Love Is a Thief (10 page)

two peas in the proverbial pod of happy coupledom

‘K
ate Winters! Or should I say bonjour!’ Jane Brockley-formerly-Robinson answered the door wearing a Cath Kidston apron and strawberry-shaped oven gloves. ‘You lot will have to excuse me,’ she said, ushering me, Federico and Leah through her front door. ‘I’m just taking something out of the oven. I’ve been trying out new recipes for gingerbread men and something is always missing. It’s driving me crazy. Come through, come through,’ she said, marching off. We followed her down the hallway passing a coat stand covered in hundreds of brightly coloured raincoats. It looked like a multicoloured willow tree. Federico and Leah both stifled a giggle.

You see, Jane Brockley-formerly-Robinson, a friend of mine from college, is totally colour obsessed. She always has a waterproof of some description on her person and it is always brightly coloured or highly patterned. I’m actually a fan of colour too. I rarely wear black, or white, and when clashing primary colours were in fashion I was in block-colour heaven. But Jane is the kind of colour wearer
that makes you think she wasn’t allowed coloured clothes as a child. Every colour of the rainbow and several the rainbow is not even aware of can be found on the raincoats of Jane Brockley-formerly-Robinson. Then there are the plastic coats; hundreds of waterproof coats covered in smiling cats, Christmas trees or flowers. A vomit-inducing collection of colour was Jane’s signature style. As was introducing herself as ‘Jane Brockley-formerly-Robinson’ as if without this extra piece of information a person who knew Jane premarriage would forget all about her. Jane’s 1998 pink plastic Pac-a-Mac covered in light grey mice building things and driving small mouse cars would be the primary reason no one would forget pre-married Jane; that and the fact that she’s ever so slightly boss-eyed.

‘James is just through there. Why don’t you go through and say hi? I’ll be in in a minute,’ she said, gesturing for us to walk through an archway from the kitchen into the lounge. There we found Jane’s husband, a rotund gentleman called James. His well-fed self was watching rugby on a large leather sofa with a cat they call Nibbles. Nibbles eyeballed me as we walked into the room. James was wearing a non-ironic burgundy cardigan.

‘Katie!’ he said, getting up to greet me. ‘I was saying to Jane just last week that we’ve barely seen you since your return from France, lovely to see you now, and, Leah, terribly sorry to hear about your divorce. You must be crushed, totally crushed. My second cousin Susan just got divorced and it has totally destroyed her life. And of course he’s immediately pushed off with someone else, as is always the way—isn’t that right, Katie? Jane said it was the same
for you. Gabriel immediately ran off with someone a lot younger. Yes, younger or slimmer I think is the normal way of doing things. You know, I really rather liked that Gabriel. He was terribly attractive. Did you meet him?’ he asked Federico. ‘Probably almost a challenge for someone like that to actually stay single. Incredible skiing instructor, really incredible—well, these boys start skiing before they can walk. I mean, he could do things on the mountain that I just …’ He started welling up. ‘Well, let’s just say that he skied
up
a mountain once to save me when I found myself in somewhat of a sticky situation. And I remember seeing him skiing down the mountain carrying Katie in his arms a few times. Good God, if I could do on skis what that man could do …’ He dabbed the corners of his podgy eyes. ‘Britain needs a strong ski team, we really do. Yes, they were probably lining up the day you left, offering him a shoulder to cry on. Don’t take it personally, Katie darling. We can’t be alone, us men, can’t bloody well be alone.’

an emotional interlude

When the existence of a man called Gabriel is mentioned in my new life, by my highly patterned friend’s sensitive husband, it feels like a door blasting open into a room I’ve spent weeks and months tirelessly boarding up, and it scares the crap out of me, because I’d started to forget the room was even there. So I have to start all over again, closing it all back off, nailing it shut, triple-checking the locks are in place so that I can safely turn my back on my past. And that’s just in my waking life. Different distorted versions of Gabriel live in my dreams most nights. Gabriel
lives in my head, my heart, my subconscious mind and on days like these my defences seem futile, useless, ineffective, because just the sound of his name, seven letters put together to form a noise, can blast open all the doors and windows of the derelict house in my heart. And suddenly he exists again, as powerful as before, and I wonder if anyone ever felt as broken inside as I do.

