A Perfect Match Read online

  Dad was looking at me with pleading eyes. I sighed and nodded.

  ‘OK, I’ll give you three weeks. Thankfully all my clients are women so at least I won’t have to worry about that side of things. But if you open your mouth or annoy me in any way – you’re out. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, sir, sergeant major, I do,’ said Babs, standing to attention.

  ‘What’s going on over here?’ asked Mum, looking a bit flushed after a few gin and tonics.

  ‘Dad, in his infinite wisdom, has decided to fob Babs off on me for a few weeks’ work experience.’

  ‘You don’t really mind do you, pet? It’ll be good for the two of you to spend more time together.’

  ‘You’re really selling it to me now,’ I huffed.

  ‘Oh, stop being such a drama queen,’ said Babs.

  ‘Pot … kettle … black?’ said Sean.

  ‘Put a sock in it, Barbara,’ snapped Dad. ‘Now, who’d like a drink? Emma, what can I get you?’

  ‘Isn’t this lovely,’ said Mum. ‘The family out together having fun.’

  I slept very little that night because James seemed intent on playing the match in bed. He kicked and tossed and flung his arms about in his fitful attempts at sleeping. Eventually at six, we fell into deep, exhausted comas. What seemed like seconds later, we were woken by the phone. Henry and Mr Hamilton had arrived and were waiting downstairs to see James before the big game. They cheered when they saw James and pointed to the Leinster jerseys they were wearing. James was thrilled. Mr Hamilton, looking decidedly emotional for a man who normally kept his emotions in check, kept patting James on the back and saying ‘terribly proud of you, son’ and ‘tremendous achievement to have come so far’. Henry practised the words of Molly Malone with me until he was word perfect. The hotel began to fill with supporters and a sing-song broke out. James went to gather the team and I wished him all the luck in the world. ‘And, remember, it doesn’t matter what happens, just being here is an incredible achievement.’

  ‘Fuck that, we’re going to win,’ said James, grinning at me.

  We arrived in Twickenham to the sound ot the Leinster fans. They had taken over the east side of the stadium. Opposite us sat the Edinburgh supporters – equally loud and boisterous. Mr Hamilton and Henry sat beside us and looked around. They were clearly impressed by the huge support Leinster had. I sat between Sean and Lucy. I watched James pacing up and down the sidelines, talking to his assistant coach. The teams came out and the stadium erupted. Emotions were running very high. Edinburgh had been beaten in the final the vear before and they were determined to win … but so were Leinster.

  The match began and for the first twenty minutes Leinster had most of the possession, but did nothing with it. For the rest of the first half, Edinburgh had the majority ot the ball and with two minutes to go, they scored a try. Suddenly the Leinster supporters weren’t so buoyant. Seven–nil to Edinburgh at half time.

  The second half began with Edinburgh camped on Leinster’s line. But the lads defended well and pushed the Scottish team right back to their own twenty-two. Scrum to Leinster. Sean squeezed my hand. ‘We have to use this, we have to score here,’ he said. Donal picked the ball up from the scrum and bolted for the line. As he got within scoring distance, he could see the Edinburgh full back coming from behind to tackJe him, he put his head down and as he was tackled, he threw himself over the line, landing awkwardly. The Leinster supporters went wild. We jumped up and down, roaring and shouting. Donal remained on the ground, his dislocated shoulder drooping to one side. As he was helped off the pitch by the physio, the Leinster crowd gave him a standing ovation while his fiancée screamed death threats at the player who had tackled him.

  Peter O’Hare came on as Donal’s replacement, much to Babs’ delight. But it was short lived, as the supporters around us – having figured out from Lucy’s screaming that she was Brady’s bird – assured us that while Peter was a good player, he was no Donal Brady. You only get one of those every decade, they agreed. Courage and dedication like that were the things of legends. Lucy glowed and Babs sulked. She wasn’t happy being second best. I could see Peter was going to get dumped. I just hoped she’d move on to soccer players next and stay out of my territory. Between her sex test with the Leinster squad and now coming to work with me, I was beginning to feel as if I was being stalked.

