A Perfect Match Page 16

  I looked down at James who was deathly pale. The referee’s whistle went and the teams ran into the locker rooms.

  ‘I hope James has some stern words,’ said Dad. ‘They’re not playing well. Donal’s supposed to be their danger man and he’s not in the game at all. Very poor,’ he said, shaking his head.

  Lucy looked surprisingly upbeat. ‘He looks miserable. He’s obviously missing me too,’ she said, smiling tor the first time in days.

  My stomach was doing back-flips. If they lost this match James was going to be gutted. Come on Leinster, I prayed – please win. They came back out and tor the next fifteen minutes, Donal lost the ball in the Leinster line-out and then missed a crucial tackle for Ulster to score another try. It was awful. I felt sick. Poor James. Dad was muttering under his breath. Then I saw James motion to the referee – he pulled Donal off and put on a young replacement – Peter O’Hare. Donal walked off the pitch to some booing. The supporters were not happy with his dreadful performance. For the next half an hour we watched as Leinster pulled back with a couple of penalties and a drop goal. With three minutes left, Peter stole an Ulster line-out ball and charged over the line for a try. If the kicker could convert the try, Leinster would win. Ray Phelan placed the ball down and took three steps back and prepared himself for the most important kick of his career. You could hear a pin drop in the stadium. We all held our breath. He ran towards the ball and kicked it. It wobbled and swayed in the wind and then it hit the post … but, somehow, it managed to drop over. The stadium erupted. Leinster was in the final.

  I sobbed with relief as Dad hugged me. James looked up and searched the stands to find us. We waved and jumped up and down. He saw me and beamed. I blew him kisses. Even Dad had tears in his eyes. Donal, meanwhile, walked back to the dressing room, head down. He was a broken man. Lucy was delighted. As far as she was concerned it proved he loved her and missed her as much as she did him. She was right – except that the guilt of having had sex with my sister was an additional weight on his mind.

  We went to the club house where James was carried in, shoulder high. The atmosphere was fantastic.

  ‘God, James, I’m so proud ot you,’ I said, hugging him.

  ‘I feel as if I’ve run a marathon. What a game. Thank God it’s over,’ he said, beaming at me.

  I could see Lucy looking around for Donal. I asked James where he was. He said he’d gone straight home. Donal was totally gutted by his poor performance. Lucy was upset that she’d missed him, but even she was carried along with the carnival atmosphere in the club house. Babs spent the evening chatting up Donal’s replacement, Peter – at least at twenty-four he was closer to her age group.

  Tom Brown’s headline the next day screamed –’Leinster Pulls Back From Brink of Defeat’. He lavished praise on James and Peter O’Hare, and absolutely slated Donal. He said it was sad to see such a talented player stoop so low. He couldn’t understand how someone who had played so brilliantly in the quarter finals could have performed so badly a few weeks later. His mind was clearly not on the game. He looked dreadful, he was distracted and had almost lost the match with that appalling intercept pass.

  James winced as he read it.

  ‘Poor Donal, that’s some roasting. I’ll give him a buzz and see how he is.’

  James tried ringing him but Donal’s mobile was switched off. ‘I’ll call over to him later, see how he’s doing. I felt really bad having to pull him off, but he was doing more harm than good.’

  ‘Don’t you blame yourself. It was his fault he got himself into this mess and his fault he played badly. If you hadn’t pulled him off, the team would have lost. Sod him, let him suffer a bit.’

  ‘That’s a bit harsh, darling. Donal’s our best player, he just had an off day.’

  ‘A few off days if you ask me,’ I mumbled.

  ‘Come on, Emma, give him a break. He’s feeling bad enough as it is.’

  ‘So he bloody well should. Sly dog that he is.’

  ‘Sly?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What’s he done that’s so sly.’

  ‘Had sex with Babs,’ I said taking a sip of my tea, as if I’d just said something incredibly banal.

  ‘What!’ said James. ‘You’re having me on.’

  ‘Shhhhh. I don’t want Lucy to hear. He had sex with Babs the night he got really drunk.’

  ‘Well, hats off to him.’

  ‘Hats off? For what? Shagging my sister when he’s supposed to be grieving over the break-up with my best friend?’

