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Cohen & Howard

Alice held Thea very close as she embraced her. And when she sensed Thea was ready to pull away, she held her tighter still. ‘Good,’ she said, ‘I’m so pleased. It’s the right time. It’s brilliant news.’

‘Do you think I’m doing the right thing?’

‘You have to ask?’

‘Are you happy for me?’

‘You have to ask?’

‘You do think that Saul is The One For Me, don’t you?’

‘You have to ask?’

Alice and Thea gazed at each other, manic excitement manifest and contagious in their dancing eyes and slight breathlessness.

‘So,’ Alice said, ‘there we have it. We’re all grown up, you and I. God, I’ll probably be pregnant by your house-warming party,’ Alice said with a slump to her shoulders, ‘and I’ll be confined to wearing some God-awful kaftan and support tights.’

Thea looked at her thoughtfully. ‘I wasn’t really thinking of house-warming parties. But are you really thinking about pregnancy?’

‘I can’t see how my marriage will survive if I don’t,’ Alice reasoned, a little darkly.

‘Shit,’ Thea exclaimed, ‘don’t say that. You’re not serious? I mean, I know you’ve been low – ambivalent even – but we’ve talked through it all, haven’t we. Time and again. Surely you are not considering a baby to hold the answer?’

Alice was quiet. She regarded Thea with a meekly apologetic pursing of her lips. ‘I’ll never forget your mother begging you to be the glue to keep your father from leaving. How old were you? Fifteen?’

‘Fourteen,’ Thea corrected.

‘When did you last see him?’ Alice asked.

‘Three years ago?’ Thea estimated.

‘It’s interesting,’ Alice said quietly, ‘how divorce affects a child by shaping their attitude towards love as adults. Many become totally averse or utterly cynical to long-term relationships. You come from a pretty poor example of marriage and yet it seems it’s given you the determination to truly believe in lasting love. It would make an interesting article for Adam – how blokes are affected by their parents’ relationships.’

‘Well, it seems you and I have struck lucky with Saul and Mark then, as they both come from good stock,’ Thea mused.

‘You make them sound like prize rams – in fact, you sound like your mother!’ Alice laughed. Her expression changed, she placed the back of her hand against Thea’s cheek. ‘You have always imposed somewhat fairy-tale proportions onto love and eternity. I know I tease you. And sometimes, it has landed you in a pickle. But ultimately, I think it’s your greatest strength. I may rib you for being a hopeless romantic but actually I admire you for it.’

‘You don’t mind that I don’t believe in your theory that your phenyl-something is the cause of love?’ Alice laughed and shook her head. ‘When I was little,’ Thea said cautiously, ‘the only way to block out the noise of the rows, the only way to put something pretty into my life, was to lose myself in this imagined world of heroes and heroines triumphant in love.’

‘Well, now you have your hero in Saul,’ Alice said conclusively.

‘And you have yours in Mark,’ Thea said, adding a note of warning to her voice. ‘Do not use a baby as glue, Alice, please.’

Alice regarded her wedding ring thoughtfully. ‘Glue, Sellotape, Velcro,’ she said quietly, ‘some type of weathertight bonding is needed, that’s for sure.’

‘Bonding,’ Thea said, musing over the word. ‘It’ll be within you, within the home itself,’ she said decisively, ‘you’ll just have to patiently seek it out.’

‘And there ends our correlation between love and sticky stuff,’ Alice proclaimed. ‘There are only so many metaphors a girl can take in her lunch hour.’

‘Love is sticky stuff,’ Thea shrugged with a wink, ‘if we’re talking fellatio.’

With his sharp suit, loud tie and verbal swagger, the estate agent at Cohen & Howard reminded Thea of Peter Glass but as Saul didn’t know Peter Glass, and as Thea assumed that all estate agents were probably alike, she didn’t comment. Just then, with the agent slicking back his already product-laden hair and rolling a fat Mont Blanc pen avariciously as if it were a cigar, Thea wondered whether they should have consulted Peter instead. He’d been in that morning. On a roll. Deposit paid for Seychelles ultra luxury. Upgrading the Beemer to a Merc. Taking a new girlfriend to Chinawhite. Hardly aware of the crick to his neck.

‘Miss Luckmore,’ the estate agent was saying, ‘will Cohen & Howard be handling the sale of your property too? We do have an office in Muswell Hill – and market share in N10, N8, N22.’

