"Your slim friend."

The face on Sylvana.

"I am renting a penthouse apartment in another part of town."

"Where?"

"That's a permanent secret."

"I assume the rent is extortionate."

"Actually, I managed to purchase it recently."

"Oh, I see: from the sale of this place."

"Selling the Porsche helped."

He inclines his head slightly towards me. "You sold my Porsche."

"It took a ride." (Mother.) "It had a strong sex drive." (Sylvana.) He jumps around to see Sylvana for the first time. He glares at her and very politely asks her to leave the apartment, because we are having a family discussion. She refuses to budge. She just stands there staring cheekily at him, chewing peanuts from the palm of her hand.

"You can hardly blame me for selling the Porsche, Ronan. Remember, I had come home one day to witness Nicole's lemon-yellow brassiere on the front doorknob."

Sylvana: "Hanging loose."

Mother: "You know, yellow is a good colour for the hall; it's far too dark as it is. I put sunflowers there last Tuesday and I must say they were lovely."

"Yes, Mother, yellow is nice. But not on the front doorknob in the form of another woman's Wonderbra."

Ronan: "She hung it there herself."

Sylvana, grinning: "I should think that exonerates him, Julie."

"What you were thinking thinking of when you took her home, Ronan. You've never answered that. What was going on in your head? Did you think that little of me? Going out with Nicole under my very nose, every second feeding me a pack of lies? Telling me you were extracting teeth in your surgery when you were sunbathing with her by the pool? Denying it when I brought it up. Lying about the fantastic state of the apartment after Nicole cleaned it, about the tropical fish, your wristwatch, the conference in Paris...Telling me she was history while she was sitting beside you on the boat, or should I say the plane. History!" of when you took her home, Ronan. You've never answered that. What was going on in your head? Did you think that little of me? Going out with Nicole under my very nose, every second feeding me a pack of lies? Telling me you were extracting teeth in your surgery when you were sunbathing with her by the pool? Denying it when I brought it up. Lying about the fantastic state of the apartment after Nicole cleaned it, about the tropical fish, your wristwatch, the conference in Paris...Telling me she was history while she was sitting beside you on the boat, or should I say the plane. History!"

Sylvana: "He's a historian as well as a dentist."

"Was it worth it? Destroying our relationship like that?"

"I don't blame you for reacting this way."

"Get out."

"Look..."

"And take this before you go."

I flip the envelope out of my jacket pocket.

"What's that?"

Everybody is staring at the envelope in my hand. No one knows.

"Mother and Sylvana, are you listening?"

They tell me they're listening.

"I just want to saywith Mother and Sylvana as witnessesthat our marriage is over. For good. This is not a threat. It's a fact. There is no possibility of reconciliation between us, Ronan. Does everybody hear this?"

Mother and Sylvana both murmur their agreement.

I hand the envelope to Ronan.

"I think it's time for you to leave now, dear," Mother tells him softly, getting up. Sylvana follows her back into the kitchen.

Ronan has taken the divorce petition out of the envelope. As he reads it, the paper makes crinkling sounds.

This is it.

I am calm. I feel confident.

The tangled filaments of history are now quickly unravelling into a pattern of meaning, encompassing me and my mother before me, joined by our triumphs, our joys, our sorrows, our failures.

With Ronan, I am now doing what I have made it into a life crusade to doshould history ever repeat itself. What I desperately wished Mother had done, that night when Father returned home the second time after two years' absence.

I remember that night. I was doing homework upstairs in my room and I heard voices. I sat on the top step and peered down into the hallway. It was him. He and Mother were whispering. They moved into the living-room. I went downstairs and listened.

There were long periods of silence behind that door, interrupted by questions from her, and explanations and denials and professions of love and sincere apologies from him. "You wouldn't be saying that if I hadn't caught you," I heard Mother say. I could hear my father's soothing promises.

