"No, you don't," I said firmly.

"I do," he protested loudly.

"No, you don't," I told him. "If you had loved me you wouldn't have had an affair-"

"But-" he interrupted.

"And," I continued loudly, before he started his speech again, "if you loved me, you wouldn't have wanted me to change into some wimpy woman who was afraid of you. If you loved me you wouldn't have tried to manipulate me or to control me. And most of all, if you loved me, you wouldn't be afraid to admit that you're in the wrong. If you loved me you could rise above yourself and your ego and apologize to me."

"But I do love you," he said, trying to hold my hand, "you've got to believe me!"

"I don't believe you," I told him, shrugging his hand away with disgust.

"I don't know who or what it is that you love, but it certainly isn't me."

"It is!"

"No, James, it isn't," I replied, ultracalmly. "You just want some kind of moron you can control. Why don't you go back to Denise?"

"I don't want Denise. I want you," he said.

"Well, that's a pity," I said evenly, "because you can't have me."

The shock was a bit much for him. He looked like he'd been kicked in the stomach. You know-a bit like the way I had looked the day he told me he was leaving me.

Not that I desired anything as crass as vengeance, you understand.

"And do you know what the worst thing of all is?" I asked him.

"What?" he said, white-faced.

"The fact that you made me doubt myself. I was prepared to try and change the way I am, change who who I am, just for you. You made me abandon all my integrity. You tried to destroy who I am. And I let you!" I am, just for you. You made me abandon all my integrity. You tried to destroy who I am. And I let you!"368.

"It was for your own good," he said, but without conviction.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Choose your next words very carefully, you asshole. They may be your last," I told him.

He went even whiter, if that was possible, and kept his mouth firmly closed.

"I'm never going to let myself be bullied ever again," I said with determination. I like to think that I had some of the grit of Scarlett O'Hara when she gave the "As God is my witness, I'll never be cold or hungry again"

speech. "I'll always be true to what I know I am," I continued. "I'm going to be me, whether it's good or bad. And if any man, even Ashley, tries to change me, I'll get rid of them so fast they'll be dizzy."

James totally missed the Gone With the Wind Gone With the Wind reference. No imagination. reference. No imagination.

"I never tried to bully you," he said, all indignant.

"James," I said, starting to feel weary, "this discussion is closed."

"Well, never mind the past," he said, sounding anxious and hasty. "But how about-hey...how about if I promise that I won't bully you in the future?"

He sounded as if he had just hit on the most innovative and novel idea.

Archimedes hopping out of the bath naked would have seemed restrained and reserved in comparison.

I looked at him with scornful pity. "Of course you're not going to bully me in the future," I said, "because you won't get the chance."

"You don't mean it," he said. "You'll change your mind."

"I won't," I said with a tinkly little laugh.

"You will," he continued to insist. "You'll never last without me."

Wrong thing to say, I'm afraid.

"Where are you going?" he asked, outraged, when he saw me picking up my bag.

"Home," I said simply. If I left now I'd catch the last plane back to Dublin.

"You can't go," he said, standing up.

"Watch me," I said. And did another one of those swivels that my heels were so handy for.369.

"What about the apartment? What about Kate?" he asked.

Well, it was nice to know where his priorities were, the apartment being higher up on his list than Kate.

"I'll be in touch," I promised with a pleasing echo of the words he had uttered to me that awful day in the hospital.

I walked toward the front door.

"You'll be back," he said, following me out to the hall. "You'll never last without me."

"So you keep saying," I said. "But don't hold your breath" were my last words before I pulled the door shut behind me.

I managed to get all the way to the subway station before I started to cry.370.

thirty-five.

I can't really remember much about the subway journey out to Heathrow. can't really remember much about the subway journey out to Heathrow.

The whole thing passed in a daze.

I knew I had done the right thing. At least, I thought I had done the right thing. It was just that this was real life and no decision was clearly sign-posted. It's not like you take the right turning and you get everlasting happiness and you take the wrong one and your life's a disaster. In real life it's often almost impossible to tell which decision is the one you should make because what you stand to gain and what you stand to lose are sometimes-often-neck and neck.

How could I really know if I'd done the right thing? I wanted someone to come up to me with a gold cup or a medal and shake my hand and clap me on the back and congratulate me on making the right decision.

I wanted my life to be like a computer game. Make the wrong decision and I lose a life. Make the right one and I gain points. I just wanted to know.

I just wanted to be sure.

I kept listing the reasons why there could be no future for me and James.

