It should have ended there. They should have ridden off into the sunset. But it's only in films that those kinds of things happen. In real life, someone fucks up and then it's back to pain and heartache as usual. Who do you think blew it? Of course, it was Ash. It had to be. It's never the one who looks like the baddie in the movies who really is - surely you know that by now?

So as we know, the film was in the can and there were a couple of months before them. Ash had a long summer holiday - she wasn't due back at Uni until October and Russell had nothing until his previous film debuted in the autumn. So he took her to Australia. That's another story. Maybe I'll tell it to you sometime. But they had fun. More fun than was good for them. His family loved her; she loved them, Australia was amazing, he was relaxed and in a different groove. The only sour note was when it dawned on her how famous he was. In Sydney, he was the biggest star they had. Ash had never realised that. The papers wrote about him constantly. They had to play games to make it look like they were not together. Photographers were forever stealing an opportunity to snap him, particularly when he was somewhere or in a state when he didn't want to be noticed. Minders and bodyguards were required to keep the predators at bay. It began to prey upon her mind. What on earth was going to happen if Gladiator was a success? Would his life be like this all the time?

Back in London, in October, Ash took stock. They would have to accept a lot of separations in the next few months. First there was the time he would be away promoting the two films he had coming out in quick succession; then there would be Christmas together back in Oz. After that he was in preparation for this new role and also he would be in the US for awards nights - he needed to show his face if he was invited. The new film was being shot all over: Poland in the winter, then on to Ecuador in the early spring- the premieres of Gladiator all over the place in April and May and then by summer in London to finish the interiors. His schedule was nightmarish - it was possible they might have a five-month separation with just a snatched weekend here and there.

On his way to the US in November, he stopped over for a couple of days. As usual Ash had no idea when he was going to turn up.  She was waving out a seminar group from her office, when Russell was suddenly there holding the door open and smiling sweetly at the shocked faces of the freshers leaving. They probably had no idea who he was but that hardly mattered. He looked amazing, tanned, healthy, hair all grown out, stubbly, a little bit jetlagged, cigarette clenched in his fingers, oozing sex and man and trouble. Ash felt her insides somersault at the sight of him lounging on the threshold.

"You can't smoke in here. We're a smoke free zone," she said with a grin from ear to ear. 

"...So call the fire brigade..."

She ran to him; he caught her, spinning her round and round as he kicked the door closed, spun the lock and began kissing her, grinding the cigarette out on the carpet beneath his scuffed boot.

Ash pulled off her jumper and threw it away, unfastened her bra and stripped him of his shirt as they kissed more and more wildly. "I've got another class in five minutes..." she gasped.

"You think I'm gonna last that long?" he snorted as he rested her on the desk, pushed up her skirt, pulled down her tights while she ripped down his zip to run her hands in and pull out his erect cock.

She fell back on the pile of essays scattered on her desk as he thrust into her and dropped over her onto his arms. 

"Russ...we cannot be doing this...!" Ash gasped but he silenced her with a deep tongue-searching kiss. They really were doing it, having sex in her office in the middle of a busy afternoon. Her head fell back and she saw the window blinds were up; anyone in the office in the block across the quad would get a ring side seat of him pumping away.

But Russell's attentions prevented her from worrying about anything over much. He was just too damned good. He was just too damned bad. The handle of the door was tried. Someone knocked. Several people knocked. The phone rang.

Russell and Ash had sex regardless.

"You okay?" he muttered, as he eased himself out and grabbed a handful of tissues to wipe up. "Sorry about that...been thinking about it for the past twenty six hours..."

"Twenty six hours? That all? What about the past six weeks? How many hours does that add up to?" Ash giggled as she hopped around trying to put her knickers back on. "How long we got this time?

"Couple of days tops. My schedule's off the wall...let's get out of here..." he zipped up and helped her fasten up her shirt before grabbing his flannel and straightening down his T-shirt, tucking it into his jeans and belting up.

"I can't just leave now! I've got a class!"

