I, ALICE," HOLLY SAID, HOVERING in front of her desk. Holly had been standing there for a few minutes now and Alice hadn't said a word yet.

"Hi," Alice said shortly, refusing to look up at her.

Holly took a deep breath. "Alice, are you mad at me?"

"No," she said shortly again. "Chris wants to see you in his office again. He wants you to write another article."

"Another article?" Holly gasped.

"That's what I said."

"Alice, why don't you do it?" Holly said softly. "You're a fantastic writer. I'm sure if Chris knew you could write he would def-"

"He knows," she interrupted.

"What?" Holly was confused. "He knows you can write?"

"Five years ago I applied for a job as a writer, but this was the only job going. Chris said if I hung on then maybe something would come up." Holly wasn't used to seeing the usually chirpy Alice looking so . . . upset wasn't even the word. She was just angry.

Holly sighed and made her way into Chris's office. She had a sneaking suspicion she would be writing this one all on her own.

Holly smiled as she flicked through the pages of the November magazine she had worked on. It would be out in the shops tomorrow, the first of November, and she felt so excited. Her first magazine would be on the shelves and she could also open Gerry's November letter. Tomorrow would be a good day.

Although she had only sold the ad space, she felt great pride in being a member of a team that managed to produce something so professional-looking. It was a far cry from that pathetic leaflet she had printed up years ago and she giggled at the memory of mentioning it in her interview. As if it would impress Chris at all. But despite all that she felt she had really proven herself. She had taken her job by the reins and guided it through to success.

"It's nice to see you looking so happy," Alice snapped, strolling tartly into Holly's office and throwing two little scraps of paper onto her desk. "You got two calls while you were out. One from Sharon and one from Denise. Please tell your friends to call you on your lunch break, as it's a waste of time for me."

"OK, thanks," Holly said, glancing at the messages. Alice had scrawled something completely illegible, most likely on purpose. "Hey, Alice!" Holly called after her before she slammed the door behind her.

"What?" she snapped.

"Did you read the article on the launch? The photos and everything turned out great! I'm really proud," Holly grinned broadly.

"No, I have not!" Alice said, looking disgusted, and she slammed the door behind her.

Holly giggled and chased her out of the office with the magazine in her hand.

"But look at it, Alice! It's so good! Daniel will be so happy!"

"Well whoopdeedoo for you and Daniel," Alice snapped, busying herself with random bits of paper at her desk.

Holly rolled her eyes. "Look, stop being such a baby and read the damn thing!"

"No!" Alice huffed.

"Fine then, you won't see the photo of you with that gorgeous half-naked man then . . ." Holly turned and walked away slowly.

"Give me that!" Alice snapped the magazine from Holly's hand and flicked through the pages. Her jaw dropped as she reached the page of the Blue Rock launch.

At the top of the page it read "Alice in Wonderland," with the photograph of her and the muscular model that Holly had taken.

"Read it out loud," Holly ordered.

Alice's voice shook as she began to read: "A new Alco pop has hit the shelves and our party correspondent Alice Goodyear went to find out if the hot new drink for winter was as it claimed to be . . ." She trailed off and her hands flew to her mouth in shock. "Party correspondent?" she squealed.

Holly called Chris out of his office and he came out to join them, a broad grin on his face.

"Well done, Alice; that was a fantastic article you wrote. It was very amusing," he told her with a pat on the shoulder. "So I created a new page called Alice in Wonderland where you will go to all the weird and wonderful things you love to go to and write about them every month."

Alice gasped at them and stuttered, "But Holly . . ."

"Holly can't spell," Chris laughed. "You, on the other hand, are a great writer. One I should have used before now. I'm very sorry, Alice."

"Oh my God!" she gasped, ignoring him. "Thank you so much, Holly!" She threw her arms around her and squeezed her so hard Holly couldn't breathe.

Holly tried to pull Alice's arms away from around her neck and gasped for air. "Alice, this was the hardest secret to keep from anyone ever!"

"It must have been! How on earth didn't I notice this?" Alice looked at Holly, startled, then turned to Chris.

"Five years, Chris," she said accusingly.

Chris winced and nodded.

"I waited five years for this," she continued.

"I know, I know." Chris looked like a chastised schoolboy and he scratched his eyebrow awkwardly. "Why don't you step into my office now and we can talk about that."

"I suppose I could do that," Alice replied sternly, but she couldn't hide the glint of happiness in her eyes. As Chris headed toward his office, Alice turned to Holly and winked before doing a quick skip behind him.

Holly made her way back to her own office. Time to get working on the December edition. "Oops!" she said, tripping over a pile of handbags lying outside her door. "What's all this?"

Chris made a face as he stepped out of his office to make Alice a cup of tea for a change. "Oh they're John Paul's handbags."

"John Paul's handbags?" Holly giggled.

"It's for the article he's doing on this season's handbags, or something stupid like that." Chris pretended not to have an interest.

"Oh, they're gorgeous," Holly said, bending down to pick one up.

"Nice, aren't they?" John Paul said, leaning against the door frame of his office.