‘Well, do take a seat,’ James said, pointing at the sofa. ‘Make yourselves at home. Wine, anyone?’ He trotted out to the kitchen as we all tried to squish on a sofa meant for two. Nibbles rolled onto his back on the big sofa and stretched out to full length. Then he started a barely audible growl. You see, Nibbles is their pride and joy. He is their baby. If there was an overly expensive local cat primary school they would have enrolled him at birth. But Nibbles is actually a highly duplicitous creature who snuggle-wuggles against his owners as if butter wouldn’t melt only to lash out like a sabre-toothed tiger when their backs are turned. That cat is responsible for at least five of the seven permanent scars on my body and once attacked the neighbour’s German Shepherd, permanently damaging its right eye. Sometimes when I visit it feels like I’m in the cat version of Orwell’s
1984
, Nibbles being
Big Brother
and everyone buying into his bullshit. Everyone that is except me, and that poor one-eyed German Shepherd.

James wandered back into the lounge with a bottle of wine, Jane with a plate of hot gingerbread men. Then they perched on the edge of the coffee table (so as not to disturb Nibbles, who pretended to sleep) and they stared at me, expectantly,
as people often do when I visit their houses, as if I am a West End show or human-sized television set with only one channel and more often than not only one volume setting.

‘I er, we, I wanted to pop in, to say hi, obviously, and also because I wanted to ask Jane a question. It’s a work thing really, a little investigation. I just wanted to know if there was anything you didn’t get to do because you met James and, well, fell in love.’

‘What do you mean?’ Jane looked flustered and brushed her fringe to one side with an oven-glove-covered hand. ‘I think we have done everything we’ve ever wanted to?’ she said, looking to James for confirmation.

‘There isn’t one thing, one small thing that you haven’t had a chance to do, alone; a course you wanted to take; or an experience you haven’t had? One little thing that was stolen, by love.’

‘I’ve asked Kate to do a past life regression,’ Leah said, mouth full of gingerbread. ‘But apparently that’s not the right kind of request, so now I’m not sure what I’m going to do.’ Manipulative.

‘And I’m not sure what I’m doing either,’ Federico said tentatively biting into the left leg of a gingerbread man, ‘but I would consider more ginger, yes, I would, and, I’m just going to throw this one out there, possibly a dash of lemon juice.’

‘It’s ridiculous to think there’s something Jane hasn’t done because she fell in love,’ James said, puffing out his chest. ‘Katie, I had no idea you were so anti-love. There is
nothing
I wouldn’t support Jane doing. Life began as a couple.
Didn’t it, pumpkin?’ He patted her on the thigh. ‘We’ve always felt that we became more complete as people when we met each other and in turn had more to offer the world. Jane does an awful lot at the Salvation Army, don’t you, darling? So we try to give more love to the world because we have so much love between us.’

Federico had turned green. Leah looked suspicious. Jane still looked as if she’d opened a trapdoor that led directly to the molten hot core of the earth. I watched as she started looking all around her lounge, taking it all in, as if it were the first time she’d seen any of her own stuff.

‘Oh, well. I thought it was worth asking.’ Jane was still looking at the ceiling. ‘I am asking lots of women what they didn’t do because they fell in love, then we are stealing those things back, like pirates—’ I punched the air and made a sort of oohh-aahh noise that sounded nothing like a pirate, which was embarrassing ‘—and some women are going out doing things on their own. It’s a way to help people reconnect with themselves. My old cleaner is going to train as a mechanic.’

‘Because that’s an appropriate request,’ muttered Leah.

‘And what do we have next week?’ Federico was off. ‘Well, next week is the official start date for
Fat Camp
, yes it is. Twenty of our fat readers; and I mean super fat, fat and miserable, like human Santas, but without the super red outfits, magical flying powers and free mince pies, maybe too many mince pies, but no sledge and definitely no flying ability, are going to start our intensive weight-loss programme, yes they are. Love-Stolen Dreams is going to get back their pre-relationship bodies. LSD to the rescue!’ He gave himself a round of applause. ‘My idea,’ he said, pointing to himself.
He finished by mouthing ‘cinnamon’ to Jane, then placing his unfinished gingerbread man back on the plate.

