‘If you'll agree to consider moving in there, we'll come to some arrangement about the money that disnae see you short,' Adam interrupted back. ‘I might be able to batter the landlord down on price.'
Yes, she could imagine he would be very effective at battering. She had a sudden scene in her head of some old, defenceless landlord in a headlock saying, ‘Yes, yes, I'll compromise – please just get off my windpipe!'
She nodded her head warily. This seemed to incense him.
‘Look, lady, I'm doing this primarily for me and Jo, not you and him, but unfortunately we're all knotted up in this together. This isnae a charity thing, if that's what you're thinking.'
‘As if!' Yeah, like that thought had crossed her mind.
‘Well then? It's the only way, and trust me I've thought of every possible solution. So if you would be so kind as to give me your telephone number … '
Stevie scraped the bottoms of the barrels of her brain for any other alternatives, but came up with zilch. As he said, mad as it was, this was worth trying. Anything was worth trying. Even entering an unholy alliance with McBeelzebub here. She had to get Matthew back, so she swallowed her pride and it felt bitter and lumpy on the way down.
‘Okay, you're on,' she said, with a heavy sigh of resignation.
Once she and Matthew were reunited, they might even laugh at this one day, surrounded by grandchildren and sipping Horlicks by a fireside, with Mr and Mrs MacLean long resigned to the trashcan of history. She scribbled down her mobile number on one of the five million pads she had littered about the place, in case of sudden literary inspiration, then Adam left quickly – a man with a mission, locked on course.
He rang her an hour later, during which time her nerves had knitted themselves into a scarf of knots.
‘The landlaird willnae budge o'the price,' he said.
‘Pardon?'
‘Theee land-lord will not budge on the price,' pronounced Adam slowly.
‘Oh well, that's that then.'
‘I'll cover what you can't afford. We'll sort out the details later. I've signed the lease and I've got the key, which I'll drop around to you this afternoon, so if you've anything heavy to carry across, I'll do it for you then, because you start moving in today. Ring your man tomorrow and tell him the place is empty a day early. Now go pack!'
Then he put the phone down before Stevie could manage a single word of protest.
Chapter 20
Adam arrived with the key just as Stevie was disconnecting her computer. Together they walked across the road to inspect her new temporary home, whose formal address, according to the lease, was Humbleby Cottage, the houses on that side of the road having only names, no numbers. Humbleby was something of a misnomer, because there was nothing the least bit humble about it from the outside aspect and even less from the inside, as they were to find when they unlocked the door and went in. Adam hadn't (unfortunately) banged his skull on the beams and fatally injured himself. They were deceptively high and his head cleared them easily, although maybe it wouldn't be wise for him to start pogo-ing to any punk records whilst he was there.
The cottage was chocolate-box pretty. The kitchen was roadside with a huge Yorkshire stone inglenook fireplace, an old working Aga and original wooden floors with thick patterned rugs over them. Thankfully, the modern world had been allowed in too and there was central heating and double-glazing with security windows throughout. There was the bonus of a good-sized, well-equipped separate study with hundreds of bookshelves, a lounge with an even grander fireplace, and a darling little sunroom around the back looking out onto a long private cottage garden, which apparently had been maintained by a gardener in the absence of a tenant. Upstairs was a huge spacious girly bathroom and two massive, pretty bedrooms with exposed beams.
For some reason, Adam had smiled slyly when he said, ‘Only two bedrooms, eh?'
She hadn't even dared to ask what that might have meant.
A domestic service had been going in once every three weeks to dust it down, so the cottage was ready to move into without Stevie having to clean it or scrub out the cupboards. It was immaculate and fully furnished with some very nice stuff.
‘Whit do you think?' said Adam.
‘It's lovely,' said Stevie. She would have to be very careful and try not to fall in love with it. Her relationship with the house would have to be a casual one. Although she was beginning to doubt her ability to fall in love with anything again. As soon as her heart touched something, it seemed to scare it away.
‘Right – got anything heavy I can move for you?'
‘I haven't got a lot of things,' she replied. ‘I sold most of my furniture with my last house because it wouldn't fit in Matthew's.'
‘You must have something, mon!'
‘Just my computer for now.'
‘Let's go and get it then.'
So off they went back to Matthew's house and he carried her computer over and set it up for her in the little study. It would be a change to work in some generous space for a while, she thought, after being cramped in the corner of Matthew's tiny dining area.
‘Work from home, dae you?' he asked as he was twiddling with leads.
‘Yes,' she said, without furnishing him with further detail.
‘On this?'
‘Yes,' she replied. He didn't need to know any more and she had no intention of enlightening him and earning his ridicule.
‘So, what's next?' he asked, when the computer was up and running.
‘Well, I've got some books.'
‘C'moan then,' and he marched back over like a Black Watch soldier on parade. She hadn't unpacked most of them from her last move so they were all still conveniently in boxes under the dining-room table. Matthew had been going to buy her some shelves for her birthday, but he had not had the spare money and the date had come and gone. He had bought her some smellies from Marks & Spencer instead – the sort of soap collection one would buy for a spinster aunt with dodgy olfactory workings.
‘They're a bit heav-'
‘Nonsense,' Adam said, and lifted the first one up as if it was an empty crisp packet, then he came back for the other two and carried them as effortlessly. The bloke was an ox. He should have been out ploughing fields, not running leisure facilities.
‘What noo?' he asked, not even a bit out of breath.
‘Nothing really. The rest will just be suitcases and black bags. I can manage those myself when I fill them.'
‘Right, I'll be in touch,' he said, and then he dropped the cottage keys into her hand and went without further ado.
After he vroomed off, Stevie rang Catherine to tell her how the previous night had gone with Matthew.
‘I still can't believe how he's treated you,' her friend said, when Stevie filled her in on the details, ‘and then to pretend he wasn't going out with Jo until the wedding! He's got such a nerve. What will you do?'
‘Well, if you've a spare half an hour, I'll show you,' Stevie replied.
‘Show?'
‘Can you get your butt over here? You won't regret it.'
‘I'm in the car already.'
Five minutes later, Catherine was there and Stevie led her silently and mysteriously over the road. Catherine gasped when she produced a key and slid it into the lock of her favourite house ever.
‘You're not moving in here? You can't afford this, can you?' she said with breathless excitement.
‘Yes, I am, and no, I can't,' said Stevie and proceeded to tell her the Adam MacLean part of the story.
‘You lucky cow bitch from hell living here,' said Catherine.
‘In other circumstances, maybe,' said Stevie.
‘Well, even for a little while it'll be nice,' said Catherine, whose eyes couldn't move fast enough around the inside of the house. ‘Bloody hell, Steve, it's like a Tardis. It's even bigger than it looks from outside – it's massive, in fact, and it's absolutely gorgeous. No wonder it's so expensive.'
Stevie nodded. Yes, it was beautiful, apart from the view from the kitchen – for the home she was leaving would sit there framed in the window like a taunting picture: Ner ner ner ner ner, you don't live here, but guess who-o do-oes.
‘Well, for the record, I think it's a bloody good idea of Adam MacLean's,' said Catherine.
‘Do you?' Stevie was surprised at that. Catherine wasn't usually one for wild schemes and mad impulses, or for siding with people who beat up women for a hobby.