'I feel sorry for you,' she said, putting her arms round me, 'now it seems you have two men to get over.' She sighed. 'It's such a pity you couldn't have fallen in love with Keith. He would have been so good for you.'

'Well, I didn't,' I said, a little annoyed. 'I tried but it didn't happen.'

'It's a bit ironic. You can't fall in love with Keith because you can't help being in love with Mike. Keith breaks up with you because you're in love with Mike, but even if you are in love with Mike it doesn't matter because you don't know if he's in love with you, and even if he is nothing can happen.'

I moved away from her and crunched on a fistful of Pringles. 'You're right,' I said. 'Nothing can happen.'

'Yes, I am,' she said, whipping the crisps out of my hand. 'I b.l.o.o.d.y well am right. Look, I've tried not to be too shocked but only because I thought you had the sense to know that you've got to get over this. He's still married to your sister, for G.o.d's sake.'

'It's just that '

'It's just that what?'

'Well... it would be so... right.'

'Right? How can you say that? Everything about it is wrong!' How can you say that? Everything about it is wrong!'

'Oh, I know that. I just mean... if he hadn't been married to Jean, he would have been the guy I fell in love with.'

'You don't know that. Different circ.u.mstances... Anyway, it doesn't matter. He was was married to Jean. He married to Jean. He is is married to Jean.' married to Jean.'

'Yeah.'

She pulled me round by the shoulders and looked me straight in the eyes. 'You do see it, don't you? You cannot do this. You cannot do it to Jean, you cannot do it to your parents, you cannot do it to Mike, for G.o.d's sake. He's already in a bad enough state. He doesn't need you to come crying to him that you might have a bit of a thing for him.'

'I just wanted to make sure.'

'Well, now you're sure.'

As I saw Colette into a taxi I knew she was right. That was what I'd been telling myself all along. Yet so much of me ached to see him again, to allow his musky smell into my nostrils, to feel his cheek, his lips against mine. Just once and then I really would surrender him.

By the day of the party I was more confused than ever. Anna and the family had arrived in the small hours of the morning the day before, and after a long sleep and a spot of breakfast she was demanding to see the family. I figured it was time I faced everybody, so I tarted myself up and headed over to Sycamore Lodge.

It was really strange, but from the moment I walked through the door and one of Anna's kids said, 'Hiya,' quite casually, I suddenly felt I'd really missed her and her gangly family. Then when she appeared behind her child, eight-year-old Ronan, I ran to give her a hug and felt I'd been very remiss in not making more of an effort to keep in touch. She was my sister, after all. She looked great, but distinctly different. Her hair was shorter, which made her face seen longer, more serious somehow. Anna has always combined a practical outlook with a fine appreciation of the absurd and I hoped, as I wrapped my arms round her, that she was as fond of the absurd as ever. Because I knew I was going to confess everything to her. She was family, but far enough removed for her judgement to be unclouded by that fact. She would be a good arbiter.

The perfect opportunity arose late in the afternoon. It had been raining most of the day, and as soon as it stopped Anna scouted for someone to accompany her on a walk round the area. I was first to volunteer and got us out of the house before anyone else could realize they needed exercise.

'You've got something on your mind,' she said, almost straight away.

'Have I?' I was surprised by her intuition.

'Yes. You've been hopping on one leg since you got here. Spit it out. Have you done something more sensational than leave your husband or become a lesbian?'

'I'm in love with my sister's husband,' I said.

'Which one? Not mine, I presume.'

'Jean's.'

'Ah, the lovely and talented Mike.'

'Yes. Is it terrible?'

'Well,' she said, looking up and down the road thoroughly before we crossed, 'it depends. How long has it been going on? Is that why Jean left?'

'No, no, no,' I stopped her. 'G.o.d, no! Nothing's happened. He doesn't even know. I've only just realized I'm crazy about him.'

'Wait a minute,' she said, stopping dead on the footpath. 'Aren't you about to get married to some Keith guy? I sent you an engagement present.'

'He broke it off because he thought I was in love with Mike. n.o.body knows yet. I can't bring myself to tell them.'

'I see.' She thought for a while, then resumed walking. 'Well, then, no, so far it isn't terrible. It's just an awkward fact. What are you going to do about it?'

