A Perfect Match (21 page)

‘… 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 H
₂
O 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.

I was reeling. My God, by the end of these visits, she’d know more about us than anyone else did. I was worried that James would tell her that I’d been a bit of a lunatic on the fertility drugs the year before. I glanced over at him. He was sipping his coffee and I could tell by his face that he was thinking about the bloody Rugby match. He was miles away. I kicked him under the table.

Dervla went on to say that one of the home-study sessions would require us to be interviewed separately. I didn’t like the sound of that. I’d have to coach James to make sure we had the same answers to all potential questions. Then Dervla said she’d like to look around the house. As we moved from room to room, she jotted down notes on her pad, which I tried to read, but couldn’t. She didn’t exactly whoop when she saw the spare room with all the cuddly toys and the baby books. She just kept scribbling on her stupid pad and nodding from time to time. Her silence made me nervous so I twittered on about nothing as we walked around the house. I asked her if she had any children of her own.

‘No, none.’

‘Are you married?’

‘No, and I’m really not here to talk about myself. We need to keep focused on you and James,’ she said, turning her back on me to end the conversation.

Hardly bloody surprising she wasn’t married, I thought, with a personality like that. We went back downstairs and Dervla asked us to talk about why we wanted to adopt. Before I had a chance to open my mouth, James was off. He told her that after trying for two years to get pregnant and undergoing several different types of fertility treatment, we had decided to adopt a child.

‘Emma was getting very down as the treatments continued to fail and the drugs she was on were making her very moody and upset, so we decided to pack it in and get back to having a normal life and a sex life that wasn’t ruled by a thermometer,’ said James, laughing as I turned purple from embarrassment and rage. What was he doing? She didn’t need to know all this. Him and his big mouth. I glared at him.

‘How’s your sex life now? Would you describe it as healthy?’ asked Dervla.

I decided to jump in and do some damage control. ‘It’s great actually. Very healthy thanks. It was fine when we were trying to have a baby too, just a bit regimented I suppose. No big deal.’

‘How often would you have sex?’

Nosy cow. Why the hell was she so interested in our sex life? What difference did that make to our child?

‘We’re always at it. At least twice a day,’ said the court jester as I rubbed my nose.

‘Ha, ha,’ I said, in a lame pretence that I found my husband amusing. ‘No seriously, our sex life is fine,’ I added, trying desperately to decide what a ‘healthy’ amount of sex was. Should we be hanging from the rafters every night? Or should we be only doing it the odd time. Too much would look self-indulgent and she might think we’d be too busy having sex to bring up our child. Too little would make it seem as if we weren’t attracted to each other and that our marriage might be on the rocks. I opted for middle ground. ‘We have sex on average three times a week.’

On hearing this blatant lie, James began to choke on his coffee as he tried not to laugh. Luckily I was on hand to thump him on the back – which I did with gusto. While James recovered his breath and dodged my thumps, Dervla began to leaf through our file until she came across an all too familiar looking letter.

‘I see from your correspondence that you are willing to adopt siblings,’ she said.

Shit! I had completely forgotten about the letter I’d written to the adoption people shortly after applying, telling them we’d be happy to adopt a whole family of children – I may have even said a whole village, I couldn’t remember. Damn, I hadn’t mentioned it to James and now he was sitting there looking stunned.

‘Oh yes, that letter I sent. Well, I was probably being a bit hasty,’ I said, trying to backtrack. ‘It would be nice to have a ready-made family in one go, but I realize now that it might be difficult to manage more than one child at a time, especially if they’re sick or damaged in any way. I see now that it would be better for us to adopt one at a time.’

‘How do you feel about adopting more than one child, James?’

‘I think perhaps Emma was being over-enthusiastic as is her wont,’ said Judas. ‘I think one child at a time is quite sufficient.’

Dervla made notes as I silently cursed myself. James looked at me, eyebrows raised. I mouthed, sorry.

‘Would you like to adopt a boy or a girl or are you open to either?’

‘Either,’ we both said in unison. At least we agreed on something.

‘We really don’t mind. We just want a healthy little baby,’ I said.

‘The child may not be healthy though, you must be aware of that,’ said the voice of doom.

‘We know about the pitfalls, but we feel that we’ll be able to cope. We have a lot of family support and we’ll obviously get any medical expertise that is required,’ I said, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt. I was terrified of ending up with a baby who was terminally ill or so emotionally scarred that they spent all day banging their head off the wall like the little boy in the video they had shown us.

Thankfully, it seemed to be the right answer because Dervla didn’t pursue the line of questioning. I telt as if we were on trial. I was afraid to say anything that might upset our chances.

‘Do you get the opportunity to spend much time with children?’ asked Dervla.

‘Yes. My brother Henry has three children. Thomas who’s four and twin girls – Sophie and Luisa – who will be two in a couple of months. They spent Christmas with us this year, so we had some good practice. We had great fun, but we were exhausted after they left, weren’t we, darling?’ said James.

I frowned at him. I didn’t want Dervla to think we were worn out after spending one measly week with three children. She’d think we were pathetic.

‘Not really, we were more invigorated than tired,’ I said, attempting to do some damage control. ‘I was particularly pleased to get to spend quality time with my godchild Sophie.’

‘How would you describe your relationship with your nephew and nieces?’

