On my way home from work the next day I felt lighter, freer, less burdened. Now that Jack had a job, things were going to be easier. I was swinging my arms and enjoying the end-of-summer sun when I passed a boutique I used to shop in. I couldn't afford anything in it, but I stopped to admire a dress in the window that was way out of my new price range and saw a familiar face peering out at me. It was Victoria. Since Jack had lost his job she had phoned into my voicemail twice and texted me three times. She'd never invited me over or asked to meet me. Initially I was hurt and then I realized I didn't miss her.

I took a deep breath, opened the door of the boutique and went in. Saskia was there as well. They were both golden brown from a summer in the Spanish sun. I was pasty from a summer in rainy Dublin. They were trying on full-length ballgowns. I was wearing a high-street dress I'd bought for twenty-five euros.

'Hi, girls,' I said brightly. 'How are you? Long time no see.'

Saskia came over and pecked me on the cheek. 'Oh, Sophie, I'm so sorry about your financial difficulties.' She whispered the last part, repeating word for word the only text she had sent me.

'How are you?' Victoria placed her hand on my arm and tilted her head to the side, as if she was talking to someone who had recently lost a loved one.

'Great, thanks.' I beamed. 'So, are you getting new dresses for a ball?'

'Well, the Pink Ribbon Ball is coming up in two weeks,' Victoria said.

'Oh, yes, of course, that'll be fun. It's always a great night. Last year was a hoot.'

'I was going to invite you to be at our table, but then I thought it would be too awkward for you to see everyone after what happened.' Victoria sighed.

'Jack's company went bust. It happens to people all the time. I don't feel awkward at all,' I said loudly.

'Oh well, I just assumed you would.' Victoria examined herself in the mirror.

'Is it true you're working now?' Saskia asked, round-eyed.

'Yes! I'm a booker at my old modelling agency. It's fantastic. I'm really busy and I love it.' I was determined to smother them with positivity. 'We live in a rented two-bedroom apartment five minutes from here. Jess is starting at the local national school next week and Jack is going to be working in London for a while. I think that's pretty much all my news.'

'Poor Jess must be devastated not to be going back to Mrs Holland's school,' Victoria said. 'Those national schools can be very crowded.'

'Actually, she's fine about it and the national schools are streets ahead of the private schools academically,' I replied. The cow wasn't going to make me feel bad about sending my girl to a national school. 'What's new with you guys?'

'We're just back from Marbella it was such fun. Everyone came down this year,' Saskia said, and then she blushed. 'Sorry, Sophie, I mean everyone except you guys.'

'Sounds great,' I said.

'Now Jack has a job, I presume you'll give up work?' Victoria turned to admire her backless dress in the mirror.

'Are you mad? I love earning my own money and not relying on a man to buy me things. I could never stop work again. I like the security of it I like being a person in my own right and not just Jack's wife. Seriously, girls,' I winked, 'you should try it.'

Victoria glared at me. 'You've changed your tune. You always said you loved not having to work and having a husband who earned lots of money so you could buy fabulous clothes.'

'Yes, I did, and I'm ashamed of myself. I got carried away with it all. I was an idiot and a really bad role model for Jess.'

'There's nothing wrong with being happy that your husband is successful and enjoying a nice lifestyle, Sophie,' she snapped.

'No, there isn't. Neither is there any shame in your husband losing his job and you having to go back to work to support your family. Well, I'd better go. By the way, Victoria, I don't think that colour does anything for you it's very ageing. Ciao.' I left the shop and laughed the whole way down the street.

How had I ever been friendly with silly women like them? I must have been a bit brain-dead myself. Despite all the misery and shock and upset that losing our money had caused us, I preferred the person I was now. My life was more honest, more realistic, fuller, more equal and personally fulfilling. I liked the new me, the straight-talking, no-bullshit, upfront me. I had spent most of my life sitting on the fence, avoiding confrontation, peacemaking, ducking out of awkward conversations, changing the subject if people began to argue, not thinking my opinion mattered very much because I was just a model and then just a housewife. But now I was a working woman, supporting my family, paying the rent, putting food on the table, and my opinion did matter. I felt strongly about lots of things and I was no longer afraid to say it, no longer afraid to show my emotions. I was, finally, no longer afraid of being imperfect.

