Love Rules

Alice did as she was told. She had a shower, dressed, went to the supermarket and phoned estate agents. She also continued to call Thea but her mobile phone was off and there was still no answer at her home. It had been warm and welcoming to return to a sweetly scented apartment, fresh linen and neat piles of post, a fridge stocked with necessities, and Alice now longed to see Thea, to thank her at the very least. She was also tiring of her own company. Alice had never been a disciple of the cult of Me-Time though the magazines she published frequently extolled it as a necessary indulgence. Alice functioned best in company, an audience even. Peace, quiet and solitude were overrated, in Alice’s book. If one had time on one’s hands, why not spend it wisely in company – the return was far greater than silent navel-gazing home alone. If Thea still wasn’t in, maybe she would go into work for the afternoon. She dialled Thea’s mobile again.

‘Hullo?’

‘Thea! Where the fuck have you been – I’ve been trying you for ages! I’m back!’

‘Alice! Alice! Oh my God, how are you? How’s Mark? I’ve missed you! Did you get upgraded again?’

‘First Class – but I’m still jet lagged which I think is outrageous. Wait till you see my tan. Amazing place – you must go. God, I have so much to tell you – shall I come over right now?’

‘Um.’

‘Thea?’

‘I’m – a bit, busy.’

‘When, then?’

‘Um.’

‘Hang on – doing what? Busy doing what? You usually chill out on your day off – you and your me-time. Well, have your me-time with me! It feels like ages since I saw you – I’m an old married woman! Wait till you hear about First Class!’

‘Er …’

‘Is it your tax return? Fuck it – it can wait! I can’t!’

‘Alice—’

‘What’s that?’

‘What?’

‘That! In the background. I can hear someone – is there someone there? There is someone there. I can hear a bloke?’

‘Er …’

‘Thea! Thea! Tell me, you cow! Why am I whispering? I can hear a man! Can I? Can I hear a man in your flat?’

‘I’m not in my flat.’

‘Where are you? Are you in a bloke’s flat? Thea!’

‘Yes. Yes, I am.’

‘Who, tell me, who!’

‘Saul.’

‘Who the hell is Saul! Oh my God, who the fuck is Saul!’

‘My boyfriend.’

‘Your boyfriend? You don’t have a boyfriend! Who the hell is Saul? You’re meant to be seeing Mark’s American cousin. You’re going to marry him and then we can be related sort of. I’ve been planning so all honeymoon. You don’t have a boyfriend. Thea! Since when?’

‘Since yesterday.’

‘Stop giggling! What are you talking about, woman? I don’t understand. What do you mean since yesterday? A boyfriend called Saul? I have to see you!’

‘I’ll come to you later, Alice. In a couple of hours, say.’

‘A couple of hours? I can’t wait that long!’

‘You’ll have to. I haven’t even got out of bed, let alone showered.’

‘Thea, for Christ’s sake! Promise you’ll be here in a couple of hours then? No more than three, tops. I can’t wait. I can’t wait! Saul? I don’t know a Saul! And up until my wedding, neither did you.’

Alice had wisely anticipated that returning home from honeymoon would be a comedown, that jet lag would drag her down lower, that her wedding day would seem a dream ago. However, apart from the January magazines already replacing the Christmas issues though it was still December, she hadn’t expected any other changes. In fact, sitting with a cup of tea, waiting for Thea to help her unpack the wedding gifts towering in John Lewis boxes around her, Alice admitted that she had been depending on everything being exactly as she’d left it a fortnight before. She had wanted her world to wait and to long for her return, to crave photos and Technicolor detail of her interlude in St Lucia. She hadn’t expected the world to stop turning but she had hoped it might revolve around her for a little while longer. She was, after all, still the blushing bride, the newly-wed, just married, just home from honeymoon; she had hoped to enjoy the status for at least a few more days yet.

Alice couldn’t work out how Thea had gone off and found a boyfriend when she hadn’t even been looking for one in the first place. How could this have happened when she hadn’t been around to advise her? Thea Luckmore had never been one for the thrill of strangers. So who on earth was this Saul person?