‘Very good,’ I jumped in before James could tell her how much I loathed Thomas. ‘They are all lovely children, although I must confess I’m particularly attached to Sophie, who I adore. She’s beautiful and very placid. She’s just perfect,’ I said wistfully.

‘Tell me, Emma, when you were having fertility treatment did you get very depressed?’

‘No, not at all. When James said I got a bit down, he just meant that I was a bit fed up about taking the drugs because the side effects were a bit unpleasant. But I certainly wouldn’t use the word depressed. God, no. I’m a very positive upbeat person. There is no history of depression in my family – none at all.’ I didn’t want her thinking we were all suicidal maniacs.

‘OK, well how did the failure to have a child affect your relationship? It’s a very stressful time for couples,’ said Dervla, showing a human side. ‘Did it cause tension between you?’

‘No,’ I said.

‘Not tension,’ said James. ‘But it did take over our lives. It was all-encompassing which was difficult at times.’

At this stage I had practically rubbed my nose off; clearly James was going to ignore our code, so I gave up and let him talk.

‘But I can honestly say that the experience has made us closer. In a world where people are having children every day, it can be very isolating when you are struggling with it. I admire Emma so much  for what she went through. I would say without a doubt that our relationship has strengthened and deepened because of it.’

Sometimes you forget how much you love someone. I could feel a lump forming in my throat as James finished speaking. I willed it away. Now was not the time to cry. Even Dervla looked impressed. She actually smiled at him.

‘Is that the way you feel too, Emma?’ she asked gently.

I nodded. It was exactly the wav I felt.

24

James and the team flew to London the day after the home visit. The rest of us flew out two days later, on the eve of the match. Dad collected me and we drove out to the airport. I got into the car and sat beside Babs, who I was still furious with.

‘This is all very exciting,’ said Mum, turning around in the front seat. ‘I can’t remember the last time we went away together. How’s poor James? Up to ninety, I suppose.’

‘He seems OK,’ I said. ‘He seemed more nervous before the semi-final which is a bit weird.’

‘Well, you have to understand, this final is the farthest Leinster have ever got, so he’s already broken a record,’ said Dad. ‘If they win it’ll be fantastic, but even if they don’t, he has achieved an incredible feat in only two years. He’s some coach.’

‘Is Peter going to be playing?’ Babs asked, suddenly taking an interest in the team, now that she had shagged both Donal and Peter.

I ignored her.

‘Helloooo, Emma, I’m talking to you.’

‘Sod off. I don’t know what the hell you’re doing coming over for the match.’

‘My boyfriend, Peter, is on the team.’

‘Boyfriend!’ I snorted. ‘Since when?’

‘Since the semi-final. We’ve been out every night, he’s mad about me.’

‘Are you talking about Barbara’s new boyfriend?’ said Mum, looking very pleased. ‘He seems like a lovely young lad. Very talented too. Will he be playing d’you think?’

‘No. Donal will,’ I snapped.

‘Yeah, well, if he plays as badly as he did in the semis James’ll have to take him off again and Peter will get on,’ said Babs.

‘If Donal hadn’t been so riddled with guilt, he wouldn’t have played so badly.’

‘What was he guilty about?’ asked Mum.

‘He just did something silly,’ I said.

‘He had the best night of his life,’ said Babs, ‘that’s why he was so distracted.’

‘What did he do?’ asked Mum.

‘Nothing,’ I said, glaring at Babs, who was smirking at me.

‘Isn’t he engaged to your Lucy?’ asked Mum.

‘Yes, he is, Mum, and they are very happy and very in love.’

‘Ah, that’s nice to hear.’

Babs made sick noises.

‘Even you’ll fall in love someday, Barbara,’ said Mum. ‘Look at Lucy and Donal.’

‘I’d love to end up with a guy like Donal. He’s so … what’s the word, Emma?’ she said beaming at me. ‘Oh yeah, faithful. He’s so faithful and loyal.’

‘Enough,’ said Dad. ‘Where is my son when I need him? I can’t listen to any more of this drivel. Can we please talk about the match?’

‘OK, Dad. Who’s going to win?’ I asked.

‘I think Leinster will do it. Edinburgh have a slight advantage in that their backrow is quicker, but I think –’

‘Has Lucy got her dress yet?’ asked Mum as Dad thumped the steering wheel in frustration.

Lucy was waiting for us when we got to the airport. I was nervous about leaving Babs alone with her, so I glued myself to Lucy’s side and ordered Babs to sit at the other end of the plane. Dad rushed into the bar and had a testosterone filled thirty minutes talking to other Leinster supporters about the game.

We landed and went straight to the hotel. Sean was going to meet us there for a drink. Dad was delighted to be staying in the team hotel. He was getting a lot of kudos from the supporters for being father-in-law to the coach. He was in his element. James and Donal were with Sean in the bar when we arrived. They were drinking orange juices and looking nervous. Dad plonked himself down between them to get the inside track into the planned tactics for the final. When Donal saw Babs strut into the lounge with Lucy, he nearly passed out. He looked at me, panic stricken, and I tilted my head towards Peter. Relief flooded his face when Babs went and wrapped herself around Peter. Poor old Peter, he was clearly besotted with her. I could see him hanging on her every word. Still, I thought, at least he was keeping her away from Donal.