40.

Julie.

I now have a daughter. How weird is that? Paris was the most draining, emotional, exhausting, devastating, wonderful, happy and exhilarating weekend of my life. I went from thinking my husband was cheating on me to finding out I had a step-daughter in the space of about twenty seconds. The relief and joy of discovering that Harry, my Harry, wasn't a two-timing snake! I felt the weight of the world lift off my shoulders. We even got a standing ovation from the terrace when the translation of the situation was complete.

Louise and Sophie were amazing. They were my rocks, my support group, my therapists, my best friends ... I couldn't have got through those last few weeks without them. Sitting in that bar in Paris, confessing to each other what we really wanted in life, had been really special. We'd never been so open or honest with each other and we'd never been closer. I'd always appreciated them, but the older you get, the more you realize that family is the most important thing and that blood really does run thicker than water. Those two women were my best friends in the world and they'd do anything for me, just like I'd do anything for them.

And Harry ... It was like we were teenagers again. We couldn't keep our hands off each other. The idea of losing what we had had shown us how much we loved each other and how lucky we were. Harry was really worried about how I'd react to Christelle, but it was fine. She was an adult; she lived in Paris; she was studying there; she didn't want to move in with us; she didn't want Harry to move to France; she just wanted to get to know him. And the best part was that she was a lovely girl and I got on really well with her.

When she came to stay for a week she was brilliant with the kids and it was lovely to have female company in the house. The triplets were in awe of her. She has that kind of rock-chick look her nose is pierced and she wears lots of black eyeliner and T-shirts with safety pins in them. The boys thought she was very cool and a little bit scary. They did exactly what she told them and she even babysat one night for us, although Harry insisted we went home after one drink because Gavin had called over to hang out with Christelle.

'Harry,' I said, 'they're just chatting.'

'Julie, I was a twenty-three-year-old boy once and I met a girl I "chatted to" and Christelle is the result of that.'

'They're not going to have sex on our couch when they know we could come in at any moment.'

'It only takes five minutes,' Harry said. 'I'm not having my daughter pregnant by her step-uncle.'

I giggled. 'When you put it like that, it sounds very Jerry Springer.'

'Drink up, we're going home.'

'Harry, you have to relax she's eighteen.'

'Look, until recently I didn't have a daughter. Now I do, I have no idea how to behave. But I know one thing for sure. She's not going to get pregnant on my watch.'

When we got home, Gavin was sitting on the couch beside Christelle. They both had all their clothes on. No ruffled hair, no lipstick marks, nothing. They were watching An Inconvenient Truth and debating climate change.

Harry looked around suspiciously. I didn't know what he was looking for a bra? Boxer shorts? 'What are you up to then?' he asked.

'We're just talking about how climate change isn't a political issue but a moral one and we can't ignore it,' Christelle said, and Gavin nodded.

'Well, it's time Gavin went home.' Harry motioned for him to get up.

'But the movie's not over,' Gavin complained.

'Take the DVD with you,' Harry said.

'There's only ten minutes left, Harry,' Christelle pointed out.

'It's almost eleven o'clock time for bed.'

'I'm eighteen, not twelve,' Christelle reminded her father.

'Let them watch it.' I dragged Harry out of the room.

He spent the next ten minutes with his ear glued to the door.

'What do you think you're going to hear? Grunting?' I smirked.

'Ssh, I can't hear.'

The door opened and Harry fell into the TV room.

Gavin chuckled. 'Seriously, dude, I'm hardly going to try and have sex with your daughter when you're sitting in the next room.'

Harry hustled him out of the door and came back in.

Christelle turned to him, hands on hips. 'Come on, Harry, I'm not some innocent virgin I know how to look after myself. Gavin is a cool guy, but I don't feel sexual towards him. If I do decide to have sex with someone while I'm here in Ireland, I'll tell you so you won't have to waste your time hiding behind doors. I know you're trying to protect me, but it's a little bit late for that. Bonne nuit.' She headed off to bed.

