Love Rules Read online

  ‘You need to remember all your reasons for marrying Mark,’ Thea told her, ‘and you need to remember that your playboy exes actually made you miserable. You need to think logically about marriage, Alice, because by definition, you're in it for the long haul. Of course there are going to be fluctuations in temperature – cold currents, heatwaves, warm periods. Maybe you should look on it as just being a little unsettled at the moment,’ Thea concluded, hoping to sound reassuring, ‘and know that it'll abate and be fine.’

  ‘I'm starting to feel stifled, Thea,’ Alice said quietly, wondering when her best friend had become a meteorologist and marriage counsellor. ‘There seems to be no frisson between me and Mark. No fizz. It's all gone a bit flat.’

  ‘Alice, I'm the diehard romantic here but even I can acknowledge that there's more to marriage than raunchy sex or just being in love,’ Thea said. ‘Anyway, I thought you said frissons and fizz were just phenyl-something.’

  ‘Phenylethylamine,’ Alice muttered. She felt irritated. It wasn't as if Thea was even living with Saul, so on what authority could she lecture? ‘I mean, of course I want to grow old with Mark – I just don't want to be old while I'm still youngish.’

  ‘It'll be fine,’ Thea said, because she really couldn't start thinking it could possibly be anything other. She believed in the mystical sanctity of being in love; she didn't like the way Alice dissected it into chemical components, albeit light-heartedly. But just then, Thea prayed for surges of adrenalin and dopamine and that phenyl-something for her best friend, so that Alice could feel love flushed and happy to be Mrs Sinclair once more.

  Later that night, after sending a text message to Alice assuring her that everything would be OK and that she was there for her, Thea rang Saul to say goodnight. He wasn't in and his mobile was switched off. She tried again ten minutes later. And then ten minutes after that, when his mobile was back on.

  ‘Hullo,’ said Thea, hearing traffic in the background, ‘where are you?’

  ‘I've just nipped out for a pint of milk and some chocolate biscuits,’ Saul said. Thea was surprised he hadn't come across the milk she'd replenished that morning and the KitKats and Hobnobs. ‘Oh,’ Saul faltered, ‘did you? Thanks. How was Pilates?’

  ‘Good,’ Thea said, settling into bed for a chat.

  ‘What was it tonight – Rioja and chips?’ Saul laughed, obviously walking briskly.

  ‘Alice seemed a bit tired, actually,’ said Thea, ‘off her chips. Tell you what, why not call me from the land line in a mo'?’

  Actually, it took half an hour for Saul to return Thea's call when it transpired he hadn't nipped to that corner shop but actually one further afield.

  ‘Can I ask you something?’ she asked him.

  ‘Shoot,’ said Saul, clattering around his flat.

  ‘Mark –’ Thea started. ‘You get on with him, don't you?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Saul, ‘who wouldn't.’

  ‘But you really get on well with Richard, don't you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Saul qualified easily, ‘Richard's a really good bloke.’

  ‘Is Mark not a good bloke, then?’ Thea asked.

  Saul paused. ‘Mark's more of a nice guy than a good bloke,’ he explained.

  ADAM

  June, Issue 13

  1st Anniversary special edition

  Beautiful Britain cover

  Celebrate!

  It's a tough job, but someone has to do it: Britain's top-selling men's mag one year on

  Models, actors, singers, whatever – the best of British

  Power couples – who has the balls may not be who wears the trousers

  High street or haute couture – who can tell?

  Build muscle, lose fat, eat like a horse, no catch

  She told me she was 16 – and other nightmare scenarios

  Wear it, hear it, read it, see it – cutting edge and lead the pack

  All the news-stands at Heathrow Airport were awash with the anniversary issue of Adam. Because Alice hadn't been able to justify a trip to New York for the Bowie shoot and because Mark himself had stayed longer than anticipated in the States, he was whisking his wife off to Marbella for the weekend as a consolation prize, a gesture. And also, a celebration – he'd finally secured the Gerber–Klein deal. He'd propped her passport and plane ticket against her toothbrush when he'd left early for work.

