His face lit up. He was genuinely pleased for her. He stroked the bag. "It's perfect," he said. "Wasn't that wonderful of you to spot it? Well worth looking around for."

Clara felt that she had earned brownie points for something trivial and unimportant. Yes, she told herself, that's exactly what it was: trivial and unimportant. She would not not let it ruin their evening. let it ruin their evening.

And the evening ended very well and naturally, as if they had been lovers for a long time. He told her she was beautiful, she told him he was exciting. He admired her beautiful black lace slip, she lay with her arm around his neck until they both fell asleep. In the morning she was surprised to find herself in the small bedroom in a bed that was neither a single nor a double but somewhere between the two. He brought her orange juice and coffee in bed and then they made love again.

They went to an open-air concert and brought a picnic. They walked around the railings of St. Stephen's Green, where the Sunday painters were exhibiting their work. Then they went back to Peter's apartment for yet another visit to the bedroom.

"I love you, Clara," he said, as she left to go home on Sunday evening.

"And I love you too," she said.

Did she mean it? She wondered as she drove back home in the sunny evening.

Probably, yes.

She had grown so used to not not loving anyone after Alan that the term seemed unfamiliar. Peter was a good, warm man, he fancied her and admired her. He seemed to be happy to spend every moment, night and day with her. What was not to like about that? loving anyone after Alan that the term seemed unfamiliar. Peter was a good, warm man, he fancied her and admired her. He seemed to be happy to spend every moment, night and day with her. What was not to like about that?

She had better meet his daughter and he had better meet hers. And her friends. That's the way things happened. Yet there was a way that Clara felt it would be nice if they could keep it to themselves a little longer. A sort of escape, a restful place where the rest of the world didn't intrude at all.

When she got home, her two girls and the ever-present Gerry were sitting at the kitchen table.

"Did you have a nice time?" Adi asked.

"All loved up?" Linda wanted it confirmed.

"Yes, very nice time, thank you, and everyone here?"

"Dead interested in what you two got up to, Mam," Linda said with a smile.

"Well, one sure thing I did not did not get up to, and that's pirating CDs like you seem to be doing." Clara looked at the computer, where Linda had been busy copying disks for herself. get up to, and that's pirating CDs like you seem to be doing." Clara looked at the computer, where Linda had been busy copying disks for herself.

"I wasn't exactly..."

"Not only is it illegal, but it's sure to get you sacked," Clara said crisply and took a small jug of milk from the fridge and made a mug of tea. She look it to her room and called Dervla.

"I can't wait to hear," Dervla said. "Philip is furious with me. All day I've been miles away wondering how you were getting on."

"Very well, in fact..."

"And did you ...?" Dervla paused.

"Did I what?" Clara was going to make her say it.

"Did you and he ... do the bold thing?"

"Oh, G.o.d, Dervla, and we criticize our children for being juvenile!"

"Did you, Clara Casey? Yes or no?"

"Yes, we did, three times. Happy now?"

"Very relieved, I tell you. I thought you were going to become a nun."

"I can't believe we are having this conversation," Clara said.

"Neither can I. When are we going to meet him?"

Clara met Amy first. Peter asked her to come in for a drink.

Amy was surprised that her father had invited a woman in for a gla.s.s of wine. She wondered what the woman would be like. Serious, probably, gray-haired with gla.s.ses. She would talk about the importance of higher education. She would be shocked by Amy's job, horrified by Ben's work as an embalmer. Still, her dad had been good about Ben coming to the house even though he was nervous around him. Amy had better be polite to this woman.

She was astounded when she saw her. Elegant, groomed, well dressed. No gray hair and gla.s.ses. Instead shiny, well-cut hair, and very good makeup. This woman was going out with her father? her father? Amy was totally confused. Amy was totally confused.

She had prepared some cheese canapes, but wished she had done something a little more fancy. They looked what they were, a processed cheese slapped on a water biscuit. But Clara seemed delighted and ate several of them.

Clara was very interested in the shop where Amy worked. She said that she had a friend whose feet were very big-maybe she could get elegant shoes there. Dervla always complained that you could only get big shoes in the shape of a surgical boot.

Amy took it all seriously. "Yeah, we'd certainly have something to fit her, but warn her that they'll have these endless stiletto heels. You see, your cross-dressing folk don't want to look like a vicar's wife. They need huge glamour."

Clara nodded and said it was wise to forewarn Dervla, who was already very tall and might well not be able to teeter round on stilettos.

Clara also spoke pleasantly to Ben, as if she had spent most of her time talking to embalmers. They talked about the necessity of removing pacemakers if it was going to be a cremation. Sometimes people forgot to tell you that the deceased had a pacemaker, but Ben said he was used to looking for the incision where it had gone in. He explained that the general public always thought your hair and nails went on growing after you were dead, but that wasn't so; it was just that the skin retracted and the nails looked longer.

Peter was taken aback. He had never had a conversation this long and this amicable with Ben. Now it turned out that the boy was well trained in his strange craft and treated the deceased with respect and dignity.

Then Clara stood up to leave.

"I have to go now. I'm taking a colleague to the cinema," she said.