I wanted to burst in there and tell Mother he was a liar and a cheat, and she wasn't to believe him and she should throw him out. But she let him back, after everything that had happened.

And I was right: it did happen again.

She suffered, almost, so that I would be strong.

I can hear her now, in the kitchen. Pottering and clinkering with cups and saucers and plates, crinkling open a packet of biscuits. I can hear the gradually augmenting whoosh of the electric kettle. Coffee. I could do with a cup of strong Colombian coffee. Colombian anything, in fact. I am beginning to feel totally exhausted.

I walk slowly up to Ronan. He is still reading the divorce petition, page by page, intent, concentrated, unblinking. He doesn't look at me, although I am now right in front of him. He is concealing emotion, although his eyes seem glossy, moist, soft. They tell me that he's taken aback, upset. But he won't communicate with me, acknowledge openly that things haven't gone as he'd expected. It would, I suppose, be an admission of defeat.

I touch him on the arm, to reassure him, almost, then I say goodbye and start walking away. I stop at the glass door to the hall and look back once, but he doesn't turn round.

It is the last time, I know, that Ronan and I will be in this room together, with the view we know so well: the blue sea and the harbour, and the boats docking and embarking, and the horizon, the sunrises and the sunsets, the seagulls flitting about in the high sky.

The lounge where he makes his last stand is a tomb. Encasing two happy years of married life.

Just a souvenir.

Mother will turn it once more into a paradise.

Ronan's head is still tilted over the document. Not once does he turn round, not even after I whisper goodbye one last time. I walk out of the front door, leaving it resting on the latch, quietly. Then I begin to run, down the stairs, as fast as I can go, tripping, jumping, racing down, floor by floor, repeating over and over in my mind something I wanted to tell Nicole but couldn't, not before I'd cleared the slate with Ronan first, a proposal I must put to her at all costs, before she leaves the country.

I burst out through the lobby doors and sprint across the car park, and dive into my car and accelerate out of Ronan's life for ever.

62 62.

When I get back homemy real real homeI close the door behind me and place a jasmine plant on a chair in the hall. homeI close the door behind me and place a jasmine plant on a chair in the hall.

I purchased it on the way back here, in a local garden centre. It's for Nicole. I remember what she said about jasmine. She said it was the plant of friendship. I couldn't find any reason not not to buy it for her. So I bought it. to buy it for her. So I bought it.

Standing in the hall, I listen through the stillness. There's no sound. She must be having a rest in the bedroom. It's a quarter to two. Her flight to Amsterdam is at three. I will have to drive her and Debbie to the airport immediately. As I promised.

Nicole would understand how I'm feeling right now. She has gone through so much. Her life has been a whip hide of pain. Only she knows what it's like to love Ronan. And separate from him. She is a beacon of light through all this bleakness, this grief.

In the hall mirror, I look like a dirty window-pane slashed by rain. I can't let her see me like this. She'd only become all caring and sympathetic. That, I know, would finish me off.

When I walk into the lounge, there's a note on the dining-table, lying adjacent to the two mandarin ducks.

