She lay on a blue blanket, naked, little droplets glistening on her body. The April sun was particularly warm as she lay there letting the suns rays dry her off. She'd spent the last hour swimming in the river. She much preferred the fresh water swims in the River Corrib rather than the sea at Salthill. The sand just matted her hair and dried out her skin. The river water was fresh and clean. It rejuvenated her body, which was tired from lack of sleep.

Only she knew the secluded spot along the banks. She often came her to think or to cry. Sometimes she brought some wine and toasted all her dead relations. Being close to nature helped lift some of the dark moods she found herself in. This was one of those times. No matter what she did she couldn't take herself out of this one.

Funny how, you are dealing with life pretty well until, one day, the stakes are changed and you can do nothing about it. The call from the doctors' surgery had come out of the blue. Dr. Joan, a pretty, gentle G.P. asked her to come into surgery that afternoon. At precisely 3.30 the receptionist ushered her into the doctors room. Joan's face though inscrutable was serious. The next fifteen minutes flew by in a haze. There was talk of a positive result from a previously taken blood test. Talk of a disease she'd never heard of. Some kind of treatment was offered but she could hardly take it all in.

She left the surgery and sat in her car. Outside, dark, ominous thunder clouds gathered as rain began to pelt down on top of her car. Eventually, after what seemed like ages she revved up her engine and headed for home. Everything was in darkness, she was alone. A school trip for the children and a business trip for her husband. She sat down at the kitchen table and opened a bottle of wine, her most expensive one. Two glasses later she felt the life force returning.

Before she could stop them a dozen tears slipped out of her eyes and into the wine glass. Feeling numb was no good, she was always of the opinion that emotion was a good thing; as long as it didn't get too much of a hold on you. The tears trickled on for another five minutes. She left the table and dried her face with kitchen towel decorated with Beatrix Potter animals.

Calm now, she booted up her computer and logged onto the Web. An array of sites held information on what was wrong with her. She read a few, printed off others and took the pages into her living room plus the bottle of wine. What music to play she thought, I think this calls for some Miles Davis and she inserted a CD into the player. Trumpet sounds began to fill the room, lethargic piano playing, joining together to echo the reality of her sad disposition.

She finished reading the few printed pages. It was depressingly accurate. She had a lot to think about and how to tell the clan; that would have to wait; she wouldn't be able to contact anyone for two days anyway. She climbed the stairs, her legs leaden. Ten minutes later she was wallowing in the largest of bubble baths. Candles were lit around the room. The delicate scent of Sandalwood lingered in the air. She was calm now, trying to think clearly with her logic instead of panic. The water was hot, steam rising up towards the ceiling. She poured liquid soap onto a sponge and rhythmically began to rub her body starting at her neck then travelling downward in circular motion to her breasts and abdomen. It was soothing, she was mesmerised; her mind a blank. She continued down to her thighs and calves feeling the tension dissipate. The candles burned down to lava-shaped puddles and she'd finished the wine. She'd reassess things tomorrow.

She awoke around 6 o clock. It was a beautiful April day. She could hear the nesting birds outside hidden in her trees. The milkman came and went. Life was predictable for the most part, she thought, it was the other times she was afraid of. She threw on some clothes and sat in her kitchen drinking juice. A plan was being formulated. No rush, she had all day.

Around 10 o clock her friend Mary called for coffee and they had a laugh and a cigarette together. Mary left at 11, the car was packed, a visit to the ATM, petrol tank filled and she headed West. The trip to Oughterard was a pleasant one. She eventually pulled the car down the long boreen road towards the lake. Three minutes later she was sitting on the shore looking across to the tiny little islands dotted all over. She spotted a boat with two men inside, their green waterproof coats gave them a sinister look, she hoped they wouldn't look in her direction. but they were engrossed in their pursuit; taking no notice of her.

She spread out the Foxford rug onto the grass, carefully placed the last of her previous Summer stock of French wine on top. She then placed her Waterford crystal glass beside the bottle and emptied the contents of a brown bottle beside it. A large handful of tablets spilled out in an untidy pile. She laid them out individually onto the rug, opened the wine, ate a few tablets and drank the wine. No bitter aftertaste, the wine was doing its job. She lay back in the hot sun and waited.

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