A Perfect Match (23 page)

‘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.

26

The next day Babs came to work with me. I went to pick her up, grudgingly reminding myself that it was only for a couple of weeks. She hopped into the car wearing a virtually non-existent mini and thigh-high black leather boots.

‘You do realize we’re going to put make-up on people?’

‘Yeah. So?’

‘You look like a cross between a hooker and a fly fisher in that outfit.’

‘Yeah, well coming from someone who’s wearing a polo neck that was fashionable circa nineteen seventy three, I take that as a compliment.’

‘Let’s get something straight here. I’m only doing this as a favour to Dad. If you piss me off or do anything to annoy or upset my clients, I will kill you. Just stay in the background and say nothing. I realize that will be supremely difficult for someone as gobby as you – but just try. Try very hard.’

‘Fine, whatever,’ said Babs, checking her lipstick in the mirror.

When we got to the studio, I introduced Babs to Amanda and told her that she was going to be with me for a few weeks training and I hoped Amanda didn’t mind.

‘Not at all. It’s nice to meet you, Babs, I’ve heard a lot about you,’ said Amanda, winking at me.

Amanda knew all about Babs (except the part where she had sex with Donal). I offloaded to her regularly about how much of a livewire Babs was. Amanda loved hearing what she was up to – I think Babs reminded her of herself when she was that age. At fifty plus, Amanda was single, fiercely independent, very attractive, prone to affairs with married men, childless by choice and very direct.

‘I like your boots,’ she said to Babs.

‘Thanks, Emma told me I looked like a fisherman in them.’

Amanda laughed at this. ‘So, are you thinking about following your sister’s footsteps into make-up?’

‘Well, I really want to be an actress, but I reckon I’ll do this for a while, earn some cash to pay for a nose job and then head out to LA.’

‘Have you always wanted a nose job?’

‘Hello! Have you seen my nose? As my family like to remind me, I look like Seabiscuit. It’s the only thing I need to change. If I can get a good nose job, I’ll be flying.’

‘I know a good surgeon in London. He’s pricey but excellent. He did my eyes,’ said Amanda, showing Babs her eyelift.

Bloody hell, I thought. This was no good at all. Babs was supposed to be learning about real life – hard work and long hours. But here she was, sitting beside Amanda, chatting about plastic surgeons.

‘What do you think I should go for?’ Babs asked her new plastic pal.

‘I’d go for something like Julia Roberts’ nose. It’s still slightly pointed but a lovely shape. It’ll transform you.’

‘That’s what I reckon and there’ll be no stopping me then.’

‘Amanda!’ I said, blending on some cream blusher. ‘You’re not supposed to encourage her.’

Amanda laughed. ‘There’s no harm in making a few adjustments to what God gave us, if he gave us the wrong parts. Babs is right, her nose is too big for her face. When she gets it fixed, she’ll feel like a different person. People in this country are far too narrow-minded about cosmetic surgery. It’s a fact of life, why not improve your looks? Why be embarrassed about it?’

‘Exactly,’ said Babs. ‘Hey! I’ve just had a brilliant idea. Why don’t you do a profile of me on your show? A before and after cosmetic surgery piece. I don’t care who knows I’ve had a nose job as long as I get it done. If you pay for me to have one I’ll do it live on the show. It’ll be like a fly on the wall documentary about plastic surgery. It’d be brilliant.’

‘That’s a fantastic idea,’ said Amanda, looking excited. ‘We could follow you through every step. Yes, I like that idea a lot. Let me talk to my producers about it.’

‘Sorry to blow your five minutes of fame, Babs, but there is no way that you are having a nose job on national television. Do you have any idea what Mum and Dad would say? Have you no shame?’

‘I’d go on TV in my nip, if it meant getting a free operation,’ said the shameless one.

‘Don’t worry, Emma, it’ll be tastefully done,’ said Amanda. ‘I’ll speak to you later, Babs, when I’ve discussed it with my team here. But I must say it’d make great reality TV.’

When Amanda left to go on to the set, I turned to Babs, who was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

‘You can wipe that smirk off your face. There is no way in hell you are doing this.’

‘Look on the bright side, Emma. It means I won’t have to follow you around for three weeks annoying you. If they agree to pay for the operation, I won’t need to learn about make-up, I can go straight to Hollywood.’

Later that day Amanda called me at home to let me know that her producer thought it was a sensational idea and she wanted me to know that she had spoken to Babs and she had agreed to it. Amanda said she hoped I understood that it was too good an opportunity to pass up. She told me not to worry, that they were getting the best surgeon in London to do it, and they’d take extra special care of her. According to Amanda, Babs was ecstatic about it.

As I was trying to digest the news, Mum called.

‘
What is going on? Your sister has just told me some cockamamie story about that hussy Amanda Nolan offering to pay her to go on television and make a show of us all
…’