"Tell 'em you've got a prior engagement. Flu. Your cat died...tell them any fucking thing. Let's go..."

He grabbed her coat and bag, thrusting them at her, took her hand and opened the door to find a group of disgruntled students lounging around outside. One young smart arse smirked and observed with a saucy grin. "Thought I heard something in there, Dr. Connor..."

Russell took him by the throat and pushed him up against the wall. "...You were saying, mate..?"

The boy held up his hands. "I didn't mean anything...back off..."

"Apologise to the lady."

Ash put a hand on his arm. "Russ...please...not here...please..."

He gave her a look. "Apologise to the lady. NOW!" The boy paled. Russell was using his Maximus act to frighten him. It seemed a cheap shot to Ash.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Connor. I wasn't implying anything..."

Russell let him go; he slithered to the floor and was assisted up by his friends. Russell stepped back, took her hand and dragged her out, glowering at the crowds who had gathered to watch. "Seen enough? Go get a fuckin' life..."

Outside Ash shook his hand off. "Great! Just great! Make a fool of me before all my students, ruin my professional credibility, act like a boor, treat me like a piece of meat..."

"Shut up! I didn't see you complaining when I had you over the desk..."

Ash stood with her hands on her hips. "Russell, that was a completely unnecessary scene - at my place of work as well! How would you like me to come on set and humiliate you?"

He ran his hands through his unruly hair and pulled out his cigarettes, lighting one aggressively. "That kid made a crude remark to a woman he ought to show respect to. I was protecting your honour, but you're too up your own fucking feminist ass to see that. Come on. You want the whole fucking place to hear this?" He turned to a pair of scholarly looking dons who had stopped to stare at their raised voices. "Name's Crowe.  OK? Russell. You might want to tell your grandchildren..."

Ash took a deep breath, apologised to her colleagues and walked away. Russell ran after her, hustling her towards his hire car which was parked in a tow zone. A few members of the on-site security were hovering, calling for a tow truck. Russell ran forward and upbraided them.

"Whoah...I'm here, mate. No need for that.  I'll move it now."

"Shouldn't be here, sir."

"Well, it is. And now I'm moving it. No problem, hey?" He slipped into the driving seat and Ash slid into the passenger, blushing and praying that these men did not push him further. They eyed him up but thought better of it, simply jotting down the registration of the vehicle, presumably to have him stopped at the gate next time. Next time? Ash vowed to herself she'd never let him near the place again.

As she shot off, too fast for the inside roads of a campus, Ash threw herself back down. "The Psychology Department would have a field day with you..."

"...Meaning?" he muttered as he dragged on his cigarette and simmered.

"You're tense, horny, all worked up and, naturally, every one around you gets the benefits of your appealing personality. Even a quick shag hasn't alleviated the build up. Russ! What is the matter with you? I have longed for this for weeks - so have you! You going to spoil it by bad behaviour?"

"I don't like blokes embarrassing women..."

"No? Then look to yourself first. You embarrassed me far worse that he did. Use your head!  And he had a point. We were actually having sex on a desk when I should have been at work. Pretty tawdry behaviour for a professional woman, wouldn't you say? You yourself are a stickler for people not pissing about at work..."

"OK. You made your point. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I just don't know what came over me. I'm...you know? Sitting on a time bomb here...you know me..." He looked genuinely remorseful. Typical Russell. All bluster one minute and the next, full of guilt and sorrow at his thoughtless display of petulance. But Ash knew him well enough to know that moments like this always hid insecurity, brazened out with a show of bravado. She wondered what was behind it. Had something happened? The possibilities ran through her head. Another woman he was feeling bad about? Some family worry? A career disappointment? The media hounding him back home?

It was later that evening when she had her answer, although she didn't realise what was actually bugging him until after he dropped the bombshell. As often happened when he had been worrying something over for weeks, he didn't do it very well when the moment came - but that was typical of him. Sometimes Ash reckoned he ought to work at life from a script. Russell was a disaster when he started to speak for himself half the time.  It never occurred to him that what was on his mind might just bring someone else up short. He was incapable of imagining himself in their shoes, although as an actor he seemed to have an uncanny knack for recreating other people's lives and thoughts. But it was as if the more highly developed his abilities in that field were honed, the less intuition he appeared to have about his own emotional state and the effect of his demands on those who loved him.

