As he heard the bedroom door open, Matthew knew that her back would be waiting for him in bed and tonight, for the first time, he really didn't care.
In his cold, echoey, four-bedroomed house that night, Adam started to pack a suitcase. It was young Danny who had reminded him that there were only two bedrooms in that house – something that Finch would know. If he moved in, Finch would presume the obvious – Danny in one bed, he and Stevie in the other. Their plan was working better than he could ever have expected it to. He had seen how many times Matthew's eyes had drifted over to Stevie at the barbecue. As for Jo, she was hurting; Adam was definitely getting to her. He could tell that by the way she sneered at him through the happy, party crowd, as if she was enjoying the thought that he might be suffering. Like a wasp, Jo stung to kill when she was threatened. Then he had witnessed how she'd treated the boy. It had altered everything, seeing Danny try to cuddle her and Jo shove him off as if he was something abhorrent. Something about the events of that night had shifted all the pieces around in his heart.
Then he thought of how slowly Stevie's head had turned towards him when he had made the suggestion that he move in with her to Humbleby. He didn't think it was possible for anyone's eyes to open that wide without popping out and detaching from their optical nerves. It was all he could do not to burst out laughing, but he feared she would have whacked him with the nearest Midnight Moon rubbish.
‘One last big push and I swear to you that if they haven't broken up in seven days, I'll move out again. But I promise you they will have.'
‘Of course you're joking!' said Stevie breathlessly.
‘Naw,' said Adam. ‘I've never been more serious in my whole life.'
It was obviously against her better judgment but she had soundlessly and slowly nodded her assent and continued drinking her coffee. Who would have thought they would ever have had to resort to these measures?
Chapter 40
At 15 Blossom Lane, the next day was a very strained affair. Matthew made Jo an early breakfast in bed as a peace-offering, although he wasn't quite sure what he was apologizing for. He went out for a huge stack of Sunday newspapers and settled himself on the dining-room table as Jo went back to sleep. Was it his imagination or were there more debt articles than ever in the supplements? How to manage your money? Should I get a consolidating loan? How to stop spending …
His bowels started to cramp up as he read. He really could not afford, in all senses of the word, to delay the money talk with Jo any longer, so he wished she would hurry and wake up. She was still asleep when he called up at lunchtime, so he slunk back downstairs and reached for another newspaper with only a bacon sandwich and a bag of Cheesy Wotsits for company.
He heard signs of her rising just after four and waited patiently, chewing his nails, whilst sounds of the fully-turned-on bath taps filtered downstairs. He was almost physically deformed with anxiety by the time she came downstairs, an hour later. His heart sank as he saw she was dressed to go out.
‘Are we going out for something to eat?' were her first words to him.
‘Now – say it now!' urged a voice in Matthew's head.
‘Er … Jo.' He took her hands and pulled her softly down on the sofa. ‘I can't. I'm a bit broke at the moment. I'm sorry.' There, that was easy enough!
‘Broke?' She looked confused. ‘What do you mean, "broke"?'
Matthew took the sort of breath one did before a bungee jump off the Grand Canyon.
‘The thing is, for a while … it would help if you could give me something towards the household bills – you know, the mortgage and … stuff.'
She stared at him as if he had just grown a pair of horns. Then she stood abruptly up. ‘You are fucking joking, I take it. Now, like I say, are we going out or do I pack a bag and leave now?'
‘We'll go out,' he said.
‘I'll get my shoes,' she said.
Oh bollocks.
As Matthew was dreaming that night of a big Visa card with Colin Seed's cardigan on chasing him around work, Adam's car was pulling quietly up outside Humbleby Cottage. Danny was asleep in the big bed that his mum would share with him for the next seven nights. Stevie would have preferred to stay in the back room, but the front bedroom had a lock on the door.
‘Hi,' she greeted Adam nervously.
‘Hi,' said Adam, bringing in a suitcase and a sports bag, which he dumped by the door.
‘I've put you in my room,' said Stevie a little awkwardly. He raised his dark red eyebrows and she bristled in response. ‘I will, of course, be sharing with Danny. I've told him you're having some decorators in and are just lodging here for a while.'
‘Fine,' said Adam. ‘I'll no' confuse the boy.'
