by Freya North
‘Are you enjoying your trip?’ Thea asked him with a stern edge that made Alice kick her under the table.
‘Very much,’ he said, ruffling his already tousled hair.
‘What have you done?’ Thea probed, moving her legs out of kicking distance. ‘Where have you been?’
‘Oh, you know, mainly hanging out in Clap Ham.’
His enunciation of the silent ‘h’ struck both Thea and Alice but while Alice thought it sweet, Thea let it irritate her supremely.
‘You haven't seen the sights then?’ Thea challenged him.
‘Like Bucking Ham Palace, you mean? Or Saint Paul's Cathedral?’
Silent ‘ai’, you prat.
‘Any of the galleries?’ Thea persisted, holding Alice's glare. ‘Our glorious parks?’
‘Not this time,’ Paul said, throwing a furtive smirk over to Alice which Thea intercepted. ‘I'm on a tight schedule, you know? Perhaps next time, though.’
‘Next time?’ Alice exclaimed.
‘Next time?’ Thea challenged.
‘Hey, the trip over was a doddle – why not!’
Alice excused herself and went to splash cold water on her face. Thea and Paul glanced at each other awkwardly.
‘So,’ Paul said, ‘is her man a bit of a bastard then?’
‘Who?’ Thea shot. ‘Mark? A bastard? He's one of the nicest people I know.’
Paul seemed surprised. ‘Well, she's obviously not getting what she needs.’
Alice returned before Thea had the chance to respond. ‘We could, if you like, go for a stroll in Regent's Park this afternoon,’ Alice said to Paul, ‘if you felt the need to authenticate your trip.’
Paul shrugged before a thoroughly licentious expression suffused his face, which Alice found thrillingly contagious.
‘Thea,’ Alice said without taking her eyes off Paul, ‘are you staying at Saul's tonight?’
Thea had been busying herself with her French fries. ‘Yes, why?’
‘Perhaps I really ought to go and water your house plants,’ Alice said, licking her lips at Paul whilst trying to locate Thea's legs to nudge with her foot.
‘Sorry?’ Thea knew exactly what Alice was implying but was so taken off her guard as to feel downright insulted.
‘Perhaps you'd like me to stack your post?’ Alice elaborated, slithering a coy giggle over to Paul. ‘Do your laundry?’
‘Alice, are you asking to borrow my flat to shag Paul?’ Thea barked, hoping to shock some sense of decorum into her and embarrass Paul.
‘We'll leave it spick and span,’ Paul told her, obviously rubbing at Alice's leg under the table.
‘Please?’ Alice pleaded with her most winsome, beguiling pout.
‘I have to go, I have a client in twenty minutes,’ Thea declared, leaving with a blatant glower. Alice stood up to go after her, prepared to demand her door keys, when she saw Thea had left them on her plate already. In a splodge of ketchup.
Alice licked off the sauce with wholly unnecessary suggestiveness. ‘Let's go and see the sights of Crouch End,’ she declared, snogging Paul while a waitress cleared the table.
Loggerheads
Thea was appalled, incensed and insulted. Poor Peter Glass received a massage so vigorous he was virtually winded and Thea's final client was given a perfunctory forty minutes before being told he was much better despite leaving her room with the stilted gait he'd entered with. Later, Thea snapped at Saul, ‘Tell them this is our final offer and they can take it or fucking fuck off.’ And then, when she saw she'd missed a call from Mark, she burst into tears.
‘Baby,’ Saul tried to soothe her, ‘baby, what's up?’
‘Nothing,’ Thea cried.
‘Tell me,’ Saul said, through lips pressed to the top of her head.
‘Alice,’ Thea sobbed.
‘What's wrong with Alice?’ Saul asked, remembering he hadn't seen her in the office that afternoon. ‘Is she OK?’
‘We've fallen out,’ Thea whispered. She felt a sudden stab of acute loneliness at the fact that Alice was actually very happy and utterly unaware that they'd fallen out.
