They're safe, I crave to tell her. In a glass bowl.

Me: "She's a total saint to be fostering your fish like that."

No reply.

"She sounds like a caring kind of person," I add.

"Ronan told me he loved me again," she says suddenly.

"Did he, now?"

She nods.

"He loved you."

"He loves me."

"When did he say that?"

"Last night. After you left me in the hospital he came in."

"And he told you he loved you, in the hospital?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Julianne," she pleads. "Sex had nothing to do with it. He said that to me even though I looked the worst in the world...don't you see?"

I see. This is as bad as I'd thought.

She stands up and refills her glass with Cointreau. And I don't mean a simple measure. I mean bite-size. She's clearly addicted to the stuff. She refills my glass too, then sits down again and runs her fingers through her voluminous hair.

Suddenly she stiffens and becomes alert and rabbit-scared. She's heard something.

The door opens.

Nicole practically spits the next mouthful of Cointreau out through her eyeballs. She attempts a speedy self-composition, then stares at the floor just as he enters the room. I calmly turn my head for a full frontal close-up of her beater.

26 26.

At once I can see why Nicole would fancy him.

He is stocky, firm-jawed, broad-foreheaded and good-looking. His sturdy nose locks into the thick bone of his eyebrows. He doesn't so much move across the room towards the drinks cabinet as pace. Like a leopard. He is commanding, uncompromising, territorial, shorter than Ronan, but physically strong. Very possibly, he's not too bright either.

I flash him my installation smile.

His expressionless, hard-shell blue eyes glance off me like a bullet off granite and lock on to the drinks cabinet towards which he's moving. What is it about them? I shiver involuntar-ily.

Nicole and I watch him as he pours himself a Boru vodka.

Now is my chance; it will be over in seconds.

Nicole's head is bowed in vulnerable humility. Submissive-ness. Can I do it to her?

Yes, I can.

After all, has she not branded me a thieving hooligan? A pesterface spouse? A jealous neurotic? An unfit wife?

Oh, and another point: has she not tried to steal my husband?

And I'm supposed to show her mercy?

I can can do it: face her down, kick her in the teeth, shove her in the gutter and leave her for Harry. She deserves it. do it: face her down, kick her in the teeth, shove her in the gutter and leave her for Harry. She deserves it.

He turns round and glares at Nicole.

"This is Julianne," is her pathetic attempt to introduce me.

"How do you do," he says ignoring me.

"How do you do," I reply, trying my best to sound bored.

"I've been thinking about what happened," he says to her, sipping.

"Harrycan we talk about that another time?"

He sniggers, swirling the vodka in his glass. "Has Nicole told you about her fancy man?"

Nicole lowers her head.

"Are you talking to me?" I ask.

"No, I'm talking to the wall."

"Slight problem."

"What?"

"The wall's not responding. Seriously, though..."

He turns towards me.

"Harry!" Nicole beseeches. "We already discussed that issue."

"Did we?"

He's still staring at me.

"I already told you the truth," she insists.

He turns back to her. "The truth being?"

He's just used the gerundive, he can't be as thick as all that.

Nicole, begging: "There is is no one else." no one else."

He swirls his vodka again, examining the glass fastidiously.

"There really isn't."

Dear, dearshe's as bad as me for lies.

My heart is thumping like a monkey in my chest. Have I the heart to do this?

I have.

I turn to Nicole, suddenly ruthless, and open my mouth to speak.

I close it again.

I turn back to Harry, who is still examining his glass. And back to Nicole who is guiltily sipping her Cointreau as if it's stolen property, her frightened eyes flicking up and down at Harry's massive form, her slender fingers wrapped nervously round the stem of her glass.

I can't decide.

Suddenly he turns on me: "Do I know you?"

I blush. "Not at all. Why?"

"Your voice."

"They tell me I speak like Demi Moore," I reply, secretly shitting a condominium.

"Would you leave my house, please," he says. Since he has addressed the floor, it's unclear whether this is meant for me or for Nicole. Or for both of us.

Nicole: "How, how do you mean?"

"I've thought about this," he says calmly, "and I want you out of my house."

Nicole: "Who?"

"You."

"Me?"

"You're not to be trusted."

"But..."

"Now!"

Dear dear! It was so much more pleasant before Harry interrupted our little conversation about Bagua Bagua mirrors and mirrors and Fu Fu dogs, and rhododendrons and coffee tables, and the four elements and fish cakes, and Ronan's pitiable wife. dogs, and rhododendrons and coffee tables, and the four elements and fish cakes, and Ronan's pitiable wife.

He points to the door. "Out of my house, you two-timing bitch."

She starts sobbing.

"There's no need to talk to her like that," I suggest.

"I'll talk to that slut whatever way I like."

"She's not a slut."

I bite my lip. Did I just say that?

Harry is glaring at me now. "Oh, she's not a slut, is she not?"

Nicole herself has no opinion on this fairly crucial point.

"Even if she is a slut," I respond, "she's not your your slut." slut."

His head turns to me. He shouts: "What do you think I hit her for? Jump-starting the car? " "

"Well, now, that's logical."

"Julianneplease..." says Nicole.

Harry flushes. "The two of you. Get out. You can make yourself useful and help her pack her bags."

I will let him get away with thisjust this once.

He turns and fills up his glass again. "I want you both out in half an hour. Oh, and I want the rest of your stinking fish out of my bath."

"But I have nowhere to put them."

"They'll go down the toilet otherwise."

A man after my own heart.

"But they'll die."

"And I want your ridiculous canvases out of my attic."

It's odd, the quarters from which you least expect moral support. He sniggers.

"What are you laughing at?" demands Nicole, offended.

"You hardly expect me to hold on to that shite," he observes.

I feel like telling him that we are totally at one on that issue.

"Okay," she says, mouth hardening. "I'll go if you want me to."