She folded away the document in her hand and she forced hope upon herself. It would all be OK. Some day. London was the place. She’d meet another man there. Even if sometimes it really depressed her how crap other men were. By comparison, she conceded. It might help if she stopped using Oliver as a yardstick.

Once back in London she’d do her best to avoid him. Their paths might cross occasionally in the course of work and they would smile civilly at each other. Until the time came when they could meet, work and not think of what might have been, the other life they might have lived. Time would pass and one day, some day, it wouldn’t matter any more.

But I’ve failed, she admitted, in a wash of excoriating honesty. I’ve failed and it’s my fault. I can’t fix this, I can’t make it go away and I will have to live with it for the rest of my life.

She’d always been the sum of her triumphs. One success stacked on top of another had made Lisa who she was. So where did this failure fit in? And it would have to, because she was visited with the understanding that our lives are a succession of experiences and that the broken ones count as much as the perfect ones.

This pain has changed me, she admitted. This pain that is not going to go away for a very long time has made me a nicer person. Even if I don’t want to be, she acknowledged wryly. Even if I consider it a fate worse than death, I am softer, kinder, better.

And I’m glad I was married to Oliver, she thought defiantly. I’m sorry and sad and pissed off that I messed it up, but I’ll learn from it and I’ll make certain it won’t happen again.

And that was the best she could do.

She sighed heavily, picked up her bag, then left for work like the survivor she was.

When she reached the office it was abuzz – with preparations for Lisa’s leaving party on Friday. It was almost as elaborate an operation as the launch party. Lisa planned to leave Dublin in a blaze of glory. She’d already told Trix she was holding her personally responsible for the leaving present and that if they got her a Next voucher she’d maim her.

‘Lisa,’ Trix held the phone out. ‘It’s Tomsey from the curtain department at Hensards. Your wooden blind is finally ready!’

At close of business that day, Lisa cornered Ashling as they got the lift down to the lobby. She was anxious to clear something up with her.

‘I want you to know,’ Lisa emphasized, ‘that I put your name forward to be editor and I sang your praises to the board. I’m sorry you didn’t get it.’

‘It doesn’t matter, I’d hate to be editor,’ Ashling insisted. ‘I’m one of life’s second-in-commands, and we’re just as important as leaders.’

Lisa laughed at Ashling’s blithe self-possession. ‘The girl they’ve appointed seems fine. Could have been worse, it could have been Trix!’

Lisa had no doubt that one day Trix would edit a magazine and so ruthlessly she’d make Lisa look like Mother Teresa by comparison. But at the moment Trix had other things on her mind. The fish-mongrel had been shown the door to make way for Kelvin and a wild office romance was underway. It was a ‘secret’.

As the lift doors opened Lisa sharply nudged Ashling and sneered, ‘Well, look who it is.’

It was – of all people – Clodagh, looking extremely nervous.

‘What does she want?’ Lisa asked aggressively. ‘Come to try and nick Jack from you? Cow! Want me to tell her that her husband tried to pork me?’

‘That’s a lovely offer.’ Ashling heard her voice from far away. ‘But no need, thanks.’

‘Sure? See you tomorrow then.’

Clodagh stepped forward when Lisa left. ‘Just tell me to get lost if you want, but I was wondering if we could talk.’

Ashling was helpless with shock and it took a while to find words. ‘We’ll go to the pub next door.’ They located a seat and ordered drinks and all the while Ashling couldn’t stop staring at Clodagh. She looked good, she’d had her hair cut much shorter and it suited her.

‘I’ve come to apologize,’ Clodagh said awkwardly. ‘I’ve grown up an awful lot over the past few months. I’m different now.’

Ashling nodded stiffly.

‘I see how selfish and self-obsessed I was and how cruel I’ve been,’ Clodagh spilled. ‘My punishment is having to live with all the damage I’ve caused. You hate me and I don’t know if you’ve seen Dylan lately, but he’s ruined. He’s so angry and… hard.’

Ashling agreed. She didn’t like being around him any more.

‘Did you know that I asked him to come back and he wouldn’t?’

Ashling nodded. Dylan had almost taken out an ad on national television to publicize it.

‘Serves me right, huh?’ Clodagh managed a weak smile.

Ashling didn’t answer.

‘We’ve sold the house in Donnybrook and me and the kids are living in Greystones now. Miles out, but it was all we could afford. I’m a single mother now since Dylan decided he couldn’t cope with custody. It’s a steep learning curve –’

‘What was it all about?’ Ashling interrupted sharply.

Clodagh twitched anxiously at the anger in Ashling’s voice. ‘Something I’ve been asking myself a lot.’

‘And? Any conclusions? Bad patch in your marriage? They all have them, you know.’

Clodagh swallowed nervously. ‘I don’t think it was just that. I should never have married Dylan. This is probably hard to believe but I don’t think I ever really fancied him. I just thought he was the kind of man you married – he was so good-looking and charming and had a good job and was responsible…’ She glanced anxiously at Ashling, whose set, thunderous face wasn’t exactly encouraging. ‘I was twenty and selfish and I didn’t have a clue.’ Clodagh longed to be understood.

‘And what about Marcus?’

‘I was desperate for some fun and excitement.’

‘You could have taken up bungee-jumping.’

Clodagh nodded miserably. ‘Or white-water rafting.’ But Ashling didn’t laugh. She’d honestly thought she would. ‘I was unfulfilled and frustrated,’ Clodagh attempted. ‘At times I used to feel like I was being suffocated –’

‘Lots of mothers are bored and frustrated,’ Ashling snapped. ‘Lots of people are. But they don’t have affairs. Especially not with their best friend’s boyfriend.’