Dear Julie Dear Julie, Please forgive me for leaving so suddenly, but I thought it best to call a taxi just in case you were delayed with Ronan Please forgive me for leaving so suddenly, but I thought it best to call a taxi just in case you were delayed with Ronan. I'm so unhappy, Julie. I've hurt you so badly. I've only ever wanted people around me to be happy, but all I've done is gone and destroyed people's lives. I should have finished with Ronan the second you walked into the I'm so unhappy, Julie. I've hurt you so badly. I've only ever wanted people around me to be happy, but all I've done is gone and destroyed people's lives. I should have finished with Ronan the second you walked into the Cafe de Flore. Cafe de Flore. But I didn't have the guts because of Debbie. Now Ronan has dumped me and it serves me right. I know what it feels like. I'd forgotten how much it hurts But I didn't have the guts because of Debbie. Now Ronan has dumped me and it serves me right. I know what it feels like. I'd forgotten how much it hurts. I wanted to tell you all this today, face to face, but it's easier in a letter. I took away from you the person you loved, the person who loves you. I made you leave your home. When I saw you today in your new apartment it made me so sad, to think that you were all alone. It's not right that you should have to live like that I wanted to tell you all this today, face to face, but it's easier in a letter. I took away from you the person you loved, the person who loves you. I made you leave your home. When I saw you today in your new apartment it made me so sad, to think that you were all alone. It's not right that you should have to live like that. That's why I'm so glad you went back to see Ronan. I know it sounds foolish, but I really want things to work out between you both. All I can do is hope and pray that things went okay just now. I know you and I know him (at least I think I know you both, just a little) and I know you were made for each other That's why I'm so glad you went back to see Ronan. I know it sounds foolish, but I really want things to work out between you both. All I can do is hope and pray that things went okay just now. I know you and I know him (at least I think I know you both, just a little) and I know you were made for each other. I don't expect you ever to forgive me. I'm sure that you will want me out of your life for good and how can I blame you for that? I don't blame you for anything, Julie. I didn't listen to a word of what Ronan said about you being underhand. You weren't. You were trying to protect your marriage and all the time I was destroying it I don't expect you ever to forgive me. I'm sure that you will want me out of your life for good and how can I blame you for that? I don't blame you for anything, Julie. I didn't listen to a word of what Ronan said about you being underhand. You weren't. You were trying to protect your marriage and all the time I was destroying it. I know you won't want to contact me again, but to me you're still a friend no matter what. I just wish we'd met in different circumstances, because to tell you the truth, it always felt good talking to you I know you won't want to contact me again, but to me you're still a friend no matter what. I just wish we'd met in different circumstances, because to tell you the truth, it always felt good talking to you. I won't bother you again I won't bother you again. Love from Nicole and Debbie Love from Nicole and Debbie I stuff the letter in my pocket, dash into the kitchen, grab a plastic bag, run back out into the hall, lift up the jasmine plant carefully and put it in the bag. Crying, I race back out of the front door and slam it behind me.

At two thirty I arrive at the airport, having taken every short-cut known to woman. I park my car in the multi-storey car park, a giant cold graveyard, and race with my jasmine plant towards the terminal building. I cross the road and enter the sliding dark-glass doors.

A security guard sticks a vibrator-like thing into my jacket, then nods at me like I'm free of infection. People are scurrying hectically across the floor, scrambling up and down escalators, dragging suitcases, staring at notices, pushing trolleys, queuing up at car-hire stalls and check-in areas. At every point you have to step aside to avoid being bashed.

Loud noise echoes up to the giant ceilings of the huge rectangular departure lounge. At one end of the area is a fifty-foot Christmas tree with red, green, blue and gold baubles and flickering lights, and on the metal wall behind it is Santa Claus holding the reins to his reindeer, with a colourful pile of presents in the trunk behind him. Everywhere there is bunting and mistletoe, with red berries and Christmas cards suspended on long lines of string. Just above the Alitalia and Lufthansa booths is an exhibition of figuresone yellow Christmas cracker with purple feet skiing down a makeshift ski slope, a penguin jazz band, jiving Christmas trees, oranges hopping on coloured stilt-legs, waltzing bananas.

Powerful bright lights have turned the place into a vast stage. Everywhere are yellow signposts and red digital messages, and blue TV monitors screening arrival and departure times. I check for the three o'clock flight to Amsterdam. Manchester, Madrid, London Heathrow, Edinburgh, Brussels. Amsterdam!boarding at two thirty.

It's two thirty-five.

I can't see them anywhere.

I rush around the back of the escalators towards the departure gates. I stick my head into a narrow brasserie but she's not there. I duck in behind a vast seating area, check through a tie shop, a newsagents, a souvenir shop.

Still no sign anywhere.

The man on duty at the departure gates...he would surely have remembered Nicole and baby if they'd passed through?