  ‘OK, timing-wise it wasn’t great. But getting a twenty-three year old into bed is good going.’

  ‘James, you’re talking about Babs here. Not some random young one.’

  ‘I’d say she gave him a run for his money,’ said James, laughing. ‘No wonder he was in such a state that day, he was obviously exhausted.’

  James called over to Donal later that day to check up on him and to slag him mercilessly about Babs.

  ‘Howrya,’ said Donal, answering the door.

  ‘Hi. Sorry Babs couldn’t make it, she has playgroup on Sundays.’

  ‘Emma told you.’

  ‘You dog.’

  ‘I don’t even remember it. I was out of my mind drunk. I’m sorry if you’re offended about it, being Babs and all. She’s a grand girl. I didn’t mean for anything to happen.’

  ‘She’s an innocent girl, Donal, you really overstepped the mark.’

  ‘Jesus, James, I’m sorry, I –’ Donal looked up and saw James smirking at him. ‘You prick. Innocent my arse, she’s as wild as they come. God, you had me going there.’

  ‘So how are you? You shouldn’t have left yesterday after the game, you know. You got us to the semis.’

  ‘Yeah, and then I made a right balls of it. We nearly lost because of me.’

  ‘You had an off day. It happens. Especially when you’ve broken up with your fiancée and shagged a minor.’

  ‘Feck off, will you,’ groaned Donal. ‘Peter had a good game.’

  ‘Yep, he did. Sorry I had to take you off. I knew you weren’t going to improve. It was just one of those days.’

  ‘What about the final? Will you pick him over me?’

  ‘Not if you can sort out your head and get back to form.’

  ‘Don’t worn,’, I’ll do my best.’

  ‘OK, well, I’ll leave you to it. See you at training on Tuesday.’

  First thing the next morning, Donal arrived on our doorstep bearing an enormous bunch of tiger lilies and asked to speak to Lucy. I made myself scarce and left them to it. An hour later they emerged, beaming, from the living room. Donal left and Lucy asked me to help her pack.

  ‘Oh my God, Lucy, what happened?’

  ‘It’s all sorted. Everything’s OK,’ said Lucy.

  She told me what had happened: Annie had called Donal the day after the semi-final. She had watched the match on TV and read the reviews in the paper the next day. In one of the post-match interviews, the out-half, Ray Phelan, had defended Donal, saying that his disastrous performance was due entirely to his recent break-up with his fiancée and had nothing to do with his age or lack of fitness. Donal’s mind simply wasn’t on the game, said Ray, the poor man was heartbroken. Ray said he hoped that Donal would be able to sort out his private life before the final, because the team really needed him to be on form to win the Cup. Annie began to realize how badly affected Donal was by the split and began to feel guilty.

  ‘Apparently she was sobbing on the phone and telling him she was sorry and she had never meant for Donal to suffer and she didn’t want him to lose his job,’ said Lucy. ‘Then she confessed to being a bitch to me and told him that she had been doing everything she could to make my life miserable. She told him all the horrible things she used to say to me as soon as he left the room and how she kept telling me that Mary was the love of his life. In fairness to Annie, it seems to have been a very thorough confession,’ Lucy added.

  ‘Donal said that she admitted
it wasn’t me she hated, it was the thought ot him being devoted to someone else. She’s terrified of being left out and said that she can’t bear to share him with anyone because he’s all she has, but she understands now that she’s just being selfish and he has a right to be happy in a relationship. So Donal promised her that nothing would change when we got married and reassured her that she’d always be his number-one priority, but that there was room for more than one person in his life and she was wrong to have interfered and been rude to me.’

  ‘About bloody time he stuck up for you,’ I interrupted.

  Lucy smiled. ‘I know. I was particularly pleased to hear that bit. Anyway, it seems that they talked for ages and Donal said she’d have to apologize to me.’

  ‘Beg you to forgive her would be more appropriate,’ I said.

  ‘Apparently she’s also promised to be extra nice to me from now on, to make up for her behaviour. Though I’ll believe that when I see it,’ said Lucy. ‘But the best part is that Donal got down on one knee and said he was sorrier than he could ever say and the last few days of his life were the worst ever and that he never wanted us to be apart again. He said he was sorry for taking Annie’s side, but that it was his instinct to protect her. He said he hated himself for hurting me and he’d do evervthing he could to make it up to me.’

