didn't expect to be quite so upset, but I cried all night. I cried for the loss of my fantasies, for the loss of my dreams. And I cried at the memory of what it is like to be alone.

Last night, drowning in tears, Nick rang, and this time I didn't pick up the answer phone. He left a message — in other circumstances I would say a very sweet message — saying that he'd had a lovely time, and that he was sorry for compromising me, and that he hoped he hadn't offended me, but if I wanted to call him he would be there.

But I don't want to call him. I don't want to confuse the issue any further, and the only issue that's important right now is Ed.

Ed. I called him. Last night. I managed to calm down enough to pretend there was nothing wrong, although the first thing he asked was whether I had a cold because I sounded sniffly. He told me he loves me very, very much, and he said he'd missed me desperately, and we arranged to meet this evening

He wants to take me out for dinner, a romantic evening, just the two of us, and I nearly broke down when he said this, because he doesn't have a clue what I'm going to say to him tonight.

I could have told him on the phone, but even I'm not that much of a bitch. I have to be brave, I have to do this face to face, and I feel physically sick at the very thought.

And then, at the end of the conversation, he said, 'Darling, I think it's time we went shopping for a ring,' and I didn't say anything. I couldn't say anything, and when I said we'd talk about it tonight, he sounded worried.

I feel like I've been drugged. I suppose that crying all night does that to you. You move as if in slow motion, your head too thick and fuzzy to think clearly, and eventually I ring Jules, because I can't do this on my own. I need to tell her what happened yesterday, to describe my feelings.

She knows instantly that something's wrong, and orders me over there immediately. They have a lunch with friends, but she sends Jamie off by himself, not, however, before I have a chance to see them together, to see how they are post-trauma. Jamie is being extra affectionate towards her, and, although I can see she is trying to resist, when he puts his arms around her to say goodbye she leans into him and the expression on her face is one of relief.

And when he leaves she sits me down and makes me milky sweet tea without saying anything, just waits for me to start.

Haltingly I start to tell her about Nick, and when I've finished she doesn't say anything for a while, so I start blabbering and everything comes out in a big rush.

'I can't marry him,' I say, tears already filling my eyes. 'I can't. He's not what I want, and more importantly I'm not what he wants. Nick's right. I've realized that all this time he's been trying to turn me into the investment banker's wife, and that's not me, it never will be, and I never laugh with Ed, and you were right about everything, about me falling for the fantasy, and even though I know it was an appalling thing to do with Nick I think something like that had to happen to jolt me back to reality, and the thing is I'm seeing Ed tonight, and he's not a bad person, and I do genuinely think he adores me, and I just don't know what to say to him or how to say it, because however I put it it's going to destroy him.' I stop, taking a deep breath.

Jules still doesn't say anything, so I carry on. 'And you know the worst thing is that I don't love him, I don't think I even like him that much, and I know I was wrong to get into that with Nick, but you see kissing him, Nick I mean, has made me understand just how much is missing with Ed, I mean our sex life is crap. Really. Awful.'

I never thought I'd be able to stay in a relationship where the sex was awful. I always assumed I was one of those women with a high sex drive who would disappear out the door if they were crap, but I suppose it's amazing what you'll talk yourself into when you want something so desperately. That's it. I can't believe how desperately I wanted to get married.

'I know it's hard,' Jules says finally. 'But you're doing the right thing. Everything I've said to you is finally sinking in, and yes, Ed is a lovely guy, but he's not for you, and thank God you've seen that now rather than a year into the marriage.'

I nod sadly.

'Do you think you would have actually gone through with it?'

'I don't know.' I shrug sadly. 'I think I just wanted to get married, but I'm sure at some point, even if it hadn't been for Nick, I would have realized all this. I think I've probably known it for a while, but I didn't have the heart to admit it to myself because he's the first man who's wanted to marry me and on paper he has everything I've ever wanted.'

