I put a finger up to his mouth. "Ronan, will you excuse me for a second?"

Once in the loo, I call Mother.

But get her answering device instead.

"Mother, there's been a bit of a situation. Now I know you're going to kill me, but do you remember I phoned you this morning and sort of said you could come and stay with us for a while? Do you remember I said that? Well, there's...there's been a slight change of plan. Ronan's been acting up. Not over you. At all. Over something else and it's just that right now wouldn't be the right time...Mum I'm really really sorry, would it be okay if we put it off...for a while? I'll call you later to explain." sorry, would it be okay if we put it off...for a while? I'll call you later to explain."

I punch out, unsure quite how I am going to explain.

Rejoining our table, I bend down and kiss Ronan tenderly on the mouth. His lips are soft and warm. We sit quietly together for some time. I just watch him finishing off the ice cream. As I observe him eating, chin in my hand, I'm beginning to notice a softer Ronan than earlier on, a more relaxed Ronan, a thoroughly nicer Ronan.

The sort of Ronan, actually, who would make a great father.

I can just see it.

Ronan and me and Judy our new baby, my wonderful little daughter. There she is, toddling into the lounge from the hall. Ronan and I are seated on the couch. She crawls over to me. I pick her up off the floor and give her a hug. Now her daddy takes her from me. Giggling, she starts playing piano with his cheeks, now she's chortling as Daddy rubs noses with her, now she's poking her tiny sweet fingers into his ears as he lifts her on to his shoulder.

This is how it will be. To Judy, Ronan will be the sun-god with aftershave. (How every man secretly wishes to be viewed.) He will be the hero of her universe. (I'll have to settle for best supporting actress.) He will have a direct impact on her intellectual formation, including reading Rumpelstiltskin Rumpelstiltskin and and Cinderella Cinderella and and The Three Billy Goats Gruff The Three Billy Goats Gruff at her bedside. at her bedside.

Of course, when Judy gets bigger we will have to move from our present apartment because, although there's a stunning sea view, babies can't play on balconies. Not if you want them to stay babies.

We'll buy a house with space for Judy to breathe and develop her creative potential with daisy chains and slug trains and hide-and-seek and muck formations. No prams or dolls, of course.

And when I and my other dinosaur half are old and withered, Judy will return to us all the care and affection we bestowed a thousandfold.

And Ronan will finally understand the true mystery of life: that what's important is not what lies in your groinbut in your heart.

"Julie?"

I exit from my daze.

"You're daydreaming again."

I smile. "What would you say to the following suggestion, Ronan?"

17 17.

Half an hour later I am removing Ronan's shirt and tie and belt, while gnawing at the flesh around his neck. We are in the middle of the office attached to his dental surgery. It was the closest available emergency location.

He, needless to say, is doing something similar to me. "This is incredible," he gasps, blubbering his moist lips and tongue around the top of my brassiere.

"You get way too little practice," I add, chewing his earlobe.

"You're so...caustic," he says, wetting my bared shoulder.

"Like soda."

"It turns me on."

"That's nice for you."

"I mean, it really turns me on."

I check to see that he means it. And he really does mean it.

"Don't stop," he gasps.

So I don't. He backs me on to the desk. Helplessly, I hang from his shoulders.

I love Ronan's smell. It's like no one else's. It's a comforting potion. It blanks out my mind. It's been a nightmare, this last day. And it's over now.

The bare skin on my heck is tingling under his six-hour bristle, his strong, hot, quickening breath. He's moving fast. Fingertips in his hair, I push him back a little, to slow him down. He comes up for air now, enclosing my lips in his.

When I open my eyes again they come to rest on a painting on the wall behind him. I haven't noticed it before. Must be a recent purchase. It's a picture of goldfish swimming in a large round bowl: eight in all. Some are red, some are green, others gold. It's a very beautiful colour combination. The background is of flowers and grass, which is not green, as you might expect, but a shade of dark-blue.

