There was a sharp intake of breath from all three of them. They stood shaking their heads sadly at my foolishness. "That's bad," said Anna. "Now he'll know that you still care."

"But I don't don't," I protested violently. "I hate his guts, his uptight, unfaithful, accountant's guts!

"And the bloody nerve of him!" I continued, tears pouring down my blotchy face.

"What?" asked the three, moving forward slightly to hear yet another of James's misdeeds.

"He was upset about the dividing of our things and I, I, was upset about the dividing of our things and I, I, me me! was the one who ended up trying to make him feel better about it. Imagine it! Me Me comforting comforting him him. After all that's happened."

"Men," said Anna, shaking her head in weary disbelief. "Can't live with them, can't live with them."

"Can't live with them," continued Mum, "can't shoot them."

There was a pause. Then Helen spoke.

"Says who?"

"So what's the outcome?" asked Mum.

"None yet," I said. "He's calling this afternoon."

"What are you going to do until then?" Mum asked, her anxious glance straying inadvertently in the direction of the liquor cabinet, even though it had stood empty for many's the long year, but old habits die hard. It might have been more appropriate if her glance had strayed inadvertently out into the garden and under the oil tank, but never mind.

"Nothing," I said. "I'm so tired."283.

"Why don't you go to bed?" she said hastily. "It's been an ordeal for you.

We'll take care of Kate."

Helen looked as if she was about to protest. She opened her mouth mutinously. But then she shut it again.

Nothing short of miraculous, I must say.

"Okay," I said. I dragged myself up the stairs and got into bed still wearing the lovely clothes that I had been decked out in that morning.

There was no trace of the smiling, well-made-up, attractive woman I had been then. Only a red-faced, puffy-eyed, blotchy-skinned wreck.

Mid-afternoon, Mum woke me by gently shaking me by the shoulder, whispering "James is on the phone for you. Will you talk to him?"

"Yes," I said. I stumbled from the bed, clothes all crumpled, half-blinded from sleep in my eyes, drooling like a lunatic.

"Hello," I mumbled.

"Claire," he said crisply, all authority and efficiency. "I've tried to get our deeds faxed over to me but there's no fax shop in this bloody city."

Instantly I felt guilty. He made me feel as if it was all my fault. As though I had personally gone around and shut every fax shop in Dublin just to spite him.

"Oh sorry, James," I stuttered. "If you'd mentioned it I would have suggested that they could have been faxed to Dad's office."

"Well, never mind." He sighed, sounding irritable and exasperated and conveying that, if he wanted something done, he was better off doing it himself and not involving me or any members of my immediate family.

"Anyway it's too late now. They're being mailed and should arrive in the morning."

You'll be lucky, I thought, thinking of the relaxed attitude of the Irish postal system, compared to the English one. But I said nothing. Doubtless when the time came and the documents didn't, I would somehow be made to feel that that was my fault also.

"But I do think that we should meet this evening anyway," he continued efficiently, ever the professional. Time is money, isn't that right, James! But in fairness he did have a point. We had to meet anyway. We had so much to talk about. It made284.

sense. I obviously wanted everything sorted out as quickly as possible so that I could get on with my new life.

I didn't have any other motive, did I?

I wasn't pathetic enough to think that, if he saw enough of me, he might realize that he still loved me?

Maybe I just enjoyed his company.

Maybe hell!

But I had to admit that I was fascinated by the fact that he no longer loved me. You know, in the same sort of way that people always look at the blood on the road and the mangled vehicles being towed away after a car crash. I know that it's horrible but at the same time I'm so drawn to it.

I know that I'll be upset afterward but I still can't stop myself.

Or maybe I just wanted the chance to beat the shit out of him. Who knows?

"Well, what should we do?" he asked. "I would come out to your house but I'm not sure I'm particularly welcome."

I could hardly believe my ears.

How dare he!

He had no right to feel welcome, but at the same time, I had treated him with the utmost good manners.

Which is more than the way he could be said to have treated me.

Hadn't I made him coffee?

Hadn't I not set the dogs on him?

Not that we had any dogs, but that wasn't the point.

Worse still, I could have set Helen on him.

Just what had he been expecting?

The roads from Dublin Airport to be lined with cheering natives, waving Union Jacks? Brass bands and red carpets? A national holiday to be declared? Me greeting him at my front door, wearing a sexy negligee, smiling and saying huskily "Welcome back, darling"?

Frankly, I was baffled.

I wasn't sure what I should say.

Sorry sir, but we're fresh out of fatted calves.