  ‘And so he should,’ I said. ‘You make sure he pampers you properly for the next while. He has a lot of making up to do.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I will. You’ll also be pleased to hear that Donal thinks I’m very luckv to have a friend like you and that he hopes you’ll forgive him too. He obviously knows how loyal you are and that you’re annoyed with him because I was upset, which is sweet.’

  ‘Isn’t it just,’ I said.

  Nice touch, Donal, I thought. Don’t worry, your secret is safe.

  23

  A few days after the semi-final victory we were notified that our first home visit would take place the following week – tour days before the final. Leinster was playing Edinburgh in the European Cup final, in Twickenham in London. We were all flying over – Mum and Dad, Lucy and Babs – to support them. Sean was going to meet us there along with James’s parents and Henry.

  Three days before the home visit I began to scrub the house. Everything had to be perfect. I knew Dervla would be the type to open wardrobes and look under beds, so I got out the plastic gloves and set to. I cleaned every corner and crevice. Any remotely dangerous looking objects that could harm a child – like my hair-straightener, James’s squash racket, the vibrator Babs had given me the year before to spice up our sex life, the ironing board, golf clubs, bleach – were locked away. I wanted Dervla to be dazzled by our home. I went out and bought cuddly toys and put them on the bed in the spare room. I scattered numerous books – how to be a good parent, how to raise a normal stable child as opposed to a murdering serial killer one, how to not make a total balls of your baby’s future, etc. – around the house.

  When Danika came to clean she was shocked to see how tidy the house was. She looked around her, open-mouthed.

  ‘So clean!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Clean for the adoption people.’

  ‘Baby is coming?’ she asked, looking surprised. I had tried to fill her in about the adoption, but I wasn’t sure how much she had actually understood.

  ‘No, not yet. Urn, the inspector is coming,’ I said.

  ‘Ah,’ she said, nodding. ‘Inspector is coming to see house.’

  ‘Yes, exactly, so it has to be very clean. If it is not clean – then no baby.’

  ‘No clean, no baby?’ she asked, wide-eyed.

  ‘Well, no, not exactly, but we have to make the good impression,’ I said resorting to pidgin Fnglish as I always seemed to do with Danika, which was no help to her language skills at all. ‘The inspector must think we are good, clean people.’

  ‘But baby from Russia,’ said Danika. ‘Not so clean in Russia.’

  She had a point, the orphanages were probably not the most hygienic of places. ‘Yes, but that is why we must be clean in Ireland. So the baby can be happy.’

  ‘Clean house, happy inspector, happy baby.’

  ‘Yes,’ I nodded, smiling at her. That pretty much summed up the situation.

  On the eve of the visit, James came in late and was putting his key in the door when I opened it.

  ‘Off,’ I said, pointing to his runners. ‘I won’t have you coming in and messing up the place.’

  James sighed and took off his shoes. He came in, dumped his bag on the floor and headed for the shower. I picked up his bag and followed him. He took off his clothes, threw them on the floor and walked into the bathroom. I went in after him.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he asked me, none too pleased that I was following him around.

  ‘Don’t splash about when you’re in there and use this towel,’ I said, handing him an old baldy towel. ‘And make sure you wash down any stray pubic hairs when you’re finished, and use the old soap not the nice new one. That’s just for show. And don’t drip when you get out. Dry yourself in there. I don’t want wet footprints on the floor.’

  James pushed me out the door and locked it.

  ‘And no smelly poos,’ I shouted through the keyhole. ‘If you need to do one, either control yourself or go down to the pub. No stinking out our loo tonight. And put the wet towel in the dryer when you’re finished, I don’t want damp towel smells in the bathroom either.’

  The door opened. ‘Emma! I’m going to have a shower now and I think it would be wise for you to go downstairs, because if you keep shouting instructions through the door, I may have to kill you, and that would definitely put a dampener on the adoption plans.’

  ‘Fine,’ I said huffily, picking his clothes up off the floor and folding them. ‘I hope you’re not going to be this aggressive tomorrow. You’d swear I was one of those nagging wives, instead of a slave who goes around cleaning up after you.’