‘About what?’ Saul said, wiping Thea's nose for her. But Thea didn't want to tell him. She'd been sworn to secrecy, after all. And a part of her could not betray trust placed in her. Another part of her simply didn't want to reveal the crime, the sin, to Saul. He liked Alice. He worked with her. He liked Mark too. It was so hideous she didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to say out loud that she hated her lifelong best friend for behaving in a manner which threatened to undermine all they were meant to hold sacred, all they were supposed to be striving to achieve. This wasn't playground gallivanting or youthful experimentation. It was full-on promiscuity. It was dangerous and deplorable and Thea didn't want it to be happening. It made her feel unsafe. Why wasn't Alice behaving?
‘What about?’ Saul repeated.
‘Just stupid,’ Thea said, wiping her nose gratefully against Saul's shoulder, ‘nothing.’
‘It'll blow over,’ Saul said, kissing her forehead, ‘these things always do. She's your best friend. I bet you she texts you before she goes to sleep tonight. Now, am I really phoning the estate agent declaring our final offer or the vendor can fucking fuck off?’
Thea smiled. ‘I love you Saul,’ she said with a crackling sniff. ‘I'd never do anything to hurt you – even if you might never know about it.’
Saul gave her a puzzled smile. ‘Thanks, baby,’ he said, ‘ditto.’ Thea leant towards him and cupped his face in her hands, kissing his mouth with tenderness. ‘I'm going to phone the agent,’ he said, kissing her back. ‘Are we agreed this is our final offer then?’ Thea had her eyes closed. She nodded. She did so love Saul. Her home was with him, wherever that might be.
Thea's Twelve O'Clock
‘Hullo. I brought your keys back. And a latte.’
‘Alice, I don't have time for this – my twelve o'clock is due any moment.’
‘I am your twelve o'clock, silly.’
‘What? You? Why?’
‘Because I'm not due in at work until this afternoon and I've just said goodbye to Paul and I could do with a massage after all the vigorous indoor sport I've been doing.’
‘Well, you're not having a freebie.’
‘I paid in advance, actually. Are you OK, Thea? Has something happened? Is it the flat?’
‘Alice, just undress and lie face down on the table. Are you in pain or discomfort anywhere?’
‘Not specifically. But I have been shagging Paul in a furiously athletic way. And I suppose I have been burning the candle at both ends.’
‘Is there any tenderness?’ Thea asks, loading the question with ulterior meaning.
‘Nope!’ Alice declares, rather triumphantly.
‘Is there any tenderness, Alice? Any tenderness at all?’
‘None whatsoever,’ Alice says, ‘unless you can locate something I can't feel.’
Thea regards Alice's body, supine and undeniably beautiful. And she is filled with an emotion just short of pure loathing.
‘Lie face down, please,’ Thea says as she slips off her clogs and pads over to the table. She gazes down at Alice until Alice can feel Thea's calm, measured breathing trickle over her skin. Thea is centred and ready to begin. She knows just the type of massage that would do Alice good. She won't bother with effleurage – the basic light and soothing stroking techniques she'd normally start and end a session with. Effleurage is best used for the reduction of pain and for its relaxing properties. Well, Alice doesn't seem to be in any pain and appears totally at ease. Nor does Thea feel Alice would benefit today from petrissage, the compression or kneading method primarily used to stretch and release muscular tissue – hadn't Alice bragged that shagging Paul had given her a full body workout? Alice certainly doesn't require any lymphatic massage and Thea feels friction methods won't be needed – there's enough friction already. Perhaps some invigorating percussive movements might be useful – hacking, pounding, cupping and
flicking could serve Alice well today. Mainly, though, Thea is going to treat Alice with skin rolling – whether Alice considers this a treat will be interesting.
Using a method akin to hand rolling a cigarette, Thea pinches up a sausage of Alice's skin and uses her thumbs to roll it up and over her fingers. The sensation is like being pinched, pulled and scorched. And because the technique is a rolling motion, there is no break, no hands off. Initially Alice says nothing because she assumes it is good for her and assumes the discomfort will lessen. But the discomfort turns to pain and the pain has no let-up.
‘Ouch!’ Alice gasps. Thea continues to roll her skin, all the way along her back, her waist, her shoulders, her neck.
‘Jesus, Thea!’ Alice cries out. ‘It feels like an inside-out Chinese burn.’
‘Just relax,’ Thea says in a soothing tone belying the frown Alice can't see.