It had never apparently occurred to him that what he was about to say could possibly be a problem for her- so he just went straight in, guns blazing. They were lying in bed after a further energetic reunion-cum-making up session some hours later.

Russell was leaning on one hip, nuzzling her, all romantic and loving. "You okay, baby? Jesus, that was so fucking good...did I hurt you? I love you so much...you know how much I love you? Christ, you're so beautiful after you come...your face is so flushed...your lips are swollen with me...your eyes are so dreamy..." He kissed each feature as he spoke of it, smiling and rolling over her again, settling down between her legs, still rubbing himself against her nakedness. Smiling down on her, he murmured deep and low. "Nothing in this world...nothing is better than this..." He stroked back her hair but she sensed that under his post-orgasmic languor, something was building in him. He continued rambling on, almost talking to himself, kissing her and constantly touching, interlacing their fingers, nuzzling at her breasts, rubbing his stubbled cheek against the tender flesh of her belly. Ash lay back and let him play, wondering why he was so agitated where usually he lay like a satiated lion after sex and she tended to be the one all worked up and garrulous. He began jiggling nervously at the diamond Cartier necklace round her neck that was the only he thing he had let her wear since he gave it her as they had fallen into her flat on their return.

Suddenly he flopped onto his back and put his arms behind his head, fixing his eyes on the ceiling, paused a moment and then began:

"Ash...Next year is going to be a fucking nightmare. We better sort it out now. I don't want to get married until I've got a space on the calendar - Christmas after next, maybe? But I want you with me when the shit hits the fan. Sort it out before the end of term. Hand in your notice and we'll make it official. Buy you a ring or something. Join the circus. You can be the resident bed mate," he gave one of his 'clever' grins but she knew it was just to cover his unease.

Ash sat up. "What? Resign? I can't just resign, Russ. Even if I did, I'd have to work one term's notice. And I can't leave at Easter with finals coming up and dissertations to mark. I'll think about it. Perhaps in the summer term. We'll just have to put up with the next few months."

Russell recoiled from her, sitting up and resting back against the headboard. His face was tight with annoyance, a pulse in his temple throbbing. "Pardon? You're worried about some fucking exams? I said I needed you with me. We are talking about me here not some spotty students. Jesus Christ, it's only a job, Ash! Fuck the notice. What are they going to do? Sue you?"

Ash was angry too. She pulled a sheet around her nakedness and retreated away from him across the bed. "Russ - it's my career you're dismissing. I have worked as long and hard as you have to get where I am. I don't want to give it up. You shouldn't even ask it of me! Why don't you say no to a few engagements in the next few months? I don't see you compromising for my sake..."

"...Are you fucking insane? I'm on the brink of something unbelievable and you want me to back off so you can teach some useless shit at some dump to some fuckwit losers when you could be living the high life with me? You have to be fucking nuts."

Ash stomped off the bed and threw on his shirt. "I'm not talking to you when you're in this mood! Calm down - and when you want to talk like a rational adult, I'll be in the other room." She went into the kitchen, drank a large glass of red wine and smoked a cigarette. Struggling to reason with herself and find a way to reason with him in one of his intractable moods, she thought of how she would explain to him what she was trying to say when he was more subdued. It wasn't about rejecting him; it was about planning things sensibly and respecting each other. After a while he came in, showered and dressed, his hair damp, his face stern and his lips pursed. He lit up and stood there glowering; Ash did not get the impression he had simmered down.

"Russ. Let's talk. You threw that at me too quickly. You always do that! You just presume things, start pushing, overwhelm me. I know you want me with you and I want to be there for you. I know you're scared..."