‘Well, Katie, your job sounds wonderfully frivolous. We do love hearing about your little exploits, don’t we, pumpkin? Even if I am not in 100% agreement with this idea. But I’m afraid I am going to have to leave you girls to it as I have a tennis match.’ He kissed Jane on the forehead before grabbing his big tennis bag and waddling out of the front door. The moment the door clicked shut it began.

‘Gregoire Pechenikov. That’s what I didn’t do because I met James. Gregoire bloody Pechenikov. He was gorgeous, Kate, totally gorgeous, and desperate to sleep with me. I nearly bit off my own arm the day I first saw him. He walked into the students union on a language exchange from Moscow, had the arms of a rower and he wanted me. He used to hover outside my halls of residence and ask me to explain subjunctives and conjugate verbs. And he used to stand disarmingly close and watch my lips when I spoke.’

‘I knew it!’ Federico was shrieking and bouncing up and down in his seat. ‘Here she is. Welcome back the real Jane Robinson!’

‘And Spanish men,’ she said, taking her oven gloves off and pouring herself a large glass of white wine. ‘I’ve definitely not had enough sex with hot Spanish men, or twins. I always wanted to have sex with identical twins.’ Federico practically dissolved into a puddle of pure happiness on the floor.

several hours later …

‘James would support anything I wanted to do—’ Hiccup. ‘If I stopped doing anything it’s 100% my fault. It’s my responsibility.
And I really like who I have become. What we have created together—’

‘Take back the power, Janey Jane,’ Federico whispered while performing a slow-motion air grab. ‘Take control of the power. Become the energy source, not the plug that drains it. Become a nuclear power station or a renewable source of energy if you are more comfortable with that. I am personally comfortable with the safety of nuclear power.’

‘It’s just he takes everything so seriously, Kate. Even our love life is serious. James said I can only refer to sex as
making love
. Apparently
sex
is something we did with other people before we met. And he doesn’t like me giving him blow jobs, because he thinks it’s demeaning, to me. I actually like giving blow jobs. I gave them all the time when I was at college.’ She really did; it was like she was sponsored. ‘You know, I definitely didn’t play around enough before settling down.’ Leah choked on a gingerbread man. ‘Well, I didn’t! Fumbles in your teenage years don’t count. When you get older sex gets better. God, if I could have the kind of sex I have now with all the men I fancied when I was younger. Wow! So that’s what I’d be doing if I were you, Kate. I’d be having sex with as many hot men as I could get my hands on, hot Spanish men, with tanned baby-soft skin, muscular bodies and thick dark hair. They’d let me give them a bloody blow job.’

‘Yes they would, Janey Jane. Yes they would, yes they would.’

‘And Gregoire Pechenikov. I’d be having sex with him, a lot. I understand why you are doing this, Kate. I can see how much pain you are in. And you don’t know it yet but
you will meet someone else—everyone does. It will happen without you even trying and in the blink of an eye you’ll be so happy.’ She emptied the contents of the wine bottle into her glass. ‘James really is the love of my life.’ She swayed. ‘I know none of you ever understood why—’ she looked especially hard at me as she said that ‘—but he is my man, my James. And I know you’ll get a James one day too, you really will, but while you are single if I were you I would kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss.’

‘And give blow jobs, Janey Jane. Don’t forget the blow jobs.’ They all burst out laughing and Federico started doing something childish and inappropriate with a wine bottle.

Why couldn’t they operate on a deeper spiritual level? Why didn’t they want to become self-actualised, in this present moment, in this present day, with me? Instead they prefer I delve into my past lives, which could be profoundly disturbing on a spiritual and psychological level, and, excuse my English, suck off a lot of different men.

‘Jane, isn’t there anything,’ I begged, ‘non-sexual,’ I stressed, ‘that you like doing but don’t since meeting James?’

‘Well, James hates dancing. We never dance together.’

‘But, Jane, you were great at dancing at college!’

‘I know, I love dancing, but we never do it. James has bad knees. But Gregoire Pechenikov could dance,’ she said wistfully. ‘Oh, my God, that man could dance. One night he took me to this Spanish underground club and we danced salsa until the sun came up. It felt like he was making love to me on the dance floor.’

‘Janey Jane, I thought you said you met Gregoire Pechenikov
after
meeting James, did you not?’ Federico
asked, nibbling at the groin of a gingerbread man. The trapdoor to the centre of the earth reopened. Jane’s face had invented an entirely new shade of red.