Love Is a Four Letter Word Read Free Page B

about the new job? What’s the official rating?’ A vestige from when they used to hunt in a pack. The other two, Kath and Sinead, had long since defected by committing the cardinal sin: getting married. And since Viv had been living with Nick, Bella was the sole remaining singleton.
    â€˜0.5. Two married, one gay, and one too wet to risk leaving in the same room as a packet of crackers.’
    â€˜Not even a whiff of a man lately?’
    â€˜I can’t even remember what one looks like. They’re the ones with the stubble and the big egos, right? I went out a couple of times with that account exec. from the ad agency, Tim, remember? But he was deathly. Wittered on about his shares portfolio and what I should be buying and selling. Bleugh. I’m better off without. I hate all that couply stuff anyway.’
    â€˜Which stuff?’
    â€˜You know. All that having joint opinions about everything: “We think this and we do that. We consider Citizen Kane to be overrated and we prefer Szechuan cuisine to Cantonese …” Their personalities go all amoebaed into one like a matching pen and pencil set.’
    â€˜That’s such crap. We’re not like that.’
    â€˜See? We’re not…? Whatever happened to I ?‘
    â€˜Anyway.’ Viv sighed and signalled to the waiter for another two beers. ‘There’s lots of good bits: love, companionship, sex for a start.’
    â€˜Sex? What’s that? Is that the thing that happenssomewhere between the first snog and the slamming of the front door? Ah, yes, I had some of that once …’
    â€˜So, have you not –’ Viv nodded euphemistically, ‘since—?’
    â€˜No. No-one since Patrick. I have been designated a shag-free zone. It’s official.’
    No-one since Patrick. She could remember the last time. It was Christmas. Boxing Day. They’d just got back to the flat after a slow and drizzly drive home from visiting his parents in Norfolk.
    âˆ¼ ∼ ∼
    The flat is cold and unwelcoming, the fridge pathetically unChristmassy, bare except for a half-used tube of tomato purée, a sad lemon and two bottles of wine.
    â€˜I think I’ll slope off to bed,’ she says, half-suppressing a yawn. ‘So tired!’
    â€˜Good idea. I’ll come too.’
    She undresses slowly, pulling off her things distractedly, tugging her still-buttoned cuffs over her hands because she can’t be bothered to undo them. Reaches for her big black T-shirt under her pillow, her fluffy bedsocks. Pads through to the bathroom to brush her teeth.
    â€˜You reading tonight?’ asks Patrick.
    Her Christmas books are still in a carrier bag in the hall. She shakes her head. A click as he switches off the light.
    She feels his hand snake over her side, under her T-shirt, cupping her tummy from behind.
    â€˜You’re nice and warm.’
    She turns over to kiss him goodnight.
    â€˜â€™Night,’ she says.
    She feels his tongue push tentatively between her lips; starts to murmur that she’s really too sleepy, it’s been a long day. He strokes her hair, speaks softly, telling her he loves her, how soft her skin feels, how sexy she is.
    Her body starts to respond automatically to his touch, his hand moving between her thighs; she feels herself growing wet, hears his low sigh as his fingers find her.
    âˆ¼ ∼ ∼
    Boxing Day, the year before the one just gone, she remembers. That’s when it was.
    â€˜Now he’s rather nice. Over there – don’t look.’ Viv’s voice shifted to a stage whisper.
    â€˜Fine. I’m not looking.’
    â€˜No. Look now, quick.’
    Bella craned her head round to see the unwitting quarry, pretending to be looking at the Spanish poster advertising a bullfight on the wall above. Her voice dropped to a whisper.
    â€˜Viv, he’s with someone. See that other person at the same table with the earrings and the