"...Scared? Scared of what? What the fuck you talking about?" Profane Russell was re-emerging and it was never a good sign. She took a deep breath and rephrased herself.

"I know you feel uneasy at times and I know my being there calms you down. I know you get lonely on the road. I understand the pressure they put you under. I'd rather be with you too, you know I would. I want that more than anything in the world!  But I have responsibilities. I'm a professional too and I'm as intense about what I do as you are. Please understand that. Be fair to me. Show me the respect I'm showing you..."

"Respect? I have always shown you fucking respect, lady. But you? You won't even go a fucking inch for me." He advanced on her and shouted that down her ear before stalking away again, restless and pacing, barely able to restrain the impending meltdown. Ash saw it coming then, suddenly aware that somehow she had recreated past times when he had been let down, previous women who had dumped him flat when he made that final offer.  He hadn't even really listened to what she had said in her defence. Any answer but an unconditional 'Yes' seemed to tap into some reserve of doubt he carried with him.

Ash wondered whether the self-destruct gene in him hadn't been almost looking for her to make a 'mistake' now he had come so far and made up his mind.  Or was there an ambivalence in what he thought he wanted even now? Was he looking for an excuse to walk away and blame her for what might be his own lack of certainty, because a fear of commitment was at war with his longing for permanence? All she could see at that moment was that this was a minefield and whichever way she stepped she felt sure she was going to trip a charge.

But he was off and running, launching into a tirade of paranoid accusations. "You're like all the rest. Talk the talk but when I ask anything of them, it's 'Sorry, honey but what about me?' I want to give you everything! My life. My world. And you talk to me of your professional responsibilities? I will earn millions of dollars this year. You can give up the day job, write your book, do whatever the fuck you like for the rest of your life - but WITH ME!  By my side! Put me first! If you don't - that's it - I swear, Ash! I won't fucking stand another fucking cunt who wants to milk me dry, then toss me aside...!"

He was completely off his head now and Ash was beginning to feel threatened by his awesome presence looming down on her. He was out of control, breathing heavily, eyes damp with tears, his voice even breaking in a husky catch.  She didn't really understand what he meant. But his proximity, standing over her, his hands resting on the wall at either side of her head made her tremble. He was so angry that she thought he would hit her. In that moment her instinctive understanding of his complex fears was thrown out of the window. She lost her control with him and in doing so played into the bizarre trap he had unconsciously set up for her.

"Back off, Russ! Back off! Don't you dare touch me! I don't know what you think I said but I never said I wouldn't go with you. I just said give me time! I'm not part of your world. I don't like even it! I don't care about money. I never did! Once we go public the whole world will be interested in our private life - can't you give me time to adjust? You've had years of this - I have not. As usual you are just being selfish and controlling. Of course it's about you - but it's about me too! You can't just treat me as though it's my job to give up everything and serve you for the rest of my life! What do you actually want from a woman, Russell?  Grow up! It's time you came out from your mother's apron strings. That's what's wrong with you. You're a Mummy's boy. You want your Mum but she can't fuck you - so you want me to do her job and mine as well!"

Ash knew it was a stupid thing to say as soon as the words came out of her mouth. He loved his mother and her crude insinuation was bound to incense him further at a time when he was already at breaking point. He raised his fist; Ash screamed as he slammed it through the glass cupboard at the side of her head.  His hand was bleeding but he pulled it away from her.

"You were going to hit me!" she accused, hysterically.

He turned back, his face white with fury. "Hit you? You fucking deserve it, you sick bitch. But I wouldn't waste it on you. I'd never hit you. In fact, I'd prefer never to touch you again..." He swallowed hard and she realised his voice was breaking. He was struggling not to cry. "I...love you. Do you understand what that means? Do you even have a fucking clue? It means you do anything to be with someone. Risk anything. Put your life on the line. But you? You never even ...you never even..." He couldn't go on. He just walked out. Left everything but the clothes he was standing in, snatched the keys of his hired car and walked out.

He didn't come back.

