The Birds and the Bees(46)

‘Of course I was going tae,' he snapped back. They glared at each other,  enemies again, until she broke contact and called Danny through.

‘I'm off, pal,' said Adam, bending to him, and then gently jabbed his cheek with his enormous fist.

‘Awww. Are you coming back soon?' said Danny.

‘No doubt I will see you again,' said Adam, flashing a quick look at  Stevie, but she wasn't looking at him. She was too busy trying to work  out what her son was making of it all, checking that he wasn't confused  or upset by Adam's visit. Adam understood that and respected it. More  than she could ever know.

‘Shall we colour co-ordinate when I call again?' he asked her once he had stood again to his full height.

‘I'll be in yellow and pink,' said Stevie.

‘Well, maybe not,' said Adam with a cough. Then he left.



There was no one across the road watching Adam go, although he did leave  with a tyre squeal just in case they needed to know he was on his way.  He could still feel where Stevie had scratched his head, but he smiled  as his hand came up to rub at the slight raised weal. You wouldn't have  thought there was such a tigress in her tank to look at her. Therein lay  the trouble. He had thought he had known her, before he had even laid  eyes on her. Her reputation had preceded her and, respecting the source  of the gossip, he had taken it as gospel. Really, tonight was the first  time she had acted anything like Jo's reporting of her. But wasn't that  understandable, if she thought he was hurting her son? So far, he had to  admit, there hadn't been much evidence of her being a fraction of the  lazy, unhinged, crockery-throwing harridan Jo had said she was, and the  selfless defence of her child wasn't the action of a mother who was  borderline abusive.

He wished his mammy had been like Stevie in full flow, in the times when  they got hurt. Especially the day when his da had been skelping wee  Jinny with a heavy, drunken hand for weeing the bed and Adam had stepped  in to stop him. He wasn't a big boy then, but he was getting stronger  by the day, and for the first time Andy MacLean had struggled to  overpower him. So he had gone for the hot poker and burnt his son on the  face. Branded him like an animal. Said that every time he looked in the  mirror from then on, he'd remember how he raised a hand to his daddy.  And his maw had stood there like a scared ghost, watching it happen. She  had not stepped in, like he'd seen Stevie do, mad for the safety of her  wean.

He was a hell of a big man now but that still hadn't stopped Stevie  going for him. She had run at him like a ram and had not given a single  thought to what damage he could have done her. And he had the strength  of a bull and could have done her a lot.

And when they said he'd be scarred for life, he'd thought, Surely my mammy'll leave him noo? But she didnae.





Chapter 36




‘If you could give me a little more time, I get paid in a week,' said  Matthew down the phone, believing he was whispering and not aware that  his fellow office workers could easily overhear him.

‘I'm sorry, Mr Finch, but I can't stop the interest being charged, nor  can I authorize to refund you the overdue fee for the reasons you've  given me for non-payment. Plus as you are paid monthly, you will have to  find two months' mortgage from that single salary. Have you thought  about that?'                       
       
           



       

‘Of course I've sodding thought about it. I can't think of anything else!' snarled Matthew.

‘I'm sorry, but I won't be sworn at,' said the mortgage advisor, and she put the phone down on him.

‘Bloody bitch!' said Matthew, a little too noisily.

‘Personal calls, Mr Finch?' said a starchy voice behind him.

‘Just the one urgent one, Colin, just the one,' said Matthew, inwardly  cringing. It would have to be him – Colin Seed, Head of Personnel, doing  his rounds. Creepy Colin, Seedy Colin, Colin the Cardigan and, rather  cruelly given the recent circumstances, Norman Bates. He couldn't have  been more than ten years older than Matthew, but he looked near to  retiring with his Shredded Wheat comb-over, ill-fitting brown suits that  struggled to close over his paunch and a face guaranteed to cure  hiccups. He spoke to every man as if they were naughty schoolboys and he  was their headmaster. Even Matthew, who was the thirty-four-year-old  Head of Concessions.

