"Okay," she says, disappointed. "I won't ask."

Plastering over her hurt, she bravely orders two cappuccinos from a nearby waitress. It doesn't occur to her that I might prefer, say, a moccha. Sour grapes.

She bends down and starts fiddling with the clasps of the box. "Poor Max," she gushes, lifting him out of his cell like a soggy black sweater. "Come and join us."

Actually, I'd rather Max did not come and join us for a cappuccino. Cats and cappuccinos don't mix (not even extra-milky cappuccino). Besides, this particular cat makes me nervous. The runt knows things about me.

"Isn't he beautiful?" says Nicole, gently but firmly nestling the miniature panther on her lap like a baby.

"No, he's ugly and vicious, and I don't want him near me."

She looks at me, confused for a second, then she laughs it off. She thinks I'm just being 'Julianne'.

"You're not ugly, Max, are you, pet?"

"Oh yes he is. And vicious and smelly and horrid."

"That's not true. You're a wonderful cat, aren't you?"

Max purrs; he has no problem whatever with this hard sell.

"You're a darling," she googles, kissing the mutt.

"Don't forget relativity, Nicole. If he were bigger than you you wouldn't be cradling him like a baby. You'd be nursing a huge bite in your jugular."

"Miaow," agrees Max.

"See? He's a natural-born killer. You should rename him Saddam."

"Poor thing," she sympathizes.

"Anyway, Nicole, what on earth are you doing wandering down the street with a cat box?"

She just keeps stroking her fur pot with the evil eye. "I've done as you suggested," she says quietly.

"What?"

"I've left Harry."

I lower my chair on to the floor. "But I didn't tell you to leave Harry."

"You told me I should be more independent-minded and autonomous. I've thought a lot about that."

"Yes, but I didn't mean for you to leave him."

"Julianne, he beat me up!"

"Yes..." I falter. "But is that a good reason to leave anybody?"

"Anyway, I've moved out now. While Harry was at work I packed four suitcases and as many canvases from the attic as I could fit into my Fiat Cinquecento."

"You're moving into your Fiat Cinquecento."

"I don't know where I'm going yet," she says weepily.

"What about your job?" I ask, determined to avoid the topic of my hospitality.

"I'm not going back to the travel agency; I can't afford to bump into Harry again. He's dangerous. If he finds me he'll kill me."

"I bet all this was Ronan's idea."

She denies it. "Ronan said he'd support me in my decision."

"With money?"

She shakes her head guiltily. "He's already been too generous. He gave me a credit card and made me an authorised user."

"Is that a fact? And how much have you spent on it so far?"

"A few thousand pounds only."

"Only?"

I'm gasping away like a fried rasher. I slump back in my chair, remembering the watch she bought in the jeweller's. I wonder how Ronan would feel if he realized he indirectly subsidized a watch for Harry, to the tune of one grand.

"It's a lot," she says ruefully. "I admit it."

"I'd love to see his reaction when he finds out."

Our cappuccinos arrive.

Nicole sits back in silence until the waiter slips the bill under the ashtray and leaves. When he's gone, she sits forward again. "Anyway, I'll be able to pay him back," she says urgently. "If Paris works out."

"You mean if Chi Chi works out." works out."

"Exactly."

I laugh out loud.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Dream on," I mumble, sipping my cappuccino.

She sips her own coffee. "I didn't tell you that Ronan met the Irish Times Irish Times art critic." art critic."

"Oh?" says I, yawning.

"Yes. They met this morning in Cafe Rio's."

Panic.

"But I thought he was in his surgery this morning?"

"He's taken the day off to prepare for Paris. He won't be going back to work until Thursday."

The burning effigy of Chi Chi is shrieking in my inner ear like a siren, screaming to be noticed. Now Ronan won't get to see it until Thursday morning. is shrieking in my inner ear like a siren, screaming to be noticed. Now Ronan won't get to see it until Thursday morning.

I take ten slow, deep breaths to calm me down. Change of plan. "You know, Nicole, what with all this talk about Chi Chi, you have me curious."

"Do I?"

"You must show it to me some time."

"I'd like that."

"I mean, it seems to have created a bit of a storm."

"I'd love to think so," she smiles modestly.

"So I wouldn't mind seeing it."

She nods. "I'm sure I could show it to you some time."

"Like what about now?"

She looks at me. "Now?"

I sip my cooling coffee. "Why not?"

"But it's in Ronan's surgery."

"So?"

"I..."

"Would it be a problem?"

"Well, he did give me a key..."

"So let's go now."

"Are you serious?"

"Very."

Three minutes later the three of us (including the cat) are squeezed into Nicole's stuffed-up-to-the-gills yellow Fiat Cinque-cento. There's only just enough room in the front seat. I have the Max box on my knees. Though I'm trying to ignore him, I sense the cat's eyes crawling up my neck through the bars just five inches away. He doesn't trust me. He's quite right not to.

Nicole is all happy again, now that I've decided to engage Chi Chi with this sudden overwhelming burst of interest. " with this sudden overwhelming burst of interest. "Chi is my personal favourite," she says. "It means a lot to me: it's my only really symbolic painting. I think Ronan was secretly impressedalthough he never says so openly. That's why it'd be nice to have your opinion about it." is my personal favourite," she says. "It means a lot to me: it's my only really symbolic painting. I think Ronan was secretly impressedalthough he never says so openly. That's why it'd be nice to have your opinion about it."

"That won't be a problem."

"Are you sure you don't mind me bringing you to his surgery?"

"Why should I mind?"

"I don't know, it's just that I know you don't really approve..."

I say nothing.

She looks over at me and smiles wistfully. "I know things haven't been easy between you and your husband," she says.

"Whatever."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"No problem," she says, narrowly missing the kerb.

"Nicole, could you try to drive without jerking?"

"Sorry. Anyway, if there's anything I can do to help...I have some experience with men. I've been in a lot of relationships." She suddenly smiles weakly. "Which probably means I'm the worst person in the world to be giving advice."

"No comment."

"But one thing that helps, I find, is to discover something you truly like doing, away from him. If you have that, it means you have something which is all your own and nobody else can interfere. And you don't even have to tell him what you're doing. Also, men really seem to like it when you at least pretend to be independent..."

"Nicole, could we perhaps change the subject?"

"I know I go on a bit." She sighs, bashing into the car behind us as she reverses into a space near Ronan's surgery.

It's after six, so the receptionist who knows me will certainly have gone home. We shut Max up in the car on his own, his sneaky eyes shining like black pebbles in the sunlight.

The two of us head off to the surgery, side by side.

32 32.

We're standing in the office annexed to Ronan's surgery, staring at Chi Chi hanging crooked on the wall. hanging crooked on the wall.

Nicole is shaking uncontrollably.

Her knuckles are clenched into her white face, she's ogling Chi Chi in wet-eyed disbelief, like she's just discovered the fresh tomb of a loved one encased in the wall. She's trying to tell me what must have happened, but she's choking her words, they're coming out in gasps. in wet-eyed disbelief, like she's just discovered the fresh tomb of a loved one encased in the wall. She's trying to tell me what must have happened, but she's choking her words, they're coming out in gasps.

I'm getting scared. "Nicole...are you okay?"

I never said I was good in an emergency.

She's beginning to suck in these huge gulps of air. I'm telling her to come inside and sit down in the kitchen, that I'll make her a cup of coffee.