T WAS EIGHT O'CLOCK WHEN Holly finally drove up her driveway, and it was still bright. She smiled, the world never felt quite so depressing when it was bright. She had spent the day with Ciara chatting about her adventures in Australia. Ciara had changed her mind at least twenty times in the space of a few hours about whether or not she should call Mathew in Australia. By the time Holly left, Ciara was adamant she would never speak to him again, which probably meant she had already called him by now.

She walked up the path to the front door and stared at the garden curiously. Was it her imagination or did it look a little tidier? It was still a complete mess with weeds and overgrown shrubs sprouting up everywhere, but something about it looked different.

The sound of a lawnmower started and Holly spun around to face her neighbor, who was out working in his garden. She waved over to thank him, presuming it was he who had helped her, and he held his hand up in response.

It had always been Gerry's job to do the garden. He wasn't necessarily a keen gardener, it was just that Holly was an incredibly unkeen gardener, so somebody had to do the dirty work. It had been agreed between them that there was no way in the world Holly was going to waste her day off toiling in the sand. As a result, their garden was simple; just a small patch of grass surrounded by a few shrubs and flowers. As Gerry knew very little about gardening, he often planted flowers during the wrong season or put them in the wrong place; they just ended up dying. But even their patch of grass and few shrubs now looked like nothing more than an overgrown field. When Gerry died, the garden had died along with him.

This thought now reminded Holly of the orchid in her house. She rushed inside and filled a jug with water and poured it over the extremely thirsty-looking plant. It didn't look very healthy at all and she promised herself not to let it die under her care. She threw a chicken curry into the microwave and sat down to wait at the kitchen table. Outside on the road she could still hear the kids playing happily. She always used to love when the bright evenings came; Mum and Dad would let them all play outside longer, which meant she wouldn't have to go to bed till later than usual, and that had always been a treat for them all. Holly thought back over her day and decided it had been a good one, apart from one isolated incident . . .

She looked down at the rings on her wedding finger and she immediately felt guilty. When that man had walked away from her, Holly had felt so awful. He had given her that look as if she were about to initiate an affair when that was the last thing in the world she would ever do. She felt guilty for even considering accepting his invitation to go for a coffee.

If Holly had left her husband because she absolutely couldn't stand him anymore, she could understand being able to eventually become attracted to someone else. But her husband had died when they were both still very much in love, and she couldn't just fall out of love all of a sudden solely because he wasn't around anymore.

She still felt married, and going for a coffee would have seemed like she was betraying her husband. The very thought disgusted her. Her heart, soul and mind still belonged with Gerry.

Holly continued to twist her rings around on her finger. At what point should she take her wedding ring off?

Gerry was gone almost five months now, so when was the appropriate time to remove her ring and tell herself she wasn't married anymore? Where was the rulebook for widows that explained when exactly the ring should be taken off? And when it finally did come off, where would she put it, where should she put it? In the bin?

Beside her bed so she could be reminded of him every single day? She plagued herself with question after question. No, she wasn't quite ready to give up her Gerry yet; as far as she was concerned, he was still living.

The microwave beeped as her dinner was ready. She took the dish out and threw it straight into the bin. She had lost her appetite.

Later that night Denise rang her in a tizzy. "Switch Dublin FM on quick!" Holly raced to the radio and flicked the switch. "I'm Tom O'Connor and you're listening to Dublin FM. If you've just joined us, we are talking about bouncers. In light of the amount of persuasion it took the 'Girls and the City' girls to blag their way in to the club Boudoir, we wanna know what your thoughts on bouncers are. Do you like them? Do you not? Do you agree or understand why they are the way they are? Or are they too strict? The number to call is . . ."

Holly picked the phone back up, forgetting Denise had still been on the other end.

"Well?" Denise said, giggling.

"What the hell have we started, Denise?"

"Oh I know," she giggled again. It was obvious she was loving every minute of it. "Did you see the papers today?"

"Yeah, it's all a bit silly, really. I agree it was a good documentary, but the stuff they were writing was just stupid," Holly said.

"Oh honey, I love it! And I love it even more because I'm in it!" she laughed.

"I bet you do," Holly responded.

They both remained quiet while they listened to the radio. Some guy was giving out about bouncers and Tom was trying to calm him down.

"Oh, listen to my baby," Denise said. "Doesn't he sound so sexy?"

"Em . . . yeah," Holly mumbled. "I take it you two are still together?"

"Of course." Denise sounded insulted by the question. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"Well, it's been a while now, Denise, that's all." Holly quickly tried to explain so she wouldn't hurt her friend's feelings. "And you always said you couldn't be with a man for over a week! You always talk about how much you hate being tied down to one person."

"Yes, well, I said I couldn't be with a man for over a period of a week, but I never said I wouldn't. Tom is different, Holly," Denise said breathily.

Holly was surprised to hear this coming from Denise, the girl who wanted to remain single for the rest of her life. "Oh, so what's so different with Tom then?" Holly rested the phone between her ear and her shoulder and settled down in the chair to examine her nails.

"Oh, there's just this connection between us. It's like he's my soul mate. He's so thoughtful, always surprising me with little gifts and taking me out for dinner and spoiling me. He makes me laugh all the time, and I just love being with him. I haven't gotten sick of him like all the other guys. Plus he's good-looking."

Holly stifled a yawn, Denise tended to say this after the first week of going out with all her new boyfriends and then she would quickly change her mind. But then again, perhaps Denise meant what she said this time; after all, they had been together for over several weeks now. "I'm very happy for you," Holly added genuinely.