  Mark picked up a copy of Adam and bought it. Alice looked puzzled. ‘I bring copies home, Mark.’

  ‘Ah, but I want the pleasure of buying my own. Anyone who's anyone buys Adam,’ Mark said sweetly, ‘it's the ultimate accessory. Anyway, a little subliminal marketing never goes amiss – I can always tuck my copy of the Economist inside the cover.’

  Alice smiled and went in search of a paperback. She needed a break. They both did.

  ADAM

  July, Issue 14

  Tour de France cover

  Superhumans or simple junkies – peddling and pedalling with the peloton

  The porn star, the housewife, the sex therapist – three women set you homework

  Beach buff – crash course to boost confidence and tone

  Next year, we'll be mostly wearing … the fashion industry laid bare

  I earn, I live, I'm broke – stretch it without feeling the pinch

  The best – and worst – jobs in the world

  The house that Jack built – self-build successes … and nightmares

  Win! £50,000 of watches waiting

  ADAM

  August, Issue 15

  Double cover: David Bowie/Iman

  Beautiful couple – Mr and Mrs Bowie, as good as it gets

  A shark ate my homework … and my arm – facing near-death with a sense of humour

  All buy yourself – online investing made simple

  Cooking – have her begging for more

  I'm 30 and I know I'll never have sex again

  Liam Gallagher, icon or scally?

  Property – buy or rent, sell or let?

  Scrutinized! New releases – buy it, or don't. Trust us

  Alice and Thea were concentrating on Sally's abdomen. Sally sighed and poked herself in different spots. They all stared for a while longer. She stood, shifted around, sat down heavily and placed her palms all over her bump. ‘Perform – or I'll dock your pocket money!’ Sally growled at her belly.

  ‘Was that something?’ Thea gasped.

  ‘No,’ Sally said. ‘But that is! Quick, give me your hands!’

  Thea and Alice had their hands against Sally's stomach and stayed that way for quite some time to no avail. ‘I know, I'll eat some pickled onion crisps – that usually has the wriglet cartwheeling.’ But she'd eaten her way through an industrial supply recently and there were no packets left.

  ‘Let's do the ring test,’ Alice suggested. ‘Sally, give me your wedding ring – and Thea, let me have your necklace. Then we dangle it over Sally's bump and if it swings back and forth, it's a boy. Circles – and it's a girl.’

  ‘Oh, my God, it's twins!’ Thea declared as the ring swung this way and that.

  ‘Flatulence, more like,’ laughed Sally.

  Alice took the necklace from Thea. ‘Seriously,’ she said with a face so straight the other two laughed, ‘it works – my grandma told me.’

  ‘Your grandma also told you if you ate your crusts your hair would curl,’ Thea reminisced, ‘but despite living on toast you still had to resort to that terrifying perm when you were sixteen.’

  ‘Shut up,’ Alice said, ‘watch – the ring is going round and round. You're having a girl. Oh. Hang on. No, it's not. What's it doing now? It's a boy.’

  Soon enough, they were swinging the ring over the cat (who was male, according to the ring, though her kittens born two years previously would seem to disprove it), a picture of Prince Charles on the Radio Times (‘Boy!’ Alice proclaimed triumphantly) and Richard's shoes (‘Boy! See!’ Alice laughed). Even the floorboards had gender according to the swing of the ring.

&nbs
p; ‘When are you and Mark going to breed?’ Sally asked Alice, telling herself not to panic that the ring didn't appear to move at all when she dangled it.

  Alice took the ring and assessed the sex of a cushion tucked up Thea's jumper. ‘I don't know,’ she said cautiously, ‘I mean, when we were engaged we'd talk dreamily of babies and sandpits and Winnie-the-Pooh. When we bought the house we allocated “kids' rooms”. But actually, we haven't mentioned it.’

  ‘There again, I've been married to Richard for nearly seven years,’ Sally said, ‘and you two are still pretty much newly-weds.’

