he realized what she had actually said:
‘How much did you say you were paying?'
Chapter 16
The day of the wedding dawned. Danny woke up with a heart full of excitement for the hours to come. In the next bedroom, Stevie woke up with a heart full of dread for the hours to come. The day could take so many possible forms:
1) Matthew doesn't turn up
2) Matthew turns up and ignores her
3) Matthew turns up with Joanna
4) Matthew turns up with Joanna and announces his engagement
5) Adam MacLean murders everyone
None of them was especially good.
Eddie bee-beeped outside at half past eleven and Danny moved as fast as if he had a nuclear rocket secreted down the back of his pants.
‘Mummy, it's Uncle Eddie, it's Uncle Eddie!'
‘Never!' said Stevie, smiling at his jubilation, which trebled when he looked out of the window and saw Boot's massive and ugly profile in the back seat.
‘Mummy, Boot's here! Quick!'
‘They aren't going to drive off and leave you, Danny. Hang on, let me get some shoes on.'
‘Come on,' he urged, dancing around like Michael Flatley with a bladder problem. Eddie wolf-whistled when Stevie came out to the car in her very long rainbow-striped dressing-gown and a pair of trainers.
‘Oh, get stuffed!' said Stevie, knowing she was hardly wolf-whistley material in this, or at all. Only blind, insane or desperate builders from high-up scaffolding had ever whistled to her, and that was usually because of her generously proportioned chest.
‘Stevie, what the bloody hell have you done to your conk?'
Stevie's hand shot up to her still-tender nose in horror. ‘I fell at the gym. Oh God, can you see it? Is it really noticeable?'
Eddie waved it away with a flap of his hand. ‘No, is it heck. Slap a bit of make-up on it, nobody'll notice.'
‘I did that already.'
‘Oh, sorry,' said Eddie, twisting round to the little boy as a means of escape. ‘Ready, Sunshine?' Danny had already clambered in the back and was fighting off a very licky Boot.
‘Boot!' reprimanded Eddie. ‘Get down!' Boot immediately lay down with his chin on Danny's lap and the little boy's face registered heaven as he stroked the big black head that looked as if it should be guarding a gateway into hell somewhere. It was part of a scenario Stevie had wished for him so many times: brothers and sisters, a house full of rough and tumble, everyone piling in a people-carrier with a big sloppy dog and a big sloppy dad. Except that it wasn't her kids or his big sloppy dog or his big sloppy dad but those of her best friend.
‘Oy you, cheer up,' said Eddie, seeing the shadow of sadness suddenly cross Stevie's features. He reached through the window, took her hand and squeezed it in his bear-like paw. ‘We'll look after you today and we're going to have a great time, and no one will notice your conk because the rest of you will be so gorgeous.'
He meant well.
‘You wearing a kilt then?' asked Stevie, clicking on a smile.
‘Get lost!' said Eddie. ‘I don't want women lusting after my legs.'
Stevie laughed. ‘See you at one outside the church then.' She rapped on the window to Danny and said, ‘You be good!'
‘Ah, he's always good,' said Eddie. ‘He's a cracker like his mam.'
She blew them all a kiss and then went inside the house in the hope of making herself look the cracker of all crackers. Just for once.
‘Well, this is as good as it gets,' she said to her reflection an hour later, which nodded back its approval. She had lost weight since she tried the red suit on in the shop; it fitted her not so snugly and the cut made her waist nip in nicely. Offset with slim black patent heels, a matching bag and a large-brimmed red and black hat, she looked okay, if she said so herself. An extra blob of foundation almost covered up the scab on the bridge of her nose and took some of the bluish hue of the bruise away. The taxi pipped outside and she quickly grabbed the wedding present and locked up the front door on her way out to get it.
‘Saint Peter and All Angels,' she said, just as the text message came through from Catherine to say they had just arrived and were waiting outside for her. No sign of x + x, was how the message ended, which was good, if it lasted.
It was a beautiful day for a wedding, sunny and no wind to blow hats off and skirts up, Marilyn Monroe style. The bells were pealing from the pretty little Maltstone village church where Catherine, resplendent in navy blue and a very gorgeous cloche hat, and Eddie in a dark grey suit and a tartan tie, were waiting for her outside as promised.
‘Oooh, lady in red, you look swanky,' said Eddie, coming forward and giving her a little kiss.
‘So do you, kind sir,' said Stevie, although even if Eddie had been wearing Armani he wouldn't have managed to lose that ‘I hate suits' look. His hair, as usual, refused to play ball, sticking up at all angles and making him look like a mad uncle with a secret laboratory.
‘Stevie, you look lovely,' said Catherine, giving her a cheek peck and a little squeeze. Then her smile dropped. ‘What on earth happened to your nose?'
‘Oh hell,' said Stevie, covering it up with her hand. ‘I fell in the gym. On the flaming treadmill. Guess who helped me up.'
‘Ouch!' said Catherine, who didn't have to guess. ‘Bet that hurt more than the injury. I think you have to be the most accident-prone person I know, Steve.'
‘Idiotically clumsy, you mean.'
‘No, I don't mean that at all. Look, the nose thing isn't really noticeable – I'm sorry I mentioned it,' said Catherine, trying quickly to mend the fast-growing hole in Stevie's composure. ‘It's only because I stared at you from point-blank range. Your hat throws it right into shadow … '
‘Shut up about her beak,' said Eddie. ‘Between the pair of us we'll have her running off over the gravestones like Zola Budd! Come on, let's get inside where it's dark and no one can see anyone's nose,' and he presented his arms to both ladies and led them down the church path. It made a change from being led down the garden path, thought Stevie with grim humour.
They were so busy talking in the queue for hymnbooks that neither woman noticed him at first. It was only when it was Stevie's turn and the distinctive voice said, ‘Brrride or Grrroom?' that she jumped and took a long sweep upwards from the big hairy legs appearing out of the bottom of a heavily sporraned kilt to the mashed but surprisingly cleanshaven face, and then further on to a very, very cropped hairdo.
As if he hadn't looked hard enough before. Even his name sounded full of testosterone. He was probably going to start smashing bottles on his teeth in a minute.
‘Pardon?'
‘Brrride or Grrroom?'