'Does this mean you've finally understood that money isn't everything?' Jules grins, and I smile back.

'Not everything,' I say. 'But all this means is that I'll have to make it myself.'

'Which is a far healthier attitude.'

'Yeah. I know.'

'So you're going to tell him tonight?'

'Oh God.' I sink my face into my hands. 'This is going to be the hardest thing I've ever done.'

Jules looks worried. 'But you have to,' she says firmly. 'You have to be very honest and say that you won't make him happy.'

'So I put the blame on myself rather than on him?'

She nods. 'Isn't that what men always do?'

I stay at Jules's all morning, and by lunchtime I'm starting to feel much better. Until, that is, three o'clock approaches and I know that I've got to face my parents for tea.

Jules gives me a hug at the door and wishes me luck, and says I must call her when it's done, and I drive straight to my parents, feeling this cloud of dread hanging over me, and wondering how on earth to tell my parents.

My mother, being the witch that she is, can see something's wrong as soon as I walk in.

'You look like you've been crying,' she says, stepping in for a closer look. 'I hope everything's all right with you and Ed. What's the matter?'

'Nothing,' I mutter, going into the living room and moving aside the newspaper in front of my father's face so I can kiss him hello.

My mother follows me in. 'I know something's wrong, dear,' she says firmly. 'You may as well tell us now, get it out of the way, but I must say that I do hope it's nothing to do with Ed.'

'Uh oh,' says my father, shuffling his feet into his slippers. 'Girl talk. I'll leave you two alone, shall I? I'll be out in the garden.'

'Come on, then, out with it.'

'Leave me alone, Mum. I don't want to talk about it.'

'Have you two had a lovers' tiff? I shouldn't worry about that, it'll blow over.'

I sit there with my arms crossed, staring at the mute television picture, and refuse to speak as my mother perches on the edge of the armchair and mimics my pose.

'I hope it's nothing serious,' she says, and before she has a chance to say anything more I stand up and march outside, 'I'm going to see what Dad's done in the garden,' I shout over my shoulder as I step through the french windows.

My dad's dead-heading the roses, and I stand next to him as he hands me the dead-heads in silence. My dad and I have never exactly had long conversations, but I know that the only way to do this is to tell him first — yet I don't know how to tell him, I don't know which words to use.

'Is it Ed, then?' my dad says slowly, not looking at me, just reaching up to a particularly high branch.

'Yes.'

'Is it over?'

'Yes. Well. Not yet. But it will be tonight.'

My dad just nods and carries on.

'D'you think I'm doing the right thing?'

My dad stops and finally looks at me.

'I couldn't tell you this before. I couldn't even tell your mother, not when she was so excited about having a rich son-in-law, but he wasn't for you, Libby. He wouldn't have made you happy.'

'You didn't like him, did you, Dad?'

'It wasn't that I didn't like him,' my dad says slowly. 'It was just that he lives in a completely different world, and I worried that he didn't really approve of you the way you are, that he was trying to change you into something else.'

God, I never realized my dad was that perceptive.

'And I didn't think you loved him,' he continues, walking over to the bench at the end of the garden and sitting down before I join him.

'You see, the thing is,' he says after we've both sat for a while in the sunshine, 'the thing is that love is really the most important thing. I know it's hard for you to see it now' — he chuckles quietly — 'but when I first laid eyes on your mother I thought she was fantastic, and I've never stopped loving her, not for a second. Oh yes, we've had our rough patches, and she can be a bit of an old battleaxe at times, but I still love her. That in-love feeling at the beginning settles down into a different, familiar sort of love, but it has to be there right from the start, otherwise it just won't work.'

He looks at me and smiles. 'You didn't love Ed. I could see that, but I couldn't say anything as long as you thought he was making you happy.' He sighs, stands up and stretches before saying, 'Do you want me to tell your mother?'

An hour later I'm sitting at the kitchen table watching my mother still wiping the tears from her eyes.