James wanted me to be someone I wasn't. James wasn't happy with me the way I was. And I wouldn't be happy if I changed so that James was happy. And I wasn't happy with James's saint complex. If I took him back James would be happy because then James would think that I condoned everything he did. The way he already condoned everything he did himself.

It would probably mean that at the first371.

argument I had with James in our new improved marriage everything would split wide-open all over again. James was pompous and sanctimonious and James thought that I was flighty and immature. I was sure it was for the best that the marriage really was over now. It was just that there was always room for a little bit of doubt.

You know, I wondered if I had been nicer, if I had been stronger, more gentle, more forceful, more patient, sweeter, kinder, nastier, crueler, if I had laid down the law more, if I had kept my mouth shut more, would I have saved my marriage?

I was torturing myself with these thoughts.

Because, at the end of the day, I was the one who made the decision. I was the one who said that the marriage could no longer work. I knew that James hadn't given me much of an option, much of a choice, but I was still the one who'd pulled the trigger, as it were.

I felt so guilty guilty.

And then I told myself not to be so silly. What James was offering me wasn't worth the paper it wasn't written on. It was only a sham of a relationship and it would have been entirely on his terms and it wouldn't have lasted a week. And if it had lasted, it would have been at the expense of my happiness. It would have just been a Pyrrhic victory.

Around and around went my thoughts as I rocked gently on the train, my head chasing its own tail.

God! I hated this business of being grown-up. I hated having to make decisions where I didn't know what was behind the door. I wanted a world where heroes and villains were clearly labeled. Where ominous music starts playing the minute the villain comes on-screen so you can't possibly mistake him.

Where someone asks you to choose between playing with the beautiful princess in the fragrant garden and being eaten by the hideous monster in the foul-smelling pit. Not exactly a difficult one, now, is it? Not something that you would agonize over, or that would make you lose a night's sleep?

Being a victim isn't very nice, but goddammit, it takes a lot of the confusion out of things. At least you know you're in the right right.372.

And I suppose I was disappointed. Very disappointed. I had loved James once. I didn't know whether I did anymore. Or if I did, it wasn't in the same way. But a reconciliation would have been nicer than no reconciliation, if you know what I mean. A reconciliation that worked, that is. Not some kind of useless compromise.

And I was sad. And then I felt angry. And then I felt guilty. And then I felt sad again. It was a bloody nightmare!

One thing stopped me from going totally crazy. I realized that there was nothing stopping me from going back to James. Right then, that minute minute, I could get off the train and cross the platform and go straight back to the apartment and tell him that I had been wrong and that we should try again.

But I didn't.

And thick and all as I was, confused, bewildered, mixed-up, distraught, that told me something.

If I'd really loved him, really wanted to be with him, I would have gone back.

So I knew I was doing the right thing. I thought.

And off I'd go again.

Heathrow had calmed down a lot. Much quieter. It was lovely. I got on a practically empty flight back to Dublin.

I had a whole row of seats to myself so I was able to sniff and cry in discreet comfort should the urge take me.

The stewardesses were intrigued.

I kept catching little huddles of them looking at me worriedly.

They probably thought that I'd just flown to London for an abortion.

When I got to Dublin it was raining. The runway was slick and shiny in the dark. And the arrivals area was deserted. I walked past the silent carousels, my sexy high heels echoing on the tile floors.

I hadn't told anyone that I was coming back, so there was no one to meet me.

There didn't seem to be anyone there to meet anyone.

I spotted a lone porter. He was busy telling some bewildered man that to miss one flight was unfortunate but to miss two was careless.373.

I click-clacked past all the shuttered shops, the bureaux de change that stood in darkness, the deserted car rental stands. I finally got as far as the rain-soaked entrance.

There was a single taxi waiting outside in the wet night. The driver was reading a newspaper.

He looked as though he'd been there for several days.

He drove me home in unexpected silence. The only sounds were the swish of the windshield wipers and the noise of the rain drumming on the roof of the car.

We drove through the sleeping suburbs and he eventually deposited me outside my home. It was all in darkness. I civilly thanked him for the journey. He civilly thanked me for the sum of money I handed over. We said good-bye.

It was ten minutes past one.

I let myself in quietly. I didn't want to wake anyone.

Not out of consideration for them, I'm afraid. But because I didn't want to answer any of the inevitable questions.

I was longing to see Kate but she wasn't in my room.

Mum must have thought that I wouldn't be home and moved the crib into her and Dad's room.

But I ached to hold her. I missed her so much.

I tiptoed into Mum's room to take Kate, hoping desperately that I wouldn't wake Mum.

I rustled the child successfully. And then fell into bed, exhausted. Asleep with Kate in my arms.374.