A Perfect Match (28 page)

‘So will our parents,’ I said, reassuring her. ‘They think you’re great.’

‘What are we waiting for? Let’s call them now,’ said Babs.

‘Shut up, will you,’ said Sean. ‘Big nose, big mouth. We’re going to wait and see if you survive the operation before pouncing our news on them. If you don’t die on the operating table, we’ll tell them this weekend.’

‘Well, I think this calls for champagne,’ said James.

‘Absolutely,’ said Sean. ‘To celebrate our engagement and your adoption.’

‘And my new nose,’ shouted Babs, not wanting to be left out.

‘And Babs’s new nose. Let’s hope they don’t make it worse,’ I said.

‘Or that the knife slips and she ends up with a scar down the side of her face,’ added Sean.

‘Fuck off the lot of you. You’re just jealous because you’re both carrot heads and I’m blonde and gorgeous.’

‘With a penchant for older rugby players,’ said James, chuckling into his drink as I kicked him under the table. I hadn’t told Sean, because I knew he’d be shocked.

‘I can’t help it if men find me irresistible, James.’

‘Who are we talking about here?’ asked Sean.

‘Me shagging Donal Brady,’ said Babs.

‘What? When? I thought he was engaged to Lucy.’

‘He was, but he still couldn’t keep his hands off me.’

‘Ignore her. They had broken up and he was out of his head drunk and he bumped into Babs and one thing led to another. He got back with Lucy a few days later. No one knows so don’t say a word,’ I said, glaring at Babs.

‘You really are the limit,’ said Sean. ‘Why can’t you find someone your own age who isn’t attached? What’s wrong with you?’

‘That’s rich coming from someone who’s marrying the first girl that he’s ever gone out with that didn’t cheat on him.’

‘It’s a far sight better than behaving like a tramp.’ ‘OK, enough,’ I said, jumping in. ‘We’re supposed to be celebrating here.’

The next day, Babs, Amanda and I went to the clinic where the operation was taking place. I did their makeup while the production team set up the cameras. The surgeon – a Mr Browns-Dent, who had more marbles in his mouth than Prince Charles – arrived to talk Babs through the procedure. I applied some light make-up to his already perfectly tanned face, and we were ready to film.

‘With rhinoplasty complications are infrequent and usually minor,’ warbled the surgeon.

‘What’s rhinoplasty?’ asked Babs, looking put out. ‘It sounds like something you do to a rhinoceros, not a human.’

‘It’s a medical term, my dear,’ said Mr Browns-Dent, talking directly to the camera. ‘As your procedure is relatively straightforward I would imagine we will have completed the operation within an hour.’

‘OK, so what exactly happens?’ asked Babs, dying to hear all the gory details.

‘During surgery the skin of the nose is separated from its supporting framework of bone and cartilage, which is then sculpted into the desired shape. When this has been completed satisfactorily, the skin will be redraped over the new framework.’

‘Cool!’ said Babs, as Amanda and I squirmed. ‘What happens when I wake up? I hope I won’t be too puffy and bruised? How long till I can go out?’

‘When the surgery is complete, a splint will be applied to help your nose maintain its new shape,’ said the surgeon, smiling into the camera. Babs was irrelevant to him, the audience was key. He was pitching to all those potential clients in Ireland. ‘After surgery – particularly during the first twenty-four hours – your face will feel puffy and your nose may feel a little uncomfortable. But, don’t worry; we can control any discomfort you may experience with pain medication. I recommend a day’s rest and then you can go home. Applying cold compresses to the area will help reduce the swelling. I can assure you that all my patients have been extremely satisfied with the results and amazed by the lack of pain they suffer at my expert hands.’

‘Great, when can we start?’ asked Seabiscuit, chomping at the bit.

‘You’re scheduled in for five o’clock today. I will see you then,’ he said, giving the audience a dazzling smile as he strode out of the room, head to toe Saville Row.

I was feeling a bit nervous for Babs after hearing the details of what went on during the operation. She, on the other hand, was on a high. She was recording her solo piece for the show.

‘Well, it’s eleven o’clock now, so I’ve only got six more hours until I get my new nose. I would recommend this to anyone. My life is about to change dramatically. I’m going to look amazing. I just wish I hadn’t waited so long. I’ll see you all after the operation.’

