nd stay out!"

He scrabbles in the petunias for his boxer shorts. I slam the door.

The pig!

The bloody pig!

How could he?

With my best friend!

I lean against the door fighting the sobs. I will not cry. Won’t give him the satisfaction. This is it. No more men. No more waiting for a call. No more interest in this week’s match. From now on there is going to be just one thing in my life. Me. Carol. I do what I want. Just for me.

To hell with all of them.

I walk into the kitchen. Grab a cask of wine from the fridge. I tilt the box and just squeeze out a half-glass. Well, no drowning my sorrows for me.

What sorrows? I’m better off. Good riddance to bad lovers.

I open the cupboard. His favourite cup is staring at me. The big one with the beer logo on it. It bounces inside the bin and nestles in last night’s spaghetti.

I need a bath. I grab a few candles. And the box of chocolates the pig bought to ease his conscience. If he ever had a conscience.

While the bath runs I sit on the loo and squeeze tubes of gunk down the sink. Colgate. Calvin Klein. Vidal Sassoon. Unichem. I pause. Hope they burst. Pig.

Before I get into the bath there’s one more thing. I pick up the scales and put them away. Behind the water tank. I won’t be needing them again.

The water’s so hot my legs look like inflatable crayfish. I think I’ve overdone the essential oils too. Can you overdose on lavender? Another choccie.

I think I’ll take that course at the local poly. The stone carving one. The pig laughed when I suggested it last year. Said I had the artistic ability of a two-year-old. Said I should save my money. Well, now it’s all my money. I’ll do what I like with it.

Money. I’ll have to work out how much I can keep paying on the credit cards. At least the flat is mine. I’ve got the car as well. Might be a bit of a squeeze for a while. Until I can get the plastic under control.

If I cut down from three casks a week to one… that shouldn’t be a problem without his snout in my fridge… then in four months time I won’t even notice he’s gone. Notice who’s gone? Ha!

I empty the bath and pull on my thick cuddly robe. I have delusions of manicure. I stretch out on the bed and before I know it, it’s getting light.

Breakfast for one. I can read all the paper. No splitting it into news and sport. The phone rings. I pick it up but there’s only tearful grunting. I hang up. No problem.

The sun is shining. I ring Jenny. A girlies’ night tonight? Kind of a celebration? Cool. See you at six. I leave the car in the garage and stroll to the bus stop.

There’s a guy at the bus stop. The end of a squash racket sticks out of his bag. His polo shirt stretches across the shoulders. Not around the waist. Well cut blond hair. Not that ‘just cut look’ though. Tanned but not leathered. I bet he’s got a wife, three kids and an attitude to support.

The bus finally comes. It’s packed. The doors swish open.

"Only room for one more" Blond Attitude turns, all teeth and tan. He just about blows me over:

"Be my guest. I’m in no hurry."

I stammer a thank you. I get on the bus and look back at my knight in shining t-shirt. I give a little half wave. He winks and his eyes crinkle in a way that echoes inside me. Isn’t that typical of men? You work up a good honest hatred and then one of them goes and spoils it all by doing something nice.

Work is the same as always. There’s a big board meeting. I keep the minutes but we still lose hours. Why are they called directors if none of them can give a direct answer? I look around the table. Every one of the men in here has children. That means that… No. Don’t go there. Yuk!

Ten years time and the pig will probably be sitting in a room like this one. Have I made a mistake? Screwed up again? He’ll certainly have money. And me? What will I have? Am I going to be alone forever? Perhaps I should speak to him next time he rings. He might have an excuse. An explanation. Something like that.

There’s a general shuffling of papers. I’ve missed the last ten minutes. Oh well, I’ll just leave it out. No one will notice. No one ever reads the minutes anyway.

Lunchtime. Funny how board meetings never run through lunch. The canteen is bustling. I decide on the salami. Breath doesn’t really matter now. The other girls ask me to join them. I don’t feel too sociable. I smile. Falsely. I go to the park.

The bench in the sun is occupied. Bread rolls and body odour. He lifts a purple bottle to an open sore of a mouth. I sit in the shade. Not very warm. But upwind of the purple bottle. I pick a pumpkin seed off the bun. I’m not really hungry.

There’s some sort of noise. Bread Rolls and BO. Standing in front of me. He’s shouting something. At me! I look at the floor. Perhaps he’ll go away. An Italian suit. Speaking to Bread Rolls. The Voice of Authority. Bread Rolls lurches off. The Voice turns.

"Are you OK?"

I smile and nod pathetically. What’s wrong with me? I have spoken to men before. I’m sure of it. But sentences are too hard today. Obviously.

"I’m just going for a latte. Care to join me?"

I’m tempted. Really tempted. I mean, why not? It’s not as if I’m seeing anyone. But I know that I can’t. Not yet. I mumble about having to go back to work. The Voice looks a bit disappointed. Not enough to cry or anything. Just enough to give me that old feeling. Success!

I spend the afternoon typing up minutes. I go to the photocopier. It’s working normally. So, the paper jams. I open the front and break a nail on the rollers. I’m about three seconds from doing a Ruapehu. Calmly and rationally I debate whether to kick the base or punch the glass.

"Allow me."

A silk covered arm reaches past me. A gentle flick and the paper comes free. The Arm turns and flashes a smile that must have cost a fortune. Nearly as much as his watch. More than my car.

"The trick is not to depend on these things. Then they work properly."

Oh God, he’s witty too. If he doesn’t leave his toenail clippings in the bath there is no justice. I gush thanks. Why do I gush? I am a reasonably intelligent and capable woman. It’s only men that make me gush. It must be their fault. I hate all of them. Pigs.

The bar is quite full as I arrive. I’m about fifteen minutes earlier than I said. Jenny has never been on time for anything in her life. She’ll have to catch up. I order a wine.

"Hello Carol."

The voice comes from behind me. It’s the pig’s boss! I don’t believe it! What’s he doing here? Still, at least I don’t have to be polite to him anymore.

"I heard about last night. Good on yeh. Best move you’ve ever made. Barman. A bottle of bubbly for this young lady. On my tab. Sorry I can’t stay and chat but I’m with clients."

I do a pretty good impression of a dead snapper as he disappears into the crowd.