Maeve is very sleepy. Her head is on her pillow with the picture of the unicorn and the words, Unicorn Dreams. And I think how lovely it is, this whole unicorn business. I almost want to believe in unicorns if only for Maeve’s benefit. And I think now of Maeve and what a beautiful name it is, a bit old-fashioned maybe but I recall that Jenny had envisaged this as a strong name in adulthood.

Maeve will always believe in unicorns.

I can sense Jenny’s presence behind me in the door of Maeve’s bedroom. I lean over to kiss Maeve, one last goodnight kiss. One last time to feel her silken skin. I count the freckles on her nose, at least twenty, accentuated from the summer and I think now that she only had about five in the photograph from Connemara. More freckles over time.

Jenny touches my arm and says, Des, thanks for today.

I want her to thank me not just for today but for other days. For instance our wedding day when I did everything in my power to make her believe that we were going to have this wonderful life together, that we were about to embark on this amazing journey together, this journey that would take us to a land where we would be deliriously happy and Jenny’s art work would flourish. A place where we would have beautiful children and that would all be enough. It isn’t enough.

I want to thank her for bringing Jerome back into our lives. For her audacity and above all, her bravery for holding out on me in bed at night repeatedly, and having it off with Jerome. It’s possible. Nothing is impossible. To thank her for allowing that prick to take her away from me, to destroy our perfect nest.

And the fire in my belly and my beautiful daughter, her hair strewn on her unicorn pillow and her dreams are not far off now. Jenny tells me that she is exhausted and is off to bed and wants to know if I’ll come too.

I lean to her and I place my lips against hers and I tell her that it is the beach that has made her tired. I tell her I’ll be up in a while, that I have a bit of work to do on a project for the office.