That night I couldn't sleep. I was really upset about the Paris trip and having to budget again. I was sick of counting pennies. I felt weighed down. I needed to distract myself so I logged on to the mumskeepingsane.com website. I checked to see if there had been any response to my comments. Oh, my God! There were more than sixty replies, all of them saying they felt exactly like I did and asking me to write again.

Threescompany: Hi, It's one in the morning and I can't sleep. I was thrilled to see so many responses to my posting. It's very comforting to know so many of you mums feel the same way I do.

My husband came home tonight and told me he has to take another pay cut. It's the second in the last year. We're now down 25 per cent. I cut back a lot the last time so it's going to be hard to cut back further. He wants to get rid of the cartoon channels. I'm sorry but I had to put my foot down. I'd rather live in a house with no heating than lose that hour (or two or, on a very bad day, three hours!) of TV. It's the only time the boys stop moving, shouting, thumping each other, wrestling, throwing things, pushing, diving, rolling and spinning. It's the only time I get to read, or talk to a friend on the phone, or just sit and listen to soothing music.

I need that time out. I need that little window of space. While the triplets are at school I barely have time to do the long list of things, like washing piles of laundry, tidying up after breakfast, grocery shopping ... That hour when they're watching TV is the only reason I haven't gone off my rocker.

We had to cancel my fortieth-birthday trip to Paris. We'd been planning it for a year. It was going to be our first time away together alone since we had kids. I know it's only a trip and it's not as if someone is sick or dying or anything, but I'm devastated. That holiday was keeping me going. I'd been looking forward to it for months. I think it would have been so good for both of us to get away by ourselves and actually have a conversation about something besides the kids, money, paying bills and what needs to be fixed in the house. I wanted to go away and rekindle romance. Remember why we fell in love ... Remember who we were before we disappeared under the weight of parenthood ... Remember how much fun we used to have together ... How we loved spending hours wandering around London, holding hands, talking about our hopes and dreams ... lying in bed on Sunday mornings roaring laughing about the antics of the night before ... having spontaneous sex everywhere ... kissing for hours ... telling each other how wonderful the other person was ... how much we loved and admired them ... how they were our soul-mate ... how lucky we were to have found each other ... how no one else had ever made us feel like this ... how we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together and have children ...

Anyway, we can't afford it now, so it's been cancelled. We'll go out for dinner, probably with my family, and it'll be fine.

I'm scared too. What if my husband loses his job? He's a civil servant so, as jobs go, it's very safe, but what if he does lose it? We'd be on the street within a month. We have no savings. We put everything into the house and the kids have been more expensive than we'd thought. I do have some money my dad gave me, but I refuse to touch that. It's for the boys' education. I will not go near it unless we're really desperate. It's their future.

But what if my husband is made redundant? I haven't worked in six years. I had a job in recruitment in London. That's all I know how to do. But there aren't any jobs in recruitment, especially not for someone who's been at home for six years. I can just about use the Internet and email. I've no idea how to use Excel or PowerPoint or any of those computer programs. I can make a mean spaghetti Bolognese with hidden vegetables, and excellent flapjacks, but that's about it. If my husband does lose his job I can't go out and work and support us. Who wants to hire a mum? It's made me realize how dependent we are on him. It must be a lot of pressure for him. He knows that if he can't work, we'll be on the street. Obviously my family would help, but the bottom line is that we're really only a couple of pay cheques away from being homeless. It terrifies me. I think I need to learn a new skill. But where would I find the time? Even when the triplets are in school, I always have the baby with me.

You read about these women with fifteen kids and no husband, living in a shack somewhere, who go back to college, study medicine and become neurosurgeons. But realistically, by the time I've dropped the boys to school, driven into medical college, parked, got to the lecture hall with my little one in his buggy, I'd have to turn right around and leave to be back in time to pick the triplets up. How do these women do it? Are they real? Or are they just stories made up to make us real mortals feel even worse about our inability to achieve anything?

It is an achievement of sorts to stop your children choking, breaking limbs, drowning in the bath, running under a car, burning themselves, cutting off fingers with sharp knives, overdosing on tablets they find wherever you hide them, electrocuting themselves with sockets and TV plugs, drinking bleach, getting bitten by dogs, knocked unconscious by swings or suffocated by plastic bags ... I'd like to see a neurosurgeon who can do all that!

