He'd had enough of this.

He stomped back in through the polythene doors. Someone was shrieking like a banshee. It was Maeve, still at it. She'd end up being sectioned if she didn't watch it.

"What did I miss?" he asked Jemima. "Did he die or something?"

"No, you'll be delighted to hear he's going to survive."

"So why's she still shouting and that?"

"She's distressed."

"Can't they give her something?"

"Why ask me? I'm afraid I don't have medical training."

Well, tetchy! "Jemima, let's go."

"Maeve needs someone with her."

"She doesn't even want you here." Earlier, Maeve had slapped Jemima away when she'd tried to comfort her.

"What Maeve wants and what Maeve needs are two very different things."

"Does she even know you're still here?"

"I know I'm here."

God, Jemima could be infuriating.

"When the storm passes, which it will, she may be glad of my company. But you go home, Fionn. I'll be perfectly fine. Thank you for escorting me."

"So, like, what? You're just going to wait until she stops the shouting? She's not showing signs of doing that any time soon. Could you not knock off the do-gooding, Jemima? Like, at this hour of your life?"

Jemima gave a little smile. "I may not have many more chances."

"You?" He snorted. "You'll outlive us all."

"I may not, dear heart." She paused. "Fionn, remember when I had that little brush with cancer?"

"That was years ago."

"Four-"

"And you're better now."

"Well, the thing is, I-"

"Look, if you're sure you're not coming, I'm going to head off."

Taking the stairs three at once, Fionn bounded up to Katie. There were already men at work fitting a new door to Matt and Maeve's flat. That Conall, Mr. Make-it-Happen, he'd make you puke.

Katie was waiting at her open door. "Well?" She had been crying.

"He'll live."

"Thank God, oh thank God for that. And how's Maeve?"

"Tell me something." His wounded emotions erupted. "What did I ever do to her? What's her problem?"

Katie was staring at him. "Something happened to her. Obviously. Something to do with a man or men. We think that maybe she was . . . raped. You can't take it personally."

"Yeah, I suppose."

"She was just as scared of Conall."

He had to close his eyes. "You're comparing me to him?"

Silent seconds elapsed, then Katie took him by the hand and led him into the living room. "Fionn, come on. It's been a bad few hours. We're all rattled."

"Yeah, okay," he muttered. "So what did I miss?"

"Very little. Had a quick drink in the Flying Bottle with the others."

"What others?"

"Conall, Lydia and Sissy."

"Hold on a minute. You went with Conall?"

"And Lydia and Sissy."

"Why?"

"Because we were upset. Because we wanted a drink."

"And you thought it was okay to go with him, even though he's your ex-boyfriend? And even though he did his best to make me look like a, a woman-pesterer in front of everyone?"

"Fionn . . ." She wrapped her arms around him. "It's been a weird, horrible evening. We're all freaked out. Come and sit down. Come on. Listen, is Jemima okay?"

"Jemima? Never better."

He let himself be guided to the sofa but, as soon as he was sitting, he felt trapped. "Let's go out."

"What? Tonight?"

"Yeah. Now. There's a thing on in the Residence. Some launch."

"I don't want to go out." Katie sounded shocked. "I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"Because someone almost died and we were there. I'm in the horrors. I wouldn't be able to be happy and chatty. I need to be quiet."

"A few drinks?"

"Fionn . . . no."

"You were happy enough to go for a drink with Conall."

"Fionn."

"So you're really not going to come out tonight?"

Katie tilted her head to one side and gazed at him. He tried to read what she was thinking. She looked scared. She looked confused. She looked-unexpectedly-sad. Then she looked calm and he knew he'd got her. But when she spoke, her words didn't match her look. "No, Fionn," she said. "But you go. Have a good time."

Christ alive. Their heart currents have gone right to hell. They had become as one, a perfect smooth union, but this thing with Matt has sent them flying and they've bounced and broken apart, like a peanut tumbling from its shell. And whatever way they landed, it's altered their heart currents. It's all arseways. Fionn's has speeded right up, beating an anxious, urgent tattoo, leaving Katie's for dust.

I'm in the soup now, rightly in the soup. They've all split up, all three couples, and I've less than a day to go.

Day Zero (early hours of) 5 hours remaining "Sorry," Matt croaked, startling Maeve into wakefulness.

"Oh, you're alive," she said. "Sorry about that. Saving your life, and all, but it wasn't up to me. I'd have let you die."

"Maeve, I'm really, really sorry." His tears were flowing freely and he was the very picture of a broken man. "But I wasn't able to help you. Nothing was going to help."

"Don't blame me."

"I was just a reminder to you of what had happened. And I wanted to kill him all the time. I was bursting with anger every minute of the day and I was knackered from it."

"And what? You think I enjoyed it?"

"I shouldn't have done it. I didn't see it that way when I was doing it. I was at the end of my rope. I didn't feel like I was any use to you."

"You're not. You're going to be allowed out of here at seven o'clock. Come to the flat. I'll have made a start on packing your stuff."

"Where will I go?"

"What do I care? You were all set to die on me so don't be asking me to find you somewhere to live."

"How will I get home?"

"Get the bus. Get a taxi."

"You won't wait for me?"

"No."

Lydia pulled over to the curb. "Outttttt," she ordered.

"But we're not there yet," the fare, a young man, said.

"I told you. I warned you. If you didn't stop singing Neil Diamond songs I'd make you get out. You didn't stop, so get out. Ttttteeee."

Muttering about mad bitches, he nonetheless obeyed her and she shot away in a squeal of rubber. Better switch the old light off for a while. Not the best time to chance another fare. Not feeling too full of sweetness and light.

The neck of Hathaway. Obviously, he was still mad about the governess. Good luck to him, and all that. They were the right age for each other, both totally ancient, and Lydia didn't care, she'd never really been into him; it had only been a bit of a laugh. It was just, like, the neck of him . . .

She was talking to herself. That wasn't so good. She peered out at her surrounds; where exactly was she? She'd lost track of things around "Sweet Caroline." Right, she was in Parkgate Street. Close enough to Eugene's. She'd stop in, get a sugar fix and rant about her customers to anyone who'd listen.

"Doughnuts?" she asked Eugene. "Any custard ones?"

" ' Deed I have."

"Start me off with two. And I might be back for more."

She looked around for a seat and- Hold on a minute, all might not be lost because- -there, across the steam-filled cafe, was none other than Poor Fucker, aka Gilbert.

He probably wouldn't be my first choice but, at this stage in the game, I'm not left with many options.

They locked eyes and he began threading his way between the people, making for her. And there he was. Those eyelashes. The cool clothes. That voice.

"Hey, Lydia."

"Hey, Gilbert."

"How have you been?" He looked a little sheepish.

"Keeping good. You?" She presumed she was looking a little sheepish herself.

"Yes. Excellent."

"Haven't seen you for a while." Since I cheated on you.

"No." And not since I fessed up to cheating on you.

"How are all the guys?"

"Good."

"Still killing each other over the Little Trees?"

"What? Oh? Not so much lately."

"Really?" They'd argued so passionately about them. It had been such an important part of their lives. Well, she realized, everything moves on. "Tell them I said hello."

"Will do. Business good?"

"Grand. You?"