He sounded as if he was sulking. As if he wanted me to say something like, "Oh, don't be so silly, James. Of course you're welcome." But James didn't sulk. He was far too grown285.

up for that. And no man in his right mind could have expected me to welcome him back with open arms.

But what was I going to say?

"I'm sorry you feel that way, James," I managed to say humbly. "If my family or I have behaved in any kind of inhospitable fashion, then I can only offer my apologies."

Of course, I didn't mean a word of it.

If my family had had offended him in any way-if, for example, Helen had attracted his attention when he left the house by making horrible faces or gestures at him from an upstairs window or mooning him or something even worse-then I would personally offer rewards. offended him in any way-if, for example, Helen had attracted his attention when he left the house by making horrible faces or gestures at him from an upstairs window or mooning him or something even worse-then I would personally offer rewards.

But I had to humor James.

Although I was gagging on my polite words, I always had Kate in the forefront of my mind. Nothing would have given me greater pleasure than to tell James just how unwelcome he was, but that would be cutting off my nose to spite my face. I didn't want Kate to grow up without a father, so telling James that he wasn't un un welcome (I'm afraid that that was as far as I was prepared to go) was the price I had to pay. welcome (I'm afraid that that was as far as I was prepared to go) was the price I had to pay.

"Well, should I come over then?" he asked grudgingly.

What was wrong wrong with him? with him?

He was behaving like a manipulative child.

"Oh, James," I said kindly, "I wouldn't want you to come over here if you're not feeling particularly welcome. We both want to be relaxed. Perhaps we should meet in town instead."

There was a long pause while James digested this.

"Fine," he said coldly. "We could go for dinner."

"That sounds nice," I said, thinking, that does does sound nice. sound nice.

"Well, I've got to eat something," he said ungraciously. "So you might as well come along."

"You always were a silver-tongued devil," I said, forcing a smile into my voice. But I felt suddenly so sad.

We arranged to meet at a downtown restaurant at seven-thirty.

And the preparations were, if anything, even more elaborate than the ones that morning.

I wanted, naturally, to look beautiful.

But I decided that I wanted to look sexy also.286.

James had always loved my legs and loved it when I wore high heels, even if they made me nearly as tall as he was.

So I wore my highest pair, with my shortest dress, black, of course and the sheerest pair of stockings I could find.

As luck would have it, hadn't I shaved my legs only the previous evening? When I was preparing to have sex with Adam, actually. But let's not talk about that right now.

I put on piles of makeup.

"More mascara," urged Helen from the sidelines. "More foundation."

The subtle approach had been, shall we say, less than successful this morning. So now we were going for overkill.

As I applied the stinging stuff that I put on my lips to keep my lipstick in place, it struck me how terrible this all was. So awful. I used to apply my makeup with that kind of care when I was going out with James first.

And now here I was dolling myself up, trying my damnedest to look beautiful for the Grand Finale of our relationship.

It was all such a waste.

Failed relationships can be described as so much wasted makeup.

Forget the laughs, forget the fights, forget the sex, forget the jealousy.

But take off your hat and observe a moment's silence for the legions of unknown tubes of foundation, mascara, eyeliner, blusher and lipstick who died that it might all have been possible. But who died in vain.

I looked at myself in the mirror and, I had to admit it, I looked good. Tall and slim and nearly elegant. Not a watermelon in sight.

"Jesus," said Helen, shaking her head in undisguised admiration. "Look at you. And it's such a short time since you were a fat old bitch."

Praise indeed.

"Put your hair up," suggested Helen.

"I can't, it's too short," I protested.

"No, it's not," she said, and came over to me and swept it up onto the top of my head.

Goddammit, she was right. It must have grown a bit while I completely neglected it over the previous two months.287.

"Oh," I said, delighted. "I haven't had long hair since I was sixteen."

Helen busied herself with slides and clips while I grinned like a lunatic at my reflection in the mirror. "James will be sickened," I said. "He'll be so sorry that he can't have a beautiful babe like me. I'll have him on his knees begging me to take him back as soon as I walk in the door."

My beautiful fantasy of a drooling and contrite James was interrupted by Helen saying loudly, "What have you done to your ears?"

"What's wrong with them?"

"They're kind of purple."

"Oh, that's just the hair color. I suppose we'd better take my hair back down to cover them," I said sorrowfully. I had very quickly grown attached to this sophisticated look.

"No, no, we'll think of something," said Helen with a bit of a gleam in her eye. "Stay there." And off she went.

She arrived back with Anna, who whistled when she saw me, and a couple of cloths and a bottle of turpentine.

"You do that ear," instructed Helen. "And I'll do this one."