Anyway, it's now almost two and I'll be up in four hours, so I'd better sign off. Hang in there, Mums ... Talk soon.

14.

Louise.

I dragged myself out of bed and waddled to the bathroom. I caught sight of myself in the mirror: I was disgusting. My boobs were stuck to my huge bump. It was gross. I hated the way I looked. How the hell could anyone think this was natural? What the hell was natural about your stomach muscles being stretched to breaking point? I had all these revolting stretchmarks all over my body. They'd better bloody go when the baby arrived.

I liked having small, pert boobs. I really disliked having large, saggy, fleshy lumps. I'd had to give in and buy some of those hideous maternity bras that looked like they could harness watermelons. And the clothes for pregnant women were a disgrace. It was very difficult to look smart and business-like in wrap dresses that didn't wrap fully or stretchy-waist trousers. I was finding the whole thing utterly unbearable thank God I had only two weeks to go. I'd had enough.

Mum called to confirm the date of my C-section. I was tempted to lie, but I knew she would never forgive me so I didn't. She had been easier to deal with since she'd discovered the baby's father was a charming fraud who had made a fool of me although she'd kept asking me if I'd given him any money. Maybe she thought he'd run off with my life-savings too. I'd assured her I wasn't that stupid.

'Well, you were foolish enough.' She sniffed.

'Romantically, perhaps,' I said, through clenched teeth, 'but not financially.'

'I'm glad to hear it. You'll need all the money you have to raise the baby alone. Children are not cheap.'

'I realize that.'

'Well, you were always good with money, much better than your sisters. I remember you asking me to put your Communion money in the post office because it had the best interest rate.'

'I've always wanted to be financially independent.'

'With all that hard work, you've certainly achieved it. And now you're about to become a mother. It'll be wonderful.' Mum's voice began to quiver. Oh, no, I couldn't handle her crying. 'Wait until you see how your life will change. I just wish you'd take some time off before the baby arrives. Going in to have a baby when you're exhausted is a sure way to get post-natal depression.'

'Mum, I've never been depressed in my life. I'm not going to start now. The only thing that would depress me is not being able to work. I think a lot of people's depression comes from having too much time on their hands to navel-gaze and feel sorry for themselves.'

'That's nonsense, Louise. Post-natal depression is very serious. Your poor auntie May had it very badly.'

'Well, I won't be getting it, so you don't need to worry. Now I really have to go.'

'OK. We'll all see you very soon. Now, mind yourself,' she said, as I hung up.

The birth was turning into a circus. Mum, Dad, Julie, Sophie and even Gavin were coming over. I sat down on my bed again and surveyed my clothes. It was Saturday so I didn't need to squeeze into a suit. I opted for a sweatshirt and baggy tracksuit bottoms I had bought. I hated badly fitting clothes but they were very comfortable. I stood up, went into the sitting room and sank into the couch. I put my feet in the air and turned on my laptop. There was an email from Zachary Gray, CEO of Higgins, Cooper & Gray, congratulating me on the Hollywell deal and saying what an asset I was to the company and how they wanted to show their appreciation with an early bonus. It looked like the hellish trip to Argentina had been worth it after all ...

The Buenos Aires episode had been a nightmare. My back was killing me on the plane. I spent most of the thirteen-hour flight shuffling around, desperately trying to get comfortable so I could sleep. Usually on flights, I lie back and sleep for the entire journey. I've trained myself to do it, so that I arrive fresh and ready to go straight to meetings. But by the time I landed in Argentina, I was utterly exhausted. I looked and felt a mess.

I had just enough time to get to the hotel and have a quick shower before meeting Eduardo Rodriguez. But it was summer there and very hot. I had no idea that you could sweat so much when you were pregnant in a hot climate. I arrived at the meeting with two wet patches under my arms. My grey dress was stuck to my back and there were beads of perspiration running down my face. I tried to reapply my makeup in the taxi, but the minute I put it on, it began to melt.

Rodriguez, who had agreed in principle to the merger, had suddenly started to drag his heels, saying he didn't feel the offer was good enough. He had the ability to tip the balance so we really needed him to sign. Failure was not an option. I'd spoken to his solicitor the day before and he had said Rodriguez wanted to go through the details again before he agreed to sign anything. I had no problem with that. I'd been working on it since day one. I knew this deal inside out.

