Love Rules (45 page)

I suppose I'm wanting her to say yes, she wishes she hadn't. Ignorance being bliss, and all that. But actually, despite the anguish of it all – the loss, the trauma, the disbelief and the shock – I know Thea is relieved that she did. She's right to expect back the dedication and commitment she bestows. I was going to say ‘you get what you pay for’ but it seems a bit close to the bone though I suppose in some ways that is precisely what has happened to Saul. I suppose ‘what you settle for is what you get’ is more appropriate. And Thea shouldn't have settled for it. Nor should Mark have to either.

‘I guess I have come to see it's not about getting away with it,’ Alice declared, ‘it's about not fucking it up in the first place.’

Saul was looking forward to seeing Ian. It had been quite some time since they'd descended on the Swallow for an evening of pints and sausages. Over recent months, Saul had generally eschewed offers of company and declined invitations to socialize, using deadlines as an accurate though not entire excuse. The only thinking time he wanted was that devoted to articles and columns – life without Thea was so sterile, he needed to fill it with creativity. Since Thea had left him, Saul had immersed himself in his work, diversifying on the way. In addition to his regular columns and freelance features, he took on work for other magazines and also landed himself a weekly slot on Robert Elms's radio show,
bantering on London legends, scruffing down his accent to deliver all manner of anecdotes. Most gratifying was the publishing deal he'd landed to collate a charity anthology of men's magazines columnists.

It wasn't that work was fantastically stimulating, Saul just needed as much of it as possible to fill his time. As chuffed as he was about his radio slot, as proud as he was about the book deal, the satisfaction was tempered by having no Thea to share it with. No excited girlfriend jumping up and down, hugging him with congratulatory delight. Ian's interest, Richard's praise and his parents' pride didn't really amount to much in comparison. So Saul took on more commissions and touted for even more work to try and slake the void. If he didn't have time to notice he was on his own, he wouldn't have the time to feel lonely. So, when Ian phoned him on the off chance he was free that night, Saul didn't hesitate to suggest the Swallow.

‘How about
Not the Top Shelf
?’ Saul tried another possible title for the book.

‘It would probably put off half the readers you're trying to attract,’ said Ian.

‘True,’ said Saul, ‘perhaps a shout-line like we'd use on a mag – something like
What a Bloke Wants
.’

‘That sounds more like an article in
Cosmo
,’ Ian said. ‘Another pint?’

‘Thanks.’

‘I ordered food,’ Ian announced when returning with two pints. He regarded his increased girth forlornly. ‘Not that I need it. Call me Fat Bastard.’

‘How about
Five-Bellies Ashford
,’ Saul teased.

‘It's being married, mate,’ Ian rued with a not unhappy sigh. ‘My wife is such a good cook it would be rude to refuse and she takes it personally if I leave a scrap.’

Saul laughed. ‘How is Karen? When is the baby due? And shouldn't it be Karen eating for two, not you?’

‘I'm eating for three, mate,’ Ian bemoaned. ‘She's either feeling sick or else she has indigestion – she tells everyone “Ian's certainly pulling his overweight in this pregnancy”. She's funny, my wife. And God, pregnancy suits her. Her hormones have gone haywire – to my advantage, if you get my meaning!’

‘When's the baby due?’ Saul repeated. It was strange but since splitting with Thea he'd developed an interest in all topics nuptial or domestic. After squash with Richard, he really liked to hear about Sally, about Juliette, about the trials of sleepless nights, the stress of teething, the nightmare of flying with a baby, the all-consuming exhaustion of it all. It was affirming, not depressing, to hear of such things. For Saul, it was far more constructive than going on the rebound. Case histories of those he knew enabled him to hold on to his faith and believe that love could work.

‘Valentine's Day, would you believe it – blimey, four months today exactly,’ Ian was saying. ‘How are things with you?’

‘Busy,’ said Saul.

‘Seeing anyone?’

‘Christ, no,’ said Saul.

‘What – just lots of no-strings sex, then?’

‘Hardly,’ said Saul, ‘I'm so busy with work.’

‘Have you – can I ask about Thea?’ Ian asked. He'd be informing Karen that Saul looked wan, thinner, but he didn't think he'd make a point of it to Saul.

‘We don't really speak now,’ Saul told him, ‘at her instigation.’

Ian contemplated his pint. ‘It's a shame,’ he said, ‘I liked her. We all did.’

‘You're not the only one,’ Saul said glumly, looking at his pint and not fancying another sip. However, as a matter of
habit, he raised the glass to his lips to mirror Ian.

