OLLY LOOKED AROUND TO SEE if anyone else in the café had noticed and she slowly pulled out a chair and sat down beside Richard. Had she said something wrong? She looked at Richard's face in shock, not knowing what to do or what to say. She could safely say that she had never been in this situation before. Tears rolled down his face and he tried with all his might to stop them.

"Richard, what's wrong?" she said, confused, and she placed her hand awkwardly on his arm and patted it.

Richard continued to shake with tears.

The plump lady dressed in a canary yellow apron this time made her way around the counter and placed a box of tissues on the table beside Holly.

"Here you go," she said, handing Richard a tissue. He wiped his eyes and blew his nose loudly, a big old-man blow, and Holly tried to hide her smile.

"I'm sorry for crying," Richard said, embarrassed, and avoided eye contact with her.

"Hey," she said softly, placing her hand more easily on his arm this time, "there's nothing wrong with crying.

It's my new hobby these days, so don't knock it."

He smiled at her weakly. "Everything just seems to be falling apart, Holly," he said sadly, catching a tear with the tissue before it dropped from his chin.

"Like what?" she asked, concerned at her brother's transformation into somebody she didn't know at all. Come to think of it, she had never really known the real Richard. She had seen so many sides to him over the past few months he had her slightly baffled.

Richard took a deep breath and gulped back his tea. Holly looked up at the woman behind the counter and ordered another pot.

"Richard, I've recently learned that talking about things helps," Holly said gently. "And coming from me that's a huge tip, because I used to keep my mouth shut thinking I was superwoman, able to keep all feelings inside."

She smiled at him encouragingly. "Why don't you tell me about it."

He looked doubtful.

"I won't laugh, I won't say anything if you don't want me to. I won't tell a soul what you tell me, I'll just listen," she assured him.

He looked away from her and focused on the salt and pepper shakers at the center of the table and spoke quietly, "I lost my job."

Holly remained silent and waited for him to say more. After a while, when she didn't say anything, Richard looked up to face her.

"That's not so bad, Richard," she said softly, giving him a smile. "I know you loved your job, but you can find another one. Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I used to lose my jobs all the time-"

"I lost my job in April, Holly," he interrupted. Then he spoke angrily, "It is now September. There's nothing for me . . . not in my line of work . . ." He looked away.

"Oh." Holly didn't know quite what to say. After a long silence she spoke again, "But at least Meredith is still working, so you still have a regular income. Just take the time you need to find the right job . . . I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but-"

"Meredith left me last month," he interrupted her again, and this time his voice was weaker.

Holly's hands flew to her mouth. Oh, poor Richard. She had never liked the bitch, but Richard had adored her.

"The kids?" she asked carefully.

"They're living with her," he said and his voice cracked.

"Oh Richard, I'm so sorry," she said, fidgeting with her hands, not knowing where to put them. Should she hug him or leave him alone?

"I'm sorry too," he said miserably and continued to stare at the salt and pepper shakers.

"It wasn't your fault, Richard, so don't go telling yourself it was," she protested strongly.

"Wasn't it?" he said, his voice beginning to shake. "She told me I was a pathetic man who couldn't even look after his own family." He broke down again.

"Oh, never mind that silly bitch," Holly said angrily. "You are an excellent father and a loyal husband," she said strongly and realized she meant every word of it. "Timmy and Emily love you because you're fantastic with them, so don't mind what that demented woman says to you." She wrapped her arms around him and hugged her brother while he cried. She felt so angry she wanted to go over to Meredith and punch her in the face. In fact, she had always wanted to do that, but now she even had an excuse.

Richard's tears finally subsided and he pulled away from her and grabbed another tissue. Holly's heart went out to him; he had always tried so hard to be perfect and to create a perfect life and family for himself and it hadn't worked out as he had planned. He seemed to be in a great deal of shock.

"Where are you staying?" she asked, suddenly realizing that he had had no home to go to for the past few weeks.

"In a B&B down the road. Nice place. Friendly people," he said, pouring another cup of tea. Your wife leaves you and you have a cup of tea . . .

"Richard, you can't stay there," Holly protested. "Why didn't you tell any of us?"

"Because I thought we could work it out, but we can't . . . she's made up her mind."