'Well,' I said slowly, 'I feel I should do nothing. It would only cause unpleasantness for the whole family, especially Jean. I couldn't do that to her. And, besides, Mike would probably run a mile.'

'That's true I mean that it might be unpleasant. But if you believe that this could be the real thing and not some silly crush, then maybe you'd better find out how Mike feels.'

'Really? You think I should go for it?'

'You only have one life, that you know of. It's hard enough to find someone you can be happy with, and the older you get, the more complicated it's going to be.' She paused. 'Most of the family doesn't know this, but Tom was married when I met him.'

'What?'

'Yeah. We've always kept it quiet. At the time there was no divorce in Ireland and, apart from that, there was the shame.' She giggled.

'Is that why you went to New Zealand?'

'Partly. His marriage was eventually annulled, but it was easier to sit it out on the other side of the world. New Zealand's been brilliant. We've had opportunities there we could never have had here. And it's a great place to bring up kids.'

'Wow! I had no idea. Do Mum and Dad know?'

'They do, but they like to forget.'

'So... did you break up his marriage?'

'It was already a mess, but I should probably have run a mile he was older and he was married. But I didn't. And not a day goes by when I'm not glad I turned my back on everything the nuns taught us. So, you see, if you think this might be the real thing...'

I couldn't believe what I'd heard. I'd thought theirs was the most conventional of marriages. You just never know. And was she actually encouraging me to tell Mike I loved him, when I'd decided to give up hope? I couldn't decide whether I was excited about seeing him the following day, or so petrified that I mightn't even turn up myself.

Of course I turned up. I arrived on time in a new dress with a plausible excuse for Keith's absence. A relation had died. He'd had to go to the funeral. When Mum quizzed me on the details whose side was the death on, was it an aunt or uncle, how old were they, what name would she put on the Ma.s.s card? I realized I should have taken the time to create a back story. I mumbled some stuff about it being a shock and prayed I wouldn't be struck down for playing fast and loose with his family. I'd already done enough.

'Well, that's so disappointing,' Mum had concluded. 'I mean, it's terrible for poor Keith but Anna and Tom were really looking forward to meeting him. Maybe we'll see him tomorrow.'

'Maybe,' I said, as I backed away in the direction of the drinks table.

Mum had pulled out all the stops. From the entrance gate to the under-the-stairs loo to the compost heap in the back garden, she had painted, polished, lit up, dusted with glitter, reupholstered, revarnished you name it, she'd done it. The length of the avenue was lit with tiny white bulbs that, in the failing light of the late-August evening, suggested a gateway to an alternative reality. I had the feeling, as I wobbled up the drive in heels I knew were too high (but too fantastic to leave behind in the sale) that I might never be the same again. The lights continued round the hall door, which was wide open to give up the eerie sounds of an Air CD being played slightly too loudly in the sitting room. My sense of disorientation continued as I walked through the hall: n.o.body seemed to be at home. I was just beginning to talk sternly to myself when Lucy tumbled down the stairs.

'Hi, Kate. Didn't expect you for ages. Where's Keith? Like your dress. I can't believe I'm already getting fat. Wait a minute and I'll find Mum. She wants to organize a photograph or something.'

She continued her tumble down the stairs and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen. She didn't look fat; she looked radiant. At that moment I envied Lucy. She was in love and she had her life sorted out. How had she managed it all of a sudden?

I threaded my way into the sitting room with the intention of turning down the stereo. I really liked the alb.u.m and I knew who had brought it, but it was freaking me out. If I was going to survive this evening I needed to lose the feeling that I was floating in some zero-gravity universe where I'd allow myself to drift into whatever the night presented. I needed to get a grip.

Then I remembered why I always arrived late for these events. Nothing ever started on time and I hated to be on the periphery of something that hadn't yet found its rhythm. For a moment I contemplated retreating upstairs to my room for a lie-down but laughter from the patio drew me towards the garden. Beneath the syrupy giggles I could make out the warm, resonant notes of Mike's voice. If he was there, I wanted to be where he was.