‘We would consider it,’ Saul butted in, enunciating his vowels an octave lower than Thea had heard before, ‘for a drop in your commission to 1 per cent, bearing in mind that you’ll be handling the sale of my property and most probably arranging our purchase too.’ Thea didn’t mind that Saul had answered for her. She found it quite touching. Plus he was saving her 1.5 per cent which would probably pay for an IKEA kitchen. ‘If we can agree on such a commission,’ Saul was saying, ‘you may have both premises to market.’

‘Immediately?’ the agent asked with a lip-lick of gleeful anticipation.

Saul and Thea looked at each other. Saul raised an eyebrow and a smile broadened. Thea bit her lip – not with reservations but to quell a rising chirp of excitement. ‘Immediately,’ Thea told the agent.

She and Saul left the office with a clutch of property particulars and, with arms linked and a skip to their stride, headed for Patisserie Valerie on Marylebone High Street to peruse the details over coffee and cake. For a day devoted to the exposing of fools, April 1st for Saul and Thea was proving to be a day in which they were making some very wise moves. Saul put his arm around Thea’s waist and pulled her close to him, giving her a smacking kiss to her temple. She beamed up at him. ‘I’m so excited!’ She started babbling about Shaker-style kitchens and granite worktops and Smeg fridges in retro pink. She enthused about Purves & Purves for rugs, that she’d seen Mies van der Rohe style Barcelona chairs on the web for a bargain. With a footstool and no delivery charge. Perhaps in cream. ‘Designers Guild for fabrics!’ she exclaimed. ‘And can we buy a superking-size bed? I love Farrow & Ball paint colours.’ She was hopping and weaving in her excitement. ‘Bridgewater!’ she beamed, standing outside the eponymous shop. ‘Oh my God, I adore her crockery.’ A few steps later, Thea was darting over the road and pulling Saul into the White Company. ‘Divine!’ she repeated as she ran her hands lightly over the stacks of linen. ‘Let’s make the bedroom a peaceful haven of muted tones. Mushroom. Ecru. Flax. Calico. Vanilla.’

‘His and Hers waffle towelling robes?’ Saul suggested, twirling one against himself, his gentle sarcasm totally lost on Thea.

‘Actually,’ she replied artlessly, ‘the Conran Shop’s the place for bathrobes – we could look at prices after we’ve had tea.’

Even an old-fashioned homewares shop caught Thea’s attention as they strolled on and she enthused about their exhaustive range of Vileda mops and accessories. Jabbering on about cream carpets, Venetian mirrors and terracotta chimineas for patios, she danced in front of Saul so that he almost tripped, wrapping her arms around his neck and standing slightly on tiptoes to kiss and kiss him some more. Calmly, he encircled her waist with his arms, lifted her up and continued to walk towards Patisserie Valerie while Thea laughed and embraced him as he carried her.

‘Oh here, this is for you,’ Saul said. ‘It’s only silver – but I thought it was very you. The jeweller is Ian’s sister.’

Outside Waitrose, Thea looked at the ring. It was inscribed.

∞ I have spread my dreams under your feet ∞

‘Tread softly because you tread on my dreams,’ Thea said quietly, completing the stanza. She loved that Yeats poem. She looked at Saul, elated, awash with love and brimful of excitement for their future. Their dreams were shared, their future spread ahead. For Thea, not even the most sumptuous wedding in the world, or the most gorgeous flat on the market, or the most expensive ring from Tiffany, could actually better the dizzying happiness she felt just then.

‘Well done, mate,’ Richard said to Saul, slipping his racquet into its cover.

‘But you slaughtered me,’ Saul laughed as they headed from the court to the showers.

‘I meant about Thea, you prat!’ Richard said with a friendly shove. ‘Sally told me you’re buying a little love nest together.’

‘We’ve signed up our flats with Cohen & Howard,’ Saul called over the shower cubicle.

‘Wise,’ Richard affirmed. ‘Did they drop their commission?’

‘You bet,’ Saul said, ‘I mean, both properties should be a doddle to sell. And we both bought at the right time.’

‘Well, if you need an architect,’ Richard laughed.

‘Discount?’ Saul joshed, grabbing a towel and throwing one to Richard.

‘Yeah, right,’ Richard laughed. ‘Anyway, what are you looking for and where?’

