"Well, you know the way James left me and went off and lived with someone else and didn't even know Kate's name. Well, it's all okay now.

Because it was my fault. I was asking for it. Apparently I was begging for it. Down on my knees begging for it!"

I swung into my room, leaving three astonished faces at the bottom of the stairs, their mouths three ohs of surprise.

Kate started bawling when she saw me. And just for the hell of it, I decided to join in. I was not finding this blame-acceptance thing easy, as you may have gathered.

But I took my frustration with the situation out on Helen, Anna and Mum, when I should have voiced it to James. And that wasn't fair to the girls and Mum. A little voice reminded me that I had tried to tell James about it and he'd said it was305.

further proof of my childishness. Well, he was probably right. He usually was.

What a pain in the ass, I thought rebelliously.

And now I had to stop being resentful and rebellious. I was no longer a twenty-nine-year-old adolescent. If I was going to be a sensitive, considerate, caring adult then I might as well start now.

I could begin by being responsive to Kate's needs.

"What can I get you, my darling?" I asked. I wondered if that would be mature mature enough for James. I must stop! enough for James. I must stop!

He was right, I was wrong.

I tried to calm the crying child in my arms.

"Clean diaper, perchance? Or can I interest you in a bottle? And we have a wonderful selection of attention and affection. All are available. You only have to ask."

But no, I was even doing that wrong. According to James, people shouldn't even have to ask me for what they wanted. If I was really selfless I should know.

Just to be on the safe side I gave her all of the above. I changed her diaper, fed her and told her she was more beautiful than Claudia Schiffer.

Mum, Anna and Helen materialized in the room. They crept in cautiously, wondering how crazy I had gone.

"Oh, hi," I said when I saw the first tentative head appearing around the door. "Come in, come in. Sorry about that little display in the hall. I was upset. I had no right to take it out on you three."

"Oh, that's fine then," said Helen. The three of them marched in and took up residence on the bed while I tended to Kate and told them the story of my evening.

"So, in a funny way, knowing how difficult I was makes the fact that he left me a bit easier," I told them. "You know, at least it makes sense."

"Claire," said Mum slowly, "I'm sure that you couldn't have been as bad as he makes out."

"I know, I don't understand that either," I admitted. "But when I told him that, he said that was exactly the way he would have expected me to react."

There really wasn't anything anyone else could say.

James had me boxed in good and neatly.306.

That night was terrible. As bad as the early days when James had first left me. When the others finally left, having given up trying to reassure me that I couldn't be that bad, I couldn't sleep. I lay flat on my back, staring into the darkness. Questions buzzed around in my head.

This had all come as a terrible shock. I'd never known that I was so selfish and immature. No one else ever complained before. Granted, I was high-spirited. And maybe a bit noisy and lively. But I honestly thought I was considerate of other people's feelings.

The thought crossed my mind that maybe, just maybe, James was perhaps exaggerating how bad I had been. Was even making it up. I dismissed that idea again almost as quickly. That was just me trying to escape the blame.

Why would James do something like that if it wasn't true? As he'd said himself-and his words kept going around and around in my head-"If I had been happy, why would I have left?"

I admit that I absolutely hated being wrong. I was really bad at graciously admitting that I was in error. I felt burning, raw, exposed, mortified. I had been so smug. I'd thought that I had right on my side. It was very humbling to find that I hadn't.

Even when I was a little girl and didn't get all my spelling words right at school, I found it very hard to bow my head and swallow and say, "You are right and I am wrong."

Well, practice makes perfect.

I finally slept.307.

thirty.

Dad woke me the following morning by thrusting a huge manila envelope under my nose. "Here," he said ill-temperedly. "Take this. I'm late for work."

"Thanks, Dad," I said sleepily, dragging myself up in the bed as I pushed my hair out of my eyes.

I looked at the letter. It had a London postmark. With a little cold thrill, I realized it was the deed to the apartment and all the other documents that James had asked to be sent over.

I toyed with the idea of ringing the Vatican to report a miracle. Surely nothing had ever arrived from London to Dublin that quickly ever before?

I toyed with the idea of calling James instead.

It might be better if I called James.

Though I'd probably get a better reception at the Vatican.

I found the number of the LiffeySide in the phone book. Some woman answered. I asked to speak to James.

She told me to hold on a moment while she went to get him. While I was waiting I could hear noises in the background that sounded like machine gun fire. Now, granted, it might only have been the washing machine, but if you knew the LiffeySide and the street it was on, you'd be more inclined to put your money on it being machine gun fire.

"Hello," said James. He sounded all officious and important.

"James, it's me," I told him.308.

"Claire," he said attempting to sound friendly. "I was just about to call you."

"Were you?" I asked politely, wondering why that was. Had he just remembered some other awful way I used to treat him? Had he omitted some important criticism about my behavior in public that he had meant to tell me last night?

