Every time a romance had ended, she'd been genuinely convinced that she'd never fall in love again. But this time it really was the end. Forget forty being the new eighteen and all that. You could be Botoxed to kingdom come, you could jostle with fifteen-year-olds in Topshop, but forty was forty.

Just when she thought she couldn't feel any worse, she remembered something appalling: she'd commandeered one of the artistes' limos to take her home.

She'd lurched out of the nightclub, seen it idling at the curb and hijacked it. The driver hadn't wanted to take her, he was on-call for Mr. Alpha, he kept repeating, but she'd pulled rank, threw her weight around, threatened him with his job.

Oh no! The memory was so shaming that she whimpered into her pillow. Not only was she stranded on a lump of barren rock for all eternity but she'd stolen a car from a visiting superstar, an international household name.

She got up and puked and crawled back into bed, desperate for sleep to release her from her tormented thoughts, but she was still awake when the birds started singing. She didn't know the time because she'd been too afraid to look at the clock, but obviously it had to be bad. At some stage she passed into a light anxious doze, and when her alarm started beeping at 7:30, she wanted to slit her own throat.

Makeup wasn't helping. She painted epic quantities of concealer under her eyes and still she looked like Sylvester Stallone. Eventually, furtive and jumpy, already anticipating pain, she was ready to bolt from the building (she was so frightened of bumping into Conall romancing Lydia that, whenever she had to leave her flat, she sprinted down the three flights of stairs and into the street with her eyes closed and her breath held).

But it had been five days since he'd sent the horrible flowers-they'd come on Friday and now it was Wednesday. She'd seen no sign of him hanging around over the weekend and a tiny bud of hope, like a snow-drop after an unforgiving winter, broke through: maybe it had just been a one-time thing.

She was out the front door, the gallop was over. She could open her eyes, she could inhale. Then she remembered that there was no point jingling her car keys because there was no car. After last night's stunt with Mr. Alpha's limo, her ride was still in the parking lot in work. But hey! There was Conall's car. Right there! Just parked, waiting! Without thinking, she made for it.

"Conall?"

He looked up from his BlackBerry. Jesus Christ, it was Katie! Standing there in the street! He clambered out from the car and reached down to kiss her politely on the cheek.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Ah . . . waiting for someone." He was very, very embarrassed. He should have known this might happen. Unless, of course, a little voice prompted, unless he had known.

Her face tight and closed, Katie backed away on her high heels. All of a sudden, the door of 66 Star Street opened and a large donkey-like dog bounded out, followed by the old woman who lived on the first floor, and then came this . . . man and it was the man who caught Conall's attention. Saffron used to accuse Conall of being an emotion-free automaton but, actually, Conall quite prided himself on his intuition. He'd intuitively known the time Arthur Andersens had beaten him in the bid for Jasmine Foods-he'd bumped into their head of acquisitions one Sunday afternoon in the pliers aisle of the Hardware Hut, and although the man had been amiable enough, Conall knew. Now he was alerted by the same sense of threat. This blond-haired, sloppily dressed, idle-looking . . . gobshite was the one who had replaced him in Katie's affections.

Katie was still backing away from Conall, then she collided with your man. Speedily, she turned round and Conall heard her say, "Sorry," and your man said, "No, I'm sorry," then came the sounds of laughter, then more conversation, too low for Conall to hear properly, followed by more laughter, then Goldilocks lifted Katie's hand and kissed the back of it with fulsome tenderness. Prick. The dog, the old woman and the man piled into a Merc and sped off, Katie walked away into the distance and Conall was left alone.

With great contempt Grudge watched Fionn gaze out through the rear window as they drove away from Katie. "Now," Fionn asked, "who was she ?"

Jemima rested her head back and closed her eyes. "Fionn, dear heart, truly I find I'm quite wearied by your wayward affections."

"Ah Jemima!"

Fionn was sparkly-eyed and skittish and Grudge shook his hairy head in disgust. Jemima wasn't as young as she'd once been and it wasn't appropriate-appropriate was Grudge's favorite word; he'd heard it on Dr. Phil-it wasn't appropriate for Fionn to involve her in such adolescent . . . silliness.

"First poor Maeve, then Rosie . . ."

Grudge attempted to tut but his tongue was too thick. That had been an appalling episode, the little nurse sliding her phone number under the door of the flat and urging Fionn to call her. Jemima had become terribly distressed, beseeching Fionn to stay away from girls who were spoken for. "She and Andrei are a good match." But Fionn had disregarded Jemima's distress and rung Rosie anyway. An assignation had been arranged for this very evening, but would Fionn proceed with it now that his attentions had been caught by Katie?

"Katie? Is she married?" Fionn pressed. "Or what?"

Jemima exhaled. "Not married. That dark brooding creature in the Lexus was in attendance for many months, but I sense there has been a sundering recently."

"So she's single!" Fionn rubbed his hands together in glee.

"Don't they have women where you come from?" Ogden eyed Fionn in the rear-view. "I never met such a randy article."

Yeah, Grudge sneered at Fionn. Randy.

"Ogden makes a good point, Fionn. Perhaps you should consider returning to Pokey. I fear you're finding city life rather overstimulating."

Day 31 . . .

Just as Conall had anticipated! Only five to nine and here was Lydia, leaving earlier than she'd said, just to avoid him.

He stepped out of the car, into her path. "Going somewhere?"

First she looked incredulous, then a thunderous rage appeared on her little dial. "Right, that's it," she said. "I'm calling the police."

He couldn't stop laughing. "Lydia, I just want to go on a date with you."

