I wasn't attracted to him.

Although I probably would have been if circumstances had been different.

He wasn't attracted to me.

We were just two adults who happened to like each other's company.

I was a married woman.

On Monday I would be ringing James.

Adam was spoken for. If not by my sister Helen, then by some other woman, I didn't doubt.

So no big deal.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" he asked.

"Well, I don't know," I told him. "I haven't really got into any routine since I came back from London. I suppose I'll just take care of Kate."

"Well, that's why I was asking you how long it is since you've had Kate.

I was wondering if you'd like to come to the gym with me?"

"Me?" I said in horror. "Why?"

"Not because I think you need to," he said anxiously. "But because I think you might like to."

Me, with my saggy, out-of-shape body, go to the gym with this Adonis?

Was he joking? But on the other hand, my body would stay saggy and out of shape if I didn't do anything about it. And I used to enjoy going to the gym before I had Kate.

Maybe this was the best suggestion I'd heard in a long time.

"Well..." I said cautiously, "I'm very out of shape."

"You've got to start somewhere," he said quickly.

"And who would watch Kate?"

"Wouldn't your mother do it? It would only be for a couple of hours."

"Maybe," I said doubtfully. This was all moving a bit too fast for me.

Goddammit, I only went out to have a drink with Laura. Now I was signing up for some fitness program with a person I'd only met yesterday.

And yesterday evening, at that.161.

"Look, come tomorrow. I bet you'll enjoy it. What have you got to lose?"

he said.

I thought about it.

Nothing, apart from my life if Helen found out.

"Okay, I'll come."

I arranged to meet him the following day in town at three o'clock, though I could hardly believe I was doing it. I finished my tea. He saw me to my car.

He closed my car door for me and stood at the gate-in the rain, I might add-as I drove away.

I was starting to feel guilty before I even got to the end of the road.

Guilt at neglecting Kate.

Guilt at associating with my youngest sister's boyfriend, blameless and all as it was.

Guilt at the idea of wasting time in the gym when I should be talking to a lawyer and sorting out my finances and all that.

As soon as I got home I ran up the stairs to Kate. It was such a relief to see that she was alive and well. I felt so guilty that I was convinced that something terrible had to happen. I held her so tightly I thought I would squeeze the life out of her.

"I missed you, darling," I told her as she struggled for breath. "On Monday I'm going to call Daddy and I'll try and work things out for us.

Everything's going to be fine, I promise."

I had had such a nice evening. I simply couldn't understand why I felt so depressed.162.

fourteen.

I had planned to call Mr. Hasdell, the lawyer whose name Laura had given me, as soon as he got to his desk at nine o'clock the following morning. had planned to call Mr. Hasdell, the lawyer whose name Laura had given me, as soon as he got to his desk at nine o'clock the following morning.

But I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

I fed Kate.

I played with Kate.

I worried about what to wear to the gym.

I worried about what would happen if Helen found out that I was going to the gym with Adam.

I worried in case I was neglecting Kate.

I worried in case Mum refused to watch Kate on the grounds that it would make her an accomplice to my meeting Adam.

I worried about everything other than the important thing.

I knew that I had to call my bank. I had practically no money. But I was far more concerned about how my butt was going to look in the leotard and leggings that I had found in Rachel's room.

My child was growing up without a father, but instead of getting on the phone and calling a family lawyer and trying to work something out, I stood in front of a mirror holding my stomach in, checking my profile and finally, as though the years had rolled away and I was still fifteen, twisting my head around, trying to see what my butt looked like in the mirror.

Mum was highly suspicious when I asked her would she look after Kate for me in the afternoon.163.

"Again?" she asked.

"Yes, but only for a couple of hours," I muttered.

"Why?" she demanded. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing, Mum. I just wanted to go to the gym and start getting back into shape," I told her. I didn't want to lie to her. But I wasn't too comfortable telling the truth either.

"Oh, the gym," she said, sounding quite pleased. "Well, that's good. Just mind that you don't, you know, pull any...you know...do yourself any damage. It's not so long since you gave birth, don't forget."

"Thanks, Mum," I said, amused at her delicacy. "But I think my insides are in fine condition. Raring to go, to be quite honest with you."

I shouldn't have said that.

It made her suspicious again.

I know that she had encouraged me to have a fling with Adam, but I felt so guilty about meeting him that I didn't want anyone to know. So off I drove into town, feeling sick with guilt and the fear of being caught and the fear of something happening to Kate. About halfway there, I decided that I wasn't cut out for this life of deceit and intrigue and child neglect and that I would turn around and go home.

But the traffic was so bad that, by the time I got to turn the car, I was feeling guilty about just leaving Adam standing there. So I decided that I would go in, meet him, tell him that I couldn't meet him-if you follow me-and go right back home again.

And then I couldn't find a parking space. I practically had to get a bus from where I parked the car to where I had to meet Adam.

So I was very late meeting him.

I was running along the road when I saw him standing outside the shop where we had arranged to meet. He was looking up and down the street with an anxious expression on his face, totally oblivious to all the admiring stares he was getting from passing women.

Every time I saw him I got a shock.

I'd forgotten how handsome he is. This tall beautiful man with the long muscley legs is waiting for me me, I thought, feeling a bit overwhelmed.164.

Why?

"Claire!" he said, looking delighted to see me. "I thought you weren't coming."

"I'm not," I mumbled.

"So have you just sent a hologram of yourself along or what?" he asked, smiling.

"No, I mean, Adam...look, I'm not sure if this is a good idea," I stuttered.

"Like, you know..." I trailed off miserably.

"What isn't a good idea?" he asked gently as he steered me out of the path of oncoming pedestrians.

"Meeting you and that...you know, I'm married and all that," I said, not meeting his eyes.

Then I looked up at him and I couldn't believe how hurt he looked.

"I know you're married," he said quietly as he looked down into my eyes. "I wouldn't dare make any assumptions. I don't want to make any moves on you-I want to be your friend."

I was mortified. Absolutely mortified. What on earth made me say that to him? All right, so I was feeling guilty about meeting him. But wasn't that my problem? Why should I attribute any improper motives to him just because I had some myself?

Oh God! Or did I have some improper motives myself?

"Look, you'd better go home," said Adam.

He wasn't being cold and angry, but it was as if he didn't want me to touch him or anything.

"No!" I said.

Jesus, would I ever make up my mind!

"No," I said, not quite so frantically. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I said. I was being silly and overreacting."

We were attracting all kinds of curious and interested looks from the shoppers as they passed in and out of the doorway.

"Great," I overheard one young woman saying gleefully to her companion. "There's nothing I love more than seeing other people arguing."

Her voice floated back to me from up the street. "It makes me feel like I'm not the only person in the world who's miserable."165.

Oh don't worry, I thought, you're not. Adam stared at me and sighed in exasperation.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing," I said. "Can we forget that this happened and just go to the gym like we had planned?"

"All right," he said. But not in a very friendly way.

"Ah, be nice to her. Give her a kiss," called out a scruffy old man who had several opened bottles of Guinness sticking out of his torn overcoat pocket and who had been watching the proceedings with great interest.

"She's sorry. Aren't you, love?"

"Come on," I mumbled to Adam.

I didn't want a crowd to start forming.

"Give her a smack," shouted the old man, who seemed to have suddenly turned a bit nasty. "It's the only language they understand!"

We hurried up the road; the old man's cries got a bit fainter.