‘You're what?' Matthew drained so white that Jo poked him with her sharpest nail to get his attention to find out what was going on, not that Matthew felt it as he headed for the window to peer through the curtain. Sure enough, there at the other side of the street, was the figure of a person also on a mobile waving at him, although the voice was loud and clear in his ear. It was the most uncomfortable stereo experience he could remember.
‘Hi, there you are!'
‘W … ' he said, but the word, whatever it was, refused to be formed.
‘Anyway, that's all for now. So thanks, and er … good night.'
Matthew didn't say a word. He just clicked off his phone and answered Jo's flurry of questions with a flat, disbelieving voice.
‘That was Stevie. She wants her post. She's moved into that cottage.'
‘Which cottage, where?' said Jo, flicking back the curtain herself but seeing only a square of light from the big pretty house opposite. ‘There?' she said. ‘No, not there – tell me not there!'
‘Yes, there.'
‘How there? Why there?'
‘I don't know.'
‘What's she playing at?'
‘I don't know.'
‘Well, it's obvious isn't it? She's flipped!' said Jo, shaking her head wearily. ‘I knew this had gone too smoothly to be believed. Matt, you have to talk to her. She's nuts. Poor, poor Stevie. Does she really think you'll go back to her if she stalks you? She's doing what she did with her husband all over again, isn't she?'
‘I don't know,' said Matthew, who didn't. It was certainly going to be an expensive way to tail him and for no end. He should have seen this coming, really, because she did have some history as a bit of a hanger-on when it was obvious the relationship was dead. Maybe he should go over and talk to her about it and spell it out that he really was not coming back. Jo was right, though, it certainly explained why she had ‘let him off' so lightly. She had obviously been saving her energies for this pièce de résistance. Did she see Jo's car arrive? Did she see him carry her inside? So then, did she realize Jo had actually moved in? How mad would that make her feel? Had she copied his keys? Could he smell prawns? The questions got too big and he suddenly wanted to get away from it all.
‘Come on, let's just get ready and go out. We'll deal with this later, but for now, let's go eat.'
‘And drink,' said Jo, who threw down the useless, thin, bendy Ryvita of a towel that was wrapped around her hair but had absorbed nothing. Then she skipped upstairs to her extensive designer wardrobe, throwing behind her, ‘I'll need champagne to drown out this little revelation!'
Matthew groaned.
Stevie breathed slowly in and out as she had done in labour to steady herself. She could barely press the disconnect button on the phone for trembling. Then, when she felt able to cross to the window again, she snapped the blinds shut, cocooning herself safely away from the rest of the world, and leant against the wall for some badly needed support because this was the closest she had ever come in her life to fainting. Then she stabbed in the text lettering Mission accomplished, and sent it to Adam MacLean.
Chapter 25
A parcel arrived for Matthew just as he and Jo were setting off for work the following morning. He threw it in the porch to deal with later because he did not have the time to open it then. He locked up the house and looked across at the old cottage before getting in the car, half-expecting to see Stevie framed in the window, staring back wistfully at him. Or tapping an axe in her hand. Or holding a rabbit and a big stew pot. As it was, he saw only a cottage with all the curtains drawn and blinds dropped, but knowing that Stevie was moving behind them still made him feel uncomfortable.
Jo had been right, scorned women were dangerous, irrational beings and she couldn't have moved in across the road for any other reason than to wreak havoc in his life. He should have realized she had trouble dealing with rejection. By her own admission, Mick's leaving had driven her half-mad. Certainly, her little phone call had put a big damp cloth over their whole evening. All roads of conversation bent back to Stevie and her new living arrangements, however much they had tried to get on with enjoying the meal. They hadn't succeeded and Matthew had driven straight home, with no detour down Lovers' Lane. It had not been ninety-two quid well spent.
Matthew had struggled to get an erection in bed because the thought of his ex-lover living directly across the lane had got in the way and stirred up all sorts of feelings that had fingers in all sorts of emotional pies. He had managed to perform in the end, because who couldn't when they were in bed with someone as gorgeous as Jo, but it wouldn't have gone down as his best performance. Although it was still bloody good.
Jo was taking him shopping at lunchtime for an iron and a microwave and some towels that didn't scratch her skin off, and some decent sheets. He pocketed the invitation to get a new Platinum Visa that arrived with that morning's post from one of the few remaining banks with whom he didn't have one. His emergency Goldfish was starting to drown.
Catherine was already at the garden centre café when Stevie rolled up. Catherine had suggested lunch out, away from Blossom Lane and the gym. She thought some country air and carbs might do her friend good. They hugged hello and plonked themselves at a nice table with a view of the stream, heavily populated by ducks and a gangsta goose.
‘So how's it going, dare I ask? Got back into your writing yet?' asked Catherine, after they had sent the young waiter off with an order for caramel lattes and two pasta carbonaras. Stevie's shiny-eyed silence made any verbal answer unnecessary. Catherine reached over the table and gave her hand a comforting squeeze.
‘Stevie, I've not really a doubt in my head that Matthew will come back to you after he's realized that Jo is a cold, calculating bitch who probably deserved to get clobbered by Highland Hairy Legs, but-'
‘But what?'
‘But is he really the person you thought he was, to put you through this? Would you ever be able to trust him again?'
‘I want him back, Catherine,' she said steadily. ‘We'll sort it out between us afterwards, I'm sure of it.'
‘It will happen,' said Catherine, who was totally convinced of it. ‘Both Eddie and I think that Matthew's weak rather than wicked. Anyway, what's the update?'
There was a brief pause whilst the coffees arrived. Then another brief pause whilst Catherine sent them back for being lukewarm.
‘At these prices I should get third-degree burns off this!' she said to the waiter, who went off hunched over with humiliation, as if his mum had just smacked his legs.
‘I met Adam MacLean in the gym yesterday,' said Stevie.
‘And?'
‘He told me what to do and I did it.'
‘Which was?' said Catherine eagerly, rotating her hands as if to wind her friend's clockwork up.
‘To ring Matthew and tell him if I had any post to drop it off at the cottage opposite.'
‘Hang on a mo,' said Catherine as the waiter came back with two fresh coffees and stood there dutifully whilst she tested the temperature. She nodded her approval and he went off smiling with relief, as if she was the man from Del Monte.
‘So, Matt knows where you're living then – oh wow!' carried on Catherine, as they spooned off the froth and drank the lovely sweet coffee. ‘And how did he take it?'
‘I think he was too shocked to say anything then, but I had a peep through the kitchen blinds this morning and saw him staring over – sorry, glaring over – at the house before he got into the car. He didn't look very pleased at all.'
‘Good!' said Catherine. Then the pasta arrived.
‘Not good really,' said Stevie. ‘I don't want him to hate me. I want him to love me.'
‘Bloody hell, Steve,' said Catherine crossly. ‘He doesn't own the whole town – you can live where you like! Tough tits if he doesn't like it. There's Danny's school to think of, more than his inconvenience.'
‘Yes, you're right,' said Stevie, marking those points down for possible regurgitation later. ‘Although, it does look a bit obvious why I've moved there, doesn't it? He'll think I'm stalking him.'
‘Not if you ignore him he won't, and certainly not if you're seen on the arm of another bloke.'