It was a pity he had to rush away again so soon. My pizza was delicious and the half-bottle of Valpolicella we'd ordered (I'd drunk most of it) had put me in the mood for another. But he had to go. He promised he'd make it as short as possible and I promised I'd wait up.

Once I was back in the flat, alone again Jean was out with her new man I decided to reward myself with a little gla.s.s of a powerful Shiraz she had left lying around. After all, it had been a very good day and I was, on the whole, behaving very well. Then I treated myself to a second little gla.s.s and so, by the time the buzzer rang some time later but n.o.body was there, I wasn't bothered. And when my doorbell rang again a little later, I didn't think it strange at all. However, when I opened the door to Daniel O'Hanlon, you could have knocked me down with a feather.

11.

I hadn't been expecting it. If pressed, I'd have said that I never expected to see him again. He'd been wiped from the universe, and while I might b.u.mp into his wife in the odd department-store changing room, he had ceased to exist. Yet there he was, standing in the doorway to my flat, one hand resting on the upper jamb, the rest of him sort of hanging in the door frame. If I'd had time to register who he was I would have closed the door. I wasn't interested in starting all that again, but he had stepped inside before I was fully aware that he, Daniel O'Hanlon, was standing in front of me.

Then I tried to get out of the door myself, but that wasn't going to happen. He shut it and wedged himself in front of it to prevent me going anywhere. He looked wretched. His suit was crumpled, as if he had been wearing it for several days without a pressing. His shirt was wide open at the collar and seemed grimy. His skin was greasy, his hair matted and thin. It took me only seconds to get a picture of a man under duress. I was trying to push past him but he grabbed my arms and pinned me against the wall. Immediately he let go, holding up his hands in surrender.

'Sorry, sorry,' he gasped. 'I just want to talk for a minute. Just a minute. Then I'll go, I promise.'

'I don't want to talk to you,' I said firmly.

'Just for a minute.'

'I have nothing to say to you.'

'I needed to see you,' he said. 'I've missed you.'

'Please go, Daniel.'

'Just hear me out.'

'I'm not interested in anything you have to say. I'm engaged now. I'm getting married.'

'I've missed you so much. You're beautiful, Kate.'

He made a pathetic picture: a middle-aged man in need of a wash and a shave, spouting garbage to a woman who had no use for him.

'Daniel, there's nothing to say. We're finished. We were finished that day when you dumped me. So turn round and get out of here, or I'm calling the police.'

'I love you, Kate.'

'I'm calling the police. And your wife. I'm calling your wife to come and take you away.'

'My marriage is over, Kate. It was over from the day I met you.'

'That's b.o.l.l.o.c.ks and you know it. Go on home to your wife,' I shouted. 'Go on home to your wife and your new baby.'

'It's over, Kate. It's you I love. It's always been you.'

'b.o.l.l.o.c.ks.'

'Don't say that. It's true. I love you. I'm leaving her.'

'Look, Daniel, you can leave your wife all you like, just not on my account.'

'We can have a life together, Kate. I should never have pushed you away.'

'You didn't push me away,' I almost spat at him. 'You dumped me in no uncertain terms. You dropped me, just like you picked me up in the first place, on a whim. I don't know what's going on with you at the moment, maybe you're not getting enough sleep, but I'm wide awake, and I'm more than capable of telling you to f.u.c.k off out of here or I really will call the police and your wife.' I felt weak by the end of my tirade.

'Come on, Kate.'

'No!'

'Come on.'

'Look, Daniel,' I said, finding a calm note, 'I've moved on. I'm getting married soon. I '

'OK, OK,' he said. 'I'll go. But you have to give me one thing. You have to admit that what we had was good.'

'I'll admit nothing.'

'Oh, come on. I bet what you have now with this guy isn't a patch on what we had. You don't often find pa.s.sion like that, Kate.'

'It wasn't pa.s.sion, it was l.u.s.t.'

'It was love, Kate. When it was good, it was love. You know it was.'

'Daniel, please, go away.'

'Kate, don't settle for second best.'

'It is not second best!' I exploded. I was nearly choking I was so angry. 'What I have with Keith is a million times better than than our sordid affair.'