"Yeah, I love this one," Holly said, sliding it over her shoulder. "Does it suit me?"

Chris made another face. "How can a handbag not suit someone; it's a handbag for Christ's sake!"

"Well then, you'll have to read the article I'm writing next month, won't you?" John Paul wagged a finger at his boss, "Not all handbags suit everyone, you know." He turned to Holly, "You can have it if you want."

"For keeps?" she gasped. "This must cost hundreds."

"Yeah, but I've got loads of them, you should see the amount of stuff the designer gave me. Trying to sweeten me up with freebies; the cheek of him!" John Paul pretended to be outraged.

"I bet it works, though," Holly said.

"Absolutely, the first line of my article will be: Everybody go out and buy one, they're fab!" he laughed.

"What else have you got?" Holly tried to peek behind him into the office.

"I'm doing an article on what to wear for all the Christmas parties coming up. A few dresses arrived today. In fact," he looked her up and down and Holly sucked in her belly, "there's one that would look fab on you, come in and try it on."

"Oh goody," Holly giggled. "I'll just have a look, though, John Paul, because to be honest, I have no need for a party dress this year."

Overhearing the exchange, Chris shook his head and yelled from his office, "Does anybody in this bloody office ever do any work?"

"Yes!" Tracey yelled back. "Now shut up and don't be distracting us." Everyone in the office laughed and Holly could swear she saw Chris smile before he slammed his office door shut for dramatic effect.

After searching through John Paul's collection, Holly went back to work and eventually called Denise back.

"Hello? Disgusting, stuffy and ridiculously expensive clothes shop. Pissed off manager speaking, how can I help you?"

"Denise!" Holly gasped. "You can't answer the phone like that!"

Denise giggled, "Oh don't worry, I have caller ID so I knew it was you."

"Hmmm." Holly was suspicious; she didn't think Denise had caller ID on her work phone. "I got a message you called earlier."

"Oh yeah, I was just ringing you to confirm you were going to the ball; Tom is going to buy a table this year."

"What ball?"

"The Christmas ball we go to every year, you dope."

"Oh yeah, the Christmas ball they always hold in the middle of November?" Holly laughed. "Sorry, but I can't make it this year."

"But you don't even know what date it's on yet!" Denise protested.

"Well, I assume it's being held on the same date as every other year, which means I can't make it."

"No, no, it's on the thirtieth of November this year, so you can make it!" Denise said excitedly.

"Oh, the thirtieth . . ." Holly paused and pretended to flick through some pages on her desk very loudly. "No Denise, I can't, sorry. I'm busy on the thirtieth. I have a deadline . . .," she lied. Well, she did have a deadline, but the magazine would be out in the shops on the first of December, which meant she really didn't need to be in work on the thirtieth at all.

"But we don't have to be there till at least eight o'clock," Denise tried to convince her. "You could even come at nine if it was easier, you would just miss the drinks reception first. It's on a Friday night, Holly, they can't expect you to work late on a Friday . . ."

"Look Denise, I'm sorry," Holly said firmly. "I'm just far too busy."

"Well that makes a change," she muttered under her breath.

"What did you say?" Holly asked, getting slightly angry.

"Nothing," Denise said shortly.

"I heard you; you said that makes a change, didn't you? Well, it just so happens that I take my work seriously, Denise, and I have no plans to lose my job over a stupid ball."

"Fine then," Denise huffed. "Don't go."

"I won't!"

"Fine!"

"Good, well I'm glad that's fine with you, Denise." Holly couldn't help but smile at the ridiculousness of the conversation.

"I'm glad you're glad," Denise huffed.

"Oh, don't be so childish, Denise." Holly rolled her eyes. "I have to work, simple as that."

"Well, that's no surprise, that's all you ever do these days," Denise blurted out angrily. "You never come out anymore; every time I ask you out you're busy doing something apparently much more important, like work.

At my hen weekend you looked like you were having the worst time of your life, and then you didn't even bother coming out the second night. In fact, I don't know why you bothered to come at all. If you have a problem with me, Holly, I wish you would just say it to my face instead of being such a miserable bore!"

Holly sat in shock and stared at the phone. She couldn't believe Denise had said those things. She couldn't believe Denise could be so stupid and selfish to think that this whole thing was about her and not Holly's own private worries. No wonder she felt like she was going insane, when one of her best friends couldn't even understand her.

"That is the most selfish thing I have ever heard anyone say." Holly tried to control her voice but she knew her anger was spilling out into her words.

"I'm selfish?" Denise squealed. "You're the one who hid in the hotel room on my hen's weekend! My hen's weekend! You're supposed to be my maid of honor!"

"I was in the room with Sharon, you know that!" Holly defended herself.

"Oh bullshit! Sharon would have been fine on her own. She's pregnant, not bloody dying. You don't need to be by her side twenty-four-seven!"

Denise went quiet as she realized what she had said.