'He'll drive around, go to a pub, get pissed, pick a fight, probably be arrested, it will be in the papers. Or he'll turn up at three in the morning, drunk and maudling and we'll cry and I'll tell him I'll go anywhere with him, anytime. Or he'll ring me up and give me an ultimatum in that deep 'I'm not taking any answer but yes off you' voice and I'll just say "Yes" ...' Ash lay awake all night imagining the various scenarios that were likely to unfold.

They had had arguments before, some absolute humdingers. There had been the one in Australia when he had got into a fight because she had chatted to some English guy that she met at the bar while he had been ignoring her with a pack of his old friends. He had just gone ballistic, fuelled by the vast amounts of alcohol he had drunk- and had behaved like a mad dog. Ash had walked out and locked him out of the hotel room- later he had almost kicked it in. Police had been called (for the second time- they'd been called to the pub, too) but it had been 'sorted out'- and then they had had the mother of all fights about his behaviour.

But it had blown over. They had had ended up having wild sex and then crying and talking all night, wrapped up together in their hotel room. He'd been so upset and apologised so profusely and promised he would never act like that again- ever. Ash had known that there wasn't a chance of him keeping that promise. Russell would never accept any other man near her. If she didn't like that she had better make a decision fast. Ash had made her decision. She would have to put up with his insecurities, however misplaced they were, everything else was worth it. Had she really imagined he was going to be an easy ride?

They had argued about everything- politics, books, music, sport, life, family, friends, you name it - Russell and Ash could reach meltdown over the most innocuous of subjects. But there had always been a cut off point where one of them had backed off before the other went too far. It had been almost instinctive and then they would have grabbed each other and made love, desperately, angrily and using their bodies to try and understand why they could not get enough of each other; what was causing this obsession they had.

Tonight had been different. Ash had gone too far and he had let her. And they hadn't made love afterwards. Instead he had dressed and refused to touch her - that had never happened before. Russell always touched. Despite her feeling that he would turn up any minute, somewhere deep inside, Ash knew that he wouldn't. Something had changed and, no matter how many times she replayed the awful things they had said - she wasn't sure she quite knew why. All she could do was wait and hope and pray.

After two days of complete silence, Ash called his cell phone. It was off. He was probably on the plane to the US. Next day it was still off. Ash left dozens of messages, the latter ones making little sense as she sobbed on the open line- the sound of his voice asking the caller to leave a little something and he'd get back later was enough to start her off. After two weeks, the line was out of service- disconnected- as Ash was herself. Disconnected- out of service- unable to function.

By Christmas, Ash was in a decline. She couldn't eat properly, hardly slept, weight dropped off her, friends were worried. Molly moved back in for a while and coaxed her to eat and held her as she cried, night after night. Finally Molly persuaded her to ring his mother. The two women had got on so well and she might be the only one who could approach him in what was obviously his violent rejection of their relationship. Late one night, aware of the time difference, Ash took the plunge.

"Joss? It's Ash." There was a sharp intake of breath and a silence on the line. Are you still there?"

She heard his mother's voice, lowered as if trying to avoid anyone hearing. "I'll call you back. I can't talk now..." The phone was abruptly slammed down.

Early the next morning the phone rang and Ash hurried to answer it.

"Ash. I'm sorry about that. He was there. He won't let me talk to you. Not that I take any notice of him in this mood but I can't let him know."

"Joss, can't you talk to him? I have to speak to him. I'm half crazy here. I can't live like this. I love him so much- he knows that. Why is he doing this to me?"

"You've hurt him. He's been hurt too many times. You were the one, Ash; every one could see that. He couldn't take you rejecting him..."

"I didn't reject him! It wasn't about that. It was just a stupid argument..."

"Love, I don't know what to say. He won't talk about it. I don't know what happened- only the two of you knows that. But I'm his mother and it's left to me and the rest of the family to pick up the pieces. And he is in pieces. He is completely out of control at times- do you have any idea what you have done? It had to be more than an argument, Ash, to make him like this. I'll try and talk to him but I can't promise anything. Take care, love. Try and have a good Christmas." She didn't call back.

