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it was certainly improving, Aisling thought with a giggle as she picked out a totally unsuitable black velvet sheath and waved it at Fiona.
    “You should be on Valium more often Fiona remarked, putting the black velvet back on the rack and steering Aisling towards the back of the shop.
    The larger sizes, Madam,” Fiona said with a flourish, plucking a subtle grape-coloured jacket off the rack and holding it up against the other woman.
    Generously cut on the hanger, the jacket and its matching flowing skirt seemed to have shrunk on Aisling. She peered out of the changing cubicle selfconsciously, not wanting anyone but Fiona to see her.
    “Maybe something with a better cut…” muttered Fiona, eyes narrowed as she stood back examining the outfit.
    “Not better cut. Just bigger,” said Aisling flatly, the Valium giggle gone out of her voice.
    “I seem to be getting bigger all the time. No wonder Michael went for, what did you say her!
    name was.”
    ?”
    “Don’t torture yourself thinking about her, Aisling,” Fiona answered impatiently.
    “I can’t help it. I can’t stop thinking about her, whatever her name is. But I bet she’s slim and glamorous. Am I right?”
    “OK, she has a good figure and I suppose you’d call her glamorous. To my mind, she’s a bit over the top. You know, all red talons, more make-up than Joan Collins and lots of expensive outfits with too much
    embroidery and huge gold buttons Like this sort of thing, actually.” Fiona swiped a short denim jacket out from the rails and held it up against her torso with a grimace.
    “I wouldn’t be seen dead in this,” she announced.
    “Denim and sequins, how passe.”
    And I wouldn’t fit into it even if I wanted to, thought Aisling despondently. She gazed around at the racks of clothes and wondered if they had a generous size sixteen in anything glamorous.
    She hated shopping nowadays. But tonight was going to be different. Tonight she had planned to splash out on something which would make her feel good, make her feel a little like the confident woman Michael married.
    She had actually managed to lose three pounds in the last week. One main meal a day, as much black tea or coffee as you liked, brown bread or scones for light meals and lots of fruit and vegetables.
    “You won’t be hungry on our four-week summer diet!” promised the magazine she’d ripped the diet out of. And she hadn’t been hungry at all, apart from the sheer longing for a chocolate digestive with her lunchtime coffee.
    Now she wondered if there was any point in trying to lose weight. She had planned to look her best tonight, to make Michael proud of her in front of all the new newspaper staff.
    The supplement was finally being produced after a year of talking about it. Aisling had decided to jump-start her own life to celebrate Michael’s hard work.
    She’d wasted far too much time while she wallowed in domestic misery, hidden under masses of laundry and dirty dishes.
    Plenty of women worked and looked after a family, she knew that. There was no reason why she shouldn’t. It could be just what she needed, Fiona had said encouragingly. Now that the boys were older and were walking to school on their own, there was no excuse for Aisling to stay at home. Surely it couldn’t be too hard to get a job and climb out of
    the rut she’d fallen into? Sometimes she felt a pang of nostalgia for her old life.
    Those carefree days living with Jo in Rathmines, when the two single girls had spent every penny of their wages on clothes, make-up and cheap bottles of wine for parties, seemed idyllic. They worked hard all week and played hard at the weekends, always on the move and ready for the next party. Jo never wanted to climb out of her warm bed on Monday morning, but Aisling was up bright and early, raring to go. Plenty of people complained about working in the cramped insurance office in the city centre, but she had loved it. I Every night of the weekend was party night. During