"Can I come?" Peter asked, slightly sheepishly.

"No way-my friend Hilary has been very upset recently about her mother's death and we are going to a very girly, sugary movie. You'd hate it, Peter. Really you would. I'll see you sometime during the week." And she left them all gaping as she ran down the stairs and out into the precinct.

"I'm inviting my friend Peter to supper on Sat.u.r.day," Clara announced. "I'll be cooking a salmon. I'd love you all to come."

"Will there be an announcement?" Linda asked.

"I don't think so-unless you have something to tell us, Linda?"

"Very droll," Linda said. "Just wondered, that's all."

"Is Gerry invited?" Adi asked.

"Of course. Gerry is part of the family."

"There will be things he can eat, we we can eat?" can eat?"

"Yes, there will, and the rest of us can have salmon."

"What will we call him, Mam?" Adi asked.

"Peter. That's his name."

"Not 'Daddy' then?" Linda wouldn't let it go.

"No, Linda, not 'Daddy' You manage to remember Cintas name when you go to see your dad. It would be nice if you remembered Peter's."

"Will he be overnighting, Mam?" Adi asked.

"No, Adi."

"Do we have to dress up?" Linda wondered.

"No, Linda. Just be here around seven and make him welcome ..."

Their jaws dropped when they saw Peter. He was so much better-looking than they had thought. A pharmacist? A chemist? He should have been old and stooped. Instead he was tall and handsome. A very cheerful smile.

He asked Adi about teaching, he talked to Gerry about organic vegetables, and he even got Linda to promise to show him how to use an iPod. They questioned him closely and he answered openly. He had been a widower for a long time, he had one daughter who thought he was an old fogey, he didn't travel very much but this year he was hoping to go on a short break to Italy, rent a car, drive on the wrong side of the road and have a great time.

"Will you be involved in this, Mam?" Linda asked.

"Oh, yes, indeed," Clara said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

When he came to leave, he kissed Clara on her cheek and said that he had had a delightful evening and would see her tomorrow as arranged.

They waited until they heard the garden gate closing, then they all went mad. He was terrific, he was like a film star, he was great fun. How had Mother managed to trap him?

And Clara went to bed well pleased.

The worst was over. They had met each other's children. Everything else was going to be plain sailing.

Clara's mother was the first to call.

She had phoned unexpectedly to the house on Sunday and the girls told her that Mam was out with a real looker, a guy in a velvet corduroy jacket. Apparently it was a fully fledged Affair.

"You didn't tell me any of this?" Her mother's sharp, disapproving tones came down the line.

Clara had had a busy day, but she knew better than to cut her mother short.

"No, I was waiting until we could have a nice lunch with plenty of time to talk about it rather than rushing it all on the phone," she began, pulling her diary toward her. She would have have to meet her mother now. to meet her mother now.

"Where had you in mind?" her mother snapped.

"I thought Quentins would be nice." Clara looked to see which afternoon wasn't too bad-Friday maybe? "Friday, Mother, and I'll tell you all." She hung up with a heavy heart.

"Are you all right, Clara?" Hilary asked.

"Not really. I have to have lunch with my mother while she interrogates me about my s.e.x life."

"Will she?"

"Not directly, of course, you know what mothers are like ..." Clara could have bitten her tongue off. "Oh, Hilary, I'm such a fool. Forgive me. I wasn't thinking."

"Don't think of it, Clara. It's not important."

"But it is. I know what you'd give to be able to have lunch with your mother again."

"Maybe not. This could have been one of her bad days. She might think I was her aunt or the postman or someone about the drains." Hilary laughed ruefully.

Clara thought that she seemed to be getting a little better about it all. Not much, but a little. "Thank you, Hilary. I don't deserve you."

Hilary noted she had written "Quentins" on the diary page for Friday. "My, you're sure pushing the boat out for your mother! Quentins, no less!"

"I'd better not tell Peter, then. He'd go mad at the expense."

"Careful, is he?" Hilary asked.

"Sensible is what he would call it." Clara laughed. is what he would call it." Clara laughed.

"You look happy," Hilary said admiringly.

"I'm almost afraid to say it, but I think I am," Clara agreed.

Alan called about thirty minutes later. "Did I hear congratulations are in order?" he asked.

"That's such a cliche, Alan. What are you trying to say?"

"I'm trying to say that the girls told me about your new friend and I'm glad for you, that's all." Alan sounded injured.

"Thanks, Alan. Is this it or is there more?"

"Well, I thought you'd tell me something about him, when did it happen, where is it leading?"

"And why in the name of G.o.d do you think I should discuss these things with you?"

"We're friends, Clara-" he began.

"We are not not friends. We are contesting almost everything." friends. We are contesting almost everything."

"That is because you are being so unreasonable."

"Good-bye, Alan."

He called back immediately. "Don't you hang up on me. This is intolerable."

"That's right, it is is intolerable-I am trying to do a day's work. I will not tolerate your whingeing and whining about this and that just because intolerable-I am trying to do a day's work. I will not tolerate your whingeing and whining about this and that just because you you have nothing to do." have nothing to do."

"No, please, listen to me."