  James seemed to find this very amusing, I could hear him laughing as he closed the door. I went down and made him a sandwich. I didn’t want to cook because it would smell up the kitchen and the pots and pans were all neatly stacked away. When James came down, I handed him the sandwich and told him he had to eat it over the sink because I didn’t want crumbs on the floor.

  ‘I’m assuming this is a temporary change of character?’ he asked, leaning into the sink. ‘You aren’t going to be like this permanently, are you? I’m rather fond of the old Emma. The one who’s not averse to crumbs and allows me to use towels that don’t skin me alive when I’m trying to dry myself.’

  ‘I’m just trying to make sure that everything is perfect for Dervla’s visit. I’m a nervous wreck about it. She clearly thinks I’m an idiot with the worst loss chart she’s ever seen, so I’m trying to get good marks tor my clean, baby-friendly house,’ I said, picking a tiny crumb off the floor.

  James leant in closer to the sink and took one last bite.

  ‘Now remember, James, we have to agree on even-thing. I don’t want Dervla to think we have any differences of opinion. So if I say something and you don’t agree, just bite your tongue and I’ll do the same. And don’t try to be funny. I’m sorry, but you just aren’t funny and it doesn’t work. And if I exaggerate something a little bit, just let it go, don’t start picking me up on things. If you see me going like this,’ I said, scratching my nose, ‘stop talking. That’s going to be my sign for shut up.’

  ‘I presume it works both ways,’ said James.

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose so,’ I said.

  ‘So when I rub my nose you’ll stop talking?’

  ‘Yes, and vice versa. Now I want you to wear your grey trousers, not the –’

  James began to rub his nose furiously.

  I got up the next morning feeling very groggy after a restless night. I had nightmares about Dervla coming to the house and finding me naked surrounded by foul-smelling rubbish, fames was up already doing a telephone interview wit
h the Scottish Tribune.

  ‘… looking torward to it … very pleased to have got to the final … Edinburgh are a great side, they’ll be hard to beat, but I’m confident we’ll put in a good performance … Donal Brady will be playing … one bad game doesn’t mean he’s past his prime … Peter will be on the subs bench … yes, he’s a fine young player … my goal this year was to win the Cup and that’s what I intend to do …’

  I hovered around, plumping cushions and re-arranging baby books. At nine o’clock he was still on the phone so I tapped my watch and whispered, ‘It’s nine, she’s due any minute, hang up.’

  James ignored me and turned around to continue his interview. I poked him. He pushed my hand away. I poked him again. ‘James, hang up.’

  ‘Sorry, Mike, could you excuse me a minute,’ said James, trying to sound jocular as he covered the receiver with his hand and hissed at me. ‘I’m in the middle of a bloody interview. Will you please stop poking me. When she arrives I’ll hang up. Now go away and clean something.’

  I went in to the kitchen and tried to calm down. Five deep breaths later, the doorbell rang. I heard James hang up. He came in and saw me glued to the seat. I was too scared to move.

  ‘Ready, darling?’

  ‘No!’ I said, feeling sick. ‘I’m terrified.’

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ he said, squeezing my hand. ‘Come on, we better let the old dragon in.’

  We sat down in the kitchen and I offered Dervla tea or coffee. She said no to both.

  ‘Maybe Dervla needs a whiskey to kick-start proceedings,’ said James, trying to be funny when I had specifically told him not to be.

  Dervla didn’t even crack a smile. ‘A glass of water would be fine, thank you.’

  ‘One glass of H2O coming right up,’ said our resident comedian as I rubbed my nose vigorously.

  Once the glass of water had been delivered, and James was sitting down, Dervla explained what the Home Study would entail and what ground we would be covering over the six sessions. According to old poker face we’d be going over a lot of the ground we had covered in the group sessions in more detail as well as discussing some new issues. The visits would cover: our lives in general, the stability of our relationship, our motives for adopting, our knowledge and experience of young children, our capacity for the parenting role, our expectations concerning the child, identity and culture, our attitude to the birth parents, the impact of infertility on our lives, our relations and other social networks, our personalities and interests, religion and attitude to life and our openness to individual differences. The interviews were to take place every two weeks and would last for two hours. During this time, our referees would also be visited.