Well, I wasn't going to worry about that yet. It was jumping the gun slightly when I already had my hands full worrying about never meeting a man again.

I didn't mean it really. I wasn't agonizing about never having a man again.

Just mildly concerned.

I decided that I'd go back to London on the fifteenth of July. I could move into my new apartment and give myself and Kate a couple of weeks to settle in and find a babysitter before I went back to work.

Then, in time-honored fashion, I discovered an entire new set of worries. How would I take care of Kate when I was all on my own? I'd become very dependent on having my mother around to suggest reasons why Kate wouldn't stop crying, or eating, or puking or whatever.

"You can always call me," promised Mum.

"Thanks," I said tearfully.

"And I'm sure you'll be fine," she said.

"Really?" I asked pathetically. Even though I was nearly thirty I could still behave like a child when I was around my mother.

"Oh yes," she said. "No one knows how strong they are until they have to be."

"I suppose you're right," I admitted.

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"I am," she said firmly. "How about you? You haven't managed too badly in spite of all you've been through."

"I suppose," I said doubtfully.

"Really," she said. "Remember, if it doesn't kill you, it makes you stronger."

"Am I stronger?" I asked faintly, in my most childish voice.

"Jesus," she said, "when you put on that voice, I do actually wonder."

"Oh," I said, annoyed. I wanted her to be nice to me and tell me that I was wonderful and could cope with anything.

"Claire," she said, "there's no point asking me if you're stronger. You're the one who knows that."

"Well, I am then," I said belligerently.

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"Good." She smiled. "And remember. You said it. Not me."

The Wednesday before I was due to go back, Anna, Kate and I were out in the garden. The weather was still beautiful. Anna was, um, how can I put it, between jobs, so the pair of us had spent the last week lounging around the garden dressed in an assortment of bikini tops and cut-off shorts, trying to get a tan.

I was winning.

I tanned easily, and Anna didn't. But then again, Anna was tiny and dainty and looked lovely in a bikini and I felt like a huge heifer beside her. I wasn't fat anymore. But she was so petite and delicate that she made me feel huge by comparison. I liked being tall. I just didn't like feeling like an East German Olympic athlete.

So if I was winning in the tanning war, it was really only right and just.

When the genes were distributed she got the cute little body. I got the smooth, golden skin.

She got thin legs. I didn't.

I got breasts. She didn't.

Fair is fair.

Our attention was drawn to the kitchen window. Mum had lifted the curtain and was gesturing and knocking.

"What does she want?" said Anna sleepily.

"I think she's saying hello," I said, slowly raising my head from the lounger to look at her.

"Hello," we both said languidly, and waved our arms limply. Mum continued to knock. The gestures that she made seemed to be a lot more frantic and vulgar.

"You go see what she wants," I said to Anna.

"I can't," she said. "You go."

"I'm too sleepy," I said. "You'll have to go."

"No, you go," she said, closing her eyes.

Mum came marching into the garden.

"Claire, phone!" she roared. "And the next time I knock on the window you're to come in. I don't do it for the good of my health, you know."

"Sorry, Mum."

"Keep an eye on Kate," I told Anna as I ran into the house.

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"Mmmmm," she mumbled.

"And put some more sunblock on her," I shouted over my shoulder.

I stumbled into the kitchen, almost blinded by coming into the dim house after the blazing sunlight of the garden.

I picked up the phone. "Hello," I said.

"Claire," said James.

"Oh hello, James," I said, wondering what the hell he wanted. If he hadn't called to tell me that he'd sold our apartment, I didn't want to talk to him.

"How are you, Claire?" he asked politely.

"Fine," I said shortly, wishing he'd get on with it.

"Claire," he said, with great weight, "I have something to tell you."

"Well, go ahead," I cordially invited.

"Claire, I hope you don't mind, but I've met someone else."

"Oh," I said. "Well, what do you want me to say? Congratulations?"

"No," he said. "There's no need for that. But I thought I had better tell you, seeing as you made such a fuss the last time."

With monumental self-control I didn't hang up the phone.

"Thank you, James," I managed. "That's very thoughtful of you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go."

"But don't you want to know all about her?" he said quickly.

"No," I said.

"Don't you mind?" he asked anxiously.

"No." I laughed.

"She's lots younger than you," he said nastily. "She's only twenty-two."

"That's nice," I said mildly.

"Her name's Rita," he said.

"Nice name," I commented.

"She's an actuary," he said, sounding a bit desperate.

"How lovely," I exclaimed. "You must have so much in common!"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he shouted.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I protested.

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"Why are you acting as if you don't give a damn?" he thundered. "I've just told you I've got a new girlfriend!"

"I suppose I must be acting like I don't give a damn because I actually don't give a damn," was the only thing I could come up with.

"Oh, and James," I continued.

"Yes?" he said hopefully.

"Kate is fine," I said. "I'm sure it's just an oversight that you forgot to ask. Now I'm going. Great news! I'm delighted for you. Long may it last and all that. Good-bye." I slammed the phone down.




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