"You're stalking me!"

"I'm wooing you."

"What kind of stupid word is that?"

"I mean, I like you, I'm trying to get you to come out with me. Since when was that a crime?"

"Listen to me, if I was the type to get scared, you'd be scaring me."

"The girlfriend before Katie told me this was her favorite fantasy, me turning up unexpectedly."

"My condolences to her." Lydia pressed a couple of buttons on her phone, then nodded, looking satisfied. "It's ringing."

"Emergency Services?"

"The Kevin Street cop shop."

"You've the police station on speed dial?"

"I'm a taxi driver. Me and the cops are in regular contact."

Alarm overtook him. Her phone was pressed to her ear and her head was cocked to one side. "Are you really trying the police?" he asked.

"I really am. Don't worry, they often take a few minutes to answer.

They're busy."

"Hang up, Lydia." Hang up, hang up, hang up. "Hang up, Lydia." Their gazes were locked. Fire burned in her eyes but his will would prevail . . .

Hang up, hang up, hang up.

. . . yes, prevail. Except that it was taking a little longer than usual to prevail . . .

Hang up, hang up, hang up.

. . . aaaannnddd . . . prevail it did! Gotcha!

"Love of God!" Lydia snapped her phone closed. "What is it you want?"

"One chance. The day you suggested. We go to that town in Meath, I clean a dirty kitchen, talk to your mother and put the frighteners on your brother."

"But I don't want you to come."

"We'll go in my car. I'll drive you."

She wasn't happy but it was the offer to drive that swung it in his favor. His consummate skill was in finding a weak spot and he'd assessed, correctly, that she was sick to the back teeth of being behind a wheel.

I'm Conall Hathaway and I always get what I want.

Day 31 . . .

Danno missed nothing. Katie hadn't even opened the office door fully before his eyes locked with hers. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing."

He unfolded himself from his chair. She watched his snake-hips cross the office floor and she was powerless to stop him.

"Go back to your desk, Danno. Do what you're paid to do."

"It's okay about Mr. Alpha's car," he said quietly. "I sorted another one."

She swallowed. So much had already happened this morning, she'd almost forgotten how she'd disgraced herself last night.

"What's Slasher done now? Did he hurt you?"

It was Danno's concern that broke her.

"I think . . ." She shouldn't be telling Danno. She was his boss and he already did everything in his power to ignore hierarchy. "I think Conall is seeing the girl who lives in the flat below me."

George gave a theatrical gasp and placed his hand on his chest. "That's a bit close to home."

"What makes you think that, babe?" Danno asked.

Without inflection, Katie related Friday's events with the flowers, then finding Conall waiting in his car outside the house this morning.

"It could be just a coincidence." Audrey had crept closer to Katie's desk. They all had, like little woodland creatures emerging from their hidey holes.

"No coincidences in Slasher Hathaway's life," Danno said. "Nothing happens by accident. You!" He pointed at George. "She's had a shock, go out and get her a bun."

"So you think he's seeing her to hurt you?" Danno asked.

"Do you?"

"Yes," Tamsin said "No," Lila-May said.

"But how would he know she'd see him this morning?"

"Because she goes to work every day!"

"Okay, how did he know she'd meet the flower-delivery man?"

"Maybe he told him to deliver them at the time she leaves for work."

They squabbled with quite vicious acrimony among themselves for a while but no conclusion was reached.

"But something else happened?" Danno said.

Katie hadn't been expecting that. "How do you know?"

"Because you look so . . . something."

"I met a man." Even to her own ears, she sounded faint and strange.

"Ooooh." She had the rapt attention of all her staff, something that didn't happen often.

"No, not like that. Not like, I met a man." Their faces were baffled. Kindly, but baffled. "I don't mean, like a potential boyfriend."

"No, no, bit old for that now." Danno chortled. Then he rounded on George. "Are you still here? Didn't I tell you to go out and get her a bun?"

"I bumped into him," Katie said, unable to stop herself from talking about Fionn. "I actually literally bumped in to him. I was backing away from Conall's car and smacked into him and he was so nice-" She stopped. The expression on Lila-May's face said, Pathetic, so she definitely couldn't splurge how she really felt: that Fionn had healed her pain. The shock of seeing Conall waiting for another girl, the agony of her jealousy, the aching, gaping sense of loss-it was as if she'd been in red-hot torment with a toothache and suddenly, with Fionn smiling and speaking, the pain was wiped clean and she was flooded with its absence, like it was a force in itself.

"He must live near you if you bumped into him," George said. "Maybe on the same road."

"Same road? He lives in the same house as me. Two flats below."

"What? "

"What's going on in that house?" Lila-May asked sharply.

"What do you mean?"

"Something's happening. Something weird. That's too much of a coincidence. Slasher's new girl, your new man."

"You read too much Stephen King," Danno said.

Suddenly, Katie remembered the terror she'd felt one night recently, maybe a couple of weeks ago, the absolute certainty that some person or presence was in the room with her, existing like a single note held on a violin. She had almost been able to feel it breathing and she didn't think she'd ever been so frightened. But what did it have to do with Conall or Fionn? Nothing probably.

"He'll only be living there for a couple of months. He says he's making some gardening program."

"It's not that guy?" George widened his eyes. "Finn something."

"Fionn Purdue."

"Yes! Google him!" George stood up. He was actually shrieking. "Google him. Google him. I saw him in the paper. Google him!"

They clustered around Katie's screen and watched in awe as Fionn's picture appeared, pixel by pixel.