‘Thea – ow!’ Alice protests but Thea continues, rolling Alice's skin over and over.
Let me do a weaselly little roll-up. How about a nice thick Vienna sausage? Now I'll roll a joint – carefully and slowly and tightly. Right, I think it's time for some cocktail chipolatas. Another skinny roll-up now. A nice fat Churchill cigar. How about I try to turn your skin right over? As far as it'll go.
‘Thea! You're killing me!’
‘I'm not killing you,’ Thea declares with derision, ‘I'm merely working from basal layer to skin surface. I'm using a variant of connective-tissue massage – it is believed that the surface tissues, being a continual membrane, connect to the brain and that one's emotional state can affect the tissues and vice versa. So I'm just seeking to unravel, smooth and repair the myo fascia, OK?’
‘But it hurts.’
‘Rubbish. Think of it as a powerful neurofascial effect.’
‘But I don't know what that means.’
‘Alice, stop being so wet. Just lie there and think of England then.’
Thea starts using the technique on Alice's upper arms. Alice twists away. The soreness makes her eyes smart. ‘Stop it, all right? I've had enough. Thanks, Thea – OK. You can stop now.’
‘Just let me find a couple of trigger points,’ Thea says with deceptive gentleness. Alice heaves out a sigh of relief as the skin rolling ceases. And then yelps. She can't define where Thea has just pressed but pain scores at her temples.
‘Oh dear,’ Thea says, ‘I'd say you need further treatment there.’ She presses elsewhere and the pain is referred as a stab down Alice's leg. She finds another point and Alice's eyeball feels as though it's been sliced. ‘Gosh, Alice,’ Thea says, ‘I'd suggest intensive therapy. You're in a mess.’
‘Seriously, am I in a mess?’
‘Yes.’
Alice sits up. Her eyes are watering and her brow is furrowed. Her back feels as if it is covered in seeping blotches, bruises and weals. ‘Can I get you struck off some register?’ she asks reproachfully as she dresses. ‘You're a total sadist!’
‘Can I have you sacked from your job?’ Thea retorts over her shoulder, tidying away towels and laying a fresh swathe of paper sheeting over the bed.
‘Well, I may give my staff the odd headache but I don't inflict physical pain,’ Alice laughs, ‘so under what grounds?’
‘Playing truant to play truant from your marriage,’ Thea declares, hands on her hips. She's batted her shot with conviction and she is primed for any volley back. Alice stares at her but Thea outstares.
‘Thea, is there something you want to say?’ Alice asks, bristling.
‘Yes, there is,’ says Thea, relieved to be invited to let rip. ‘I think you're out of order and I'm mad at you for risking all that you have. You're behaving like someone we'd hate. I'm not even going to go into you asking for the keys to my flat.’
Quite suddenly, Alice looks as though she might cry and Thea hopes she will. ‘Stop giving me a hard time – you have no right to.’ Alice jumps to the defensive, hugging herself and rubbing her upper arms as if Thea has just rolled the skin there again. ‘Just because you have it all with Saul – all the loving and all the passion and all the dreams. Don't be so fucking patronizing. You have no idea what it's like. I'm miserable – I can't believe you can't see that, you're meant to be my best friend. I've been miserable for months – you of all people should have known.’
‘You have nothing to be miserable about,’ Thea announces, now as outraged by Alice's poor defence as by her immoral deed itself. ‘Stop trying to come across as the victim. You just got bored.’
‘You know what,’ Alice spits back, ‘you're completely right. Bored is an understatement. Money can buy all the luxury that surrounds me but my body and my soul ache for attention.’
‘For Christ's sake!’ Thea has to clench her teeth to bite back yelling. ‘Mark is madly in love with you. He worships you. You know that. It's why you bloody married him. How can you jeopardize that?’
‘Don't you dare go all sanctimonious on me,’ Alice warns her.
‘I'm not,’ Thea says coldly, ‘but look at the facts. It's shocking. You've been married less than three years and you're behaving like a slag just because you get sulky that Mark works hard, travels a bit and you can't work the home cinema or find your ridiculous corkscrew.’
‘Don't insult me,’ Alice barks. ‘It wasn't me who put that corkscrew on the wedding list.’