Now, now, I warned myself. Be selfless and adult about this.

"Would you believe it?" he asked disbelievingly. "Not one newspaper shop in this city opens before nine o'clock. I've been trying to get the FT FT since I got up, not a chance."

"Well, well, would you believe that?" I said, feeling a surge of irritation.

But I tried to hide it. I had to bear in mind that although the Financial Times Financial Times wasn't important to me, it was important to another human being, namely James, so, as an altruistic, caring, empathetic person, I wasn't important to me, it was important to another human being, namely James, so, as an altruistic, caring, empathetic person, I should should care. care.

"Was that why were you just about to ring me?" I asked. "To tell me that?"

"No, no, no. Why was it? Oh yes," he said, remembering. "I wanted to see if you were feeling all right after last night. I realize that I may have been a little bit...well... hard hard on you. I can see now that you had no idea that you were behaving so selfishly and thoughtlessly. The truth may have come as a bit of a shock to you." on you. I can see now that you had no idea that you were behaving so selfishly and thoughtlessly. The truth may have come as a bit of a shock to you."

"Well, a bit," I admitted. The confusion started up again. I felt like a suspect being interrogated by two policemen, one nice one and one nasty one. Just when I'd gotten used to one of them being nasty to me, the other starts by being extra nice and making me want to cry and hug him. Except there was only one James. But the effect was the same. Now that he was being nice to me I wanted to, yes, you guessed it, cry and hug him.

"You weren't deliberately awful," he went on. "You just weren't aware."

"No," I sniffed. "I wasn't."

I was so glad glad that he was being nice to me at last. I could have cried with relief. that he was being nice to me at last. I could have cried with relief.

"Must try harder," he said with a little laugh. "Isn't that right?"309.

"Um, yes, I suppose so. Good news, James," I said, getting to the point of my phone call.

"What's that?" he asked. He sounded pleased and indulgent.

"The documents have arrived!" I said triumphantly. "I could hardly believe it. It must be a first for the Irish postal system."

"So?" he asked sharply.

Oh God, I thought, I've annoyed him again. I see what he means. I seem to do it without even realizing it.

"So, it's good..." I said limply. "We needn't waste any more time. We can start sorting things out immediately."

"Oh." He sounded a bit dazed. A bit stupid.

"Oh," he said again. "Right. Fine."

"Why don't you come over here?" I suggested. "No boiling oil, I promise you."

I forced myself to laugh in a gently humoring way.

As though the very suggestion that he might suffer any kind of injury at my hands or at the hands of my family was ludicrous.

"Fine," he said shortly. "I'll be with you in an hour."

And he hung up! Just like that.

A brief thought flickered across my brain.

Was James schizophrenic?

Or was there any history of madness in his family?

I was as sure as hell finding it difficult to keep up with all these mood changes.

Something had to be causing it. had to be causing it.

Maybe I'd find out when he arrived. Meanwhile I was going to have a sneak preview of the deeds just to see if I actually had any rights at all.

Precisely one hour later, the doorbell rang. It was James.

He greeted me with a little smile and an inquiry after Kate's health.

"Well, why don't you ask her yourself?" I asked him.

"Oh, um, fine then," he said.

We went into the dining room, where Kate was. James hesitantly tickled her. I went to the kitchen to make coffee.

I reappeared with the coffee and turned to James with a smile. "Right then," I said pleasantly. "Shall we start?"310.

I gestured to the documents, which were spread out on the table.

We both sat down.

"I thought it would be best if we started with the deed to the apartment first," I said.

"Okay," he said faintly.

"Now, if you look at this clause here," I said, pointing to one that referred to selling the apartment before the mortgage was paid off, "you'll see that..."

I launched into explanations and suggestions, peppered with the odd bit of legalese. I was proud of myself. I sounded as if I knew exactly what I was talking about. Absently, I hoped that I was impressing him. Even though we had split up it was important to me that he started to think of me as a capable woman and not some spoiled, dizzy, bimbo.

After a while I noticed that he wasn't paying any attention to what I was saying.

He just sat back in his chair and looked at my face, not at the document that I was so painstakingly explaining to him.

I stopped mid-disclaimer clause and said, "James, what's wrong? Why aren't you paying attention?"

He ruffled my hair affectionately-which came as quite a surprise, let me tell you-and said with a little smile, "You can stop now, Claire. I'm convinced."

"Convinced about what?" I asked him.

What the hell was he talking about now?

"I'm convinced that you've changed. You don't have to keep up this act."

"What act?" I asked blankly.

"You know," he said, smiling into my eyes. "This pretense that we're going to sell the apartment and settle on child support for Kate. You can stop now."

I didn't say anything. What on earth could I say?