I remained silent. And she continued speaking. A misty faraway look in her eyes.

"Lots of marriages go through hiccups," she said. "And people get over them. They learn to forgive. And after a while they even learn to forget. And the marriage is usually stronger afterwards, if you work at it and stay together."

Oh no! I thought. I recognize this scenario. This is the one where the mother reveals to the daughter that the mother had an affair many years ago with someone like her husband's best friend. Or, more likely, that the daughter's father had an affair with someone. ("What? You mean Dad had an affair?") And the mother had been all set to leave him and take the children with her. ("You were only a babe in arms.") But the mother didn't leave. She forgave him. The father was distraught with contrition. And now their marriage was stronger than ever.

But if she had been about to tell me something like that she seemed to change her mind. The misty look cleared from her eyes.

She returned to the present.

"It'll take time for all the hurt to go away," she said. "You can't expect it to just disappear instantly. But, given time, it really will go."

"I don't know, Mum," I mumbled. "This feels all wrong."

"In what way?" she asked.

"I don't know..." I sighed. "There's no feeling of...of...of triumph. Of victory. And I still feel angry with him."

"It's fine to still feel angry with him," she said. "And you have plenty of right to feel angry with him. But talk it over

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with him. Maybe you could both go for marriage counseling. But don't let the anger blind you to everything else. After all, this is the father of your child we're talking about. If you can't swallow the anger on your behalf, think about Kate. Do it for her. Are you going to deprive your child of her father just because you're angry?"

She ended on a very impassioned note.

And before I could respond she was off again.

More impassioned invective.

"And as for wanting to feel triumph or victory at getting him back. That's so empty. So hollow. It really is childish to want to be a winner in this. There are no winners or losers in a situation like this. If you get your mar- riage back in working order then you will be a winner. You will be victori- ous!"

She should get a job writing speeches for revolutionaries. This was stirring stuff!

"All right," I said a bit doubtfully, "if you're sure."

"Oh I am," she said confidently. "Your marriage was very good for a while. Fair enough, you encountered problems. And they weren't dealt with very well. But you've probably both learned from this."

"I suppose," I said.

"And it just goes to show that you can't have been as bad as he makes out if he wants you back." She grinned.

But I didn't find it funny.

I was still finding it hard to believe that I had been that difficult at all.

Who was it that said, "Be careful what you wish for. You might get it."

And some saint or other said, "There are more tears caused by answered prayers than unanswered ones."

I could see what they meant.

I had been so hurt. I had loved him so much. And I had wanted James and my marriage and my old life back. And now that I had it, I wasn't so sure what all the fuss was about in the first place.

Why?

I was being given my marriage back, but first of all I had to accept that I was immature and difficult and selfish. And that I had been a burden to James. And I was finding that

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very, very difficult. I mean, I knew it must be true. There was no other reason for him to have left me. But if I wasn't even sure what I was doing wrong, then how the hell could I possibly avoid repeating it?

I still felt great humiliation and hurt about his sleeping with that fat cow. But he wouldn't let me tell him. I felt as if I couldn't whine about it because it made me look selfish and immature. I couldn't win.

I knew I loved him. But I couldn't really remember what it was that I loved about him. He seemed so...so...so pompous. Was he always like that? So sort of humorless and wintry.

And what was the future going to be like?

Would I be afraid to make flippant remarks and tell him funny stories?

Would I be afraid to lean on him and feel taken care of, the way I used to, in case he felt alone and uncared for?

Our roles had been reversed.

And I didn't know how we should behave toward each other.

Everything would have to be relearned. It was very frightening.

What was wrong with the way it had been?

Well, plenty, obviously, if you listened to James.

But I had liked it like that. And I wasn't sure that it could work any dif- ferently.

However, there was only one way to find out. And that was to go back with him and try again.

I had to do it, if only for Kate.

It was worth trying. Because it had been so good.

But right now it was terrible.

I still felt so raw and angry and humiliated. I wanted to give him a smack every time he said how childish I was.

Fine then. Deep breath. Squaring of shoulders.

I would go back to London with him.

Kate was entitled to her daddy.

And I was going to get a chance to put things right.

Funny. You want something so badly it hurts. And then you get it, but it needs so much restoration and renovation and knocking down of walls and rewiring of electricity and

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new plumbing put in that you think, fuck it, I don't want it anymore. I'll settle for something a lot smaller, with no garden, but at least it's finished.

Mum was still sitting looking at me. Her expression was one of anxiety.

"It's okay, Mum. I am going to go back to him. I will try again."

There really didn't seem to be anything else to say.

I stood up and sighed. "I'd better call James and tell him that I'm coming back."

I went to the phone. I felt as if I was about to face a firing squad. I called the LiffeySide.

"James," I said when he answered, "I've been thinking about what we talked about and I've made a decision."

"Which is?" he demanded brusquely.

"I'll come back. I'll try again."

"Good," he said. I could hear the faint smile in his voice. "Good. We'll try harder this time, eh?"