I had met a man who loved me unconditionally. Even better than the unconditional love that my mother had for me, because unfortunately that unconditional love had certain conditions attached.

And he'd made me laugh in the same way that my sisters

130

or my girlfriends could make me laugh. But it was even better because I didn't usually wake up in the same bed as my sisters or my girlfriends.

So the opportunities for having a good laugh with James were far more plentiful and in far better places.

And about far better places too, I suppose.

You know, I thought if anyone was going to have an affair that it would be me. Not that I thought I would have had one, if you know what I mean.

But I was always the loud rowdy one who was regarded as great fun. And popular opinion held James to be the sensible reliable one. Quiet, self- contained, as steady as a rock.

That's the trouble with men who wear suits and reading glasses and who fix you with a sincere gaze and say things like "Well, in a period of low inflation, a fixed-rate mortgage is your best bet," or "I would sell the treasury stock and buy government equities," or some such similar state- ment.

You get hoodwinked into thinking that they're as dull as ditchwater and as safe as houses.

And I suppose that even I did a bit with James.

I felt that I could behave or misbehave in any fashion that took my fancy and he would smile tolerantly on me. He was amused by me.

No, not amused. That sounds sort of patronizing and disdainful.

But he was certainly entertained by me.

He really thought I was great.

And I, on the other hand, felt very safe and secure and protected with James.

The very fact that I knew I could make a fool of myself and James would still love me insured that I didn't make a fool of myself.

I didn't get drunk very often anymore.

But even in the days when I did and I would wake up the next morning with a pounding headache and cringing from the few snippets of what I could remember of the previous evening, he would be so sweet.

He would laugh kindly and get me glasses of water and lean over and kiss me on my throbbing forehead as I lay like a corpse in the bed and say soothing things like "No, sweetie,

131

you weren't obnoxious. You were really funny," and "No, darling, you weren't overbearing. You had us all in stitches," and "Your bag will turn up. It was probably under some coats at Lisa's. I'll call her now," and "Of course you can look those people in the eye again. I mean, everyone was plastered. You weren't the drunkest by any stretch of the imagination."

And on one really awful occasion, my worst "morning after" ever, I think--the promises to never drink again were thick on the ground that morning, I can tell you--"Hurry up, angel, your hearing is at nine-thirty. You can't be late because the lawyer said your judge is a bastard."

Now look, wait a minute. Just let me explain. Please hear me out.

Yes, I was arrested one night but it wasn't because I did anything illegal. I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. I just happened to be somewhere that just happened to be an unlicensed drinking club. I had no idea that the people running the place were doing anything criminal.

Apart from the price they were charging for the wine.

And the suits the bouncers were wearing. The suits alone deserved ten years in solitary confinement.

I don't know how I managed to get mixed up in it. All I know for sure is that drink was taken and spirits were high.

When we saw the policemen entering the club and everyone started hiding their drinks under their tables, Judy and Laura and I thought it was great fun.

"Just like Prohibition," we laughingly agreed.

I decided that I would tell my favorite joke to some of the policemen, which is the one that goes: How many policemen does it take to break a lightbulb? The answer being, of course, none. It fell down the stairs.

And one of the policemen took great umbrage at this and told me that, if I didn't behave, he would arrest me.

"Arrest me then." I smiled up at him saucily and extended both my wrists for him to put the bracelets on. I obviously hadn't come to terms with the fact that these were real policemen and not just cartoons.

So no one was more surprised than I was when the policeman did just that.

Of course, I realized that he was only doing his duty.

132

I bore him no grudges. I wasn't bitter.

The bastard.

I must admit that I was very, very taken aback.

I tried to tell him that I was just a suburban, middle-class young woman. That I had even managed to get a man to marry me and that he was an ac- countant. I told him all this to let him know that I was on the same side as him. Righting wrongs and fighting injustice and all that.

And that by arresting me he was throwing everyone's stereotype of a drunk and disorderly person into disarray.

So off I went in the squad car, peering tearfully out the window at Laura and Judy.

"Call James," I mouthed at them as I was driven off.

I knew that he would know what to do.

And he did.

He bailed me out and got me a lawyer.

And I don't think I have ever, ever in my whole life been so frightened. I was convinced that I would have a confession beaten out of me and I'd be jailed for several lifetimes and I'd never see James or my friends or family again. I'd never see blue sky again, except from the exercise yard, I thought, feeling intensely sorry for myself. I'd never wear nice clothes again. I'd have to wear those horrible prison sack dresses.

And I'd have to become a lesbian. I'd have to become the girlfriend of Missus Big so that she'd protect me from all the other girls and their Coke bottles.

And I already had a degree and it was no big deal.

And I'd have to start smoking again.

I was distraught.

So when James came to the police station and bailed me out--or "sprung" me, as I preferred to call it--I couldn't believe that there were no television cameras and delirious crowds with banners outside.

Just another squad car which screeched to a halt, scraping the curb. About five drunks tumbling out.

James took me home.

He got the name of a lawyer from a friend and called him.

He woke me in the morning, when I couldn't open my eyes because of the terrible sense of foreboding.

133

He wiped off my lipstick and told me it might be better for my case if I didn't look like a good-time girl.