Love Rules

‘Really?’ Richard responded, ‘but on his credit card probably. She has some fuck-off diamonds, that girl.’

‘No, she buys them herself,’ Saul revealed. ‘They’re fake,’ he said, ‘fake! How cool is that?’ He really was more impressed than he would have been had they been genuine. ‘She buys them for small change from the shopping channel.’

Richard laughed. ‘Seriously? Bloody hell. She certainly wears them well. Perhaps I’ll ask her to order double – I’m sure I could pop them into a Tiffany box.’

‘Talking of Alice,’ Saul said, dropping his voice, ‘I’m working on a project with her – top secret. But I have an idea for a property section. I’m not talking estate agents’ advertorials. I’m not talking Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen makeovers. I was thinking of a section that is part DIY, part property improvements, part investment savvy. You know, kitchen extensions or loft conversions or knocking through – a how to, how much, how long.’

‘Sounds good,’ Richard nodded.

‘You’re an architect,’ Saul shrugged, ‘can I pick your brains?’

‘Cool,’ Richard nodded, ‘sure. What’s it called?’

‘Top secret,’ said Saul.

‘That’s a bit naff,’ said Richard.

‘The title is top secret,’ Saul said very slowly. ‘I’m not telling you the title because I can’t. I’m sworn to secrecy.’

‘Code-name?’ Richard asked.

‘Quentin,’ Saul revealed rather reluctantly.

‘Gay?’

‘No – as in Tarantino,’ Saul explained. And he and Richard proceeded to quote salient lines from Pulp Fiction until their sausages arrived.

Beth and Hope (#ulink_58f3f6d7-e402-5a1b-8a5c-ad0a066e261a)

When Beth Godwin and Hope Johnson set up their Pilates studio in Crouch End, Sally Stonehill joined on a whim because there was an introductory offer on. Thea signed up on the recommendation of Lars, the Feldenkrais practitioner at the Being Well. Alice joined on account of the effect of Pilates on the physique of Elizabeth Hurley. Mostly, the three of them synchronized their sessions. It hardly mattered, though. They were so busy concentrating on engaging their pelvic floor and pursuing core stability that they barely said a word to each other apart from ‘great Pikes, Thea’ or ‘your reverse-monkey looked good, Alice’ or ‘I’m finished with the Reformer, Sally’.

Invariably, if they’d been training together, they’d go for a meal afterwards, determined to consolidate the merits of Pilates with healthy salads or bowls of hearty soup and glasses of mineral water. Usually, though, there was some reason for a glass of wine too – from it being good for the blood, to it being necessary to toast one of the girls for something or other. However even the one glass of wine, when mixed with the endorphins of exercise, led to the inevitable ordering of chips. To share, of course. Just to pick at. And mayonnaise too, please. Who’s for ketchup? Anyone for HP Sauce?

‘A large bottle of sparkling mineral water,’ Alice ordered.

‘It’s my wedding anniversary this weekend,’ Sally remarked, with intent.

‘Is it? Right then,’ Alice responded, ‘a bottle of Sauvignon too, please.’

‘I’ll have the avocado and mung bean salad,’ Thea told the waitress with scant enthusiasm.

‘Grilled trout for me, please,’ ordered Alice, ‘no butter.’

‘I think I’ll go for the stir-fried veg,’ Sally muttered.

‘Anything else?’ the waitress asked casually.

‘Oh, one portion of chips,’ Thea added as an afterthought.

‘Actually, make that two,’ Alice said, ‘to share between the three of us.’

‘And some mayo, please,’ Sally called after the waitress.

‘Cheers!’ said Alice, raising her glass. ‘Here’s to you and Richard and to marriage in general.’

‘I’ll drink to that,’ said Sally, ‘here’s to my husband and five lovely years.’

‘Cheers,’ said Thea, ‘here’s to – chips.’

‘You’ll be next,’ Alice nudged Thea and winked at Sally.

‘I hardly see the boy,’ Thea remonstrated, tapping the prongs of her fork against the pad of her thumb before pointing her cutlery at Alice. ‘You have him working all bloody hours on your hush-hush project.’

‘How’s that going?’ Sally asked Alice. ‘Richard likes to think of himself as Editor of Architecture and Interiors or something. The prat.’

‘We’re launching next month,’ Alice said triumphantly.

‘Will there be a glamorous party?’ Sally asked hopefully.

‘Of course,’ Alice said.

‘And may lowly primary school teachers attend?’ Sally asked.

‘You may,’ Alice confirmed graciously.

‘And will there be room on the guest list for a sports masseuse?’ Thea asked.

‘God no,’ Alice laughed in mock shock, ‘but I might turn a blind eye to the girlfriend of the editorial consultant sneaking in.’

‘Cow,’ Thea stuck her tongue out at Alice.

‘How are things with Alice’s Editorial Consultant?’ Sally asked Thea. ‘Richard has spent a small fortune on a new squash racquet. Bad workmen, tools and blame, springs to mind.’

‘Lovely,’ Thea grinned, ‘it’s fun. It’s cosy. It’s sexy. It’s everything I want. And everything I need.’

‘You mean it’s love,’ Sally deduced.

‘Yes,’ Thea confirmed, ‘yes, it is.’

‘Six months after I started seeing Richard, we were already engaged,’ Sally recalled. ‘Mind you, six months after you started seeing Mark you were practically married, Ms Heggarty.’

‘Mrs Sinclair to you,’ Alice retorted. ‘Actually, the craziest thing about it all was that I didn’t even start seeing Mark until we were engaged. Chaste is an understatement.’

‘Chaste is overrated,’ Sally said with a wink, confessing she’d bought Richard, for their anniversary, some peculiar-looking love beads which apparently he was to use on her – if they could figure out how and where.

‘Did you go into a sex shop on your own?’ Alice asked, slightly unnerved by an image of petite Sally unchaperoned amongst stacks of gadgets and racks of hardcore.

‘Mail order,’ Sally giggled.