LITMIR.BIZ

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of grass in the centre of the garden. A worn grey T-shirt hung on his well-defined frame and he wore an old pair of shorts over shapely legs, browned from the sun. His short sun-streaked blond hair stood up in messy tufts. She remembered the day she’d first set eyes on him. She’d attended her very first meeting of Friends of Ballyfergus Lough nearly five years ago. And there he was in shorts and a torn T-shirt looking much the same as he did today. She’d fallen in love with him immediately and they’d moved in together within six weeks.

      Sian sighed and ran a hand through her tightly cropped fair hair. Not only was he the sexiest man she had ever seen, she loved the languid fluidity of his movements, his relaxed smile, his easygoing nature. In these respects he was the very opposite of her – and maybe that was why their relationship worked. He shared her passion for saving the earth but didn’t take himself, or the cause, quite as seriously as she did. He helped her to maintain perspective and, in the face of near apathy from ninety-nine per cent of the population, retain her sense of humour.

      She could still hardly believe this gorgeous sexy man and she were getting married next year. Sometimes she couldn’t believe her good fortune – both her sisters’ marriages confirmed what she suspected. Not everyone found their soulmate. She and Andy were the lucky ones. And together they were invincible. Nothing could come between them, not now, not ever. They shared the same values – they both wanted the same things out of life.

      Oli stood just a few metres away from Andy. The child wore clothes that looked like they’d never seen a spot of mud in their life – even his trainers were sparkling white. Sian was filled with dismay. Children should be grubby and messy and muddy, not clean and pristine like they’d just come out of a washing machine. But that was Louise all over. Joanne had proudly shown her the expensive wine and chocolates Louise had brought – whereas she and Andy had contributed organic vegetables from their allotment.

      Andy smiled at the boy and the corners of his dark eyes crinkled up, his skin leathery from all the time spent outdoors. His smile was wide and genuine, and his gaze was focused on Oli as though he was the only thing of importance at that moment. Sian understood only too well why clients of the outdoor centre in Cushendall where he worked, loved him. Kids, especially, adored him.

      Very gently, Andy tapped a football with the side of his trainer and it came to rest just in front of Oli.

      The expression on the toddler’s face as he squared up to kick the ball was fierce – his brows knit together, his tongue protruding slightly from the left side of his mouth. Sian smiled. She had seen that expression of quiet determination before – on her sister Louise’s face. She’d always been single-minded and competitive. He took aim, swung his leg – and missed the ball.

      The swinging action made him lose his balance, his foot gave way beneath him on the wet grass and he landed suddenly on his bottom. Unperturbed, he immediately rolled onto his knees and stood up, using his hands to lever himself onto his feet. Sian noted with satisfaction the grass stains on his knees and on the seat of his jeans. Oli wiped his muddy hands down the front of his shirt and Sian smiled.

      The little boy stared at the ball wide-eyed and disbelieving as if some sinister trick was at work.

      ‘You missed the ball,’ called out Andy. ‘It’s okay. Have another go, big man.’

      Oli screwed his face up in concentration, took another short run at the ball, swung his leg and this time made contact. The ball skidded across the grass and rolled slowly between Andy’s legs. He made no attempt to stop it.

      ‘Goal! Goal!’ shouted Oli, punching the air with fisted hands.

      Andy cheered and the boy ran to him and Andy scooped him up and swung him around in the air. Then he put him under his right arm, like a package, ruffled his hair with his left and deposited the boy back on the ground.

      ‘Again! Again!’ he squealed, jumping up and down. Just then Abbey and Holly came hurtling across the garden and threw themselves at Andy. He fell backwards onto the grass and the girls jumped on top of him, screaming with delight. Sian threw her head back and laughed.

      ‘What’s so funny?’ asked Joanne, coming to stand beside her. She held a half-full bottle of white wine by the neck in her right hand, a wine glass in her left.

      ‘Oh, it’s Andy and the kids,’ Sian smiled. ‘They’re having a great time. Look at them.’

      ‘Poor Andy,’ said Joanne with a wry smile as Oli threw himself on top of the heap of legs and arms, squealing with delight.

      ‘Sure Andy loves it,’ said Sian.

      ‘He must do,’ said Joanne watching as Andy scrambled to his feet, laughing, the back of his T-shirt soiled with stains. Within seconds he’d organised a two-a-side football game. ‘You know he’s absolutely great with kids. Look at little Oli. He just adores Andy.’

      Sian beamed with pride. The children made no secret of the fact that their (almost) Uncle Andy was their favourite male relative.

      ‘I suppose that’s what Oli’s crying out for,’ Joanne went on. ‘A bit of male rough and tumble.’

      ‘I guess so,’ said Sian and this innocuous comment seemed to open the floodgates for Joanne.

      ‘I feel awful saying this,’ she confided, ‘but I think Louise should’ve given more thought to what it would be like for Oli without a dad.’ She leant forward conspiratorially and whispered darkly, ‘I think it’s already affected him, you know.’

      ‘Surely not!’ said Sian, glancing over at the happy, smiling child. ‘He’s little more than a baby.’

      ‘Louise spoils him. Did you see his trainers? Dolce and Gabbana. I think she spoils him to make up for the fact that he doesn’t have a father, but money can’t make up for that, can it?’ Joanne tutted her disapproval, which sounded more like jealousy to Sian, and went on, ‘And he’s far too clingy. He sleeps in Louise’s bed every night, you know.’ She nodded her head firmly as if she had just divulged a shocking secret, filled her glass to the brim, topped up Sian’s, and set the empty bottle on the step.

      ‘What’s so wrong with that? Lots of parents let their kids sleep with them, don’t they?’

      Joanne laughed cynically. ‘Only those that don’t have a life.’

      ‘Well, how she raises Oli is Louise’s business,’ said Sian. ‘What I object to is the fact that she had him in the first place.’

      ‘Because she’s a single mum?’ said Joanne incredulously. ‘I wouldn’t have put you down for a traditionalist.’

      Sian shook her head. ‘I couldn’t care less whether she’s married or not. What I care about is the fact that she had him at all. There are enough kids in the world without adding to the problem.’

      Joanne rolled her eyes. ‘Here we go again.’

      Anger flared up inside Sian. As a child Joanne had never taken her seriously and she still treated Sian like the younger sister she was, putting her down, dismissing her at every opportunity. But this was a subject about which Sian knew far more than her sister. She would make her listen. ‘The biggest problem facing mankind is over-population. There are too many people competing for scarce resources – land, water, food. And competition ultimately leads to war. Over-population is the primary cause of most of the world’s ills. And it’s forced us to embrace dangerous technologies like nuclear power. No, there are simply too many of us – way too many.’

      ‘Not in the UK there aren’t,’ argued Joanne. ‘Our problem is a falling birth rate. In a few years’ time there won’t be enough young people to support our ageing population. It’s the people in the third world having ten, twelve babies that are the problem. Not us in the West.’

      Sian sighed and said patiently, ‘I’m talking on a global scale, Joanne. We all have to take some responsibility for the problem. People in the West don’t realise that their luxurious lifestyles are effectively subsidised by the rest of the world. The earth simply doesn’t possess

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