‘Of all people to be there when you're on the phone to someone not  work-related,' said Matthew, telling Jo about it on the drive home.  ‘That bloke is always lurking about. He's got a real personality  problem.'

‘Who were you ringing?'

‘Oh … er … just the bank, to see if a cheque had been paid in that I was  expecting. Interest owed to me.' Damn, what made him lie again?

‘Why didn't you use your mobile?'

‘Can't find it,' he said. Lying again. He had finally cancelled it in a  desperate economy measure. That, and cancelling his gym membership,  would save him a hundred quid a month easily.

‘Anyway, why do you think the man's got a problem?'

‘Well, you only have to look at him,' said Matthew. ‘He's a total  numpty. He was born middle-aged, he's never had a girlfriend and he's  never likely to get one either.'

‘He could be gay,' said Jo.

‘No chance. He likes to hang around women too much. Not that he'd know  what to do with one. Unless he found a blind one into trainspotting.'

‘Bitchy! I've always found him quite amiable in passing,' said Jo, slapping Matthew gently.

‘Well, you are a very beautiful girl and will no doubt have charmed him where everyone else has failed.'

‘Aw, sweetie,' said Jo and stroked his hand, making his skin purr with pleasure. ‘He's probably just lonely.'

‘Seedy? Yeah, probably is,' said Matthew. ‘Anyway, I think he'll be  leaving soon, thank God. They've wanted him to go over and run the New  York offices for ages, but he lived with his mum and that stopped him  going. She died a couple of months ago and left him a stack.' Lucky  bugger, thought Matthew. What he wouldn't give for a windfall like that.  And the chance to go and live in New York. He'd gladly swap places with  Seedy for all that – brown suits, fat gut, comb-over, Hallowe'en face and  all.

‘Poor man,' said Jo, with a heavy sigh.

‘Poor man, nothing! He's a frustrated git who is jealous of anyone who  looks as if they are getting a shag,' said Matthew, ‘and the reason he  is nice to you, darling, is because you are simply gorgeous and he  probably wants to eat you all up, like I do.'

‘Thank you,' said Jo, giving him her most beautiful smile. ‘Talking of  eating, shall we dine out tonight and celebrate how lovely I am then?'

‘Oh what the hell, why not,' said Matthew, who found he really did not  want to be at home amongst the negative energy of a stack of unpaid  bills, or drawn to the window to see what was going on across at the  cottage. Not that anything Stevie did could affect him, you understand,  she was out of his life. That's what he found he had to keep telling  himself anyway.



Adam MacLean rang her just as she was making up a cup of Horlicks to  take to bed. It was ten o'clock and Matthew and Jo were just coming home  from somewhere. Stevie watched as Jo slammed the door of the car and  fumbled angrily with the house lock, leaving Matthew in her wake and  looking very sheepish. He flashed a look towards the cottage to see if  anyone was witnessing his humiliation and for once Stevie didn't step  back from the shadows. Why shouldn't she be at her window, closing her  blinds? If Matthew wanted to play with fire, let him get burnt. She  hadn't done anything to skulk into the shadows for.

‘Hi there,' Stevie drawled into the mouthpiece, looking very dreamy as  she was talking. Let Matthew Finch observe that as well – ha!

‘It's me, Adam,' he said, thinking she couldn't have realized. She was talking like Emmanuelle.                       
       
           



       

‘I know, I'm being watched.'

‘They cannae hear you!'

‘No, but the voice comes free with the expression.' Honestly, what did  he think? That she was actually trying to seduce him? She watched as  Matthew followed Jo into the house and closed the door meekly behind  him. Boy, what Stevie wouldn't give to be a fly with big ears on that  wall.

‘It looks to me as if my neighbours across the street might just have  had a row. She's stomping about and he looks totally whitewashed,'  reported Stevie.

‘Guid. Wonder if it's anything to do with us?'

‘No doubt we'll get to know in due course if it is.'

‘Have you got your invite?'