'I don't believe you.'

'Believe me.'

'OK. Whatever you say. But believe me when I say I still love you. That I still want you.'

'I don't care. I don't feel anything for you and I'm amazed I ever did. Now will you please get out of my house?'

'All right, I'm going.' He began to walk away, then added, 'You know where I am.'

He went slowly down the stairs, looking back one more time before he disappeared round the corner.

I watched him go, then closed the door and turned the lock. I was shattered. Ireached for one more gla.s.s of wine, but even the smell of it made my stomach heave. I dashed into the bathroom and vomited. It was pure revulsion. I crawled out of the bathroom and straight into bed.

But, of course, I couldn't sleep. How could I after what had happened? My head was pounding, my hands were trembling, my very core was aching. I still couldn't quite believe that he had really been here, that Daniel O'Hanlon had come back into my life and apparently wanted me back in his. Yet the most surprising thing was how much I had hated the sight of him. Not for one second did I see the man standing in my doorway as anything other than a very old, very sorry mistake. I had loved him once, or thought I had. Now, there was nothing of that and I was still too angry to work out what had been left behind.

How dare he come here and think I'd want him back? How dare he tell me that what we had was special when it was only more of the same story that suave older men and foolish younger women had been playing over and over since time began? And how dare he presume to comment on what Keith and I had, let alone criticize it?

Whenever I've felt strong enough, I've wondered how I got to be in that position with Daniel how I went from being happily in control and at ease with our scenario to a blubbering mess that couldn't have all the things she thought she didn't want. Somewhere along the line my expectations changed. In the beginning I had everything I desired. He was good-looking (the word 'dashing', however ridiculous, always seems apt); he was successful (at the very thing I was failing at); he was charming; he was pa.s.sionate, although s.e.x with him was probably never as good as I thought it was but fuelled by the most powerful thing about him that he was forbidden. It must be the simplest and most potent aphrodisiac, but I never thought I was simple enough to be fooled by it. I used to congratulate myself on having escaped the boring norms of everyone around me. They might do the conventional thing, they might perpetuate their bourgeois existence, but not me. I would be different. I wasn't afraid to live on the edge.

But that wasn't the reality at all. The reality was that I spent nearly a year of my life in hiding. Hiding from my family, hiding from my friends, hiding from myself. When I look back on it I seem pathetic. I don't know if the worst part was my arrogance in thinking I was so different from everyone else, or my weakness in failing to grasp that what I was doing was wrong in so many ways. It doesn't matter. What matters is that it is over.

And I had escaped. Into a safe, stable relationship with a man who would look after me and never hurt me.

And I had spent the evening arguing with him. Keith was right: I should have discussed leaving work with him. I wasn't treating him as he deserved by carrying on as if his opinion didn't matter. And no wonder he had concerns, given the way I'd presented him with a fait accompli fait accompli. I could be flighty and selfish and unthinking, and Keith deserved better. He deserved a wife as committed as he was.

So, there and then I resolved to stop mucking around and just get on with it. What was my problem? I was about to get married. I was about to embark on the next phase of my life with the man I loved. I was lucky to have so much.

By the time he came home that night I had been asleep for a few hours but I woke as he was getting into bed. He was big and safe beside me. He was everything I wanted.

The following morning I woke when he did. He had to be in work for eight so I usually just rolled over when the alarm went off. But that morning I wanted to get up with him, make him coffee, see him out the door.

'What's up with you this morning?' he asked. 'Usually a grunt is the most I can hope for at this hour.'

'Nothing. I'm just happy.' He looked puzzled so I added, 'You don't have to worry about me, you know. I'm not as dumb as I look.'

'Don't play that game, Kate, it doesn't suit you.'

'What do you mean?' I'd been quite pleased with myself and my airy tone.

'You know.'

'What?'

'Kate, you're not dumb at all but sometimes you'll happily play the fool. I don't like it.'

I was more than a little put out. That was not how I'd intended the morning to go. 'I only meant,' I said, 'that you don't have to worry about me. I love you. Everything will be fine. Trust me.'

He softened. 'OK.'

'Anyway,' I said, 'I wanted to check with you about the house appointments today.'