Ash went home for Christmas and her mother immediately realised that her daughter was depressed. It all came out- the only thing Ash refrained from mentioning was who he was; the family seemed to have the impression that he had been some member of the crew and she left it that way. Home was good for her. She felt safe in her childhood room- at least there were no obvious reminders of him there unlike her own flat which was full of him- his clothes, his music, scripts he had been sent, books he had been reading, crates of VB he had had flown in; not to mention the memories that flooded over her in every room. The only thing that she took with her of his was an old grey jumper with a hole in the elbow and the rib unravelling. It was what he had worn the first time she ever saw him.

Her appetite was not improving and that was anathema to her Irish mother who fed her family as if they were recovering famine victims. Not only was her daughter picking at her food but she was also pale and nauseous. Brigid Connor was not having that.

"I'm taking you to the doctor's. You need something for your nerves and something to make you eat. I'll hear no argument, young lady."

As soon as the surgery reopened after Christmas, Ash found herself marched there to see Dr. O'Malley -she felt like a little girl again as her mother came in with her and spoke on her behalf. The doctor listened carefully and then asked Mrs. Connor to wait outside. She was shocked but, as with the priest, she was a great respecter of male authority and did as she was told.

"Aisling. Are you pregnant?"

 Ash nodded. "I think so."

"When was your last period?'

"Six weeks ago. I had a coil fitted but my doctor suggested a new pill that I might be able to tolerate so I had it removed and was waiting to start the new pill... I guess we were careless." Careless? At least three times a day careless, sometimes more- what had been the matter with them?

"Your mother talked of a boyfriend who has left you- is he the father?" Ash nodded. "You know my feelings on abortion, Ash. If you want to terminate, you will have to go elsewhere." Again Ash nodded; she seemed incapable of rational speech. It had dawned on her just before she had gone home for the holidays that she was late and she had done a home test. But she had known already even before the results. It was inevitable really- you could have written the script; most of their life together had been unreal, why should sanity prevail now?

"I don't want a termination. I had one, years ago. I would never have another. Anyway - I love the baby's father. Why would I do our child harm?"

The doctor smiled; he seemed to approve her decision. "You need to tell your mother. I suspect she has already thought of it but denial is her way of dealing with it. Ash, jump up on the examining couch and I'll check you over. Then we'll bring her in and face the music, eh?"

Brigid Connor took the news with rather more calmly than they had expected. In fact, once her initial shock had passed, she was quite overwhelmed and embraced the news of another grandchild. It was high time that Ash had a husband and a family- she was almost thirty- and she was convinced that whoever this fellow was he would be back soon- who could resist her beautiful daughter, especially now that she was carrying his child? Brigid had checked with Aisling - the absent boyfriend was unmarried and had no other children. It appeared he had a good job although Ash was a little vague about what he actually did on a film set. He was five or six years older than she was- a suitable age difference- and time he settled down too. It would all work out.

Of course, it didn't. New Year brought no news. Ash returned to the new term, made the usual notifications about her maternity leave. The baby was due in late August so she could complete this academic year and take a term off in the autumn. The timing was good. Few people knew about her relationship- they knew there had been someone but she had been private about it. Only those close friends who had been there from the beginning were in on it and they were all sworn to secrecy.

As the year progressed, it became harder and harder to avoid hearing about Russell. Out of the blue he was nominated for an Oscar. Well, not really out of the blue- Ash had seen the film 'The Insider' and had been stunned. She had been able to watch it without crying for once- unlike with all his other films that she acquired one by one. Russell had become Jeffrey Wigand and was simply not himself in any way- and had turned in a performance of such stillness and internal struggle that it took her breath away.

He had told her about it once. "I just play this fat old geezer who blows the whistle on the tobacco giants. Got a lot of words in it - and I couldn't smoke on screen. But I got to eat and drink compulsively - so that wasn't too bad..." Typical of him to dismiss his performance so casually. But she had known that he was proud of it and had been excited for her to see it. He had wanted her to attend the premiere with him. But, of course, it might have interfered with her students. Shit. Had she been completely insane?