'What am I going to tell everyone?' she sniffles. 'How could you do this to me?'

I shrug, not bothering to reply.

'You know, Libby, you may not find another man who treats you like Ed treated you.'

'But Mum,' I sigh, 'I don't love him. I'm never going to love him.'

'And since when was that important? As I've said to you before, Libby, it's far more important to find a good man, and Ed is definitely a good man.'

'But you and Dad were in love when you met.'

'Pfff.' She rolls her eyes. 'It was so long ago I can't remember, but I'm sure it was about the same as you and Ed.'

'Dad told me when he first saw you he thought you were fantastic.'

Her face lights up and she beams as she says, 'Did he? Oh well, I suppose I was a bit of a looker in those days.'

'And he said you were madly in love.' Okay, artistic licence here.

My mother practically simpers. 'He was terribly handsome himself, your father. When he was young.'

'You see?' I persist. 'I've never thought Ed is terribly handsome, and I've never felt madly in love with him, but I tried to pretend that that was okay, that I didn't need more, but now I've realized that I do. And I'm really sorry that Ed won't be your son-in-law, but you should want what's best for me, and it isn't him. I'm sorry, but it just isn't.'

My mother opens her mouth as if she's about to say something, but, wonder of wonders, she doesn't seem able to think of anything to say, anything to prove me wrong. For once in my life I think she sees my point, and I think it's rendered her completely speechless.

So finally, after my traumatic afternoon, I head home in preparation for an even more traumatic evening, and maybe this is slightly sick, but I make far more of an effort tonight. I wear a biscuit-coloured jumper and taupe trousers, and I'm tempted to carry the Gucci bag, but I don't, just in case he asks for it back. I do my make-up very slowly, making sure everything's perfectly blended, making sure I look my absolute best.

I'm ready well before the appointed hour, and pour a stiff vodka to steel myself, to provide me with Dutch courage, and I phone Jules for some moral support.

'You'll be fine,' she tells me. 'You need to be strong and know that you are doing the right thing.'

So when the doorbell goes at seven thirty, I walk towards it feeling strong, feeling calm, in control, but as soon as I open the door and see Ed standing on the doorstep, already looking crestfallen, I know that this really is going to be, as I predicted, one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.

But I also know, looking at his face, that I have to do it. That there is no going back. That I will not be tempted, even for an instant, to take the easy route and stay in this relationship, not even for one more night.

Ed leans forward and gives me a kiss, and I turn my head so he catches the corner of my mouth, and I look away quickly, so I don't have to see the confused expression on his face.

'You look beautiful,' he says. 'I've missed you,' and he tries to pull me in for a kiss but I breeze away to pick up my coat.

'Shall we go?' I say, and I see that he doesn't understand; that he knows he's missing something, only he's not entirely sure what it is.

We walk out to the car in silence, and as I climb into the passenger seat I try to remember all the details of this Porsche, because the chances are this will be the last time I'm ever in one. Ed turns on the engine and as we drive he keeps shooting me these worried glances, and I seem to have forgotten the art of making conversation, because I just can't think of anything to say to him.

'Poor Libby,' Ed says finally, as we pull up to some traffic lights, 'I can see you're exhausted. They've obviously been working you far too hard.'

And I should feel something other than pity, but in that instant I do pity him, and I am enormously irritated by the fact that he cannot see what is blindingly obvious: that there is something drastically wrong, and that it's about to get a hell of a lot worse.

'I'm fine,' I say. 'Really. There are just some things I need to talk about with you.'

There! The sad puppy-dog expression! Just as I predicted. Ed finally seems to cotton on to the fact that this isn't just my problem, this somehow involves him as well, and for the rest of the car journey he doesn't say a word. He puts some music on, bloody opera at that, and after a while I lean forward and switch it off, muttering that I've got a headache.