‘Perhaps if you give her a little space,’ Ian suggested, not really knowing what else to say but knowing it was the sort of advice Karen would dispense.

‘It's not that simple, believe me. Even now, four months on, my head says let her go but my heart says fight for her,’ Saul said. ‘How's work?’

‘Manic,’ Ian said, hardly realizing they'd changed the subject, let alone left the previous one hanging. ‘They've made me a partner.’

‘Congratulations.’ Saul chinked Ian's glass and they drank a toast. The beer tasted fine now. And the sausages looked mouth-watering.

‘Look,’ said Ian, having wolfed down his portion, ‘just tell me to fuck off if I'm speaking out of line, but I don't know if you remember Karen's friend Jo?’

‘Jo?’ Saul said with no recognition.

‘We were trying to set you up with her at much the same time as you and Thea got together. Brunette. Quite busty. Attractive. Bubbly.’

‘Vaguely,’ Saul said. ‘Has Karen got you match-making?’

‘Not just Karen,’ Ian said cautiously, ‘we both reckon the two of you might have a laugh together. Nothing heavy – just some company. Sex, if you're lucky!’

Saul drained his pint. ‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘I'm not in the mood, really, if I'm honest with you. Perhaps in a little while. I don't know. But not just now.’

‘My round, mate,’ said Ian, rising to go to the bar. ‘Same again?’

It was the first time in a couple of months that Saul thrashed Richard with ease at squash. Richard was pleased to lose in
such dramatic style, it could only mean that his friend's spirit was restored.

‘Time for a swift half or five?’ Saul asked.

‘I'll just phone Sal,’ said Richard.

‘So, how's the family?’ Saul asked, thinking there were few things as pleasurable as a long, thirst-quenching drink of lager when one had so earned it. He and Richard drank down half their pints in affable silence.

‘Really well,’ Richard replied with a friendly burp under his breath. ‘Juliette is just adorable – I reckon she'll be walking by her first birthday.’

‘How's Sally?’ Saul asked.

‘She's talking about going back to work part-time,’ Richard said. ‘She loves teaching – and I love it when she teaches because I don't bear the brunt of her bossiness.’

‘I don't think of her as bossy,’ Saul mused, ‘not on the Alice Sinclair Scale of Bossiness.’

‘She comes a close second, does Sal, I assure you,’ Richard said, finishing his drink and heading to the bar to buy the next round. ‘How's it going with you?’ he asked Saul on his return. ‘How's the book coming along?’

‘Good, great,’ said Saul, ‘though I'm struggling for a title.’

‘How about
Between the Sheets
?’ Richard suggested.

‘Bloody hell,’ said Saul, ‘that's not bad at all. Christ! Cheers! I'd got as far as
Do You Like My Column
?’

‘Sounds gay to me,’ said Richard.

‘You're right,’ Saul acquiesced.

‘Is it all work and no play?’ Richard asked. Saul shrugged. ‘Makes for a dull boy,’ Richard warned.

‘Life
is
dull,’ Saul admitted, ‘unless I fill it with work. I spend my weekends writing articles on “The Whys and Wherefores of Wi-Fi” – and the like. Mind you, I'd rather do that than mope or get bladdered for the sake of it.’

‘Do you hear from Thea?’

‘No. Not now.’

‘Do you miss her?’

‘What do you think?’

‘Sorry. I'm sorry. But what the fuck happened, mate?’ ‘Do you really want to know?’ Saul regarded Richard levelly. ‘I was seen. With my pants down. Literally.’

Richard was baffled. ‘You were playing around?’ It seemed inconceivable. ‘On Thea?’

‘No,’ Saul declared, ‘I wasn't. But I was paying around.’

Richard only gawped because suddenly he recalled that bizarre drive back to Thea's when she cross-examined him on the theories behind modern man and the oldest trade.

‘You seem surprised,’ Saul defined.

‘I guess I am a little,’ Richard admitted. It didn't seem right. It didn't seem right to tell Saul about his conversation with Thea. It didn't seem right at all.

‘You don't?’ Saul asked. ‘Not your thing?’

‘Nah,’ Richard confirmed. ‘Why pay for junk food when I have fillet steak at home?’

‘Because sometimes you crave the plastic ease of a Big Mac,’ Saul said, ‘even if you end up questioning your purchase when it repeats on you, quite unpleasantly, afterwards.’

‘I understand,’ Richard shrugged, ‘it's just never been my scene.’