  ‘Coming up to two years, actually,’ Alice corrected. She gave Sally back her ring and hooked Thea's necklace around her neck. ‘I guess I don't feel ready. I guess Adam's been my baby. I guess you have to have sex to conceive and my husband is invariably in a different time zone and continent to me.’

  ‘Mark would make a lovely father,’ Sally projected. ‘How about you and Saul, Thea?’

  ‘Us?’ Thea said, looking up from a pregnancy magazine. ‘We're not even living together, let alone married.’ Her glum pout surprised Alice.

  ‘But you've been together for ages,’ Sally declared.

  Thea shrugged.

  ‘You're not waiting for him to ask, are you?’ Sally probed, as if the notion was so old-fashioned as to be far-fetched.

  Thea shrugged again.

  ‘Ever the romantic, our Thea,’ Alice said fondly, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze.

  ‘So?’ said Thea, resolutely.

  ADAM

  September, Issue 16

  Willem Dafoe cover

  The quiet hero – Dafoe defines cool

  Sex – learn the language of talking dirty

  Perfect ‘V’ – hone your physique in a month

  Divas, sparrows, angels, fruitcakes – female rock goddesses

  Yeah man, I was there: Woodstock, Isle of Wight, Glastonbury

  Big Brother – 130 CCTVs log your daily movements

  Fast-food nation – terrifying facts that'll have you reaching for the alfalfa

  Toys, gadgets and gizmos – we don't need them, but we love them

  ADAM

  October, Issue 17

  The Survivor's Guide. Underwater cover

  How to love and have lust survive

  How to do platonic sex and have the friendship survive

  How to dive with sharks and survive

  How to play the stock market and survive

  How to cook a banquet and have your guests survive

  How to renovate your house – and have the building survive

  How to win a survival course in the Pyrenees

  Mark stroked Alice's stomach, turned away from Newsnight and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. ‘When is Sally's baby due?’ he asked.

  ‘Couple of months,’ Alice told him, her eyes on the vast television screen, ‘I think her due date is Boxing Day.’

  ‘You'd look glorious pregnant,’ Mark anticipated. Alice was quiet. ‘Maybe we should think about trying?’ Mark said. ‘We are married, after all. And we are ageing rapidly. And we do rattle around this big place. And I don't know about you but maybe the cogs of my biological clock are starting to turn.’

  Alice wanted to cry and she hadn't a clue why. She invented a coughing fit and rushed to the kitchen for a long drink of water.

  ADAM

  November, Issue 18

  Mick Jagger cover

  Old enough to be your dad, cool enough to be your mate, rich enough to buy a continent – Sir Mick, we salute you!

  Stay or stray? When love loses lust

  Lizzie Jagger – what would her dad say?

  Undercover in Afghanistan

  Armani or Burton – who suits you?

  Fitness – prepare now for your mum's Christmas cooking

  Sex and drugs – don't try this at home

  Money – save or spend: is it worth it?

  Kiki had worked in the West End for three years, from the time she came to Britain from Indonesia at the age of seventeen. She liked it. The money was good. Her colleagues were now as close as family. Her clients were mostly fine. Her accommodation exceeded her expectations. She felt she had much to be thankful for because she knew she was much luckier than some. Kiki chose not to take much time off, limiting herself to one morning and one afternoon a week but never a whole day. It didn't seem worth it; her plan was to save and not spend and she didn't hate her job enough to run from it whenever she could. She'd seen quite early on how not much business came in on Monday afternoons and Sundays so these were the times she decided not to work.

  In the first year of her life in London, she had spent her Sundays and Monday afternoons too overwhelmed by the scale of the capital city, the pace of it all, to do much else than go from McDonald's to McDonald's, splitting a meal between establishments and giving herself an allowance that stretched to a further soft drink and two cups of tea to fill her free time. It wasn't that Kiki became braver, but as time passed the city seemed smaller; her awe simply dwindled and her penchant for McDonald's ceased altogether. As her English improved and she found Time Out fairly easy to read, she took to venturing further afield. She started with the major museums and galleries, then she sought out smaller collections, traversing London from east to west, north to south as she did so.

