Part 12 (1/2)

'I was just going to ask!' snapped Edna. 'I don't know, you can cause an argument in an empty house, can't you?' she continued. 'No wonder your fella b.u.g.g.e.red off.'

Stevie ended the call politely before it degenerated into all the other conversations they had, where she ended up feeling surplus to requirements. Edna Honeywell made Ros's heart look like a goosedown pillow.

Stevie told her dad that she and Matthew had decided to take some time apart and re-think things through. She gave him her new address.

'Nay, la.s.s, never,' said Jack Honeywell, strangely drawing the same conclusion as her mother. 'He wants shooting. Can't keep it in their trousers, some lads,' which was rich, considering he had kept it well out of his trousers when he left her mum for Thick Neck. Then he cheated on Thick Neck for Cyclops, who lost her left eye in a fight years ago after being biffed in it with a bingo dabber. Neither woman had felt the slightest obligation to welcome Stevie into the step-family fold.

'Are you all right? Are you coping?' he asked solicitously.

'I'm fine, Dad. I've moved out. Danny's fine too by the way.'

'Good, give him a big kiss from his granddad. I nearly called in last week. We were pa.s.sing coming from Thelma's (Cyclops's) son's house. Good job we didn't, if you'd moved.'

'I only moved last night.'

'Oh.'

Stevie finished the conversation before it ended up like all the other calls to her dad, which made her feel insignificant and second-best to her step-family, and that if it weren't for the connection of blood, there would be no connection at all.

Next was the cake woman.

'I've already made the fruit cakes in the hexagonals you wanted. I'll have to keep the deposit and just not charge you for the icing,' she said grumpily.

'Thank you,' said Stevie, who didn't feel up for a fight. Was she just being ultra-sensitive, or was the world really such a hard, bitter place, she wondered. Did people think she was doing this for a joke, organizing a wedding and then cancelling it because there was nothing good on the telly? The wedding world was far more cold hard cash than it was warm hearts and flowers. Talking of which, the florist was next call. Thank G.o.d for gay male florists.

'Oh, you poor darling,' said Donny Badger before spitting, 'b.a.s.t.a.r.d!' like an irate cobra. If she had gone into the shop in person, she had no doubt he would have taken her in the back room and be plying her with biscuits and tissues by now, which might have been rather lovely because she so badly wanted someone to be nice to her. It was slightly disconcerting, the way everyone a.s.sumed she had been traded in for a better model. There seemed to be an awful lot of sceptics in the world. Maybe that's why her Midnight Moon books did so well, because her heroes and heroines were honourable and faithful and didn't hurt each other. True fantasy then. Stevie didn't want to turn into a hard-bitten cynic who didn't believe in love in real life any more. However, it was looking more and more as if any love that existed out there was never going to be for her.

'Look, love, what's your address again? I'll put you a full refund of your deposit in the post.'

Stevie started to give her old address, before correcting herself. She should have got a forwarding form from the post office for her mail, although her post going across the road would at least give her the excuse to have contact with Matthew again. In saying that, she wasn't 100 per cent sure that she wanted to have it whilst her nerves were in this raw, torn state. It would be like picking at a sore, rubbing salt in the woundall the cliches seemed to fit.

The photographer hadn't taken a deposit and was grumbling that he had turned someone away on that date for her. 'It's not my fault!' she wanted to scream at him.

The vicar offered counselling, which she kindly refused, but he was very sweet. The manageress of the White Swan promised to send the deposit back, if she didn't tell anyone, she said warmly, although any faith recovered was lost again with the horrible old printer who had just completed the order of services and said he had just put them and the invoice in the post, so she would have to stump up.

After him, Stevie couldn't face making another call. She composed a general letter on her computer to send out to the people on her side of the guest list.

The wedding is off, sorry folks.

Matthew is s.h.a.gging Jo MacLean.

Love, Stevie x Well, maybe not. The second draft was less blunt.

Due to unforeseen circ.u.mstances,

the wedding between

Matthew and me has been called off.

Please don't ring. I will be in touch.

Sorry, folks.

Hope you are all well.

Love Stevie (Honeywell) x It wasn't exactly literary genius but it was to the point and would do. She wondered how many of their guests would be of her mother's opinion and say, 'Well, I'm not surprised, he was far too good-looking for her.' It was one of many thoughts to torment her as she got on with the business of alternately addressing envelopes and wiping away the fat tears that were dropping from her eyes. Then, when she was done, she posted the letters as she went on her way to pick up her son from school, hoping no one at the school-gates would notice how red and puffed-up and sad her eyes were. Thank goodness, there was always a bout of conjunctivitis going around to blame it on.

