In Bed With Lord Byron

get
Mars
and then in a week’s time we swap?’
    I sighed and was about to agree when Anthony said quickly, casually, ‘You pay for them both and I’ll give you the money, OK? I mean, that’s quickest.’ He checked his
watch. ‘I have to get back.’
    ‘Oh, really?’ I bit back a smile; I knew Anthony too well. He didn’t want to look like a girly-wurly buying a book about
relationships
. Pulling a tenner out of his
wallet, he caught me looking at him with a teasing smile and he grinned back with a squirmy one.
    I walked up to the till while Anthony drifted over to the door.
    And that was when the trouble started.
    The guy behind the till was a handsome Australian with curly chestnut hair and laughter-creased eyes. He viewed my choices with interest; now it was my turn to cringe.
    ‘I’m just buying it for a friend,’ I said quickly.
    He grinned and said, ‘Oh, I think it’s a good read. It’s been useful knowing I’m a rubber band, you know, and that’s why I have secret cravings to climb into the
filing cabinet.’
    A man with a sense of irony and silliness – cool. We started chatting as I passed over the money, and really, we’d only been talking for a few minutes when Anthony called over,
‘Lucy?’ I felt a prickle of annoyance. It was just the way he said it. The intonation in his voice. It was just like India all over again. Like he was my father, telling me off. The guy
behind the till folded his arms, as if to say, ‘Oh, so you have a boyfriend, and he’s clearly the possessive type.’ I felt a flush creep up my face and called over, ‘In a
minute.’
    ‘I don’t have a minute.’ Anthony suddenly came stalking up. ‘I need my book
now.
I have to get back to work, OK?’ He grabbed a book out of the bag and went
storming out. I looked in and realised he’d taken the wrong one.
    ‘Anthony!
’ I said an apologetic goodbye to the shop assistant and went dashing out onto the street after him. ‘
Anthony!
’
    He spun round to look at me.
    ‘What the hell is the matter with you? This is just like . . .’
India,
I said silently, but couldn’t quite bring myself to say it. The holiday from hell that we had
shared a year or so ago, where Anthony had acted like he might clout any man that so much as blinked at me.
    ‘The matter?’ Anthony’s eyes were flashing with hurt and rage. ‘You dump me and then expect me to hang around whilst you flirt with other men? I mean, for God’s
sake, Lucy, I do have some feelings, you know.’
    ‘But we’re not even going out any more. You don’t have any right to behave like this!’
    Anthony flinched as though each word was hitting his heart like an arrow. Then he blinked very hard and ran his hand through his hair.
    ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t.’ And he walked off.
    I opened my mouth to call after him, but all that emerged from my shocked lips was a faint
Anthony
. . . I watched him until he was swallowed up by the crowds, then I turned and walked
off in the opposite direction.
    Later that evening, I went out for a drink with my sister and poured out the whole story.
    ‘Well, it’s pretty obvious how Anthony feels about you,’ Sally said, flicking back her hair and taking a huge gulp of her G&T. I was quite taken aback by her appearance.
She looked as though she had aged ten years, her skin pallid with stress. She let out a long sigh and twisted her wedding ring. I sensed something was up and I knew she wanted me to invite her to
tell me, to gently unspool it from her. But in my angst I found myself being selfish. I wanted to talk about me.
    Trying to sound casual despite the burning in my cheeks, I asked, ‘What d’you think is so obvious?’
    ‘Well, he wants you to get back together, doesn’t he? If you ask me, you two need a break from each other. You need time to sort out how you really feel.’
    Back home, I lay on my bed and opened the curtains. In my hazy-drunk state, the night-time clouds looked like ancient, ethereal gods traversing the sky, following the stars on
a long journey. Sally’s words burned in my brain:
He wants you to get back together
. Was she right? Perhaps it was obvious – but that’s the trouble with love. It’s
easy to be a bystander and offer wise words, but when you’re in the thick of a hurricane of emotion, what ought to be obvious is the last thing you see.
    And as for me, what did I want?
    I don’t know, I thought, racked with confusion. I don’t know. I love