Later that day, as Babs was waiting for the orderlies to come and wheel her down to theatre, she suddenly looked very young and vulnerable. She was fidgeting nervously with the hat that was holding her hair back.

‘Are you OK?’ I asked.

‘I’m fine. I’ve just never had an operation before, so I don’t know what to expect.’ She shrugged.

‘You know you don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to. It’s not too late to back out.’

‘No way. I want to get a new nose.’

‘The one you have really isn’t so bad.’

‘Yeah, right. That’s why even’ guy I’ve ever gone out with said I’d be gorgeous if it wasn’t for my nose.’

‘Well, it’s not as if they’ve stopped queuing up.’

‘Look, Emma, I appreciate the concern, but I’m not doing it for them, I’m doing this for me.’

‘OK.’

‘Thanks, though. I’m glad you’re here. I’d be a bit freaked out on my own.’

Just as Babs and I shared the only
Little House on the Prairie
moment we’d ever had, the producers came in to set up the camera to film her being wheeled down to theatre. The minute the camera was switched on, Babs went from young and scared to confident and smiling. They followed her through the anaesthetic and then filmed the hour-long operation. I paced nervously up and down the corridor waiting for her to come out. I prayed nothing would go wrong. God knows, she drove us all mad, but life would be very dull without her. At exactly six o’clock, an immaculate Mr Browns-Dent came out of theatre to tell the cameras that the operation had been

283

successful and that Babs was now in recovery. I went in and sat beside her until she woke up.

‘How did it go?’ she slurred, still groggy from the anaesthetic.

‘Fine. Everything went really well according to your posh surgeon. How are you feeling?’

‘Fan-fucking-tastic. These drugs are great, I feel as if I’m floating.’

‘OK, well get some sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.’

The next morning we arrived back in to film the post-operation section, to find Babs sitting up, staring into a mirror and looking a sorry sight. Her eyes were puffy and black and blue. As far as her nose was concerned I could see no difference because of the swelling. She didn’t look too pleased.

‘I look a state. Do something,’ she hissed at me.

‘What exactly am I supposed to do?’

‘Make me look better, it’s your bloody job. I can’t go on TV looking like this.’

‘There is nothing I can do about the puffiness and I can’t mask your black eyes. Besides, the surgeon said you were to avoid touching the area at all for a few days.’

‘Shit,’ said Babs, looking in the mirror as she tried to pull her hair down over her face. ‘I look like a bloody panda bear and my nose is killing me. What does it look like? Can you see it under the swelling?’

‘It looks dreadful,’ I said, honestly.

‘Well, it may not look great now, but it will be fab. The doctor said so and I trust him. He does all the celebrity noses,’ she said, trying to convince herself that the big lump in the middle of her face was not the finished product.

Amanda sat on the side of the bed to do the post-op interview.

‘I’m here with Barbara Burke, who has woken up this morning from last night’s surgery to see her new nose for the first time. Can you tell us how you’re feeling?’

‘Shite, actually. My head’s throbbing, and I’ve just seen my new nose in the mirror. I look like an English bulldog with two black eyes.’

‘Well, of course the surgeon did say that there would be swelling for a few days, but he seems pleased with the operation.’

‘Yeah, well, it’s not his nose, is it? I can’t say what I think until the swelling has gone down. I’ll comment then. It better be nice, because otherwise I’m going to sue you all.’

Amanda looked taken aback. Sometimes controversial guests were more of a headache than a ratings earner.

31

A week later, the swelling had gone down and Babs’s nose was definitely smaller. But to me it looked odd. I was so used to her face with the big schnozz that this button nose looked out of place. She, however, was delighted, and spent all day staring at herself in the mirror.

As Mum recovered from the shame and worry of her youngest daughter being operated on in front of the whole country, Sean picked his moment to tell her about his engagement. He took the coward’s way out and told her over the phone, saying he was too tied up in work to come home, but he’d see her at Lucy’s wedding in six weeks’ time where Shadee could show her the ring and discuss wedding details then. Mum called me straight away.

‘Your brother just called to tell me he’s engaged. I presume you knew about this, but decided to say nothing.’

‘He told me last week, when we were in London, but it wasn’t up to me to tell you, Mum. It’s his news, not mine.’