Ash sat up all night and watched the Oscars. She had never even seen them before. She couldn't believe the hours of self-satisfied back slapping by these narcissistic fools but watched it anyway. Once or twice, the screen flashed up Russell, sitting at the end of the row, his hair unruly as he had promised, looking thunderous. But his companion was his niece, no Hollywood starlet on his arm, and Ash breathed a sigh of relief. She knew he was running around with any woman he could get his hands on- the gossip columns were starting to notice him and there was some talk of a model in Australia who seemed to be his girlfriend, but at least she didn't have to see them sitting together, hand in hand. He looked magnificent but she thought he would brain someone by the end of the evening, if his malevolent expression was anything to go by.

In April, an invitation came through the post. It was to the London premiere of 'Gladiator'- as the guest of the director. Ash looked at herself in the mirror in her room. She was five months' pregnant and it was showing; she was too slender to hide it. Would he be there? Probably. She couldn't imagine it would open in London without the star on the publicity machine. Ash couldn't face it. How could she stand before him with his child in her belly and let him discover it before the world's entertainment press? That wasn't the only reason that she wouldn't go. Ash knew how he would react to the knowledge that he was to be a father and she didn't want that sort of relationship with him. If he didn't love her anymore, then she preferred never to see him again. His child would have to be enough to see her through.

The film opened - and the rest is history as they say. Overnight stardom - if you discount the twenty years it had taken him - and he was the dog's bollocks. Every tabloid was full of him; the quality press had in-depth interviews and his face (or rather Maximus') blazed out from every magazine cover. No women's page columnist could write a single article without referring to his body; even serious reviewers seemed to be having wet dreams about him. It was the return of the Real Man. Built like 'a brick shit house' as one article called him (she reckoned he'd like that one), tough and uncompromising but with an intelligent, sensitive side - how long was it since Hollywood had known someone like that?

One late afternoon in May, Ash was chatting to some friends in the Senior Common Room at the University. The subject turned to 'Gladiator'. They were all historians, but not all Classicists, and a few of them had seen the film, wanting to know how 'historical' it was. It was widely known that Ash had been an advisor.

"It's an epic fantasy but based on sound historical fact. The period should feel right and some of the characters are real. It kind of blends fact and fantasy. I think it should work but I've never seen it so I don't know how it turned out in the final analysis."

"You've not seen it?" The group of lecturers were stunned.

It was decided. They would go that evening- and then they would have dinner and pull it to pieces. Ash did not know how to avoid it, so she was drawn along by them. The film began and the haunting music immediately raised the hair on the back of her neck even before she gasped at the first sight of him, his hands so well known to her. Those hands that had touched her, stroked her, loved her, held her, washed her, fixed her car, unblocked the sink, smashed into the glass of her kitchen cabinet...Then the scene swept to his face, his eyes... Oh God, Ash groaned. I can't sit hear for nearly three hours and feel like this over every single scene. But she did. Transfixed. Tears pouring down her cheeks. Her hands stroking her stomach and sending silent messages to her baby. 'That's your Dad, baby.'

Fortunately, her colleagues put her distraught reaction to the film down to her state. It had been thoughtless of them to take a pregnant woman to such a violent piece. Little did they know that it was the lopped off heads and dismembered bodies that had been the only parts that she could actually stand to watch.

How did she cope? You just do. She had a lot of work to do and a lot of financial problems to worry about. Maternity leave would cut a big hole in her income (you only get full pay for so many weeks and then it starts to nosedive) and then there was the cost of baby paraphernalia and clothes - not to mention childcare. The sums barely added up. If it hadn't been for the generosity of her family and the cast offs from her elder sister she didn't know how she would manage.

It wasn't just money. Ash was scared: scared of the delivery, scared of the responsibility, scared of the loneliness and the awesome job that being a single mother would be. Her Mum offered to be there for the delivery - so did Molly - but she didn't want them there. Ash just wanted Russell and if he couldn't be present, she would go through it alone, hidden in that secret world of her memories.

