Stevie's face, with its mask of utter bewilderment now, told him she wasn't getting any of this and he took a fierce intake of breath before further clarifying, none too patiently either: 'Fl-ow-errrs. If I came with fl-ow-ers, we'd mash their hids...heads totally wi' all the questions we'd raise. Think aboot it. Not only have we not reacted as rejected partners should naturally in accordance wi' the laws of heartbreak, but then we start oor own relationshippretend relationship,' he emphasized for clarity. 'I think the wee green-eyed monster would be oot daing...sorry, out doing his damage within a very short time. Basic psychology. No one wants to be that replaceable, that quickly.'

Okay, he had a point, Stevie thought, but at what cost to her own sanity?

'Like I tried to say to you beforebasic psychology,' he said again, tapping his frontal lobe skull-casing. 'I expect Matthew thought you'd totally freakas, I know, did my Jo of me. But we didn't, we haven't given them what they wanted. Trust me, their brains are trying to process the strange wonderful creatures that we are and cannae. We are haunting them. They are expecting more from us. They're waiting for us to flip and revert tae type, but they aren't gonnae get it and that will unsettle them more than anything will. Tell me that Matty Boy isn't expecting you to kick up a fuss.'

Stevie thought of all she had told Matt about the break-up with Mick, how crazed she had acted in grief. He had listened to her patiently then, with love and understanding. She couldn't have known then that her confession would be stored and one day used as a weapon against her. Now he would use her past actions as an excuse to extricate himself from her as quickly as possible.

'Yes, he'll expect it,' she answered quietly.

'Aye, well, there are reasons why Jo will expect the same.'

'Obviously,' said Stevie.

He didn't like the way she said the word, full of implication.

'Guid. Then, they'll no' antic.i.p.ate this turn of events in a million years.'

Stevie considered everything he had said. She hated to admit that he might be right, but she was going to have to, because she was desperate. Crackers as the whole scheme was, it was worth a try. Well, it would have been if she'd had the money to do it.

'I'll ring the landlord aboot the place opposite-' MacLean started to say.

'Excuse me,' Stevie tried to interrupt. Didn't he listen? Didn't he hear the bit about not being able to afford it? Had the sound of all those bagpipes affected his eardrums?

'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 compromiseplease 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 sc.r.a.ped 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 quicklya 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,' p.r.o.nounced 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 s.p.a.cious girly bathroom and two ma.s.sive, 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.

'Rightgot 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 s.p.a.ce 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 insteadthe 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 b.u.t.t 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 b.i.t.c.h from h.e.l.l living here,' said Catherine.

'In other circ.u.mstances, 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. 'b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, Steve, it's like a Tardis. It's even bigger than it looks from outsideit's ma.s.sive, 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 kitchenfor 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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.

'Yes, I do. I'm not condoning violence, don't get me wrong, but I think Jo and Matthew both deserve a taste of their own medicine,' she went on.

'Will they get it though?' said Stevie, who had made tea for two in her new temporary home and opened up a celebratory packet of chocolate shortbreads. Not that she had anything really to celebrate. Yet.

'Well, it's worth a try,' said Catherine and nudged her lasciviously. 'You and Adam MacLean, eh?'

'No, not me and Adam MacLean. There is no me and Adam MacLean. I want to hang onto my teeth and ribs a bit longer, thank you. Besides, the man is barely house-trained. Trust me, I wouldn't give the bloke so much as the time of day if I wasn't so desperate.'

'Fantastic legs, though. I could imagine them-'

Stevie held her hand up and staved her friend's verbal flow.

'Please, no Adam MacLean s.e.xual fantasies. I'm trying to hold onto the contents of my stomach.'

'Well, he doesn't come across to me as the violent nutter she said he was. Plus, can you really believe her word on all this? Miss b.u.t.ter-wouldn't-melt?'

'He's "acting" the non-violent type for our benefit, that's the point. He can't risk losing his temper because he needs me as much as I need him. But I don't trust him as far as I could throw him.' Which wouldn't have been very far at all. The bloke was a walking sofa.