  Seven points all and ten minutes to go. Edinburgh got a penalty which they converted. Ten points to seven with five minutes to go. The noise in the stadium was so loud I thought my ears would burst. Three minutes to go and Leinster had a line-out close to the Scottish team’s line. Peter jumped in the air and caught the ball. He passed it out quickly. The scrum-half spun it out wide to the winger. He ran, kicked it over the opposition’s head and catching it on the bounce, flung himself down, ball in hand, grinning all the way. Leinster had won.

  25

  After a week of celebrations, back slapping, framing of articles and watching re-runs of the match over and over again – I managed to get James and the injured Donal to sit down and go through the adoption reference form.

  ‘I’ve a problem with question four,’ said Donal.

  James and I read:

  Please comment on the applicants’ lifestyle in the context of these capacities as they relate to their health, stability/ continuity/security of their home lite, etc. – these comments should include reference to the applicants’ sobriety and any history of substance abuse.

  We looked up. ‘Where’s the problem?’ I asked.

  ‘It may have escaped your notice, but your husband here has been drunk as a skunk for the last week and I’m worried he might be a closet dipso. I won’t lie to these good people.’

  ‘Very funny. I think if anyone here has a drink problem it’s the guy who blacked out and had sex with my baby sister.’

  ‘I hope, Emma, that you’re not trying to blackmail me here?’ said Donal.

  ‘Certainly not, I’m just jogging your memory.’

  ‘OK,’ he said, moving swiftly along, ‘question five asks me to comment on your personal qualities – honesty and trustworthiness.’

  ‘It’s a good thing you’re not the applicant, what would we put for shagging a minor and forgetting to tell your fiancée,’ said James, finding himself very entertaining. Donal thumped him wealdy, with the arm that wasn’t in a sling.

  ‘OK, come on, no more messing. We need to get this right,’ I said.

  ‘Sorry, darling. OK, question six: “Please comment on the applicants’ relationship with their children (if they have any) and members of their extended family,”’ read James.

  ‘You’re both very close to your families, so that’s an easy one,’ said Donal.

  ‘Not as close to some members as you though,’ I said, unable to resist, as James roared laughing.

  ‘Am I going to be abused all night?’ groaned Donal.

  ‘That’s what happens when you stick it where it doesn’t belong,’ I said, grinning at him. ‘OK, moving along. Next question: “Please comment on the applicants’, their children’s and extended family’s acceptance, knowledge and experience of people from other cultures, both from within Ireland and abroad.”’

  ‘Well, that’s easy, my young sister-in-law has excellent carnal knowledge of a bog man from Ballydrum,’ said James, unable to resist.

  ‘And Emma here has experience of living with an English tosser, who moved to Ireland to torment the locals,’ said Donal, trying to keep a straight face.

  ‘OK, come on now, no more slagging,’ I said. ‘The last main question is: “Please comment on your experience of the applicants’ personal qualities related to – the capacity to understand, recognize and empathize with the needs of another, to seek and access support either on their own behalf or the behalf of others when it is needed.”’

  ‘I know, I know, you had the capacity to understand that Lucy didn’t need to know about Babs, you don’t have to spell it out,’ said Donal, pre-empting the answe
r. ‘Look, leave it with me tonight and I’ll do up a first draft. I can’t do it here with you both looking over my shoulder and reminding me ot that awful night. I’ll give it to you tomorrow to look over and then we’ll finalize it,’ said Donal, struggling with his coat.

  I helped him put it on and James gave him a lift home. When he arrived back I said we needed to talk about the one-on-one sessions we were going to have at the end of the week with Dervla. I was worried that if our answers were different at all, she’d black mark us and we’d blow our chances. We needed to practise, so a reluctant James sat down with me to go over our responses.