I patted his shoulder. 'Close your mouth, Harry, you'll catch a fly.'

'Is that the way eighteen-year-old girls talk?'

'Not any I know, but the French are more open about sexuality and sex than we are. They're miles ahead of us in that regard, so she was probably brought up being upfront about it.'

'She's not to meet any boys while she's here. I don't want her feeling "sexual" towards anyone until she goes home to her mother. Jesus, Julie, thank God we have boys I can't handle this at all.'

'Boys do seem to be more straightforward,' I agreed.

'Come on, let's go to bed. I'm worn out worrying about Christelle and she's only been here three days.'

'Too worn out for sex?' I grinned.

'Did you just offer me sex?'

I nodded.

'Without me having to get you drunk, bribe you or beg?'

I nodded.

'I think I could rise to the occasion.' He whooped.

A couple of days later, Marian called in. I hadn't seen her in almost a week, which was really unusual. She was alone, which was also unusual, as she always had at least one or two children with her.

'Give me a large drink.' She threw herself into a kitchen chair.

'It's eleven, will a brandy-coffee do?'

'Fuck the coffee. Just give me the brandy.'

'What happened?' I handed her a glass.

She knocked back the contents. 'I've spent the last week getting my mother moved into a home and I've just left her there,' she said.

I sat down beside her. 'Was it awful?'

'Horrendous. It was the first time she'd left the house in thirty years. She was completely hysterical. The people from the nursing home were brilliant. They were really gentle and reassuring, but they had to sedate her to get her out. They brought her in an ambulance and I raced ahead and put the final things into her room. I'd spent the week making it look like her bedroom at the house. Same paint, same curtains, same duvet, same towels in the bathroom, same bathmat. Today I set out her personal things in the same places and made up her bed in the sheets she likes, put the picture of my dad on her bedside locker and hung her clothes up before she arrived.'

'What happened when the sedative wore off?' I asked.

'She was OK. She knew it was different, but she couldn't really figure out why. She's got dementia now, so her memory is kind of banjaxed anyway. Once she saw all her things were there, she was fine. I got her a room with a window that looks out on to a road, so I left her sitting in the same chair looking out of the window, waiting for Dad. And you know what she said to me when I was leaving? "Don't worry, Marian, he'll be home soon."'

'That's so sad.'

'Tell me about it, but I have to say and I know this is going to sound harsh I'm so relieved she's in that nursing home. Every time I called into her at the house, I thought I'd find her dead on the floor. At least now she's safe. I was finding it hard cooking her meals and doing her cleaning every day as well as looking after the kids. I was going a bit mad with it all.'

'You've had so much to deal with this is a really good thing and it'll take a lot of the pressure off you.'

Christelle walked in.

'Marian, this is Christelle, Harry's daughter.'

'You're a ringer for Debbie Harry with black hair.'

'I love Debbie Harry.' Christelle smiled.

'Well, you could be her daughter.'

'CHRISTELLE,' the boys roared, 'CAN WE COME OUT NOW?'

'Not yet. You need to count to one hundred,' she shouted back.

'What are you playing?' I asked.

'Hide and seek.'

'Even Tom?' He never played: he got bored after three seconds.

'Yes, he was very enthusiastic.'

'And you're making the triplets count to a hundred?' Marian laughed. 'You're a genius. How'd you do it?'

'I told them that when I was naughty my mother pierced my nose with this ring and tied me with a rope to my bedpost. And that's what happens in France if you don't do what you're told.'

'Hard-core. I love it.'

I wasn't sure how thrilled I was. It was a bit frightening for them. I didn't want them having nightmares.

As if she was reading my mind, Christelle said, 'Don't worry, Julie, they know I'm joking kind of.'

'Do you have any rock-chick friends in Paris who want to come and live in Dublin and look after or should I say terrify children? I need an au pair and I want a really scary one to discipline my kids. Do any of your friends have mad tattoos on their faces or anything?' Marian asked.