‘I suppose the wedding will be in Iran and we’ll all have to be covered from head to toe in black sheets and eat sheep’s brains for dinner.’

‘As far as I know they’re thinking of getting married in some little country village in Cornwall, where Shadee used to go on holidays.’

‘And what’s wrong with getting married in a little village in Ireland? Not good enough for them, is it?’

‘Why don’t you call Sean and discuss it with him?’

‘What type of ceremony will it be? Muslim, I suppose. Oh, she may say she’s not practising, but, mark my words, when push comes to shove the Muslim in her will come out. They’ll make him convert, they’re a persuasive lot. He’ll be a Muslim and then my little grandchildren will be Muslims too. We’ll never get to see them because her family won’t want us trying to convert them. What did I do to deserve this? Joan Cantrell from the bridge club told me only last week that she saw a documentary on Iran or Iraq – she couldn’t remember exactly – but anyway the men treat the women like dirt she said. The girls can’t go to school or be educated or anything. I don’t want my grandchildren brought up in that kind of world …’ said Mum, beginning to sniffle.

‘For goodness sake, do you honestly think if they treat women that badly that Shadee will want to go anywhere near the place?’ I snapped.

‘She’s used to it, so she’d think it was normal.’

‘She’s a maths teacher, for God’s sake. She went to school and college in England, why the hell would she want to go back to that? Jesus, Mum, listen to yourself.’

‘Well, there’s no need to take my head off. You’re very grumpy today. What’s wrong with you?’

‘Let’s see now. Could it be because I’m waiting to hear back from the agency about matching us up with a baby? Every time the phone rings I stop breathing because I think it might be Alexander and he’s found us a child. But instead I pick up the phone and it’s you giving me an earful about Sean’s wedding. Not my wedding, not my problem. Call Sean and do not ring me again unless it is to lend me your support or ask me how things are going in my life. I am sick to death of discussing Babs and Sean with you. Now go and torment someone else.’

‘Emma!’

‘What?’

‘Was the ring nice?’

‘Stunning. Goodbye.’

For the next three weeks I turned into Dougal in the
Magic Roundabout.
I literally ran around in circles. I stood in supermarkets staring at the shelves, with no idea why I had come in or what I wanted to buy. I consulted with brides-to-be about their wedding make-up, not hearing a word they were saying while I stared at my phone, willing it to ring. I bought baby clothes and then returned them to the shop because I was scared of tempting fate. I walked around with a knot in my chest and sometimes I felt as if I couldn’t breathe. I limited myself to calling Alexander every two days to ask, in my now desperate voice, why he hadn’t matched us up yet. He told me to be patient. I refrained from telling him to shove his advice up his arse. Patient – I had been told to be patient when I was trying to get pregnant. I had been told to be patient when I was on the fertility drugs, when we were on the adoption list, when we were on the course, when we were waiting for the Home Study approval and now while we were waiting to be matched. I was sick and tired of being told to be
patient.

I couldn’t sleep because I was so wound up about the baby, so I decided to paint the smaller spare bedroom – which was going to be the nursery. I thought a neutral green would be nice, but then I decided yellow would be better. Then I thought maybe lilac, but lilac was a bit girly and we didn’t know what sex the baby would be. I went back to the paint shop five times. The owner thought I was on some very strange drugs. James spent a lot of time avoiding me and occasionally tried to talk to me and calm me down. One night at four in the morning he woke up to a crash and a shriek. I had been on the step ladder, painting the top half of the wall yellow – I had finally settled on yellow – when I’d lost my balance, possibly due to exhaustion and sleep deprivation. I had fallen down bringing the paint pot with me and when James opened the door I was lying on the ground covered in yellow paint.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Do I look all right?’

James pulled me up and helped me out of my paint-sodden clothes. He then led me to the shower and went to make tea and toast while I tried to scrub the paint out of my hair. When I came out of the shower, he was sitting on the bed with a tray on his lap. He handed me a hot cup of tea and a slice of buttered toast.

‘Darling, you have to calm down. You need to get some rest. The painting can wait.’

‘I can’t sleep. I tried, but I can’t. Every time I close my eyes I see disfigured children or filthy orphanages with babies covered in sores. I’m terrified of being matched with a sick child and not being able to say no, because they’ve got no one else.’