He was up a ladder fixing the last of the lights to the maple tree that was the centrepiece to Mum's barbecue. I wondered why she was still asking Mike to do everything when her other sons-in-law weren't estranged from one of her daughters. I supposed old habits died hard: he was always the one called on when there was something to be hammered together or ripped apart. Maybe they thought if Jean saw enough of him she'd want him back. Then I wondered what they might be willing to put up with to keep him as a son-in-law...

So Mike was up the ladder relating the story of some Christmas-lights fiasco of several years ago and Ruth was at its foot giggling as if Jesus Christ himself was doing standup. I rarely hear her laugh at something that hasn't been generated by herself, her husband or one of her children. Usually Mike's wit is way too subtle for her, yet here she was, like a groupie, twisting a length of fairy-lights between her hands and nodding as if she were his biggest fan. As soon as I stepped on to the patio, they both turned round.

Ruth continued talking, but Mike remained silent. Our eyes met, and for the first time in our lives, his look didn't carry the familiar, warm welcome: there was something else, something that didn't allow him to smile and greet me in the usual way. Like me, I don't think he knew where to look or what to say. I knew why I felt so awkward: all I could see was him sitting on my couch with his feet propped up as if he belonged in the middle of my world; and all I could feel was the faint sweep of his lips against mine. I could only speculate as to why he felt awkward.

I didn't have long to wonder, however, as Lucy breezed back, this time wanting me to come with her so she could give me my present. In my agitation, I had forgotten it was my birthday.

Before we'd got far, we were waylaid by Mum, who had parked herself in the hall to round up her daughters. Jean and Marion had already been enlisted and were trying to convince the rest of us that the sooner we got this d.a.m.n photograph out of the way the sooner we could get on with enjoying ourselves. I decided to adopt the path of least resistance and planted myself beside them on the stairs. I hadn't the strength to run or to argue. Lucy and Anna joined us without any fuss; Ruth capitulated only after being rea.s.sured that she had lost weight. The picture was taken. Yet another family portrait to mark a minor milestone in our lives. At least there was no mention of including partners. I don't know how many family portraits I've sat for in the middle of everybody else's husbands, boyfriends and children. I've always been the odd one out even Lucy has regularly scared up a short-term boyfriend worthy of the family Canon 329. But I've been consistent: no steady boyfriend, no husband, no children and, mostly, not caring.

Afterwards, I followed Dad into the living room where he was attempting to hide with the newspaper and a gla.s.s of port. He looked tired. 'Happy birthday, sweetheart,' he said, and embraced me warmly. 'I hope you like your present. I had nothing to do with it.'

'Thanks, Dad, I'm too old for all this fuss. The party's really for Anna. It's lovely having her home for a while.'

'It is that. It's nice to have everyone around.' He took a sip of his port. 'You're quiet tonight.'

'Oh, you know,' I said jokily. 'I'm turning thirty. It's time to shut up for a while.'

He laughed. 'Your mother tells me Keith isn't with you. He had a funeral?'

'Yeah.' I had to get out of there soon or I'd start blubbering in front of him. He would be so disappointed when he found out I'd messed up again. 'Hey, Dad, what about some booze? Surely you have something a bit special for tonight?'

'Actually,' he said, getting up and leading me out to the kitchen, 'I have a couple of cases of a very nice prosecco. It's superior to a lot of the champagne that's knocking around and excellent value. Come on, we'll open the first few bottles.'

The light sparkling wine would probably settle my stomach, I thought.

Back on the patio the party was beginning to happen. The barbecue had been fired up and Ruth's husband was now in charge of it. He's the type to believe that donning a gimmick ap.r.o.n and burning a load of red meat in front of a drunken audience makes him look manly. Mike, I noticed, had been commandeered by the kids and was helping them a.s.semble a climbing frame Mum had bought. I was tempted to walk over and casually offer my a.s.sistance, but I was less likely to be able to stand near him without quivering than I was to attach one coloured pole to another. So I watched as they pushed him over and climbed on top of him, as he scolded and chased after them with the instructions. Once, I would have joined in without thinking twice. Now, I would never again have that kind of freedom with him.

After a while Jean and Marion joined me, wondering why I was so glum.

'Thirty isn't that bad, you know,' said Jean, heaving her legs on to the chair in front of her and crossing one over the other. 'My next birthday, I'll be forty. Now there's something to get gloomy about!'