'Is there a house phone? You'll have to give me your new number.'

'I'll sort it out tomorrowwell, the day after tomorrow,' said Stevie.

'Why, what's happening tomorrow that's so important?'

'Tomorrow I'm going to cancel all the wedding stuff.'

Catherine abandoned her biscuit and came over to give her a hug. 'I can do all that for you,' she said.

'No, no, it's all right,' said Stevie, with cry-shiny eyes. 'I do appreciate it, but you've got enough to do.'

'Naw, now the kids are all at school or nursery, I actually find time to breathe. I feel a bit lost, to be honest,' said Catherine with a sad little smile.

'I have to do it myself,' said Stevie. 'I have to face facts that this wedding is not going to happen.'

'G.o.d, Stevie, you are so strong.'

'Trust me, I'm not,' said Stevie, with a little laugh. One kind word would have turned her eyeb.a.l.l.s into Niagara Falls.

'The offer will still be there in the morning, but I won't bully you for once,' said Catherine, stroking her friend's hair as if she were Boot, whilst thinking to herself, What an idiot you are, Matthew Finch!

Stevie and Catherine had been friends from nursery school, although it hadn't started out that way. They had both fought viciously over the Cinderella crinoline in reception cla.s.s and had to stand facing the naughty wall together. Somehow after that they had become friends, bonding over the Play-Doh shape machine and a few Spangles. The friendship grew from strength to strength, even when Catherine got pregnant at seventeen to a trainee boxer, Eddie Flanagan, although he was hardly the candidate the heavyweight boxing community had been holding out for. Eddie had about as much edge as Boot. Stevie had been prepared to hate him for coming between her and her best friend, but you couldn't dislike Eddie, not even if you were on mind-altering drugs. Catherine and Eddie married and went on to have kids and animals, whilst Stevie had taken the university route, during which time their friendship took a pen-pal turn for three years. Then Stevie came home and worked through a succession of dead-end jobs by day whilst she pursued her dreams of becoming a writer at night. Whenever she felt like giving up after a post-box full of rejections, Catherine was always there, spurring her on with her commonsense and fighting talk. She was the sister Stevie wished she had had, and could be very scary when crossed.

'Right, come on now, this isn't knitting the baby a bonnet,' said Catherine, who had knitted quite a few baby bonnets in her time. 'Let's get ready to rumble.'

Stevie carried her clothes on hangers straight over the road because there didn't seem much point in packing them only to have to unpack them at the other end all creased up. For herself, she picked the pretty pink bedroom at the back, which overlooked the garden. The front bedroom was larger but she did not want the first thing she saw when she drew the curtains every morning to be the house where her fiance and his new lover lived. She carried her toiletries over in one of the cardboard boxes she had cadged from the Happy Shopper around the corner. She took the soft white towels she had recently bought too, leaving Matthew with his ancient ones that were more like wafer-thin loofahs. She would have left him a couple of hers, until she visualized Jo using them.

Shoes took up one of the new suitcases she had bought for their honeymoon. Catherine took the plastic-covered wedding dress over. Stevie hoped she might get some of her money back on that but either way, it needed to be got out of sight as soon as possible. She was stripping her bed when Catherine walked in on her from bagging up some of Danny's toys.

'What are you doing?' said her friend, standing over her with her hands on her hips.

'Well, they won't want to sleep in my sheets. I was just changing them.'

'Don't be so soft, Steve. Stick them in the laundry basket and leave them. Let them make up their own bed and lie on it.' Then she shook her head at the irony of her words. Catherine had her 'do as I say or else' face on, so Stevie obeyed.

She took her Le Creuset pan-set from the kitchen and her new super-steamy iron and the ironing board that she had bought only a couple of weeks ago. There was just the rest of Danny's room and bits and bobs to pack up, and then they had to call a halt to the day's mission, as it was time to pick up the children.