Love Rules. Freya North

      course I am!!! Thea replied. brill news – u deserve hap-ev-aft! Xxx

      Though Alice’s news was undoubtedly brilliant, Thea was still somewhat overwhelmed by the shock of it. She thought back to Alice linking arms with her and hauling her off to Blandford Street for sushi.

      Guess what!

      What?

      You’ll never guess!

      What?

      Guess!

      What? Don’t tell me! Don’t tell me! That bloke from your ad agency?

      I’m getting married!

      That bloke from your ad agency?

      No, silly. No! Mark Sinclair!

      Mark Sinclair?

      Yes!

      Mark Sinclair?

      Yes! Yes!

      Mark Sinclair?

      Yes, Thea, Mark Sinclair!

      Does he know?

      Alice hadn’t met someone. She’d found someone. Those had been her words and she was effervescing with excitement, exclamation marks now peppering her speech.

      ‘I found someone! I’m getting married. Fucking hell! Can you believe it! I’ve found someone!’

      Initially Thea was gobsmacked into jaw-dropped silence but Alice’s animation was infectious. Though baffled by the simple facts that Alice was now engaged, that Mark Sinclair was fiancé, and though stunned by the speed of it all, Thea soon spun into Alice’s excitement. She sketched wedding-dress possibilities on serviettes while Alice, flushed and gesticulating, re-enacted the entire proposal before launching into list-making.

      ‘You know what? I can’t believe I didn’t think of him earlier. I mean, I’ve known him for ever! I’ve always loved him. Because he’s always always been there for me.’

      Thea agreed. Mark Sinclair had always always been there. She knew him, of course, without really knowing him at all. The lovely guy who always made Alice feel better, who had always been there for her when some cad or other had done her wrong. With hindsight, Thea recalled the gaze he’d bestowed on Alice now and then over the years which, at the time, she’d interpreted as brotherly affection. After all, it was Mark who had shared with Thea the job of looking after Alice when some Lothario had broken her heart again. Mark who had gladly taken Alice out to lovely restaurants or opening nights at the theatre when she was without a date and down in the doldrums. Mark who’d been at the other end of the phone as Alice’s late-night insecurity guard. Mark who assured Alice that not all men were bastards, that there were fish in the sea aplenty and she was the prize catch. Thea had been grateful to him for this. Without ever really having had the forum to tell him so. Well, she could now. Here was one man she’d never have to take to one side to threaten that if he hurt her friend she’d kill him. He was the absolute antithesis of Alice’s previous pick. That’s why it was such a shock. Such a revelation.

      And yet it made sense. Since breaking up with Bill, Alice had indeed had a quiet, sometimes pensive few months. Maybe she had made a conscientious decision to practise what she published. Perhaps it really was as easy as reassessing her wish list. Blinking and seeing that the man to marry was standing right in front of her. Learning it’s not who you love, it’s how.

      ‘But how long have you been seeing him? I mean, how come I didn’t know you’ve even been seeing him?’

      ‘Two weeks. Don’t shout at me, Thea!’

      ‘Two weeks? And now you’re engaged?’

      ‘Be happy for me – or you can’t be bridesmaid.’

      ‘Of course I’m happy for you, idiot. Ecstatic. I’m just shocked. Two weeks?’

      ‘He’s perfect. What was the point of waiting? Kind, considerate, calm – there are no safer hands in the world for handling me.’

      ‘Are you madly in love with him? With Mark Sinclair?’

      Alice looked at Thea. ‘You do know that feeling of “madly in love” is merely phenylethylamine, Thea?’ Alice said with a sigh. ‘It’s just a natural amphetamine – which is why it’s addictive. It’s the same hormone that’s released during high-risk sports and eating chocolate.’

      ‘Whatever,’ said Thea, ‘but you need to be in love with someone to actually marry them.’

      ‘So fiction and films would have us believe,’ Alice said. ‘There’s more to marriage than being head over heels. In fact, my feet are firmly rooted and my head is now out of the clouds and firmly on my shoulders – that’s why I know it’s going to work. I’m ready for this.’

      ‘And you do love him,’ Thea said.

      ‘Everyone loves Mark,’ Alice smiled, ‘he’s one of life’s good guys.’

      ‘And you love him,’ said Thea.

      ‘I’m the love of his life. And he’s my love for life. That’s why we’re marrying. What more could I ask for?’

      Now, contemplating quietly in the conducive early hours, Thea likened it to Alice having a good tidy-up and coming across something she’d forgotten all about. Like something never worn, bought on impulse, never even tried on, pushed to the back of a cupboard, then rediscovered. A perfect fit, it transpired. A delightful surprise. What disconcerted Thea was that she hadn’t ever thought that when Alice did her tidy-up, she’d find Mark. What unnerved her most – and she could now admit it in the silence and privacy of her space – was that she was actually slightly taken aback. Alice had brought Thea the best news in the world. But for the first time in their friendship, she’d done so without the need to ask Thea’s advice or seek her opinion first.

Mark Sinclair

      Mark Sinclair had an aptitude for diplomacy and an instinct for manners. They hadn’t been drilled into him at home, he hadn’t learnt them at school or been trained in them after university. They were simply part of his personality and throughout his thirty-two years they had won him friends and influence. These qualities, combined with a head for figures and a heart with a strong work ethic, saw his rapid promotion through the hierarchies at ADS Internationale for whom he worked as an investment analyst. He was invaluable to them. He could speak languages, keep calm under the pressure of City finance, didn’t get drunk over business lunches, never fell out with colleagues or associates, travelled uncomplainingly and trained his immediate team into an efficient, likeable unit. The company had no need to incentivize him and every reason to reward him which they did, handsomely.

      Whoever met Mark, wished to befriend him. It helped that he was fluent in Spanish and French, passable in German and Italian, and that his work took him abroad frequently. A full Filofax and a packed Palm Pilot kept track of his worldwide friendships. He was a terrific host when people came to London. He’d stock the fridge for them, tailor a list of sights to see, and provide his membership cards for a variety of museums. He’d meet them after work, having secured great seats at theatres or enviable tables in top restaurants. Mark was also a wonderful guest – as comfortable sleeping on the bottom bunk of his godson’s bed in Didsbury as he was staying in palatial grandeur in a suite at the Peninsula, Hong Kong. He loved hiking hard in Skye with his old friends the McLeods and he enjoyed putting the world to rights in French with his new friend at the Paris office, Pierre. He went on safari by himself in Kenya and made Jeep-loads of new friends there. He was a Friend of the Royal Academy of Arts and soon made friends at the Royal Academy. He had friends who’d invite him to Glyndebourne and others he’d accompany to Glastonbury. Mark Sinclair was open-minded, kind-hearted and plain good company. He hated confrontations and far preferred to bite his tongue than fall out with anyone he cared for. An even keel was what he aimed for. Which