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‘Knock-off?’ Lynton quizzed, defensive but interested.
Saul had laughed. ‘It’s kosher, Lynton, your patch is safe, mate! I’m a writer,’ he shrugged, knowing he’d told them before at some point. ‘I’m sent stuff all the time to test and review. Mostly, they don’t ask for it back. I’ve had a 42-inch plasma since the summer.’ Barry glanced up hopefully from behind the ziggurat of CDs. ‘They’ve only just asked for it back,’ Saul continued, ‘they’re talking about installing a home cinema for me to test next.’ Saul was called everything from lucky geezer to jammy bastard and the wish-lists of the staff and clients at the Swallow were discreetly presented to him.
So, when Ian Ashford phoned Saul, Saul suggested the Swallow as perfect for a mid-November, mid-week drink, with perhaps sausages and mash if they fancied.
‘Jesus, it’s been a while.’ Ian shook Saul’s hand warmly, nodded and grinned. ‘What’ll you drink?’ he asked, glancing around the Swallow and nodding approvingly.
‘I’ll have a Stella, thanks,’ Saul replied, reciprocating Ian’s amiable nodding with a friendly punch to the bicep. ‘Good to see you,’ Saul said warmly, ‘it’s been bloody ages. Where’ve you been?’
‘Otherwise engaged,’ said Ian. He watched Saul take a long drink. ‘Literally,’ he added. He winked, sighed and took a swig of beer. ‘Engaged.’
‘Work been a bitch, then?’ Saul enquired.
‘Work?’ Ian said. ‘I’m engaged.’ Again he winked and raised his eyebrows along with his glass when he saw the penny drop for Saul.
‘Christ!’ Saul exclaimed. ‘Bloody hell,’ he raised his glass and drank urgently before chinking Ian’s, ‘bloody hell – and there was I thinking you’ve been up to your eyes in some crucial trial at the Old Bailey when all the while you were waltzing up the road to eternal love and heading down the aisle to domesticity!’
‘You sound just like your column,’ Ian protested, ‘don’t you go featuring me.’
‘Here’s to you and Liz. Congratulations,’ Saul said, with genuine affection.
‘Er, I’m engaged to Karen,’ said Ian. ‘Lizzie and I broke up.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Saul said. Though he hadn’t expected Ian to be engaged, he certainly hadn’t reckoned on it being to anyone other than Liz.
‘I left Liz for her,’ Ian said lightly.
‘Bloody hell,’ Saul said darkly.
‘I know,’ said Ian guiltily, ‘I know.’ He sipped at his beer and looked into the middle distance. ‘I always thought it would be Lizzie. Then I met Karen and there was no contest. No conscience, even. It’s what you’d call a “no-brainer” – I had to be with her. Simple.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Saul said, his vocabulary sorely limited by the shock of Ian’s news. He downed his drink thirstily. ‘Another pint?’ He went to the bar, ordering sausages and mash at the same time. ‘How’s work?’ Saul asked Ian on his return, a packet of crisps between his teeth.
‘Oh fine,’ said Ian, ‘manic. Karen’s a lawyer too so she totally understands the stress and long hours issue. She works in Litigation. At Tate Scot Wade.’
‘Right,’ said Saul, ‘right.’ He didn’t want to dislike Karen before he’d even met her, he didn’t want his affection for Liz to colour his acceptance of her. But he couldn’t help but resent Ian’s surprise fiancée for dominating the conversation thus far and for having monopolized his friend in recent months.
‘How about you?’ Ian asked. ‘What’s happening?’
‘More work than I can do – but I can’t turn any of it down,’ Saul laughed. ‘I love it. Mostly.’
‘Karen’s a fan of your column,’ Ian said, ‘we both are.’
‘Which one?’ Saul asked, genuinely flattered.
‘ES magazine – it’s so much more than a consumer low-down. It’s like a little slice of your life – very self-effacing and engaging. Well written, too.’ Ian chinked his glass. ‘I chuckle but you have Karen in stitches.’
‘Cheers, mate,’ Saul said, ‘cheers.’
‘And you still have your regular slots in the men’s mags?’
‘Yes,’ said Saul, ‘GQ have expanded my section. I do the gadgets pages for that new mag, Edition, my columns for the weeklies and the odd bit of roving reporter here and there, some editorial consultancy for launches on the side.’
‘Don’t suppose you’ve any iPods knocking around?’ said Ian, who could easily afford one but loved the idea of a freebie. ‘Any cool press trips? Golf in the Algarve? Scuba anywhere?’
‘Just the one iPod,’ Saul said, ‘and as for press trips, there was Bermuda for sailing and Sweden for sledding. By husky. And a lost weekend in Prague with Sonja from the Tourist Office.’
‘You jammy bastard,’ Ian laughed.
‘Three thousand words, though I had to censor most of it, thanks to Sonja,’ Saul said, as if it was an occupational hazard.
‘And how about you?’ Ian asked again, with a concern Karen had taught him how to access. Saul tucked into his sausages, nodded and shrugged. He’d rather have his mouth full than talk. ‘Are you seeing anyone?’ Ian asked, partly because Karen had told him to.
Saul chewed thoughtfully. He shook his head. ‘Not at the moment,’ he said, wishing for more mash.
‘Anyone on the horizon?’
‘Why?’ Saul laughed. ‘Has Karen a queue of luscious friends?’
‘Actually,’ said Ian, ‘yes.’
Saul shrugged. ‘Cool,’ he said, ‘why not. There hasn’t been anyone since Emma. I’m not sure if I count the tryst with Sonja.’
‘Blimey,’ Ian said, ‘we’re talking a good eighteen months, mate. Sounds like celibacy to me.’
Saul shrugged again. ‘You know me,’ he said quietly, ‘I can be quite choosy.’
‘Mind you,’ Ian theorized, ‘your social life is pretty lively and there are always relatively funky work do’s on. I bet you don’t even notice the absence of a girlfriend.’
Saul considered Ian’s overview. ‘Actually, it’s not so much that,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I’m quite into the idea of a steady partner – even the concept of commitment. However, I just can’t be bothered with doing the singles-circuit-dating games. It’s too contrived.’
‘Too time consuming,’ Ian agreed, ‘and expensive.’ God, he thanked his luck for Karen. ‘Mind you, celibacy must be a bit bloody frustrating.’ He raised an eyebrow.
‘I do what a lot of other blokes do,’ shrugged Saul.
Ian shrugged back. He also made a mental note to provide Karen with a current description of Saul to circulate amongst her friends. He’d heard Karen refer admiringly to similar hairstyles as ‘bed hair’ and no doubt she’d declare the colour of Saul’s to be like caramel or something. He noted his friend still had a thing about trendy footwear and approved his Oris watch as an indication that Saul’s career was going very well indeed. Armani soft black jeans. And a shirt he’d tell Karen was Paul Smith. They were already compiling their guest list for the wedding. It would be cosy if by then Saul attended with a girlfriend who happened to be a friend of Karen’s. Ian glanced at his watch. ‘I’d better be going, mate. Does this place not have last orders?’
‘It’s when the last person orders,’ Saul informed him.
‘It’s good to