"Let's have ten kids."

"Piss off, Russell. Not unless you have the last eight."

"So you're up for two are you? Twins? Get it all over in one go?"

"You can't order them in twos, Russ - you have to let nature take its course."

 "I'll drive you mad, ya know? I'll read every book and go to all the classes and I won't let you eat anything you shouldn't and I'll make you lie down all the time and ..."

"OK. If you're going to be so careful - no sex for nine months! No make that about eleven - I'll probably have stitches. See how you like that!"

"I've got two hands - and I'm ambidextrous. I can imagine the right is Britney Spears and the left is...let me think - Buffy, I think. She can stake me any time she likes."

"Britney Spears? Buffy? You complete pervert - they're little girls!"

"Not so little, mate. Seriously, you don't have to give  sex  up completely. I had a mate whose girlfriend had a baby and he said she was mad for it all the time. Even in the hospital. They did it with the curtains closed on the ward..."

"Jesus, Russell - you have some pervy friends. She mustn't have had stitches then..."

"He reckoned she did! He said it felt like..."

"Shut up! Well, you can have another think, mate, if you expect to get any when I'm in that state.  And as for driving me mad - you do that anyway. Can't see how you could get any worse than you are already, sunshine..."

On the 30th June- the date always stuck in her head, in the local newsagents' buying a pint of milk one morning, Ash saw the picture. Front page on all the tabloids 'Meg and the Gladiator'. She stared. He had his 'Don't come near me or I'll break your fucking nose' expression on. His hair was short, not Maximus short but short back and sides short; he was wearing jeans, a silky black T-shirt and a longish leather jacket. He looked young and mean- and much better dressed than usual. She was casual, grungy- but- with- money look. It was her face that hit Ash in the gut. She knew that look - she had had it on her own face often enough. It was a cross between the in-yer-face 'I've just been fucked by Russell Crowe and loved it' look and the dreamy 'I am in love with the most amazing man on the planet.' She could imagine the scene. They had been about to leave the hotel when Russell suddenly got one of his ideas and they had ended up arriving very late but so loved up they didn't care.

"Are you alright? You've been standing there a long time, Miss." The shopkeeper looked concerned. Ash had no idea how long she had been standing there but it must have been for ages. She promptly buckled at the knees and had to be helped to a chair behind the counter where she proceeded to throw up.

'Nothing like a good chunder, love. Think you've just thrown your guts up!' 

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Never mind, lovie. In your condition it happens all the time. Not to worry."

If Ash had had any lingering fantasies then she lost them that day. It only added insult to injury that the whole world seemed to want to know about Miss American Pie and Mr. Sex on Legs. You couldn't turn on the TV or open a paper or even listen to the radio without some reference. Ash was sure that aliens on the moon were probably avidly following the details of their sightings, public quarrels, even more public snogging and speculations about 'will they or won't they?' And she was seven months' pregnant with backache, piles and hot flushes. Well, at least it gave her something else to think about.

She went into labour one August evening after a day of crushing backache, which she hadn't realised was the early stages. Ash drove herself to hospital in her car praying that it would hold out- it had been cutting out recently at traffic lights for no apparent reason and she couldn't afford to have it in for a repair. It was a long night. It was an even longer day. Finally on the following lunchtime, Ash gave birth to her little boy. He was quite perfect and he was hers. Nobody was going to be able to take away this precious gift. All the fears that she had felt in the months leading up to his birth seemed to disappear, replaced by quite different terrors. She didn't doubt that she could look after him anymore but she now knew what it was to be a mother - that constant knot somewhere deep inside that never goes away, that complex web of love and fear. Dominic David Connor- welcome to the world!

She took her son home and laid him in a cot in the room where he had been conceived and sat watching him as he slept. 'I'll never let anything hurt you, baby. I'll keep you safe,' she thought.

But this time she meant it.