"Yes," she said tearfully. "Can you believe it?"260.

"But I thought you didn't care about him," I said in surprise.

"So did I," she sobbed. "And wait until you hear! Guess why he dumped me."

"Why," I asked, wondering what was the reason. Had she finally run out of socks?

"Because he's met someone else," declared Laura. "And guess what age she is."

"Thirteen," I hazarded.

"No!" she shouted. "Thirty-bloody-seven!"

"Good God!" I said.

I was shocked.

"Yes," she said, barely able to speak because she was crying so much.

"He says that I'm immature."

"The little pup."

"That he needs someone more centered."

"How dare he!"

"And I was just doing him a favor by going out with him. And he's just left me here," she sobbed. "Without a sock to my name."

"Jesus, that's grim," I said, shaking my head in a resigned way.

"Look," she said in a tragic way, "I have to go. I'll be late for work. I'll talk to you later."

And she hung up.

How about that? She probably thought I was calling to spill the beans about my night of passion with Adam. Little did she know of the great drama that had occurred in the meantime.

I sat looking at the phone for a few seconds.

Who would I call?

No one, I decided.

I'd try to deal with this on my own.

If I couldn't deal with my own life, I couldn't in all fairness expect anyone else to be able to.

I took a shower, washed my hair and went back into my room, where some pointless argument seemed to be in process among Anna, Helen (of course) and Mum. All three of them were shouting at the same time. Kate was lying in her bassinet being completely ignored.261.

"I did not not make a face at you," Anna denied as emphatically as she could, which wasn't very much. make a face at you," Anna denied as emphatically as she could, which wasn't very much.

"You bloody well did," Helen said.

"It wasn't a face," Mum said, trying to pour oil on water that was very troubled indeed. "It was more of a look."

The babel of voices stopped abruptly as soon as I came into the room and all three of them turned their faces expectantly toward me. It seemed that they had decided to abandon their internecine differences and unite with me against the common enemy, James. They ran around, got me clothes and dressed me up.

"You have to look beautiful," said Anna.

"Yes," agreed Helen. "But you have to look as if you didn't try at all.

Like you just flung on any old thing."

"But he's only calling me at ten o'clock," I reminded them. "He didn't say anything about coming over."

"Yes," said Mum. "But he didn't come all the way to Dublin just to call you. He could have done that from London."

Good point.

"Okay girls," I said to Anna and Helen. "In that case make me beautiful."

"We said we'd loan you clothes and do your makeup," said Helen. "We never said that we could do miracles." But she was smiling as she said it.

We finally agreed that I would wear the leggings and blue silk shirt that I had worn the day Adam came to tea.

Adam, I thought longingly for a moment.

But then I pushed him firmly to the back of my mind.

Not now, I thought grimly.

"You look nice and skinny," said Helen, standing back and looking at me. "Now for your makeup."

Honestly, she was organizing the whole thing like a military campaign.

Anna's eyes lit up at the mention of doing my makeup. She approached with a plastic bag that seemed to be full of crayons and pencils.

"Get away," Helen told her irritably, elbowing her aside. "I'm doing her makeup. You probably want to do face-painting and paint stars and suns and all that new age crap on her." doing her makeup. You probably want to do face-painting and paint stars and suns and all that new age crap on her."

Anna did did look a little bit sheepish. look a little bit sheepish.262.

"No," Helen explained, a bit more kindly. "She has to look as if she's not wearing any makeup at all. Just naturally beautiful."

"Yes," I said, all excited. "Make me look like that."

Why was Helen being so nice to me, I wondered?

Did she suspect that I was in competition with her for Adam? If I was back with James it would mean that she could have a clear shot at Adam.

Or maybe I was just being totally cynical.

I mean, she was my sister, after all.

And anyway, she probably didn't suspect a thing.

I must say, I did look beautiful by the time Helen was finished with me: Fresh-faced, clear-skinned, bright-eyed, casually dressed.

"Smile," she ordered me.

I did.

They all nodded approvingly.

"Good," said Mum. "Do that a lot."

"What time is it now?" I asked.

"Nearly half past nine," said Mum.

"Half an hour to go," I said, feeling nauseous.

I sat on the bed.

Mum, Anna, Helen and Kate were already on it.

"Move over," I said. I was sitting on Anna's foot.

"Ouch," said Helen, as Anna moved and kind of elbowed her in the face.

We were all huddled on the bed, sort of lying on top of each other.

It was like a vigil, they were going to stay there for me until he called. I felt as if we were a raft full of survivors from a shipwreck. All squashed and uncomfortable and crowded, but there was no suggestion that we leave each other.

"Right," said Mum. "We'll play a game."

"All right," we all said in unison.

Except for Kate, of course.

Mum had great games. Word games that we used to play to pass the time on long car journeys when we were young.

For some reason the game that we were actually playing when he called was one thought up by (who else) Helen. Obviously done with more than a nod to my recent condition. It263.

was one in which you have to think of all the different words to describe being pregnant.

I didn't think it was really what Mum had had in mind when she'd encouraged us to make up our own versions of the games that she had taught us.

"Up the pole," shouted Anna.

"On the bubble," screeched Helen.

"Expecting," muttered Mum, torn between disapproval and the desire to win.

"Your turn, Claire," said Anna.

"No," I said. "Shuusssh, is that the phone?"

The room fell silent.

It was.

"Should I answer it?" asked Mum.

"No. Thanks Mum, but I'll do it," I said.

And I left them.264.

twenty-five.

"Hello," I said, for lack of anything better to say.

"Claire," said James's voice.

So, it was him.

We finally got to speak to each other.

"James," I replied.

And then I wasn't quite sure what to say.

I wasn't too current on the etiquette of addressing runaway husbands.

Especially since I was pretty sure that he wasn't in the process of trying to wheedle his way back into my affections.

We need a book. A book that tells us how to address returning runaway husbands.

You know, the type of book that tells us the correct knife to use to shell a scallop and the proper way to address, say, a bishop, for example (just for the record, "That's a lovely ring you're wearing, Your Grace" is usually regarded as polite enough for a first meeting).

So this book would gently instruct us about the correct number of times the word bastard bastard could be used in any one sentence, and when it is regarded as impolite not to use physical violence, etc. could be used in any one sentence, and when it is regarded as impolite not to use physical violence, etc.

For example, if your boyfriend/husband/fella has simply disappeared for a couple of days after a particularly important football match and has just returned to the family home looking green, unshaven and disheveled, it would be appropriate to say:265.