  She went on a tour of the Thames Barrier and walked around Hampstead with a group of strangers and a guide dressed as Charles Dickens. She lay on her back alongside other visitors at an installation at Tate Modern and craned her neck during a walking tour of the financial district. She went backstage at the Royal Opera House and down into the orchestra pit at the Barbican. She pressed the buttons in the Science Museum and rode the small train at Kew Bridge Steam Museum. She walked around a candlelit restored Huguenot property in Folgate Street in reverential silence and sang ‘My Old Man Said Follow the Van’ raucously at a living Music Hall museum. From fans to dolls, musical to medical instruments, from wine to buses – it seemed to Kiki there was a museum to celebrate everything.

  Kiki had never heard the shipping forecast. The radio at work, when on, was set to Heart FM and softly at that. But she'd read about an exhibition called ‘The Shipping Forecast’ showing at a gallery space within Spitalfields market and, though she didn't know her North from her South Utsire, it was a rainy October Sunday so she decided to go along.

  ‘At school, Alice and I did a project called The Shipping Forecast in our second year,’ Thea told Saul. ‘It was our first and – if I don't count our David Bowie collage – our last foray into mixed media.’ Saul laughed and unfurled his umbrella to protect them both from a sudden squall. ‘Don't laugh,’ Thea protested, ‘we sewed and stuck and modelled and carved all the stations on the forecast. We spent ages on it. And though we spelt German Bight incorrectly and treated Lundy Fastnet as a single location – overall, it looked good.’

  ‘So do those burgers,’ Saul salivated as they walked through Spitalfields, ‘look at the size of them.’

  ‘Culture first,’ Thea said, ‘then I'll buy you lunch.’

  The exhibition was small; just one photo per location, but the space was cleverly subdivided by walls and screens to create a journey for the viewer. This also served to give a sense of private viewing time in front of each image, the chatter of the market merely a muffled background thrum. Saul was leaving Dogger and Thea was approaching Biscay when Kiki moved away from South-east Iceland.

  ‘Hullo.’

  Thea glanced round but the greeting appeared to be directed at Saul. She narrowed her eyes and tipped her head, regarding the girl. She knew her from somewhere. ‘Hullo,’ Thea said.

  ‘Oh, hi!’ the girl exclaimed, blushing. She bade Saul and Thea goodbye and off she went, with the shy smile that had enabled Thea to place her.

  ‘It's clicked,’ Thea said to Saul.

  ‘Sorry?’ Saul said. ‘Great photo, this one of Rockall – look at the quality of the light.’

  ‘The girl
– that girl,’ Thea continued, thinking the photo Saul referred to was actually quite ordinary.

  ‘What?’ Saul looked confused and was moving over to Bailey.

  ‘That girl,’ Thea said, ‘just then – who said hullo to you and me.’

  Saul pointed to the photo of Malin. ‘Now this,’ he said, still pointing, ‘this I like.’

  Thea stood alongside him and slipped her hand into his. ‘I prefer that one behind there, of Portland,’ she said, guiding Saul through with her hands in the back pockets of his jeans. ‘She works a couple of doors down from the Being Well – in that dodgy sauna-massage place!’

  ‘Really?’ Saul said, peering at the Hebrides.

  ‘You've probably seen her without realizing it,’ Thea said, ‘en route to visiting me.’

  Saul turned away from Cromarty. ‘Shall we go for that burger now?’ he suggested, putting his arm around Thea's shoulders and guiding her away from Viking back through to the market.

  ADAM

  December, Issue 19

  Julia Roberts as Christmas Fairy cover

  All we want for Christmas is Julia

  Christmas parties – seasonal snogging, festive favours, misplaced mistletoe Christmas bonus – mine's bigger than yours

  Christmas crap – we sift through the tat so you don't have to

  Christmas cheer – your round