We had arranged to meet at Rodriguez's house, which turned out to be a mansion. The driveway was at least half a mile long and lined with an incredible array of purple, red and yellow flowers. I heaved myself out of the taxi. The front door was opened by a uniformed maid, who led me through a vast, tiled hall into the back garden, where her boss was sitting on the terrace drinking a gin and tonic by the swimming-pool. I held out a damp hand to greet him. He stood up, raised my hand to his lips and kissed it lightly. He was about seventy, tall with slim arms and legs but a protruding stomach that looked as if it had been fed too much red wine and steak. His face was very lined from the sun, but he had nice brown eyes. He had a full head of grey hair and was dressed in light cream linen trousers and a white shirt that was open almost to his navel it did him no favours. I sat in the shade and tried to stop sweating.

He looked surprised when he saw my large bump. 'Senora Devlin, I had no idea you were with child.'

'Oh, yes.'

'When is the baby coming?'

'Five and a half weeks exactly. I'll be glad when it's over.'

'But it is the miracle of life. It is wonderful.'

'Uhm, yes, I suppose it is.'

'You don't seem very entusiasmada. Como se dice en ingles?'

'Enthusiastic?'

'Si, yes, enthusiastic.'

'Oh, no, I am,' I pretended, and changed the subject. The last thing I wanted to talk about was my bloody pregnancy. I didn't want to be seen as a Mother Earth type, I wanted to be seen as a kick-ass lawyer.

In my research I had discovered that Rodriguez was a polo fanatic. He had even played professionally for ten years. 'I believe you are an excellent polo player,' I said.

'It is the passion of my life. First polo, then sex and then business.'

'That's a great list. Speaking of business '

He held up his hand. 'Louisa, it's too early to talk about business. You've just arrived. Relax, have a drink and something to eat. Business can wait.'

I didn't want to relax and eat. I wanted to get on with the meeting so I could close the deal, go back to my hotel, take my clothes off and drift into a deep sleep in an air-conditioned room. I'd never been so tired in my life.

'If you are too hot, you are welcome to go for a swim to cool down.'

'Oh, thanks, but no. I'm fine.'

'But your face, it is very red. Go for a swim it will be good for you and the baby. He is too hot in there, I think.'

'No, thanks, really. I'm not that hot,' I assured him, while dabbing beads of sweat from my forehead with my handkerchief.

'Just take your clothes off and jump in. We are not in London where everyone is so como se dice? Full of reserve. In Argentina, we are more relaxed. Don't be nervous take off your clothes and jump in. Be naked, be free. I'll find you a towel.' He stood up and went into the house to fetch one.

Did he really just ask me to swim naked in his pool? Even if I had a full wetsuit I wouldn't swim in his pool pregnant or not. This was work, not a bloody nudist party. I took a deep breath and waddled after him into the house to stop him.

I met him coming back with a large towel. 'I won't be needing that. I'm not going swimming,' I said firmly. 'Now, if you don't mind, I'd really like to talk about the merger.'

He wagged a finger at me. 'Louisa, Louisa, did your mother not tell you that all working and no play is bad for you?'

'Yes, you're right, but I've travelled a long way to discuss the merger with you and I'd like to get to it as soon as we can. I believe you have some questions?'

He looked me up and down. 'I find pregnant women very sensual. The way your body changes to accept the baby. Your stomach growing like a melon and your breasts getting full of milk to feed the child. Your nipples growing to give the baby a perfect place to suck.'

If I was red before, I was purple now. The conversation was making me sweat twice as much. Was he crazy? Was he trying to wind me up? I knew Argentinian men were known to be flirty, but come on! The guy was ancient and I was about to give birth. How desperate was he? I was a bloody humpback whale! Did he really want to sleep with Moby Dick?

'Let's sit down and go through some of the details.' I was determined to remain professional.

'Louisa darling, love your body. Feel the beauty of what you are creating. Why don't we swim naked in my pool and go upstairs and make love?'

'What?'

'I would like to make love to you until you scream with the ecstasy. If you are not comfortable with my penis being close to the baby, I will make love to your behind.'