‘I thought I’d have a tough job suggesting Thea relinquish her Crouch End affections,’ Saul mused, ‘but actually she’s really into the idea of central London.’

‘There are some great developments near Covent Garden,’ Richard informed him, ‘the Drury Lane end. I know of one not yet released – I could try and organize a viewing.’

‘That would be cool,’ Saul thanked him, ‘I know Thea likes the idea of Bloomsbury too. But she’s seen too many Merchant Ivory films.’

‘I have to say, the area you’re in at the moment is fabulous,’ Richard commented, heading out from the changing room.

‘I’ll drink to that,’ said Saul, clanging shut the locker and following him out of the changing room.

‘You’ll drink to me trouncing you at squash first,’ Richard laughed over his shoulder, as they headed for the bar, ‘and then we’ll drink to you and Thea.’

‘And then we’ll wet your baby’s head,’ Saul elaborated.

‘And then we’ll raise a glass to my wife,’ Richard said.

‘I can’t believe we haven’t been out to celebrate Juliette’s birth,’ Saul marvelled, ‘we must be talking four months or so.’

‘Christ, I had to negotiate hard with Sally, let me tell you,’ Richard sighed. ‘I get tonight off only on the guarantee of a midnight curfew and the assurance of only mild wooziness as opposed to utter inebriation. And she’s factored into the equation a lie-in on Saturday and her own night out with Thea and Alice next Wednesday.’

‘She drives a tough bargain, your wife,’ Saul commented, raising his glass to her nonetheless.

‘I have my two beautiful girls,’ Richard declared with a happy shrug, ‘they have me wrapped around their little fingers – but I’m a pretty happy captive.’

Hullo, little home. Hullo, my little slice of Lewis Caroll Living. I’ve entrusted you to some wide-boy estate agent with a dodgy goatee beard. Lance from Cohen & Howard’s Muswell Hill office. He says you’ll be a breeze to sell. And I have no idea why I feel guilty. Like I’m abandoning you to some unknown fate, like I’m turning my back on you after all the security you’ve given me. But I like to think of some other Thea chancing upon you, living here and loving it until life moves her along too. Saul says I mustn’t become emotional about selling. I walloped him for that – what a daft thing to say. Of course it’ll be an emotional process. Do you know he says it would be better for me not to meet potential purchasers? He ganged up with Lance on that one. Saul says he knows me, he says if potential purchasers don’t live up to my exacting expectations, I won’t sell to them even if they offer the asking price. But to me, that’s obvious – to him, that’s daft. Lance looked horrified.

This home is an extension of me – an expression of who I am and how I’ve been; a living photo album, an entire diary of my last five years. All the things these walls have seen! All the comfort I’ve felt here, the safety of it all – the stains from my tears, the marks of my happiness. I could write a novel about it! I can’t possibly sell to someone who won’t love this place as I have. I’ll always love Crouch End and my memories of my gorgeous first flat will remain vivid and cherished. I was very, very happy here. When I was a single girl. All that time ago.

The first person who walked through Thea’s front door made an offer within twenty-four hours. The second person who viewed the property half an hour later, made an offer the next day of the asking price. Lance warned the third person before they went to see the flat that he’d already had two offers within twenty-four hours of the property being on the market. That person saw Thea’s flat and offered the asking price there and then, before they’d even stood in the hallway with all the doors closed for maximum Lewis Carroll impact. Thea didn’t quite know why she declared she needed a night to think about it. And nor did the potential purchaser, who promptly raised his initial offer of the asking price by a full five thousand pounds, guaranteed a speedy exchange of contracts and volunteered details of his lawyer, his surveyor and his mortgage company. ‘Let me sleep on it,’ Thea pleaded with Lance.

‘Well, sweet dreams, darls,’ he said to her, ‘but you’d better get an early night because I’m telling you, they’ll be on the phone as soon as the office is open tomorrow morning.’

That evening, Thea thought how Peter Glass calling her ‘babes’ was more classy, more genuinely affectionate than Lance’s ‘darls’. But she couldn’t let that influence her decision. She just wanted a night all alone in her home before she gave the go-ahead. She sent some goodnight kisses in a text message to Saul but it was to Alice that she sent a text: fuck fuck fuck do i sell sell sell??? Tx

The reply was immediate: yes yes yes Axxxxxxxxx

bloke = nice gay guy who sez flat is DIVINE!

