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Mundy, Luckmore & Co.

Saul soon gained everyone’s seal of approval. Sally Stonehill considered various adjectives before deciding on ‘dashing’ to best describe him. Richard Stonehill liked him enough to return the Armani jacket and Saul liked Richard enough to consider telling him to keep it. Instead, he bought him a pint over which they discovered they both played squash. They arranged a game and their standards were so level that it soon became a weekly fixture with the obligatory post-match praise and pints which they enjoyed just as much as time on court.

Mark Sinclair didn’t play squash but he was happy to guide Saul on playing the stock market. Mark was more than flattered when Saul asked to interview him for GQ magazine, an article entitled ‘Barrow Boys and Bowler Hats: Who Stocks the Stock Market’ and they had a jocular but productive lunch on expenses. The other therapists Thea worked alongside at the Being Well welcomed Saul’s impromptu visits. He usually came bearing gifts: fresh juice and brownies, a poinsettia for reception, magazines for the waiting room, a smile to Thea’s face. He also made it his business to recommend the clinic to friends and colleagues moaning about bad backs, tiredness and stress.

Alice had rehearsed an acerbic soliloquy starting ‘Let me tell you about Thea’ and ending ‘so, hurt her and I’ll kill you’. However, she was actually pleasantly surprised that she took to Saul, though it meant her soliloquy remained unperformed. She decided not to be suspicious of his good looks and she detected no cockiness in the fact that he was naturally outgoing. She respected him for sparring back when she tried to provoke him. She liked it that they could talk about their industry. Most importantly, he appeared very taken with Thea. How fortunate that her best friend’s boyfriend had the potential to become a friend in his own right too.

Thea was instantly liked by all to whom Saul introduced her. Karen Soon-to-be-Ashford had to concede to Jo that Thea was great and would fit right into one of their girls’ nights out. Even Lynne took to her, despite having to keep Molly shut in the downstairs toilet for the duration of her visit. Lynne’s husband was so impressed with a five-minute speed treatment Thea gave his interminably stiff shoulder that he booked an appointment, then another and also gladly took Thea’s advice to see Souki the acupuncturist. Staff and patrons at the Swallow gave her a warm nod of acceptance. Marco from the Deli slipped her a complimentary muffin and slid Saul a knowing wink underscored by appreciative insinuations in throaty Italian. Dave the paper man soon called out to her by name whether or not she was buying an Evening Standard. None of them resented Saul taking his custom to Crouch End for half the week. It evened out anyway, because Thea invariably accompanied him when he returned home.

Thea surprised herself at holding her own amongst Saul’s editors and fellow writers at dos down in Soho, even calling the bluff of one cocky columnist who asked her if she gave ‘extras’ with her massage. ‘Of course I do. But I don’t give them,’ said Thea most levelly, ‘they cost.’ He was just about to lick his lips and ask for a price list when those standing near roared with laughter and called him a dickhead. Alice was at that party. Neither married life for her, nor new relationship fervour for Thea, had imposed any constriction on their friendship. Alice decided it was serendipitous that Thea had met someone whose path crossed naturally with her own. And with Mark travelling so regularly it seemed daft not to attend events when Thea and Saul would be there too. What would she do otherwise? Work late? Sit at home showing people around her flat? Simultaneously, Alice’s world became smaller and Thea’s broadened.

‘Saul,’ Alice phoned Saul out of the blue, ‘can I tickle your fancy?’

‘That’s a rather tempting offer on a grim February morning,’ Saul laughed.

‘Let me buy you lunch and whet your appetite,’ Alice continued, her desk diary open, red pen to hand, prepared to rearrange anything already booked.

‘Wednesday?’ Saul suggested.

‘Perfect,’ said Alice.

‘It’s a date,’ said Saul, tapping the details into a Palm Pilot.

‘Top secret,’ said Alice.

‘You can trust me,’ said Saul.