"And now over to the 6'o'clock news," called the radio DJ.

"Hello my name is Caroline Maine, with the 6'o'clock news on Friday the 31st July 1999. EXCLUSIVE: News just in, one week before their second release If I Let You Go," I stopped my writing and turned to face the radio, "WestLife are headlining a series of dates at the Point Depot in Dublin inner city, on the 13th and 14th of August, to raise money for a local charity. Other acts expected are B*Witched, Area4 and The Corrs, but as yet have not been finalised. Tickets go on sale tomorrow at 9am, and cost £16 each." I just managed to scribble everything down to let my internet friends know in case they missed it. The guys had become so big. They unfortunately had to change their name to WestLife from WestSide, because some other group in America had already copyrighted it, but apart from that they had had no other hic-cups on their road to fame. They'd already had a number 1 single in the UK and Ireland, and everyone was already saying If I Let You Go, was going to go the same way. I was really proud of them. My mates helped me to get over Mark, and they thought I was fine about everything, but deep down I knew I wasn't. I thought I'd managed to get to the stage where I could talk to him now, but it was obvious he didn't want to know, and who could blame him the way I had acted. I'd managed to pluck up the courage to go to the Boyzone concerts, and sure enough one evening I saw the lads in the audience. I saw Mark, but he totally blanked me and only Shane would give me the time of day. That really hurt me, but I knew I deserved it, and if anything it helped me to get on with my life and carry on as any normal fan.

That was why I had joined all these mailing lists. The lads had so many fans and I was on so many. They were a great source of information, and everyone was really nice swapping info, pictures, and stories of when they had met them. There were loads of different groups of people who followed the lads,-The Dover Lot, The Stamford Crew, The Tartan Army, to name but a few, and I was so jealous of them. They had such a good time with the lads-one that I could never have like they did. True enough I had helped to get the lads started-none of the other fans could say that, and I knew them, but I couldn't just be another face in the crowd, I couldn't just mess about with them like everyone else could, and that really got to me.

I emailed all the lists with the info I had just heard, and almost instantaneously got replies of 'thanx' and people asking me what day I was going, so we could meet up. I had already decided though that I wasn't going to go. The lads had made it perfectly clear at the Boyzone concerts that they didn't want to have anything to do with me, and the least I could do was respect their wishes.

I emailed my friends back making up some excuse about a 'family commitment' I couldn't get out of, and downloaded my new mail. There was only one new mail, and from an address I didn't recognise. There was no subject, and all the body of the message said was,

'Shelly, don't bother getting tix for the August shows, I've saved you a couple of front row ones, for both nights. See ya soon, Shane xx'

I re-read the message again and again, trying to work out if it was someone mucking around or if it really was him. It had to be him, I'd never said to anyone how I knew the lads, I'd kept quiet and pretended to be younger than I was and just said my parents wouldn't let me go. No-one could of guessed from that could they??? Of course not, Shane had really emailed me, how he got my address was the next puzzle. He must of felt guilty or something, I didn't know. All I did know, as I clicked the 'reply' button, and typed, 'I'm not going, Mark doesn't want me there' was that I couldn't go.