‘How did she manage to do it without me?’ Alice wondered aloud and then listened to how awful that sounded. ‘Not that I’m her chaperone,’ she murmured quickly, unpacking some boxes from John Lewis and wondering if it would be all right to do thank-you notes on the computer, ‘it’s just I’ve always known everything about her. I’ve known when she’s feeling lonely, lovelorn, playful, horny or shy. And I’ve always been aware of names and dates. Because she always, always consults me for a plan of action.’ Alice unwrapped a bulky item and then cursed friends of her parents for deviating from the wedding list in favour of an unnecessarily patterned soup tureen of staggering dimensions. ‘My generation don’t do soup tureens – our soup comes fresh in a carton from Marks & Sparks.’ She knew she sounded spoilt and ungrateful so she blamed jet lag and post-honeymoon blues and wrote a gushing thank-you note straight away proclaiming soup making to be one of Mark’s favourite pastimes.

‘Thea’s always methodically talked through potential entanglements with me first. That was half the fun – analysing it all and digging for signs and significance,’ Alice muttered whilst wondering why she had chosen cream Egyptian cotton towels when between Mark and herself, they already owned more than a full complement of towels and linen. She felt just a little like a fraud, as if she was playing at being a grown-up, dressing up in her mother’s lifestyle. Soup tureens and Royal Doulton crockery. Why had she ordered ‘best china’ when she and Mark tended to turn to Marks & Spencer ready-meals during the week? She felt a little embarrassed, she worried that she sounded horribly materialistic even to herself. There’s more to marriage than wedding gifts. Where would all this stuff go? She made a mental note that ample storage should be a prerequisite on their house-hunting wish-list. ‘I do love my flat,’ Alice sighed, ‘but Mark is right, it is time for us both to move and set up a new home together. How weird that quality plumbing and storage space should suddenly be my priority. But then, I’m not a single girl in my twenties gadding about any more.’ She laughed out loud at how ludicrous she sounded. ‘What am I like – I’ve only been married for two weeks and I’ve been thirty-one for just ten days!’

Alice hung on Thea’s every word. They sat together on the floor, drinking tea, eating double-chocolate muffins, admiring the gifts and fidgeting with the polystyrene packing nuggets. Alice lapped up all the details Thea gave. They marvelled that there was no need for Thea to embellish the facts, to take liberties with details or overdo adjectives.

‘It’s like a film!’ Alice declared. ‘I can practically hear a Morcheeba and Jimi Hendrix soundtrack. Someone like Anna Friel playing you.’

‘I swear to God,’ Thea shrugged, ‘it is exactly as I’m telling you.’

‘And he licked your scar?’ Alice whispered. ‘You actually let him?’

Thea nodded. ‘It even turned me on.’

‘Jesus, I must meet him. Saul Mundy,’ said Alice, ‘his name does ring a bell – in the industry. And of course I know his column from the Observer. But tell me again about the sex – that thing with his tongue and finger.’

‘Thumb,’ Thea corrected.

‘I think I might drop a hint or two to Mark,’ Alice planned.

‘Is married sex a bore and chore already?’ Thea teased. ‘Is it all “Mr Sinclair, prithee do attend to my heaving bosom”? Is it missionary with lights out? And “That was most satisfactory, dear husband but now please away to your own chamber”? Conjugal obligations?’

Alice laughed. ‘For your information, married sex is lovely,’ she declared a little defensively, ‘it’s warm and considerate and we synchronize our climax. Mark’s a very attentive lover. True, it’s without that element of wild abandon you’re describing.’

‘Yes, but I’m in the throes of the first flush, remember,’ Thea defined wisely.

‘I know,’ Alice replied softly, ‘but Mark and I go back so long that there’s never been a first flush. No fireworks, just a gorgeous glow. It’s different with Mark,’ Alice said with a contented shrug, ‘it’s what I want – passion was a health hazard for me. I prefer it this way – sex with Mark makes me feel cosy, rather than racked with insecurity.’

‘Yet here’s me,’ Thea said, ‘a stickler for old-fashioned romance and the sanctity of monogamy – now jumping into and onto and half-on half-off the bed on a first date and shagging in all manner of contortions for twenty-four hours non-stop.’