Chapter 22.

In the Queens Hotel, and after a very nice evening meal, Jo had just finished packing.

'I know this is an awful thing to say, but thank goodness Stevie's left the house,' she said, shutting the last case. 'I did wonder if she would start playing silly games.'

'Well, she's actually got out a day early for us,' reminded Matthew.

'That was sweet of her in the circ.u.mstances but it wouldn't do her any good at all psychologically, being in that house any more,' said Jo. 'I so cannot wait to get into a decent bed. I hope she hasn't left the place in a real mess for you.'

'I wouldn't have thought so, knowing Stevie,' said Matthew. 'Wonder where she's living?' It was a question that had been circling his head like a lost homing pigeon since he picked up the message that morning. He hadn't really believed her when she had told him on Sunday that she had somewhere else to go, and so when he heard her on the answerphone, he was amazed. Of course, he hadn't picked up the actual call because he was convinced she was ringing him to ask for extra time, or worse, to cry and beg him to come back.

The porter started to load the cases into Matthew's and Jo's cars like a Tetris expert.

'You drop those off and come back for me,' said Jo. 'Just in case there are any nasty surprises waiting.'

'I shouldn't think-'

'I'll stay here and have some coffee, darling,' said Jo, brooking no argument. She gave him a long, warm kiss that reached all the way down to his toes before zooming back up to his groin, then she waved him off and headed back to Reception.

Matthew parked the car outside his house in Blossom Lane then entered it tentatively in case a ma.s.sive b.o.o.by-trapped hammer arced down and smacked him cartoon-style on the head. To his relief, nothing happened, but then he hadn't even considered that Stevie would have done anything malicious until Jo had put the thought into his head. Everything looked nice, tidyas it should beand there was lots more room now that Stevie's work corner had been freed up and her boxes of books had gone. The hotel was plush but he had missed the comfort of his house and he couldn't wait to climb into his lovely cosy bed with a lovely cosy Jo that evening.

He took the suitcases upstairs and found the undressed bed.

Oh h.e.l.l, he thought as it put paid to his plans to carry Jo over his threshold and then straight upstairs to tangle her up in the sheets. Then again, it was probably a bit much thinking Stevie would make up a bed in which she knew he might soon be making love to someone else. Still, he couldn't believe she hadn't done it for him. He got a nip of guilt for being so mean and batted it away. He knew that if he stopped to think how horrible they had been to Stevie, it would ruin his first evening at home with Jo.

He went back to the hotel for the rest of the cases, hoping that maybe Jo would have settled the bill. The holiday had cost him a fortune and he thought she might have stumped up for her share but no, she had merrily let him pay for the lot and thereby ruined his chances of borrowing a cash advance against his Visa for the mortgage. He couldn't hope that Stevie would pay it for him any more now.

It wasn't that Matthew didn't earn a good wage because he did. It was just that he had managed to acc.u.mulate quite a lot of debts that accounted for most of his outgoings. It was a typical story: boy gets a few Visas and goes a bit mad, boy gets a huge consolidating loan, boy blows consolidating loan on big-woofer stereo and plasma TV and designer clothes instead. Life was really too short not to have nice meals out and look the very best he could whilst he was young. A work colleague had dropped dead from a congenital heart defect when he was twenty-five; if there wasn't a lesson there, where was there one?

When Stevie moved in and offered to pay half the bills, he was determined to use the money he would save to finally become debt free, only to find that spending money on nice meals and flash clothes was even more fun with Jo. And he couldn't stop buying her presents, especially when he found out how she said thank you. The long and the short of it was that he just liked to spend money, except that he did not have any to spend any more. At least, not his own.

Stevie didn't earn a fortune but he'd rather taken advantage of her selfless generosity, and whilst she was paying all the bills, thinking she was helping him to clear off some of his debts, he was actually wining and dining Jo. He hadn't quite told either of them just how bad things were financiallya man has his pride, etcbut Stevie had been quite sweet about the little she knew anyway. She used to stuff his pocket with money if they went out with friends and he would produce it like a wizard and play the benevolent sybarite. He suspected Jo might not be quite so accommodating.