  ‘She said she’d be asking us about our past and our relationship and all that stuff, so I’ve written down a few questions. If we both write down our answers separately and then compare them, we’ll be able to see if we’re saying the same thing; I said, very pleased with my idea.

  James groaned. ‘It’s too much hard work. Can’t we just answer verbally?’

  ‘No, this is much better because we can compare them exactly. Now, come on, start writing.’

  We scribbled in silence for about ten minutes and then put the sheets of paper side by side. The first question was: How did you meet? James had written, Emma saw me in a bar, dumped her boyfriend and then chatted me up.

  I had written, The night I met James I had just broken up ivith my boyfriend. I saw James at the bar and we started chatting. It was lore at first sight. I knew he was the one.

  ‘No, you didn’t,’ said James.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You were still going out with that guy when you met me. You dumped him after you were dazzled by my good looks, charm and wit.’

  ‘Five minutes after I met you, I broke up with him. Do you really think it matters if I bend that truth a tiny bit? I was going to dump Ronan that night anyway because he was such a loser and all he did was sit around on his arse all day and sponge off me. But I don’t think it looks very good if Dervla thinks I was two-timing even if it was for only a few minutes. For goodness sake, James, think before you speak.’

  ‘Write.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Think before you write. I wrote the answer.’

  ‘Now is not the time to start nitpicking,’ I snapped.

  ‘Fine, let’s move on.’

  Question two was: What attracted you to each other? James had written: I’m a sucker for redheads, especially sassy ones with a twinkle in their eye and big breasts.

  I had written: I could see he was a really good person. Responsible, kind, considerate and I knew that he’d be a brilliant father.

  ‘That’s it, I give up. If you’re not even going to try to be serious what’s the point?’ I said, having a total sense of humour failure. ‘We might as well just forget the whole thing and resign ourselves to a life without children.’

  James pointed to the last question. I sighed and picked it up. How long have you been together?

  He had written: ‘We went out for two years and then we got married three years ago. They hare been the happiest fire years of my life. I can’t wait to hare a family with Emma. I know she’ll be an excellent mother and it is due to her tenacity and dedication to baring children that we are here today.’

  I had written – Five years.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said, leaning over to kiss him. ‘I know I’m a bit wound up. I just don’t want to blow our chances.’

  ‘Everything will be fine, just be yourselt. It doesn’t matter if our memories vary slightly. Dervla will be able to see that we have a solid relationship and we would make excellent parents.’

  ‘Do you think saying we have sex three times a week was too much?’

  ‘Not if we make it a fact,’ said James, leading me upstairs.

  Donal dropped the finished form in to us the next day. It was perfect. I felt quite emotional reading it – as did James although he pretended not to. Donal said that we had a loving and secure marriage and a closeness that he aspired to in his own relationship. He said we were best friends as well as husband and wife. He said that I was a woman of enormous strength of character who faced adversity head on and was extremely empathetic to my friends. He said James was one of the few true gentlemen left in the world and was a loyal and trustworthy friend

  with a huge generosity of spirit. He summed up by saying that he believed that there were no more suitable or deserving people willing to adopt.

  I forgave Donal everything.

  When I called Jess – who had a head like a sieve – to check on their reference, she told me that she had filled out the form with Tony, and sent it off but that she had forgotten to keep a copy. I was annoyed that she hadn’t shown it to me before sending it in, as I had repeatedly asked her to, and when we met up tor a drink it came out.

  I wasn’t going to bring it up because I was too angry and besides I didn’t want to argue with Jess. It wouldn’t look too good if the social worker visited her after we’d had a blazing row. Lucy – oblivious to my annoyance with Jess – brought up the forms.

  ‘So were you pleased with Donal’s answers?’ she asked.

  ‘They were brilliant. He said such nice things about both of us, it was lovely.’

  ‘Were the answers similar to Jess’s?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know, Jess didn’t show me hers,’ I said coldly.

  ‘I forgot. I was so anxious to post it back and not miss the deadline that I forgot to show it to Emma and now she’s pissed off.’