‘Thea would never, ever have understood,’ Saul shrugged, ‘and I can't blame her – she's a girl, I understand the impossibility of her getting her head around the theory. There was no chance. Her sense of betrayal was complete. She could never trust me again and I'd never be able to override the hurt and horror she feels.’

‘And since?’ Richard probed. ‘Have you been bingeing on junk food?’

Saul laughed bitterly. ‘Hardly. You could say I've become
something of a health-food freak. I haven't been near a woman since.’

‘Are you ready to?’

‘I don't know – probably,’ Saul theorized, ‘but I can't muster much enthusiasm.’

‘You should,’ Richard encouraged. ‘I mean, in between junk food and home-cooked dinner, a nice wholesome snack might do you good.’

Sally was in bed when Richard returned. She was sitting up, engrossed in a book about taming toddlers.

‘Hullo!’ she said, as if she was pleasantly surprised to see him.

‘All quiet?’ Richard asked.

Sally nodded. She put down her book and held out her arms. Richard went over to her. ‘One day,’ Sally said coyly, ‘when you've played squash,
don't
have a shower – come home with your sweaty pheromones and ravish me.’

‘Strange request,’ Richard mused, ‘but one which I'll be happy to grant.’

‘How was Saul? What is his news? Did he say anything?’

‘He's fine. He's cool. He's still working like an obsessive.’ Richard paused. ‘He didn't really have any news.’

‘Did he say
anything
?’ Sally pressed. ‘You know – about Thea, or something?’

Richard thought for a moment and was careful to make it look as though he was racking his brains. ‘No,’ he concluded, ‘he didn't. You know us blokes, Sal – we don't talk on that heart-baring level you girls do.’

‘But he's all right, is he? Is he seeing anyone?’ Sally asked.

‘No,’ said Richard, ‘but I did ask.’ He kissed her shoulder. He felt uncomfortable about being economical with the whole truth. It felt odd not to tell his wife everything. But changing the subject in his head helped, and the sight of her silken
skin, the glimpse of nipple half revealed by the bed linen was irresistible.

‘I'd love to have sex,’ Sally said apologetically, ‘but I'm absolutely exhausted.’ She snuggled close to Richard. ‘Us mums seem to expend more energy at Tumble Tots than the tots.’

Richard liked hearing Sally refer to herself as a mum – as their marriage lengthened it had strengthened. He had so much more than he started with. He still had the cute girl-friend but he also had a beautiful wife, a great shag, a best friend and the mother of his child. Amazingly, they were the same woman.

‘Night,’ said Sally, half asleep already.

‘Night, babe,’ said Richard. He sat up in bed unable to read the new issue of
Adam
or the last chapter of the John Irving, both of which lay open on his lap. He had lied to Sally and he couldn't really lessen it by philosophizing whether he had truly
lied
or just pertinently withheld elements of the truth. Why exactly had he not revealed his discovery of the true reason for Thea and Saul's split? To protect Sally? Yes, partly. She'd be really quite shocked to learn that Saul did
that
– she'd be distressed on Thea's behalf and she'd take against Saul. Richard was immensely fond of Thea too and, thinking back to that conversation in the car, he shuddered at the level of torment that poor girl must have gone through. It occurred to Richard that Thea had not specifically divulged her discovery for a reason: she was keeping it secret precisely so that she didn't have to discuss it. He had to respect that. Finally, he thought of his mate, Saul. Poor bastard. God, how Richard sympathized. It may not be
his
thing – but he was actually at ease with the notion that for Saul, as for other men he knew, paying for sex was a mindless bit of recreation. For Saul, though, it had now destroyed the dreams he'd so cherished, and Richard felt for him.
Maybe the main reason why Richard hadn't told Sally was respect for Saul. After all, Saul had confided in him. And actually, Richard held fidelity to a friend to have equal gravitas, commensurate inviolability, to that with which he honoured his wife. Funny thing, fidelity.

‘Can I do something sneaky?’ Alice asked Mark in a beguiling voice, phoning him from her office on a late November after-noon.

‘Oh God, what have you done?’ Mark said, hoping Alice hadn't done something so sneaky as to take too long to divulge. He had a meeting starting in five minutes and through the clear logo on the frosted-glass door of his office, he could see his secretary to-ing and fro-ing with plates of biscuits and jugs of tea and coffee.

‘Nothing yet,’ Alice remonstrated, ‘but I was thinking about booking a table for six on Saturday night,’ she told him.