'I've come to see you,' he called back.

She reached her front-door and he stood up with a big, white grin. 'I've come to win you back, babes.'

'Why?' She put her key in the lock and he followed her into the hall. She was confused and oddly resentful. She'd put a whole day's effort into 'moving on' and he'd scuppered it.

'Because you're the best,' he said simply. Another dazzling smile.

She clattered her keys on the kitchen table. 'You've left it a bit bloody late,' she said snippily. 'We've just got divorced.'

'You know,' he said, thoughtfully, 'I feel so shit about that. It has messed with my head like you just would not believe! Anyway, nothing to say we can't get married again,' he grinned.

'I'm serious,' he insisted when she gave him a you-mad-bastard look.

She threw him another one but all at once her thoughts got a bit frisky and out-of-control. The idea of marrying Oliver again was ludicrous but seductive. Extremely seductive for about a nano-second, then she got real.

Briskly she asked, 'Don't you remember how horrible it was? At the end we rowed all the time and it was bitter bitter. You hated me and my job.'

'Right,' he admitted. 'But I've got to take some of the rap. I was too arsey. When you changed your mind about having a baby, I should have listened to you. I know you tried to tell me, babes, and I did not not want to know. That was why finding you were still on the Pill blew me away. But if I'd listened, well... 'And you are want to know. That was why finding you were still on the Pill blew me away. But if I'd listened, well... 'And you are so so not as hard as you were. Sorry, babes,' he said as she bristled, 'but you're not.' not as hard as you were. Sorry, babes,' he said as she bristled, 'but you're not.'

'And this is a good thing?'

'Sure.'

At her sceptical face he said softly, 'Lisa, we've been apart more than a year, and it still hasn't got any better for me. I've never met anyone who even comes close to you.'

His expression was enquiring, waiting for some encouragement or endorsement from her, but she gave neither. All the buoyancy he'd had on arrival drained away and he was suddenly anxious. 'Unless you've met someone else. I'll just naff off if you have,' he offered graciously. 'And forget about trying to win you back.'

Her face inscrutable. Lisa eyed him and considered shooting him a sly little maybe-I-have-maybe-I-haven't smirk. That would bring to a halt this crazy, dangerous situation. Then abruptly she decided against it. She'd never played games with him, so why start now? 'No, Oliver, there's no one else.'

'Right,' he nodded slowly and carefully. 'Well, I might as well finish ripping my guts out here.' After a nervous pause he continued, 'I still love you. Now that we're older and wiser,' uncertain little laugh 'I can see it working out.'

'Can you?' Her question was cool.

'Yes,' he said stoutly. 'And if you were interested I could base myself in Dublin.'

'You wouldn't have to, I'm moving back to London at the end of the week,' she muttered.

'Then, Lisa,' Oliver said, his face deadly serious, 'the only question is, are are you interested?' you interested?'

A long, tense silence followed until Lisa eventually spoke. 'Yeah, I suppose.' She was suddenly shy.

'Are you sure?'

'Yeah.' A nervous giggle spilled from her.

'Babes!' he exclaimed, in mock outrage. 'So what are you doing, making me sweat like this?'

Still shy, she admitted, 'I was afraid. I am am afraid.' afraid.'

'Of what?'

She shrugged. 'Of hope, I suppose. I didn't want to, in case you were just being mental. I had to be sure you were sure until I could even think about it. The thing is,' she admitted bashfully, 'I love you.'

'Then there's no need to be afraid,' he promised.

'When did you get so wise?' she grumbled.

He laughed hard and loud, a proper Oliver laugh, and suddenly her thoughts were like greyhounds who'd been let out of a trap. They just took off took off.

How lucky was she to get a reprieve? The full extent of her sheer, jammy, good fortune revealed itself to her and she was soaring, almost weightless with happiness. Not everyone gets a chance like this, she realized, savouring for once the value of the present moment.

I'll do it differently this time, she vowed fiercely. They both would. And there was something else, the icing on the cake, as it were: if two weddings to the same person were good enough for Burton and Taylor, they were good enough for her. Unable to stop her joyous, runaway head, she was already planning the second wedding, a fabulous extravaganza. No sneaking away to Vegas this time no, they'd do it properly. Her mum would be thrilled thrilled. And they'd get Hello! Hello! to photo it... to photo it...

As if he could read her thoughts, Oliver exclaimed anxiously, 'Easy tiger!'

Epilogue.

Jack and Ashling were strolling on the pier. It was a May evening, still bright. Arms linked, they ambled along.

'Toffo?' Ashling offered.

'And there I was thinking that things just couldn't get any better,' Jack said.

Ashling lucky-dipped in her bag. 'Where are they?' She brought forth a card of Anadin and a bottle of rescue remedy before finding the Toffos.

'You still have all that stuff in there?' Jack sounded sad. 'The plasters and everything?'

'Habit, I suppose.' But for the first time ever she felt slightly silly for carrying around so much disaster-prevention stuff.

'You wouldn't consider throwing it all away? You don't need any of it now. Everything is different.'

Ashling looked at him for a long time. He was right, everything was was different. 'OK, I'll lose it all when we get home.' different. 'OK, I'll lose it all when we get home.'

'Why not do it now? Go on, fling your bag into the sea.'

'Fling my bag into the sea? Yeah, right.'

'I mean it. Let it all go.'

'Are you mad? What about my credit cards? What about the bag itself, for that matter?'

'Take out your credit cards and I'll buy you a new bag, I promise.'

'Oh my God, you're serious.' Ashling gave him a look, semi-wary, semi-excited. She was strangely tempted by the idea, even if it did make her feel sick.

'Let it all go,' he repeated, his face animated.

'I couldn't.'

'You could.'

Could I?

'If this was my python-skin bag, I wouldn't even consider it,' she stalled.

'But this one's old and mank,' Jack urged. 'And the handle's coming apart. I'll get you another one. Oh, go on!'

The symbolism of it was seductive. But then again, throwing away a handbag, full of all the stuff she needed, how could she? But did did she need any of it...? Perhaps she didn't... The image sharpened up, becoming possible, probable, doable. she need any of it...? Perhaps she didn't... The image sharpened up, becoming possible, probable, doable.

'All right then, I will! I will! Hold those.' She palmed him her wallet, her mobile, her cigarettes and her packet of Toffos.

'I can't believe I'm doing this.' With an exhilarated shout, she twirled the bag over her head once. Twice. And then, in terror and exultation, simply let it go. It hurtled in a jubilant arc up into the darkening sky, a dense little cargo of safety-pins and plasters and biros. And gracefully, it followed its path downwards, where, with the smallest of splashes, it was received by the sea.