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deadlines? Or are mobiles not allowed in brothels? Perhaps they interfere with the equipment? Put you off your pace?
‘I even went over to yours,’ Saul was saying. ‘I tell you, if you’re selling it in three weeks’ time, you ought to start having a sort-through. It was a pigsty, young lady.’
Oh, God. My flat goes in three weeks.
Thea had gone cold and shuddered violently at the realization. Alice draped her luxurious shahtoosh around Thea’s shoulders.
‘Are you coming to mine tonight?’ Saul carried on.
‘I’m tired,’ Thea said truthfully, ‘and I do have lots of sorting out to do.’
‘I’ll phone you later,’ Saul said with such warmth in his voice Thea found it difficult not to believe that he really loved her.
At ten o’clock, half an hour after Mark had arrived home and, on raised eyebrow from Alice, had greeted Thea as if her presence was the most normal and expected thing, Thea phoned Saul and said she’d be over shortly.
‘Do you think that’s wise?’ Alice asked her, worried by the distracted glaze to her eyes. She’d rather Thea had another light snack, an aromatherapy bath and an early night as planned.
‘I just need to see him,’ Thea said. She wasn’t going to confide to Alice that actually she’d suddenly been subsumed by an urgent fear that if Saul was alone he might pop out for a quick cash shag. Was that what he did? Those occasions when they stayed in their respective flats, when she phoned late to say goodnight and he explained he was just out buying biscuits or somesuch from the corner shop?
‘Tread carefully,’ Alice warned her caringly. ‘You’re fragile – I wouldn’t say anything tonight. You really need to sleep. Would you like a valium?’ Thea shook her head. ‘We’ll work this out, Thea,’ Alice told her, ‘we’ll figure out what to do.’
Alice wasn’t in the mood for a furtive text session with Paul. She needed to keep her phone open for Thea. In fact, for the first time, she resented Paul’s messages arriving and left them unread. Mark had gone to bed early, with the diaries of Winston Churchill. Alice felt traumatized. How could Saul have done this to Thea? How could it be that Saul was that kind of man? Normal, nice blokes don’t do that. Whoever heard of such a thing? And anyway, Saul has Thea, for Christ’s sake – could he really abuse her so? Alice felt shaken. And the one person who could soothe her was the one upstairs reading Winston Churchill. Thank God for Mark. Thank God Mark was Mark, straight and steady and there for her. She cuddled up against him, sinking fast into the safety net he provided.
‘Is Thea OK?’ Mark asked, using his finger for a bookmark in case Alice wanted to talk or there again didn’t. ‘She looked a fright.’
Alice sighed, grateful for Mark’s intuitive care but burdened at the secret she had to guard. ‘She’ll be fine,’ Alice said. She let Mark return to his book for a while. ‘Mark?’
‘Yes?’ he said, his finger bookmark at the ready.
‘Nothing.’
‘Are you OK, Alice?’ he asked, closing the book and laying it down. ‘You look a little out of sorts.’
‘I feel a little low,’ Alice confided in a whisper, the threat of tears a flint-edged pebble catching her voice.
Mark switched off the light and took her in his arms. ‘It’s OK,’ he said, ‘there there. Get some sleep. Everything passes.’
It wasn’t Mark’s simplistic optimism that raised a small smile from Alice, it was that he knew precisely what to do for her just then. He knew not to probe, not to reason. He just had to hold her close and soothingly and so he did just that. It was just right. And she loved him for it. And for the first time she felt searing guilt at her own transgression and profound regret.
To Thea, it seemed glaringly bizarre that Saul should carry on as if nothing had happened. In his eyes, however, nothing had happened. Why wouldn’t he want to chat about the new place? Why shouldn’t he twirl her in his arms and place celebratory kisses on her face? Naturally, he’d want to express the anxiety her disappearance had caused him. And of course he was eager to discuss mortgage minutiae. Of course he was going to ask her if she was all right. Of course he was going to comment that she looked pale and tired and of course he’d automatically place his palm tenderly on her forehead to assess her temperature. And of course Thea wanted to scream you evil deviant sod what the fuck do you think you are doing screwing hookers when you have me?
But she didn’t. Not because Alice had told her to bite it back but because suddenly she found herself obsessed with a perverse mission of sorts. When they went to bed, she instigated sex: athletic, urgent, ravenous sex. She had a point, not love, to make. She had to feel him overcome with hunger for her. She needed to sense that his passion for her could send him to the verge of frenzy. So she writhed and gasped and twisted herself in mock abandon. She faked the pleasure of every thrust and grind. She let her voice lie most convincingly. What she sought was to analyse Saul’s every move and groan. She needed to assess his response. Was he loving it? Did fucking her absorb and sate him utterly? She scrutinized his every hump and groan, evaluated the length and intensity of his climax and studied his breathing pattern and facial expressions throughout.
There was absolutely no doubt about it, she drove the man wild. Why the hell, then, was he paying for sex elsewhere?
‘Christ, that was good,’ Saul declared, post-coital triumph softening into affectionate gratitude. He rolled towards Thea, his hand gently cupping her breast while he kissed the tip of her nose.
And do you say that to all the women? Thea wondered, turning away from him, gulping against the swell of nausea.
‘That’ll certainly put me to sleep with a smile on my face,’ Saul chuckled, switching off the light, spooning against her and nuzzling the nape of her neck.
It all felt dirty. As if everything needed a good scrub and a boil wash. Saul’s sheets. Saul’s bathroom. Saul’s crockery. Thea’s body.
‘I have Pilates three times this week,’ she announced after a lengthy, scalding-hot shower the next morning. Actually she had only the one class booked. Saul nodded as he tucked into two croissants on account of Thea claiming no appetite. ‘And Alice and I are going to the cinema tonight.’
No, we’re not – but Alice’ll cover for me.
‘Busy bee!’ Saul said affectionately. ‘You’d better start packing too.’
Oh, God. My flat. I have just over a fortnight.
‘Yes,’ Thea agreed, ‘lots to sort out.’
‘But we’re off to my parents this weekend, remember?’
‘This weekend? Oh. Oh, God. I forgot.’
I did forget. It’s true.
‘Yes – but it isn’t a problem, is it? They’re looking forward to seeing you again.’
‘It’s just that I promised Alice I’d—’
‘Oh.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t worry. We’ll go another time.’
‘But you’ll still go? You must, Saul – they’ll be so disappointed.’
‘Yes – I’ll go. See if you can change whatever it is with Alice?’
‘I’ll try.’
No, I won’t.
Thea couldn’t leave Saul’s flat fast enough, inventing an early booking at the Being Well. Yet, by the time she arrived at work, she sat alone in her room at the top and felt like running all the way back to Saul’s. An hour later, she felt intense hatred. By lunchtime she was so confused that she wondered whether she’d