stuff..."
"Right. I guess I should be getting back too," said Marsh. "Look, I'm sorry I
flew off the handle"
"And I'm sorry I brought Jane up again with the press."
"Please don't do it again. She really was very upset."
Stevie nodded. Marsh put his hand on the door. "By the way," he said.
"What's does Evelyn do? Lou said she was an academic."
"She is. And quite a good one, by the sound of it. She's giving a lecture
that's going to be taped for Radio 4. That's why she needed to get someone to take
over the ball work."
"Sounds interesting. What's the full name? I'll have to listen out for
it."
"Evelyn Blackwood."
Marsh froze in the act of opening the door. "Blackwood?" Slowly, he shut
the door again. He turned round. "Tom. Blackwood?"
Damn. Damn. Damn.
"What about him?"
"The same Tom Blackwood that I was at uni with?"
Stevie shrugged.
"Stevie, are you out of your mind?"
"What? He's my employer's son. So?"
"SO? Don't act all innocent with me, Stevie. You fancy him. I can tell from
the way you talked about him. Don't you remember what happened the last time
you met? He got you stoned. You were only thirteen."
"Exactly. I was only thirteen. In case you hadn't realised, I've grown up a
bit since then." She turned away. "Besides, it wasn't him that got me stoned. It was
Jeremy the spliff."
"That's immaterial. He shouldn't have let you have anything in his room.
He was an adult. You were a child. It was irresponsible and ..."
"But I'm not a child anymore !" Stevie stamped a foot and
immediately realised how childish that seemed. "I'm twenty-two, Marsh. Old
enough to make my own decisions. Even my own mistakes. You don't get to tell me
what to do anymore."
"You're going to get hurt. That's what Tom does. He uses women and
then drops them. It's what he's always done. He's not good boyfriend
material."
"You don't think anyone's good boyfriend material for me. Just because
you don't want to take any risks doesn't mean I have to live like that too. I want to
do things my way. So you can bloody well take your advice and shove it up
your anally retentive arse."
There was a stunned silence from Marsh. He glared at her. She glared
back.
"Fine," he said, icily. "Be like that. Throw yourself at Tom. Don't expect
sympathy when he spits you out like a worthless piece of rubbish. I warned you. It's
not my fault you're too pig headed to listen."
"Oh spare me the holier than thou speech."
Marsh's lips tightened. He turned to leave.
"It's a good job you're having a child," Stevie shouted at his back. "That
way you'll finally have someone else to stifle."
Marsh paused, but didn't turn round. Without a word, he left, slamming
the door behind him.
Stevie stared at the door for a moment then stamped her foot again.
Spinning round, she grabbed a cushion and threw it across the flat at the postcard
of Indiana Jones. It hit the board hard enough to dislodge the push pin. Both
Indiana Jones and the photo of her family slid to the ground. Stevie sank into the
sofa and started to cry.
She was still crying when Tom phoned to say he was downstairs. Stevie
managed to control her voice enough to say "I'll be right down."
She dashed into the bathroom and washed the tears off her face. Her bag
was only half packed, so she shoved handfuls of underwear and her toothbrush in.
At least she knew her clothes for the ball were good to go. She looked down at the
light summer dress she was wearing. She had intended to change into jeans and
t-shirt, but there was no longer enough time. Sighing, she stuffed those into her bag
too and zipped it shut. Tearing round the flat, she closed windows and made sure
things were locked and ready to be left for a week before grabbing her stuff and
pelting downstairs.
Tom was sitting in the car, tapping away into his phone. He saw her come
out of the building and glanced irritably at his watch.
"Sorry," said Stevie. Despite running around as fast as she could, she
knew she'd kept him waiting a good quarter of
"Right. I guess I should be getting back too," said Marsh. "Look, I'm sorry I
flew off the handle"
"And I'm sorry I brought Jane up again with the press."
"Please don't do it again. She really was very upset."
Stevie nodded. Marsh put his hand on the door. "By the way," he said.
"What's does Evelyn do? Lou said she was an academic."
"She is. And quite a good one, by the sound of it. She's giving a lecture
that's going to be taped for Radio 4. That's why she needed to get someone to take
over the ball work."
"Sounds interesting. What's the full name? I'll have to listen out for
it."
"Evelyn Blackwood."
Marsh froze in the act of opening the door. "Blackwood?" Slowly, he shut
the door again. He turned round. "Tom. Blackwood?"
Damn. Damn. Damn.
"What about him?"
"The same Tom Blackwood that I was at uni with?"
Stevie shrugged.
"Stevie, are you out of your mind?"
"What? He's my employer's son. So?"
"SO? Don't act all innocent with me, Stevie. You fancy him. I can tell from
the way you talked about him. Don't you remember what happened the last time
you met? He got you stoned. You were only thirteen."
"Exactly. I was only thirteen. In case you hadn't realised, I've grown up a
bit since then." She turned away. "Besides, it wasn't him that got me stoned. It was
Jeremy the spliff."
"That's immaterial. He shouldn't have let you have anything in his room.
He was an adult. You were a child. It was irresponsible and ..."
"But I'm not a child anymore !" Stevie stamped a foot and
immediately realised how childish that seemed. "I'm twenty-two, Marsh. Old
enough to make my own decisions. Even my own mistakes. You don't get to tell me
what to do anymore."
"You're going to get hurt. That's what Tom does. He uses women and
then drops them. It's what he's always done. He's not good boyfriend
material."
"You don't think anyone's good boyfriend material for me. Just because
you don't want to take any risks doesn't mean I have to live like that too. I want to
do things my way. So you can bloody well take your advice and shove it up
your anally retentive arse."
There was a stunned silence from Marsh. He glared at her. She glared
back.
"Fine," he said, icily. "Be like that. Throw yourself at Tom. Don't expect
sympathy when he spits you out like a worthless piece of rubbish. I warned you. It's
not my fault you're too pig headed to listen."
"Oh spare me the holier than thou speech."
Marsh's lips tightened. He turned to leave.
"It's a good job you're having a child," Stevie shouted at his back. "That
way you'll finally have someone else to stifle."
Marsh paused, but didn't turn round. Without a word, he left, slamming
the door behind him.
Stevie stared at the door for a moment then stamped her foot again.
Spinning round, she grabbed a cushion and threw it across the flat at the postcard
of Indiana Jones. It hit the board hard enough to dislodge the push pin. Both
Indiana Jones and the photo of her family slid to the ground. Stevie sank into the
sofa and started to cry.
She was still crying when Tom phoned to say he was downstairs. Stevie
managed to control her voice enough to say "I'll be right down."
She dashed into the bathroom and washed the tears off her face. Her bag
was only half packed, so she shoved handfuls of underwear and her toothbrush in.
At least she knew her clothes for the ball were good to go. She looked down at the
light summer dress she was wearing. She had intended to change into jeans and
t-shirt, but there was no longer enough time. Sighing, she stuffed those into her bag
too and zipped it shut. Tearing round the flat, she closed windows and made sure
things were locked and ready to be left for a week before grabbing her stuff and
pelting downstairs.
Tom was sitting in the car, tapping away into his phone. He saw her come
out of the building and glanced irritably at his watch.
"Sorry," said Stevie. Despite running around as fast as she could, she
knew she'd kept him waiting a good quarter of
Similar Books