Anal sex! Was this guy for real?

'Eduardo, let's get something clear. There will be no sex, front or back.'

'Louisa, querida, you are like an angry cat. You need to let your emotions out. I can help you. I have made love to hundreds of women white, black, Asian. They all had the best time. I love to satisfy women and God gave me a big penis to help me do that. Come to my bedroom and let me show you.'

I began to panic. Where was the maid? Was I alone? What if he lunged? I'd have to trip him up and roll on top of him to squash him. I looked around for something to hit him with.

He reached out to take my hand. I swatted him away. I stared him in the eyes. 'I am leaving now, Eduardo. When you are ready to discuss business, call my hotel.' I stormed out of the door and down the driveway, only realizing halfway that I had no idea where I was or how to get a taxi. I walked for twenty minutes before one finally came along.

I arrived back to the hotel, dripping with sweat, falling down with exhaustion and furious. How dare that pervert try to have sex with me? How dare he proposition me? I had a cold shower and crawled into bed. What a creep! How the hell was I going to deal with him? I'd have to get him to come to the hotel and have our meeting in a public place. I really didn't want to see him again, but I was not going back to London without his signature. As I was about to fall asleep, my phone rang. It was Alex and Dominic from the office.

'How's it going, Louise?' Alex asked.

'Um, OK.'

'Have you met him yet? Has he signed the Hollywell papers?'

'We had a brief meeting today but we didn't discuss details. We're meeting up again tomorrow,' I lied.

'Has he propositioned you yet?' Alex asked.

'What?'

'He's supposed to be a total pervert.' Dominic snickered.

'How do you know that?'

'Simon Hollywell mentioned it to me over lunch. Guys' talk,' Alex admitted.

'Why the hell did no one mention it to me?' I snapped.

'To be honest, I forgot. I presume he didn't try anything on with you in your current condition,' Alex said.

'Well, he did.'

'What? The pervert. Are you all right?' Alex was shocked.

'I'm fine.'

'You don't sound fine, you sound very shaken.' Dominic feigned concern. 'Maybe you should come home. I can fly over and deal with him, man to man.'

I had a choice: I could rant about what had happened and make a huge deal out of it, or I could play it down, get the papers signed as soon as possible and get the hell out of Argentina. I knew if I showed how angry and upset I was, they'd see it as a weakness: a woman who can't handle a bit of a flirt. So I bit my tongue.

'Don't be ridiculous, Dominic. I'm perfectly capable of handling Eduardo. You just concentrate on Singapore. When are you off?'

'First thing tomorrow,' he said.

'Well, don't mess up. I have to go. I've got work to do. Alex, I'll call you when the deal is done.' I snapped my phone shut and lay back on the bed. How dare Alex not warn me about Eduardo being a pervert? If I'd known, I would never have agreed to meet him alone at his house. I was furious. I'd be having stern words with him when I got back in private, without that weasel Dominic listening in.

My phone rang again. It was Simon Hollywell. Simon was a self-made man from the East End of London. One of the reasons he had hired my firm was because I was Irish. His mother, to whom he was devoted, was Irish, and when I had approached Simon to represent his company in the merger, he'd felt we had a kinship of sorts.

'That Argentinian pervert just told me he tried to shag you. You all right, love?' he asked.

'I'm fine. I was taken by surprise, though. I wish you'd warned me.'

'I told Alex he was a randy bugger. But I have to be honest, I didn't think even Eduardo would try it on with a pregnant woman. These South Americans, they'd shag a donkey.'

'I look more like a hippo.'

Simon laughed. 'Glad to see you still have a sense of humour. Anyway, I gave him a right bollocking and I told him to stop arsing up the deal. He knows it's a good price, he's just trying to throw his weight around. He's going to meet you in the lobby tomorrow morning with his lawyer to sign the papers. Then you can get the hell out of there before someone else tries to shag you.'

I closed my eyes and exhaled deeply. 'That's great news. Thanks for helping out.'

'I owe you. My mother would kick my arse to Galway and back if she knew I'd put a nice Irish girl into a sticky situation with a randy old man. Now, get some kip and I'll talk to you tomorrow.'

'OK, thanks.'

'Sweet dreams. Think of beating him to death with his polo stick or something.'