The two girls began listening to a bouncer speaking on the radio with Tom.

"Well, first of all I just want to tell you that for the past few nights we have had I don't know how many princesses and ladies queuing up at our door. Since that bloody program was aired people seem to think we're going to let them in if they're royalty! And I just want to say, girls, it's not going to work again, so don't bother!"

Tom kept laughing and tried to hold himself together. Holly flicked the switch off on the radio.

"Denise," Holly said seriously, "the world is going mad."

The next day Holly dragged herself out of bed to go for a stroll in the park. She needed to start doing some exercise before she turned into a complete slob, and she also needed to start thinking about job-hunting.

Everywhere she went she tried to picture herself working in that environment. She had definitely ruled out clothes stores (the possibility of having a boss like Denise had talked her out of that one), restaurants, hotels and pubs, and she certainly didn't want another nine-to-five office job, which left . . . nothing. Holly decided she wanted to be like the woman in the film she saw the night before; she wanted to work in the FBI so she could run around solving crimes and interrogating people and then eventually fall in love with her partner, whom she had hated when they first met. However, seeing as though she neither lived in America nor had any police training, the chances of that happening didn't seem too hopeful. Maybe there was a circus she could join somewhere . . .

She sat down on a park bench opposite the playground and listened to the children's screams of delight. She wished she could go in and play on the slide and be pushed on the swings instead of sitting here and watching.

Why did people have to grow up? Holly realized she had been dreaming of going back to her youth all weekend.

She wanted to be irresponsible, she wanted to be looked after, to be told that she didn't have to worry about a thing and that someone else would take care of everything. How easy life would be without having grown-up problems to worry about. And then she could grow up all over again and meet Gerry all over again and force him to go to the doctor months earlier and then she would be sitting beside Gerry here on the bench watching their children playing. What if, what if, what if . . .

She thought about the stinging remark Richard had made about never having to bother with all that children nonsense. It angered her just thinking about it. She wished so much that she could be worrying about all that children nonsense right now. She wished she could have a little Gerry running around the playground while she shouted at him to be careful and do other mummy things like spit on a tissue and wipe his pudgy little dirty face.

Holly and Gerry had just started talking about having children a few months before he was diagnosed. They had been so excited about it and used to lie in bed for hours trying to decide names and create scenarios in their heads of what it would be like to be parents. Holly smiled at the thought of Gerry being a father; he would have been terrific. She could imagine him being incredibly patient while helping them with their homework at the kitchen table. She could imagine him being overprotective if his daughter ever brought a boy home. Imagine if, imagine if, imagine if . . . Holly needed to stop living her life in her head, remembering old memories and dreaming impossible dreams. It would never get her anywhere.

Well, think of the devil, Holly thought to herself, seeing Richard leaving the playground with Emily and Timmy. He looked so relaxed, she thought, watching him in surprise as he chased the children around the park. They looked like they were having fun, not a very familiar sight. She sat up on the bench and zipped up her extra layer of thick skin in preparation for their conversation.

"Hello, Holly!" Richard said happily, spotting her and walking across the grass to her.

"Hello!" Holly said, greeting the kids as they ran over to her and gave her a big hug. It made a nice change.

"You're far from home," she said to Richard. "What brings you all the way over here?"

"I brought the children to see Grandma and Granddad, didn't I?" he said, ruffling Timmy's head.

"And we had McDonald's," Timmy said excitedly and Emily cheered.

"Oh yummy!" Holly said, licking her lips. "You lucky things. Isn't your daddy the best?" she said, laughing.

Richard looked pleased.

"Junk food?" Holly questioned her brother.

"Ah." He waved his hand dismissively and sat down beside her. "Everything in moderation, isn't that right, Emily?"

Five-year-old Emily nodded her head as though she had completely understood her father. Her big green eyes were wide and innocent and her nodding head was sending her strawberry blond ringlets bouncing. She was eerily like her mother and Holly had to look away. Then she felt guilty and looked back and smiled . . . then had to look away again. There was something about those eyes and that hair that scared her.

"Well, one McDonald's meal isn't going to kill them," Holly agreed with her brother.

Timmy grabbed at his throat and pretended to choke. His face went red as he made gagging noises and he collapsed on the grass and lay very still. Richard and Holly laughed. Emily looked like she was going to cry.

"Oh dear," Richard joked. "Looks like we were wrong, Holly, the McDonald's did kill Timmy."

Holly looked at her brother in shock for calling his son Timmy but she decided not to mention it, it was obviously just a slip of the tongue. Richard got up and threw Timmy over his shoulder. "Well, we better go bury him now and have a funeral." Timmy giggled as he dangled upside down on his father's shoulder.

"Oh, he's alive!" Richard laughed.

"No, I'm not," giggled Timmy.

Holly watched in amusement at the family scene before her. It had been a while since she had witnessed anything like this. None of her friends had any children and Holly was very rarely around them. There was obviously something seriously wrong with her if she was doting on Richard's children. And it wasn't the wisest decision to become broody when there was no man in your life.

"OK, we best be off," laughed Richard. "Bye, Holly."

"Bye, Holly," the children cheered, and Holly watched Richard walk off with Timmy slung over his right shoulder as little Emily skipped and danced along beside her father while gripping his hand.

Holly stared in amusement at the stranger walking off with two children. Who was this man who claimed to be her brother? Holly certainly had never met that man before.