‘Good,' said Stevie.
‘I'd have taken the sofa. You didn't have to move out for me.'
‘I fell asleep on the sofa once after working late. Trust me, it's not at all comfortable even for someone my size, so … '
‘You never said what it is that you actually dae for work?'
‘Anyway, if you take your case up I'll put some coffee on,' said Stevie, ignoring him.
‘I'll take that as an "I'm no' telling you, so bugger aff".'
‘That's it in a nutshell, Mr MacLean. You know where your room is, of course.'
He laughed. ‘Yes, ma'am,' he said, and saluted and obeyed.
The room smelled of something sweet like wild strawberries swirled in with the perfume she wore. He had noticed it on her at the barbecue – light and floral and violety – so unlike the heady, exotic, spicy scents that Jo preferred. Stevie had put fresh linen on the bed; lovely cool cotton sheets. She had left big white fluffy towels folded neatly on top of the duvet and she had cleared some wardrobe and drawer space for him too. This was not a woman who lounged about all day watching TV through a layer of dust, he thought, and wondered again what it was exactly that she did do all day then. He could have asked Will but he didn't want to cheat. He wanted to crack her secret himself. It amused him to puzzle on it.
He came down to the beautiful smell of coffee hissing and spitting in angry protest through the percolator.
‘What sort is that one?' he asked, ‘It smells divine.'
‘Crème caramel,' she said. ‘Have you eaten?'
‘Don't worry yoursel'.'
‘We had a big chicken for lunch. There's plenty left, if you want a sandwich.'
‘Thanks, I might just do tha-'
‘I thought you might,' she said, putting down a substantial plate of sandwiches in front of him, garnished with crisps and salady bits. ‘You don't look like the sort of bloke who says no to food.'
‘Not unless you baked the bread yourself,' he said.
‘No, you're safe. It's from Morrison's.'
And then they watched a late-night murder mystery and munched chicken sandwiches and chocolate digestives until bedtime, like an old married couple who warred a lot.
Chapter 41
The first thing Matthew noticed as he opened the curtains the next morning was Adam MacLean's car outside Stevie's cottage, and it didn't take an idiot to work out that he had been there all night. He presumed that's why Jo was extra-agitated and stomping and crashing about and in a generally foul mood. They both knew there were only two bedrooms to that house. Neither of them said a word about it but it was obviously on their minds, and they were both cross that it was on the other's mind, none of which helped to lift the mood of a day that had already been spoilt by 7.30 a.m.
They journeyed to work in the same uncomfortable silence that had stood like a concrete block between them the previous evening during dinner.
‘Look, please, can't we be friends?' Matthew said, pulling into the work's car park. ‘I hate this atmosphere between us. I'm sorry about mentioning the money and I don't care what's going on across the road. Let them get on with their lives and let us get a sandwich at twelve and go and sit in the park and talk.'
‘I'm going shopping,' said Jo, petulantly through a very dry pout.
‘I'll come with you,' he said, smiling at her. ‘Would you like that?'
‘No, Matthew, I wouldn't like that,' said Jo flatly. ‘Today I want some space. I've got things to do.'
‘I'll walk five paces behind you,' he tried to joke but she rounded on him fiercely.
‘For Christ's sake, stop stifling me!' And she leapt out of the car and went into the building alone. He sat in shock because she had always led him to believe that she liked to be made a heavy fuss of. Rather like a spoilt, demanding Persian cat.
Matt waited for Jo in the foyer at the time when her lunch-hour was due to end, hoping to catch her for a quick kiss-in-passing at least. He wished so much that he could have turned the clock back and not mentioned the money. He hoped it was that which was making her hostile towards him and not the Adam and Stevie thing, which had taken up a big unwelcome block of his own headspace, too, however much he was trying to deny it. He had an appointment with his bank account manager fixed up for the next afternoon, and had he waited for the outcome of it, he might never have had to tell her that he had a few financial problems. Then all he would have had to do was tell her one final lie – that his investments weren't as great as he had been led to believe. How he was going to break the news that they were approximately half a million pounds light was a bit of a teaser though. He had got so carried away exaggerating, trying to impress her. Oh God, what a mess!