The ABCs of Love (7 page)

M

magazines

John thinks it is strange that I have never shared a flat with anyone. I did think about moving in with Sally once, but then Mum got ill, so I just stayed at home until I bought my own flat.

Besides, having a flatmate is not something I’ve ever fancied. It’s not just all that fridge etiquette; but if I wanted to sum up everything I hate about the flatmate relationship, it’s the way they read each other’s brand-new magazines without asking. There is something so special about opening a glossy magazine and being the first to tear the pages when they get stuck together or try out the perfumes. A used magazine is about as appealing as a half-finished yogurt. At least I know Sally would never leave me with either.

See also Houses; Routines; Velvet

marathons

The first time John and I had sex over the telephone, it was just a joke. Now we do it for hours. He once rang me up from the supermarket car park when he was supposed to be picking up some barbecue meat. He’d gone into the far corner where no one could see him. I felt incredibly sexy and strong, turning him on so much. I felt liberated.

I told him we’ll have to get each other those special hands-free headsets for Christmas. He said we will get so used to talking about sex that when we finally get together, we will have to have separate phone lines installed in the house so we can carry on doing it this way.

When we finally get together.

I didn’t say anything at the time, but I was desperate for him to get off the line so I could phone Sally. When I did, I could tell from her tone that Colin had never said anything like that to her.

See also Boxing; Endings; Heroines; Jealousy; Ultimatum;
Why?; Youth

mars bars

Sally and I used to buy Mars bars from the school store. Then we would wrap them in wet flannels and put them on the radiator so they’d get a mottled, almost moldy look. We became experts at writing disappointed complaint letters to the company using different names, and we’d get sent large selection boxes in recompense. It was fine at first, but the trouble was that we got greedy and the company got the school store shut down because they had received so many complaints about its hygiene.

We never told anyone it was us. Especially when everyone got so annoyed about not being able to buy snacks anymore. They might have forgiven Sally, but never me.

See also Blackbirds, Robins, and Nightingales; Outcast;
Vendetta

memory

Will you love me forever?

I will.

Will you ever forget me?

Never.

Will you remember me in one week’s time?

Of course.

Will you remember me in one year’s time?

Definitely.

Will you remember me in ten years’ time?

I will.

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

See, you’ve forgotten me already.

Jesus, woman, just let me read the paper, can’t you? This is worse than being with the kids.

Verity?

Verity, oh, Verity, darling. Stop crying. I didn’t mean it. I’ll remember you forever. I promise. I’ll love you forever.

See also Endings

mirrors

A funny thing happened when I looked in the mirror this morning.

I saw I had tilted my head slightly to the left without thinking, and for a minute, it was my mother looking back at me. I was even making that half smile she made every time she looked in the mirror, as if she were greeting someone she hadn’t seen for a long time.

This might be a sign of age. I have noticed that the older women at work always put their heads to one side when they look in the mirror. It’s as if they’re afraid of what they’ll see if they face themselves straight on.

See also Daisies; Horror Movies; Mistaken Identity; Old;
Voyeur; Zzzz

mistaken identity

I once pretended to be my mother on the telephone. I didn’t mean to do it. It was just that the person on the other end automatically assumed I was Mrs. Bell. It felt wonderful, just like when I used to take my father’s car keys and walk up and down swinging them in my hand, hoping that people would think I was old enough to own a car. I started to feel that if only I really could take my mother’s place, everything would be all right. I would have somewhere to go where I could be me.

Maybe this is what we always feel about mothers. Their very presence stops us being us. Maybe this is why I hate Kate so much.

From what John says, she has always put being a mother first. She has been too busy with the kids to spend any time with him for a long time. She has no idea of how much he needed her, and now they have nothing in common but the children. I can’t help thinking this is the wrong thing for her to do when mothers are so easily replaced.

See also Daisies; Engagement Ring; Illness; The Queen II;
Stepmothers; Underwear

money

Not many people know that if you put a two-pound coin in the freezer and wait until it is completely frozen, you can then press the middle bit out with your thumbs.

Mind you, this makes it difficult to use, so you can do this only if you have money to spare.

John has started talking about money a lot. It makes me feel uncomfortable because we have such different ideas about it. He thinks if he ever had any spare cash, it would be his duty to spend as much of it as he could. Not just on himself, but on making other people happy. I told him that when I was young, I always used to be very helpful to old people on buses because I thought they might then leave all their money to the little girl who was so kind to them. Every time I heard the doorbell ring, I would wonder whether this was my reward coming. Now John says that he wants money so he can leave it to a complete stranger when he dies. Maybe someone whose name he pulls out of a phone book at random and who will always be perplexed by why he or she was chosen.

See also Love Calculators; Surnames; Utopia

money—even more of it

Of course, when my parents died and left me an inheritance, I knew why they chose me. I just didn’t expect it to be so much. Money wasn’t something we ever talked about at home. Even the solicitor was surprised. He kept going on about the Responsibility. About how I was almost an “heiress” now. It made me think of Joan Crawford somehow. All hard and glittery but with ample shoulder pads to bear all that Responsibility.

Everyone was so kind to me after my father passed away. Sally took me home, and I slept in her family’s spare bedroom for a week. Her mother made me cups of tea, and her father teased me, and every time I cried, they thought it was because I was sad about my parents. They didn’t realize it was because I was so comfortable there. This is what I wanted for the rest of my life. And I couldn’t bear the guilt of that.

This is why I don’t want the money. It changes everything. Sally’s parents would have expected me to check into a hotel, not taken me under their wing like they did. So I worked it out with my solicitor that no one need know anything about it. We’ve let out my parents’ house through a letting agency, and what with that and the income from my stocks and shares, I don’t need to worry about anything anymore. He even gives me pocket money as if he’s my father. He insists I go to his office every month to go through things, although I trust him absolutely and only pretend to check the figures.