As much as Holly wanted to invite him to stay with her in her house, she just couldn't do it. She had far too much to deal with on her own, and she was sure Richard would understand that.

"What about Mum and Dad?" she asked. "They would love to be able to help you out."

Richard shook his head. "No, Ciara's home now and so is Declan, I wouldn't want to dump myself on them as well. I'm a grown man now."

"Oh Richard, don't be silly." She made a face. "There's the spare room, which is your old room. I'm positive you would be welcome back there." She tried to persuade him. "Sure I even slept there a few nights ago."

He looked up from staring at the table.

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with returning to the house you grew up in every now and again. It's good for the soul." She smiled at him.

He looked uncertain. "Em . . . I don't think that's such a good idea, Holly."

"If it's Ciara you're worried about, then don't. She's heading back to Australia in a few weeks with her boyfriend so the house will be . . . less hectic."

His face relaxed a little.

Holly smiled. "So what do you think? Come on, it's a great idea and this way you won't be throwing your money away on some smelly ol' dump. I don't care how nice you say the owners are."

Richard smiled and it quickly faded again. "I couldn't ask Mother and Father, Holly, I . . . wouldn't know what to say."

"I'll go with you," she promised. "And I'll talk to them for you. Honestly, Richard, they'll be delighted to help out. You're their son and they love you. We all do," she added, placing her hand over his.

"OK," he finally agreed, and she linked her arm in his as they headed out to their cars.

"Oh by the way, Richard, thank you for my garden." Holly smiled at him, then leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"You know?" he asked, surprised.

She nodded. "You have a huge talent, and I'm going to pay you every single penny you deserve as soon as I find a job."

Her brother's face relaxed into a shy smile.

They got into their cars and drove back to Portmarnock to the house they'd grown up in.

Two days later Holly looked at herself in the toilet mirror of the office building where her first job interview was taking place. She had lost so much weight since she had last worn her old suits that she had had to go out and purchase a new one. It was flattering to her new slim figure. The jacket was long and went to just above her knees, and it was fastened tightly by one button at the waist. The trousers were just the right fit and fell perfectly over her boots. The outfit was black with light pink lines going through and she matched it with a light pink top underneath. She felt like a hotshot advertising businesswoman in control of her life, and all she needed to do now was to sound like one. She applied another layer of pink lip gloss and ran her fingers through her loose curls, which she had decided to allow to tumble down her shoulders. She took a deep breath and headed back out to the waiting area.

She took her seat again and glanced down at all the other applicants for the job. They seemed far younger than Holly and they all seemed to have a thick folder of some kind sitting on their laps. She looked around and started to panic . . . sure enough everybody had one of these folders. She stood up from her seat again and headed over to the secretary.

"Excuse me," Holly said, trying to get her attention.

The woman looked up and smiled, "Can I help you?"

"Yes, I was just in the toilet there and I think I must have missed being given a folder." Holly smiled politely at her.

The woman frowned and looked confused. "I'm sorry, what folders were handed out?"

Holly turned around and pointed to the folders sitting on the other applicants' laps and turned to face the secretary with a smile on her face.

The lady smiled and motioned her to come closer with her finger.

Holly tucked her hair behind her ears and moved nearer. "Yes?"

"Sorry honey, but they're actually portfolios that they brought themselves," she whispered to her so that Holly wouldn't be embarrassed.

Holly's face froze. "Oh. Should I have brought one of them with me?"

"Well, do you have one?" the lady asked with a friendly smile.

Holly shook her head.

"Well then, don't worry about it. It's not a requirement, people just bring these things to show off," she whispered to her and Holly giggled.

Holly returned to her seat and continued to worry about this portfolio business. Nobody had said anything to her about any stupid portfolios. Why was she the last to know everything? She tapped her foot and looked around the office while she waited. She got a good feeling from the place, the colors were warm and cozy and the light poured in from the large Georgian windows. The ceilings were high and there was a lovely feeling of space. Holly could sit there all day thinking. She suddenly felt so relaxed that her heart didn't even jump as her name was called. She walked confidently down toward the door of the interview office and the secretary winked at her to wish her good luck. Holly smiled back at her; for some reason she already felt part of the team. She paused just outside the door of the office and took a deep breath.

Shoot for the moon, she whispered to herself, shoot for the moon.