Part 13 (2/2)

I s.h.i.+ft uncomfortably on my chair. 'It was generally expected that when confronted with Philip-the-obvious-catch, I would snap him up after the first post-coital snooze. I live in London, where suitable bachelors are thin on the ground. At twenty-eight, I felt like a baby but was already being referred to as ”Madame” by strangers. Philip was heading for The Times rich list and he's kind.'

'So you didn't fancy him?'

'I did. I do,' I stumble. 'Very much. I'm not blind. I could see that Phil was eminently eligible. He has sense, looks and money enough but I really wasn't planning on marrying. I was trying not to fall in love with him.'

I look at Stevie, hoping for a reaction. He sneers, which is not the reaction I was looking for. f.u.c.k me, what did I expect? He can't possibly be understanding.

I hadn't been waiting for a proposal. I was very aware that I was in no position to accept one. And I was planning to tell Philip about Stevie. Or, at the very least, to track down Stevie and sort out a divorce before I moved things on with Philip. I once went as far as to visit Friends Reunited but Stevie wasn't registered. I wouldn't have accepted Phil's proposal if he hadn't asked the night Ben was killed. I'm not saying that I didn't want to marry Phil. I did want to marry Phil. One day.

I can't articulate any of this accurately so I mutter, 'There's no crime in marrying someone who wors.h.i.+ps you.'

'There is, if you're already married,' points out Stevie.

'Well, yes,' I admit with a reluctant grin. I'm surprised that I feel like grinning at all. 'But if I hadn't been married then it would have been OK.' I touch my temples, I'm exhausted. 'Look, I bath in a loved-up glow and I won't apologize for that. I didn't marry Philip for his money, you know, Stevie. I married his gravitas,' I confess.

I wonder if Stevie will understand this. I wanted to feel safe. Stevie must realize this as he knows me better than anyone else, or at least, used to. He knows where I come from but sadly did not know where I wanted to go.

'Philip is big and strong and-'

'Grey?' says Stevie, rupturing the romantic bubble where he still understands me. I dream of being known and understood, something I've made impossible. Is he jealous of Philip?

'Yes, he is greying but I like that.'

'Older men tend to be richer.'

'Maybe, and they tend to be more mature,' I snap. Stevie looks offended and I'm glad. 'I don't need to explain my love for Philip. I don't need to explain why I married him. He's a good husband. An excellent one.' I catch sight of Stevie's face. He looks hurt again. I reach out and squeeze his arm, 'I know you loved me too, but we were-' I want to say we were too young but Stevie interrupts.

'We were a mistake. I know, you told me.'

We stay silent for some time as anything I say seems to make matters worse. We drain our drinks and Stevie stubs out his f.a.g. Only as we walk to the pub door dare I ask.

'Will you help me, Stevie?' I put my hand on his arm. His skin feels soft, warm, and pleasant. Stevie pauses and then after the longest time he nods.

'Yes, I will help you, Belinda, because some things never change.'

The relief is enormous, it washes over me although I know I can never be clean again.

'Stevie, one more thing.'

'What?'

'My picture, in your wallet. You have to dump it.'

Stevie nods. 'It's lousy anyway. You're wearing electric-blue mascara.'

24. That's All Right, Mama.

Laura.

There's a loud knock at our door.

'Stevie, Stevie, Stevie, Stevie,' says Eddie, jumping up from in front of the TV, hopeful and delighted.

I open the door and grin, 'Hi, we weren't expecting to see you tonight.'

'I can leave if you want,' he says, turning away.

'No way, babe you're here now.' I pull him into the flat and pretend not to have noticed his tetchiness.

'Have you brought your guitar? Are you going to sing?' demands Eddie.

Stevie drops to his knees so that he is at eye level with him, 'Sorry, mate. I did promise to bring it next time I came round, didn't I? I wasn't planning on coming by. It slipped my mind.' Stevie looks gutted at having let Eddie down. Eddie, on the other hand, isn't bothered in the slightest and has already moved on to the next thing.

'Do you like Lego?'

Stevie and Eddie settle down to making Thunderbirds out of Lego and I go back to the ironing. We'd agreed not to meet tonight because following three sleep-deprived nights on the trot, I decided my house needed attention and I needed rest. This was a rational decision made over the phone at lunchtime. However, Stevie's irrational appearance is welcome, despite the fact that he's found me in all my barefaced glory. Then again, he's seen me in all my bare-a.r.s.ed glory. It isn't logical to worry about lack of make-up.

'Everything OK?' I ask. Clearly it's not. This isn't one of those visits where your new boyfriend tears round to your flat because he can't wait to rip off your clothes and give you a d.a.m.n good ravis.h.i.+ng. He looks tired and stressed. He's come to my flat as a sanctuary. I'm stoked. I mean, obviously, I'm sorry that he's tired and stressed but I can't help being chuffed that he's come to me for a bit of TLC.

'Have those kids been picking on you again?' I ask, with a smile.

Stevie gets up from the floor where he's been playing with Eddie, and throws himself on to the settee. It shakes ever so slightly under his weight. Oscar was much shorter and Stevie looks as though he's going to burst through the ceiling at any moment. All my furniture seems girly and effeminate when he lounges.

He pats the settee. 'Come and give me a hug, Laura.'

I willingly leave my ironing and oblige. 'Tough day?'

'Yes.'

'Kids? Parents? Paperwork? That old guy who eats all the chocolate biscuits in the staff room?'

'Nothing like that,' says Stevie. He's quiet for a long time and just when I'm giving up hope that he's going to tell me what's bugging him, he mutters, 'Neither John nor Dave can make it to Las Vegas.'

'You're kidding?'

'Nope. John can't get time off and Dave has a family party or something that weekend.'

'Can't he get out of it?'

'Sister's wedding, so no, not easily.'

'Oh, babe, that's a shame, I know you wanted them to be there.'

'Yes, it's a shame.'

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