  ‘I’m not pissed off, I just wish you’d shown it to me like I asked you to. It’s really important that the answers hit the right note.’

  ‘Our answers were all fine. We raved about the two of you. Relax, it’ll be fine, it’s not that big a deal.’

  ‘It may not be a big deal to you,’ I said through gritted teeth, ‘but to me it’s the difference between being approved to have a child or never having one. If we get refused we’ll never have a family unless we emigrate somewhere else and start this horrendous process all over again, which funnily enough I don’t much fancy.’

  ‘Jesus, Emma, it’s not as if I said you’d be crap parents. I said you were both fantastic and wonderful. I’m sorry I forgot to show it to you but I do have other things going on in my life. Sally has been sick with measles all week.’

  ‘I’m sorry Sally’s been sick, but this is my one chance at a family and I asked you three times to show it me, but you still forgot and that really bugs me.’

  ‘Jesus, Emma, there’s always something wrong with you. Do you have any idea what it’s like for me? I’ve spent the last three years creeping around not mentioning my kids because I knew you were trying to get pregnant. I purposely never bring them up in front of you because I know it’s a sensitive issue, but sometimes it’d be nice if you showed an interest. They are the most important thing in my life and I don’t see you knocking yourself out to spend time with them or showing any concern for them whatsoever. We’ve had two years of your infertility and now it’s the adoption. I’m sick of treading on eggshells. I filled out your bloody form in between nursing my sick child back to health while Roy acted up because he wasn’t getting any of my attention.’

  ‘You’re unbelievable. You get pregnant without even trying, have two healthy children while I’m stuck in hospital undergoing shitty tests and injecting myself with drugs none of which works and then I have to go through the humiliation of having every aspect of my relationship – including my sex life – dissected by some bitch from the Adoption board who clearly thinks I’m not good enough and all you can do is moan about Sally’s measles. All kids get measles – it’s not fucking Aids. Which by the way, is one of many illnesses my adopted child may well have. But I don’t have a choice – I have to take what I’m given with no knowledge of what type of sick, fucked up parents they had. But apparently I should be calling over to you to play with your two children just so I can rub my nose in what I don’t have.’

  ‘Guys!’ shouted Lucy. ‘Stop it. Come on, we never argue. Don�
��t start now. Look, Emma, Jess is sorry she forgot and I know you’d like to have seen the form, but I’m sure she did a great job with the questions.’

  ‘I did,’ grumbled Jess. ‘I even lied about how amazing you were with my kids. I said you played with them all the time and they adored you.’

  Shit. I felt awful. I shouldn’t have blown up like that. I knew Jess would have written nice things.

  ‘Thanks, Jess. Sorry for snapping, but the home visits are freaking me out. The social worker thinks I’m an idiot and I’m genuinely terrified of having our application turned down because if we do, I think I’ll have a nervous breakdown,’ I said, trying not to cry.

  ‘Jesus, don’t cry, you’ll start me off,’ said Jess. ‘It’ll be fine, you’ll be great parents, any fool can see that.’

  ‘Of course it will,’ said Lucy. ‘Come on, Emma, chin up. You haven’t too much longer to go. We’re here to help if we can.’

  ‘Thanks, guys, sorry I’m such a moany old cow.’

  ‘Do they really ask you about your sex life?’ asked Jess.

  ‘Yes. I had to tell them how often we have sex,’ I said, beginning to smile.

  ‘What did you say?’ asked Lucy.

  ‘Three times a week.’

  ‘Do you?’ asked Jess, looking a bit worried. ‘Tony’s lucky if he gets a shag a month.’

  ‘No, I lied. Once a week is more honest. Once every two weeks is totally honest,’ I said, laughing.

  ‘Really?’ said Lucy.

  Jess and I turned to look at her.

  ‘Go on; depress me with your active, just engaged love life. How often?’ said Jess.

  ‘Three times a week, sometimes more,’ she said, grinning, as Jess and I made sick noises.