In a flood of shock, I realize that this must be Nicole's painting.

"Ronan, wait!"

But he is now gyrating his hips against me. Perspiration is trickling down his forehead. Eyes closed, jaw stiffened into what looks like a forced smile. Thrusting and squeezing and grunting. He is concentrating.

I could be anybody.

A woman with a body.

For all I know I could be Nicole.

I am am Nicole. Nicole.

"Ronan..."

"What's the matter?" He quickens his pace as if he's afraid I'll suddenly back out.

"Where did you get that painting?"

"What?"

"The painting."

He doesn't answer. He quickens his pace a little more.

"Stop!" comes from inside me.

"Hold on."

He's still ignoring me. He's straining and puffing like I'm being bench-pressed: short sharp bursts of air like a piston. He's completely taken over by this thing which is me me. Eyes still closed. I am being enjoyed. Consumed.

My mobile rings.

His eyes pop open.

"Leave it!" he orders, suddenly still.

But I reach for my jacket. He resumes motion. I take out my mobile. The ring pierces out loud.

"Oh for God's sake!" he shouts, shoving against me with increased urgency.

I press the green button.

"Hello?"

"I got your message."

It's Mother.

She doesn't sound at all in a good mood.

"It's not a good time," I pant, straining to sound normal.

"Is it ever a good time?"

"Especially not now."

"You young people are all the same. You think you were born on a magic carpet. You weren't. Someone had to go through torture to get you here, remember that."

The whole time Ronan is consuming me like a hamburger and I won't bother telling you how crap it's making me feel.

"I'll call you back later."

"And that's another thing, Julie, you used up half the tape. They didn't invent answering machines for monologues, you know."

"I have to go."

"Don't you dare hang up on me."

"Goodbye."

"I'm moving into your place tonight."

I pull the mobile back up to my ear. "What? " "

"Goodbye, Julie."

She hangs up.

Ronan has upped the ante. Eyes shut, he's thrusting and thrashing about, face and forehead tensed.

"Ronan, stop!"

"Just a minute," he groans.

"That was my mother."

He flinches, but doesn't stop.

I drag his hands off my chest. He supports himself on my thighs instead, claws squeezing. He continues to pursue his objectiveleaning and grunting as he relentlessly slams against me. I have angered him. He's butting and lunging and pelting me like a dog.

I put my hand up to his face and squeeze his cheeks. "Ronan... " "

"I heard you," he gasps, forehead dripping, eyes tightly shut.

"My mother is moving into our apartment tonight," I blurt out.

He moves his head back from my squeezing fingers and continues hammering.

"Ronan, my mother..."

"Will you shut up about that stupid..."

But no. He doesn't complete the sentence.

He's just made his wisest decision ever.

"We'll put her in the guest room," I yell.

He stops.

He glares at me. I have destroyed his pleasure. He curses. He pulls away and tucks himself in.

"Your mother mother," he spits. "Jesus!"

I rearrange myself. He turns to the office window. I feel dirty. Used. Compared. Rejected.

I angrily swipe away the tears before he sees.

I walk out of the room and slam the door to his surgery. I walk past the receptionist, eyes clinging to the main door. I leave the house and run down the steps. When I get to my MGI discover a yellow county council truck double-parked against it, blocking my exit. I begin cursing because I can't see the culprits anywhere.

I start knocking on doors neighbouring Ronan's building, looking for stray county council workers. No one has seen them. I'm getting worked up. I cross the road and call into a total of ten houses. I'm getting angrier and angrier at the people who open their doors to me but I don't care.

Nobody has seen them anywhere.

Hot, sticky and furious, I return to my car. On the way back I almost fall into a manhole.

I bend down and scream obscenities into its dark void.

A head emerges.

A man in this ridiculous yellow anorak thing climbs out of the hole like something from the X-Files X-Files. He gives me a grinning lecture about nice girls in fancy cars who use not very nice language.