We get out of the car and go into the restaurant, and I am constantly aware that Ed is gazing at me with that ridiculous bloody expression. We sit down and Ed orders me a Kir, and then looks at me, waiting for me to say the words I now think he knows he's going to hear, the words he's terrified of hearing.

I'm not hungry. Really. Food is the very last thing on my mind, but the waiter brings the menu, and I have to make a pretence of looking at it and admiring the dishes, and eventually I order a green salad to start with, and penne as a main course, although right now I do not have a clue how I will manage to pass any food between my lips at all.

We sit in awkward silence, Ed looking at me, me looking at the other diners in the restaurant, wondering how they can be so normal, so happy, so coupley, when I am about to break this man's world apart.

And eventually, after much sighing and spluttering, I manage to get the first sentence out.

'Ed, we need to talk.'

He doesn't say anything. Still. Just looks at me.

I sigh a bit more, and lapse into silence for a few more seconds, moving a few bits of lettuce around my plate, then, putting down my knife and fork. I pick them up again, sigh, and put them down, pushing my hair back with my hands.

'Ed,' I say softly. 'This isn't working.'

And he looks at me. Silently.

'This. Us. I'm not happy. I don't think I'm what you're looking for.'

And he looks at me. Silently.

Now I expected arguments. I expected Ed to tell me that nothing in life is easy, least of all relationships, and that things need to be worked at, and that he would be willing to do anything to save this relationship, and perhaps my voice would become louder as I tried to explain that there is no point in working at it because I have made up my mind.

But I wasn't expecting this. Silence.

'I think you're wonderful,' I say, going to take his hand to reinforce the point, but Ed moves his hand away, which shocks me slightly. I sit back and try again. 'You are an incredible man. You are loving, giving, you have so many wonderful qualities, but I'm not the right woman for you.'

At least I didn't say I'm not ready for a relationship, which is what you're always supposed to say in these circumstances, isn't it? Not that it makes any difference. No matter what the words are, the sentiments are the same: I don't love you enough to stay with you.

'You will meet someone one day who is perfect for you,' I say earnestly, although even as I'm saying these words they sound patronizing as hell, 'and I wish it were me. I wish I could be the woman you want me to be, but I can't.'

And he looks at me.

The waiter comes over and says, 'Is everything okay?', and Ed ignores him, still looking at me, but I force a smile and tell him it's fine but we're not that hungry, and he raises an eyebrow, takes the plates away.

And from thereon in it is quite possibly the most awkward, uncomfortable, desperately sad evening I have ever spent. We sit there, Ed and I, in silence, Ed still looking at me, and me still looking around the restaurant, and when the bill finally comes we stand in silence and walk outside and into his car.

'Umm, I think it's probably a good idea for me to come back now and get my stuff.' It could have waited, but I want this over, I want to be out of this, I don't want anything of mine to remain entangled with Ed's life.

So we go back to his house and Ed waits downstairs while I throw my nightdress, toothbrush, the few bits and pieces I had left there, into a bag, and when I come downstairs I find Ed sitting in the kitchen staring into space.

He looks at me, stands up and walks outside to the car, and this time he doesn't even attempt to use music to fill the silence that is becoming more and more oppressive by the second. And when, finally, we pull up outside my house, I look at him sadly, and twist his key off my keyring. 'You'd better have this back,' I say, and he nods.

'Can I call you?' I say, not because I want to call him, but because I can't just climb out of the car and say goodbye. Because I have never been in this position before, and I have absolutely no idea how to end this cleanly, how to, in fact, end this at all. Ed shrugs, and then, evidently having thought about it, shakes his head, and we sit there for a while, both of us presumably feeling like shit, and then I reach over, kiss him on the cheek, and get out of the car.

He still hasn't uttered a word.

And later that night, while I'm lying in bed crying, because I never realized how much it would hurt to cause that much pain to someone who loves you, it suddenly strikes me that the reason Ed didn't say anything, at all, all evening, was because he was holding back the tears.