‘I'm so glad you've brought up the wedding,’ Thea says with infuriating calm. ‘You can remember who chose what on the list but you can't remember the vows you made to Mark.’
‘Whose side are you on?’ Alice asks with genuine alarm.
‘Mark's,’ Thea proclaims. ‘No one will ever love you more, keep you safe, look after you, put up with you, the way he does. You're an idiot, risking all that you have for some beef-cake's dick.’
A fat oily tear oozes from Alice's eye and slicks a slow path down to the tip of her nose. She whispers something.
‘Speak up!’ Thea demands.
‘I know,’ Alice croaks. She wipes her nose on the back of her hand. ‘Do you know the barrenness of being worshipped by someone you are not in love with?’ Alice looks up at her. Thea is stuck for words. She wanted this to be the great reprimand, she wanted to dish out just deserts, to give Alice the ticking-off of her life. ‘You're right, Thea, I'm an ungrateful cow. I hope to God Mark never finds out. He doesn't deserve this.’ Alice is teary and holds her arms out to Thea, like a child craving a mother's embrace. ‘And you're right, Thea, I've turned my back on it all for the transient physical ecstasy of being fucked by a hunk of brawny beefcake. But I can't help it. I crave it. This kind of attention is what makes me tick. I don't think I can survive without it.’
‘You said it was just a one-night stand.’ Thea squares her shoulders and folds her arms.
‘Will you just stop judging me,’ Alice shouts. ‘You have no idea. You don't know what it's like. Just piss off, will you.’
‘You're insane,’ Thea laughs harshly. ‘Don't bloody come to me when it all goes horribly wrong.’
‘Sod off, Thea,’ Alice hisses, ‘don't flatter yourself.’
Thea's Six O'Clock
It has been a long day. Thea and Saul still have not heard from the estate agent whether their final offer has been accepted, and Haringey council still haven't confirmed the last of the local searches which means Thea won't be exchanging contracts on her old flat this week. Most of all, she's depressed about Alice. For all the vehemence of her disapproval, Thea can still empathize with her best friend for what she's suffering, no matter how twisted she considers her dilemma to be. But Alice stormed off earlier and Thea didn't go after her and they've never fallen out like this before and Thea isn't sure what the etiquette is now.
She has one final appointment. Mr St Clare. Souki has written ‘n/p’ by the name and Thea wonders if she actually can muster the energy to go through the necessary rigmarole of note-taking, assessment and judging the bony landmarks of a new patient. She slumps her way down the three flights of stairs and fixes a smile
on her face before entering the waiting room. Oh bloody bloody hell. Mark is there, looking decidedly pale. Or is that just in comparison with bloody Paul and his bronzed sex-god looks?
‘Mark!’ says Thea as if it is a lovely surprise and what on earth could he want.
‘Hullo, Thea,’ he says, rising.
‘Er, Mark, the thing is I have a six o'clock booked,’ Thea says kindly. ‘Is everything all right?’ She doesn't know if Mark even knows that Alice has been in for a massage.
‘I am your six o'clock,’ Mark tells her. ‘I tried to call your mobile last night but there was no answer and I didn't want any favours like last time so I decided to book myself in officially.’
‘St Clare,’ Thea says. ‘They misspelt Sinclair so I didn't click.’
‘It's my neck again,’ Mark explains, ‘see?’ He turns his head with good range to the right but can judder only half the distance to the left.
‘Come on up,’ Thea says. ‘Let's see what's going on. And we'll figure out what we can do.’
What Thea would actually like Mark to do is to see Dan or Brent, one of the osteopaths, but both are fully booked a week in advance and actually their therapy might not be quite appropriate today. But there is work she can do on Mark in the meantime. She considers the knot Mark has in his rhomboid muscle and a stiffness around the thoracic, both of which are contributing to the soreness and stiffness he feels in his neck. Under normal circumstances she'd do a deep and lengthy focused palpation with her thumb or finger precisely into the tender nub of the problem which, though intensely painful, usually results in immediate relaxation. However, part of her innate skill as a masseuse is to read her client's situation. And Mark is an open book to Thea, not that he knows it. Thea feels that what he needs today, more than anything, is a simple laying-on of hands; some classic TLC. She needs him to leave her room feeling soothed and relaxed.