'I don't care about being thirty,' I said, a little crossly, because I didn't: I've wanted to be older all my life.

'Will Keith be able to pop in later?' asked Marion. She probably thought I was missing him or even that I was cross with him for missing my birthday.

'What did he get you?' asked Jean. 'The consolation has to be good jewellery. I got a fabulous bracelet from Mike when I turned thirty. Oh, I was a fool to dump him before my fortieth!' She laughed.

I didn't answer.

'We've all clubbed together to get you something oh, except Lucy. She wanted to do her own thing. It was Mum's idea. I think it's a bit boring but she's thrilled with it. Do you want me to tell you what it is?'

'Oh, for G.o.d's sake, Jean, will you shut up?' interjected Marion. 'How old are you?'

'Relax, I won't say anything.'

I wished she'd shut up about presents. I nearly cried when Lucy gave me a beautiful antique pendant. Suddenly I wondered if I should return my engagement presents. I couldn't even remember what they were. Oh, G.o.d, I really shouldn't have come.

Soon the party was in full flight: Anna was at the centre of everything, buoyant in red cropped trousers and a red strapless top that showed off her lovely shoulders. I was still thinking about what she'd told me the day before. She had been bold enough to defy the conventions of the time to be with the man she loved, and who, really, had got hurt? His wife, it seems, had had problems anyway and was better off out of the marriage. Mum and Dad had clearly got over it. Why wouldn't they? Their daughter was happy: what more could they want?

So, who would I hurt if I pursued my insane desire for this man? Myself, if he laughed in my face and told me not to be so silly. But, of course, he'd never do that. He'd find some way to let me down gently, tell me he loved me as a sister but it could never be more than that. I believed I was willing to risk a degree of embarra.s.sment.

Mum and Dad, of course. Mum would have a conniption for at least a week, worrying about what her sisters would think. She'd convince herself she could never go out in public again and would probably do her best to ill.u.s.trate graphically how, rightly, I would rot in h.e.l.l. After that, though, she might come round. I didn't know what Dad would say. Some part of me thought he'd be pleased, but another thought he'd give up on me for good.

And then there was Jean. What would she make of it? Since she'd left Mike she hadn't stopped surprising me. She had moved her life on; she was happy enough to be happy for him, there was no doubt about it. But could she be happy for me?

I continued to play with these thoughts as I pushed a sausage and an incinerated steak round my plate. I wondered if I should talk to Lucy or Marion. Lucy had shared the kind of relationship I'd always had with Mike; she understood us well. If I asked her straight out what she thought my chances were, she'd tell me. But she didn't need this: she was wrapped up in her world of Iris and the baby. I had to accept that Lucy and I might never be quite as close again. And that was how it should be. Family relationships should give way to the ultimate relationship with the ultimate person. Yet, I wouldn't have minded hearing her thoughts on this. If I got truly desperate, I'd talk to her.

Marion would listen, of course, but I didn't think she'd approve. She'd say I was being childish, wanting something I couldn't have, and that I was a fool to have let it ruin things with Keith. She'd be fair-minded and clear-sighted. She'd be everything I didn't want at the moment.

Meanwhile, I was keeping Mike within my radar. He seemed to embody everything I'd ever desired in a man. As well as loving him for reasons that were pure and n.o.ble, I craved him physically in a way I'd never experienced before. I couldn't recall a time when I'd been so engulfed by l.u.s.t. It made me a little nervous that maybe my feelings weren't genuine, that I was experiencing an adolescent crush, but deep down I knew that wasn't so. Deep down I knew this was the real thing.

I watched him have a lengthy conversation with Jean while I pretended to listen to Ruth as she explained how her eldest was about to go to playschool for the first time. He was standing in front of the maple tree with a pint in his hand when she joined him; she had her back to me and I had a full view of him. They really had managed to keep everything civil between them. As far as I knew they hadn't had a single fight over anything. The house was sold and the proceeds split down the middle; Mike had said she could have the contents, but in the end she didn't want much of it. They let most of the furniture go in the sale, apart from a few things Mike had brought with him. I had no idea what they might be talking about now: Jean seemed very animated while Mike nodded every so often and said something that started her off again. I convinced myself that when he looked up he was gazing at me, and each time my heart and stomach flipped. But he was probably just staring into the distance.