I rush to the front of the queue and give him their description. Long, wavy, golden hair, lemon-yellow anorak, carrying a baby in a carrycot, wearing brown trousers and boots.

He says he doesn't remember, but I shouldn't take that as a guarantee.

Desperate, I scour the departure lounge once more. Toilets, baby facilities, Burger King, Burger King toilets, the bar and restaurant down the escalators in the arrivals lounge, everywhere.

And then suddenly I catch sight of her. I stop to steady my breath and wait until my pulse subsides. She's in the bookshop, standing beside a revolving rack, checking out the best-sellers. I approach her from the side: her left profile. She's reading from a book with the name Cathy Kelly printed in large purple letters. On her back is the small red leather rucksack. At her feet is Debbie in her carrycot. She is gurgling and humming and prattling in that newborn language of hers like no one I know.

When I walk over to Nicole her face lights up like a lantern. With joy, but also astonishment.

"Julie! What are you doing here?"

"I don't know."

She eyes me carefully, replacing the book on the rack. She touches me on the arm.

"Is everything okay with Ronan?"

"Yes."

"I'm really glad to hear that, Julie, I really am."

She's stroking my arm now.

"We're getting a divorce."

At once she picks up the carrycot with Debbie in it, puts her arm round me and leads me out of the bookshop to the big window overlooking the pink runway, not far from the departure gates where travellers and their companions are congregating, giving one another the final farewell. I stare out at the planes preparing to take off, the minibuses, the vans, the luggage carts.

"But you love each other, Julie!"

She stands facing me, attentive, urgent, upset. I'm just staring out of the huge window. She offers me a handkerchief, which I accept. Now talk is pouring from me like an unstoppable torrent, out of the blue, a complete surprise.

I'm telling Nicole everything. About me, about Ronan, about how we met, fell in love, lived. How I believed in him, in us, in our future, but at the same time how distant that future felt because, eel-like, he seemed to keep slipping through your fingers. I'm telling her how different we were. Howin his mindI was just there there. A fixture. Therefore, he no longer wanted me, because life, for him, was a launching pad to someplace else. His life was an airport, mine more like a private garden.

I'm telling her about how I missed Ronan all these months, how I still miss him. I'm telling her about the good things, how kind he could be, how warm, how funny and playful he could be at times. And the bastard had to go and destroy it all.

I tell her I can't get him out of my head. I don't know if I will ever be able to get him out of my head, although I don't bother telling her that.

"No one really understands."

"I understand, Julie."

A plane is coming in to land. It seems to hover in the air, motionless as a bird against the wind. Nicole pulls down the light shade over Debbie's eyes to protect her from the glare.

We stand like this for a long time, saying nothing. It's easy, not to have to say anything. It's her presence. It soothes. I can talk to Sylvana for hours and she's great to be withbut with Nicole it's more than that. There's something passive, almost, about her that opens up a space which is safe, where I can feel totally at ease when I talk, where she makes no suggestions, no condemnations, no judgements. She's just there. She doesn't even seem too worried about missing her plane.

This is the first time I've been able to speak like this to anybody since the whole thing started. You know, it's so strange, the fact that she's here listening to me like I've known her for years and yet I know hardly anything about her except that she's a scattered, messed-up girl who experiments with various ways to find happiness in this turbulent life including falling in love with the man I once thought I couldn't live without.

The plane has now landed. You can hear the roar. Its nose has straightened itself as it passes the terminal building, half a mile out, a bullet of shining silver gliding in slow motion through the soft pink light of the runway.

"I'm so sorry, Julie," she says, her lovely eyes peering through the window, perplexed.

"It's okay, Nicole."

She shakes her head as if she doesn't deserve my understanding.

"I feel bad, having to leave like this..." She falters.

I blurt it out now: "Nicole, why don't you both stay with me?"

She stares at me. She thinks I'm just being nice. Thinking of her feelings.