Thea sent back.

sounds perfct! ;–) Alice wrote.

r u watchng ER? Thea texted back

yes! Alice replied, Carter damn cute

Luka cuter! Thea responded.

fone during ads? Alice wrote.

k xxx texted Thea.

‘So, basically, if I accept the offer the whole thing could be done and dusted within a few weeks.’ Thea switches the phone to her other ear and changes the subject after a lengthy and thorough dissection of ER.

‘Look, I know this purchaser isn’t in a chain and he’s offering top dollar and he’s a nice sensitive gay bloke who loves your colour schemes and is into the whole Rapunzel vibe, but don’t be pressurized to rush it through,’ Alice advises her, tucking the phone under her chin while she runs a bath. ‘You and Saul mightn’t find somewhere for ages.’

‘Yes, but I can move into his place,’ Thea theorizes.

‘True, but all your stuff would have to go into storage and it is his place,’ Alice reasons, ‘I mean, it may be cool and funky but it’s not big.’

‘True,’ Thea agrees, ‘true.’

‘You should go for a speedy exchange of contracts,’ Alice recommends, ‘and then a slightly longer completion – at least that way you have the security of the purchaser’s deposit.’

‘Makes sense,’ Thea agrees, ‘I’ll sleep on it. Anyway, how are you? Are you packed?’

Alice groans. ‘No,’ she sighs, ‘I mean, what the fuck am I meant to take?’

‘I don’t know,’ Thea says, ‘what does one wear on an all-expenses-paid management-bonding trip? I’ve never been on one – it’s not really a perk in my line of work.’

‘It’s hardly a perk,’ Alice groans, ‘it’s a pain. I mean, we managers all know each other well enough anyway. Why we have to traipse out to France for five days I don’t know. I’d get more of a feel-good factor from a hefty bonus or an increase in holiday entitlement.’

‘Well, at least you can shop,’ Thea says.

‘We’re in the middle of fuck-knows-where,’ Alice says sulkily, ‘the nearest town is Arles which is more famous for Van Gogh or Cézanne or someone, than for Prada.’

‘Well, at least you may come back with a tan,’ Thea says.

‘I looked at the weather forecast there just today. Il pleut.’

‘Come on, Alice,’ Thea says, ‘it’ll probably be a laugh.’

‘They’ve told us to pack “cagoules” – the closest I have is my Agnès B mac and I’m not taking that!’

‘I have a cagoule,’ Thea confesses cheerily, ‘you could borrow it if you like.’

‘Is it repulsive?’ Alice asks.

‘Fuck off! It’s Berghaus, it’s cutting edge and it cost a lot.’

‘Could I borrow it then?’ Alice asks a little sheepishly. ‘That would be great – oh, but what colour is it?’

‘Black and red,’ Thea tells her and Alice can sense she’s raising her eyebrows.

‘Well, my walking boots are black Gore-tex,’ Alice muses.

‘See, you can be colour coordinated and appropriately dressed,’ Thea concludes.

‘Languedoc, here I come,’ Alice says with negligible enthusiasm, ‘whoopee-doo.’

‘When do you leave on Friday?’

‘Some ungodly hour,’ Alice moans, ‘back next Tuesday. I can think of better ways to spend a long weekend, but there you go.’

‘Text me while you’re there, won’t you?’ Thea says.

‘If I get a signal in the middle of Cézanne country,’ Alice says darkly.

‘Is Mark away anyway?’

‘Ironically, no – so it’s his turn to rattle around the house on his tod,’ Alice says with a note of triumph. ‘Listen, can you give that cagoule to Saul – he’s coming in for a meeting on Wednesday so he could bring it in for me.’

‘No problem,’ Thea says, ‘and Alice – shall I accept the offer then?’

‘Yes, yes, you should,’ Alice says encouragingly, ‘it’s time to get the ball rolling, Thea my dear. Time to trade in your little bit of Lewis Carroll Living for something more grown up.’

Alice envisages Thea sitting there, curled on her sofa, looking around her flat, nodding reflectively. She’ll text Thea before she goes to sleep, she decides, tell her again that she should go for it. That it’s the right decision. That she’ll be quids in, in every respect. For now, Alice will drizzle an extravagant amount of Penhaligon’s bath oil into her bath and luxuriate – after all, she may well be restricted to lukewarm showers in the depths of Cézanne country.