Holly's blood boiled, and as she spoke her voice shook with rage, "And you wonder why I don't go out with you. Because of stupid, insensitive remarks like that. Did you ever think for one moment that it might be hard for me? The fact that all you talk about are your bloody wedding arrangements and how happy you are and how excited you are and how you can't wait to spend the rest of your life with Tom in wedded bliss. In case you hadn't noticed, Denise, I didn't get that chance because my husband died. But I am very happy for you, really I am. I'm delighted you're happy and I'm not asking for any special treatment at all, I'm just asking for a bit of patience and for you to understand that I will not get over this in a few months! As for the ball, I have no intention of going to a place that Gerry and I had been going to together for the past ten years. You might not understand this, Denise, but funnily enough I would find it a bit difficult, to say the least. So don't book a ticket for me, I am perfectly happy staying at home," she yelled and slammed the phone down. She burst into tears and lay her head down on the desk as she sobbed. She felt lost. Her best friend couldn't even understand her. Maybe she was going mad. Maybe she should be over Gerry already. Maybe that's what normal people did when their loved ones died. Not for the first time she thought she should have bought the rule book for widows to see what the recommended time for grieving was so she wouldn't have to keep on inconveniencing her family and friends.

Her weeping eventually died down into little sobs and she listened to the silence around her. She realized that everyone must have heard everything she'd said and she felt so embarrassed she was afraid to go to the bathroom for a tissue. Her head was hot and her eyes felt swollen from all her tears. She wiped her teary face on the end of her shirt.

"Shit!" she swore, swiping some papers off her desk as she realized she had smudged foundation, mascara and lipstick all along the sleeve of her 'spensive white shirt. She sat up to attention as she heard a light rapping sound on her door.

"Come in," her voice shook.

Chris entered her office with two cups of tea in his hands.

"Tea?" he offered, raising his eyebrows at her, and she smiled weakly, remembering the joke they had shared on the day of her interview. He placed the mug down in front of her and relaxed in the chair opposite.

"Having a bad day?" he asked as gently as his gruff voice could.

She nodded as tears rolled down her face. "I'm sorry, Chris." She waved a hand as she tried to compose herself. "It won't affect my work," she said shakily.

He waved his hand dismissively. "Holly, I'm not worried about that, you're a great worker."

She smiled, grateful for the compliment. At least she was doing something right.

"Would you like to go home early?"

"No thanks, work will keep my mind off things."

He shook his head sadly. "That's not the way to go about it, Holly. I should know that, of all people. I've buried myself inside these walls and it doesn't help things. Not in the long run anyway."

"But you seem happy," her voice trembled.

"Seeming and being are not one and the same. I know you know that."

She nodded sadly.

"You don't have to put on a brave face all the time, you know." He handed her a tissue.

"Oh, I'm not brave at all." She blew her nose.

"Ever hear the saying that you need to be scared to be brave?"

Holly thought about that. "But I don't feel brave, I just feel scared."

"Oh, we all feel scared at times. There's nothing wrong with that and there will come a day when you will stop feeling scared. Look at all you've done!" He held his hands up displaying her office. "And look at all this!" He flicked through the pages of the magazine. "That's the work of a very brave person."

Holly smiled, "I love the job."

"And that's great news! But you need to learn to love more than your job."

Holly frowned. She hoped this wasn't one of those get-over-one-man-by-sleeping-under-another type chats.

"I mean learn to love yourself, learn to love your new life. Don't just let your entire life revolve around your job. There's more to it than that."

Holly raised her eyebrows at him. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.

"I know I'm not the greatest example of that," he nodded. "But I'm learning too . . ." He placed his hand on the table and started to brush away imaginary crumbs while he thought about what to say next. "I heard you don't want to go to this ball."

Holly cringed at the fact he had heard her phone conversation.

Chris continued. "There were a million places I refused to go to when Maureen died," he said sadly. "We used to go for walks in the Botanic Gardens every Sunday, and I just couldn't go there anymore after I lost her.

There were a million little memories contained in every flower and tree that grew in there. The bench we used to sit on, her favorite tree, her favorite rose garden, just everything about it reminded me of her."

"Did you go back?" Holly asked, sipping the hot tea, feeling it warm her insides.

"A few months ago," he said sadly. "It was a difficult thing to do but I did it and now I go every Sunday again.

You have to confront things, Holly, and think of things positively. I say to myself, this is a place we used to laugh in, cry in, fight in, and when you go there and remember all those beautiful times you feel closer to your loved one. You can celebrate the love you had instead of hiding from it."

He leaned forward in his chair and stared directly into her eyes. "Some people go through life searching and never find their soul mates. They never do. You and I did, we just happened to have them for a shorter period of time. It's sad, but it's life! So you go to this ball, Holly, and you embrace the fact that you had someone whom you loved and who loved you back."

Tears trickled down Holly's face as she realized he was right. She needed to remember Gerry and be happy about the love they shared and the love she still continued to feel; but not to cry about them, not to yearn for the many more years with him that would never come. She thought of the line he had written in his last letter to her, "Remember our wonderful memories, but please don't be afraid to make some more." She needed to put the ghost of Gerry that haunted her to rest but to keep his memory alive.

There was still life for her after his death.