'The first one's at four o'clock. I should be able to get away early.'

'Will I meet you there? I have the address so I know exactly where the house is.'

'OK. I'll ring you if there's any change.'

Maybe it was because I didn't usually have conversations with Keith at this hour of the morning but he definitely sounded different. 'Keith?'

'Mmm...'

'Are you OK?'

'What?'

'Are you OK? You seem very distant.'

'No, I'm fine. I'm just tired. I'm seeing a bit too much of work, these days. That's all.'

'We could do with getting away,' I said, the idea suddenly popping into my head. 'What about next weekend? There's nothing else on, is there?'

'No, but don't make any plans yet. I'll know better at the end of the week how work is fixed.'

'OK.'

'It's just a busy time, Kate. It'll be over soon.'

He kissed me moderately warmly on the lips and then he was out of the door before I even had a chance to put the kettle on.

Since I was up I used the time to ring Mum and ask her if we could call over that evening. I wanted to pick a date for the wedding and there was no point in getting the calendar out without her approval. She said she'd love to see us as long as we didn't mind having salad for dinner they were on a health regime. Once that was sorted I made coffee for Jean, who was in need of something to kick-start her day, but she was out the door before I had a chance to tell her about the previous evening. As I left the flat in my neat little pinstripe, having breakfasted on bran flakes, I determined to be sensible and efficient. I needed to be. I had a wedding to plan, after all.

Our house viewing didn't go as well as I'd hoped. I thought one house was great but Keith preferred the other. The one I liked was a real fixer-upper. An old couple had been living there for nearly fifty years and nothing much had changed in that time. The potential was obvious, though. Structurally, the house seemed sound but it would benefit by breaking a few walls here and there. Of course, absolutely everything would have to be stripped out wallpaper, carpets, shelving, kitchen and bathroom units but given the house's great location and perfect situation at the end of a row of similar red-brick Victorian villas with a fabulous walled-in garden at the back, it seemed perfect to me. Keith couldn't see the point of bringing all that work on ourselves when we could buy a house that was ready to move into.

'But we want to put our mark on the house, don't we?' I implored. 'Otherwise we might as well stick with what we have. I thought that was what you wanted.'

'It is, but that doesn't mean we have to go into the demolition business to do it.'

I hate it when he's sarcastic.

The house he preferred had been built in the last twenty years and while it was perfectly nice I didn't get any feel from it. He said we could make a 'feel' in the way we painted it and filled it with our things, but I wasn't as excited by a little painting job as by the prospect of totally overhauling the other house.

'But, Kate, neither of us knows anything about that kind of thing.'

'We could learn.'

'It's very time-consuming and it can work out expensive.'

'We're not in a major hurry and the asking price is much lower than the other one.'

'It would want to be.'

We agreed to think about it and maybe come back and see them again later in the week. The locations, on the South Circular Road, were ideal, and even though they were expensive we knew we could probably manage it. I asked Keith if he was worried about meeting the mortgage if I wasn't bringing in that much money and he said, no, absolutely not, he wasn't worried about that at all. I had to take him at his word.

Next stop Sycamore Lodge.

Mum and Dad were out in the garden: she was reading and he was tidying some flowerbeds. They looked very companionable, the two of them, the perfect picture of old married contentment. In truth, they'd just had a row and had come into the garden to cool off. Mum hates reading out of doors: the glare strains her eyes and she won't wear sungla.s.ses because she thinks they're common.

'h.e.l.lo, there,' we greeted Mum in unison.

'Oh, h.e.l.lo, dears,' she said, squinting at us. 'Is it that time already?'

'It's nearly quarter past,' I said. 'We got held up arguing over the houses.'

'Oh, well, your father just keeps on working. He works all day and then he comes home and starts working again. I have absolutely no life... Oh, sorry, Keith, dear, you don't want to be listening to my woes. So, you were arguing over the houses? Kate needs to be told what's what, Keith. She's always being awkward for the sake of it.'

'Oh, Mrs Delahunty,' Keith can never get up the nerve to call my mother by her Christian name, no matter how much she tells him to, 'we have to argue. It's the only way we know what we want.'