I knew I was starting to obsess when I began to memorize the clothes he was wearing a turquoise shirt open at the neck (affording a tantalizing glimpse of chest hair) with faded denims... and the way the last of the sun picked up the different colours in his hair the mid-brown that had hardly faded and the strands of grey that added depth and the contours of his face, the high cheekbones and firm jaw, the intense blue-green of his eyes... It was time to tune back into Ruth and her motherly anxieties, but I had clearly been out for far too long because now she was done with playschool and was trying to involve me in a plot to set Mike up with some old schoolfriend of hers. I was horrified. How dare she talk of him in that way? And the girl she was planning for him was a horrible old cow whose husband had walked out on her a year ago. I remember her at school she was a whiny, slimy bag of misery. Just because she was separated, Ruth thought she was perfect for Mike. I had to get up and walk away.

I wandered back into the house to find more of the delightful prosecco. Some of the older kids had migrated inside to watch television. I sat with them for a while and had a fragmented conversation with Marion's Lisa about the unreality of the characters in Home and Away Home and Away. She had a lot of opinions she was happy to share with me, but after a while it was clear that I was interrupting her enjoyment of the programme.

I wandered into the sitting room and once more considered just slipping out of the front door and going home. But I didn't. However awkward, I'd stay as long as he did. So, after examining my appearance in the hall mirror (my dress was definitely a success the vibrant purple and orange pinstripe was nicely balanced by the ephemeral nature of the chiffon), I wandered back into the garden.

The night was beautiful. There was still a lot of heat in the air but also an autumnal note. I always love the change of season: antic.i.p.ation mingles with memories of other years. I had no desire to talk to anyone; and it was as well that most people had forgotten it was my birthday. I had warned Mum that I didn't want a cake or toasts but I knew she wouldn't take any notice, so I slipped down the garden path towards the little copse. There are only about twenty trees in it, but they're large and close together so it's possible to be completely hidden from view, despite Mum's artfully placed spotlights.

As I stumbled among the beeches and elms I had no idea that I wasn't alone. It was several seconds before I registered that Mike was standing there with his back against one of the trees, and several more before I grasped that he was walking towards me with the intention of taking me in his arms and kissing me. I froze and saw him hesitate, but when he placed his arms round me and his mouth on mine there was no hesitation.

For a moment there was nothing, as my consciousness slipped off the edge of known s.p.a.ce. When I surfaced I was only aware that the soft, tender lips touching mine were his lips; that the tongue gently probing mine was his tongue; that the hands touching my cheek, my hair, my neck and trailing down my back were his beautiful hands. Mike was kissing me truly, pa.s.sionately; he was kissing me as though he loved me truly, pa.s.sionately. I would have stayed inside that kiss for ever only I wanted to hear him say it. I wanted to look at his face and see it written there. When we did part he kept his hand on my cheek; he was breathing deeply and he seemed about to say something. But suddenly there was noise coming from the other side of the trees: someone was calling my name. It was Lucy, sent to find me for the cutting of the cake. I panicked. I looked deep into his eyes and then I ran.

'There you are,' said Lucy. 'Have you seen Mike anywhere?'

'No,' I said. 'No, I haven't.'

16.

The following morning I got out of bed as soon as I woke. I'd been tossing and turning most of the night, and my head was still spinning. Nothing would ever be the same again but I didn't know how things were. When Lucy had called me my first impulse had been to run, and now I wondered what would have happened next if instead I had grabbed Mike's hand and run with him out of the garden gate on to the lower road, over the bridge and, eventually, to my place or his. For that had been the last I saw of Mike that night.

I followed Lucy up to the house where everyone had gathered to sing 'Happy Birthday' and kept expecting to see him slide in at the back of the group, but he must have slipped out of the garden gate on his own. I waited and waited, and then it struck me that he might be waiting for me at home. I left as soon as I could, and ran back to Hartstonge Street. He wasn't there.

I considered going round to his place but decided against it. The next morning when I woke after a few hours' sleep, I realized that of course he wouldn't have been waiting for me. As far as he knew I still had a fiance. As far as Mike was concerned, our kiss should never have happened. He would be feeling guilty and ashamed. I had to set his mind at rest. Then I would talk to Jean.