A Perfect Match (29 page)

‘Emma,’ said James sternly, ‘you don’t have to worry about that, because I will say no. We agreed not to take on a sick child and we are not going to change our minds on that – no matter what.’

‘But what if it’s the sweetest little girl you ever saw who has Aids. We could help her. I just want the waiting to be over, it’s killing me.’

‘Emma, we are not knowingly going to take on a child with Aids. We’re first-time adopters, with no real idea what the experience is going to be like. It’s our first experience of parenthood and we need to keep it as straightforward as possible for the child’s sake as much as for ours. I understand that the waiting is frustrating, I’m finding it difficult too, but we just have to keep busy and try to distract ourselves.’

‘That’s what I was trying to do tonight.’

‘Not at four in the morning. You need to get some sleep. You’ll be no use to anyone, least of all a baby, if you’re exhausted. Now come on, into bed. The painting can wait until tomorrow,’ he said, putting down the tray and tucking me in.

‘James?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you think I should have gone with the green?’

‘No. The yellow is perfect.’

‘Would you have liked a yellow bedroom?’

‘I would have loved it.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then how come your bedroom in your parents’ house is blue?’ ‘Emma!’

‘Shut up?’

‘Yes, please.’

With Lucy’s wedding looming, I met up with her and Jess for a catch up and full analysis of dresses, shoes, menus, etc. I arrived looking like I’d been dragged through a bush backwards. I hadn’t slept properly in three weeks, I felt sick all the time, I was too distracted to care about my appearance and, at thirty-six, it shows.

‘Hi,’ said Lucy, hugging me. ‘How are you? How’s it all going?’

‘OK,’ I said, attempting a smile. ‘Still waiting by the phone, still no news.’

‘You look a bit worn out, are you OK?’ asked Jess.

‘Not sleeping very well. I’m lucky if I get three hours on the trot,’ I sighed.

‘Well, it’s good training for when the baby comes,’ said Jess.

‘Good point,’ I said, smiling. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. No wonder they say the ideal age to have children physically is sixteen. You don’t need eight hours’ sleep at sixteen. At our age you bloody well do. Look at the state of me. One look at me and the baby will refuse to be matched with us.’

‘Hey, you look fine. Nothing a day at a spa won’t cure,’ said Lucy. ‘Which, it so happens, is exactly what I have planned for us next week. I don’t want any mention of any hen party. If I see one of those wind up, back-flipping willies I’ll scream. So I’ve booked us all a day’s pampering at the Blue Lagoon Spa in Wicklow. Facials, massages, reflexology – the works.’

‘Oh God, Lucy, that sounds amazing,’ I said, thinking the masseuse would have her work cut out trying to get the knots out of my back. ‘Now, on to more important things, have you sorted out your dress?’

‘Well, you know the way I was in New York recently with work?’

‘Yes,’ said Jess and I in unison.

‘I popped my head into Vera Wang. Just for a look you understand, and, sure, while I was there it would have been rude not to try some of the dresses on, so I did. And the fourth one I tried on was it – the perfect dress. So I bought it and it’s stunning, if I say so myself,’ she said, beaming.

‘Wow,’ I said, ‘you’re going to look fabulous.’

‘How’s your mother?’ asked Jess.

Lucy rolled her eyes. ‘Usual nightmare. She’s now bought three outfits for the wedding – each more over the top than the next. And then she called me last night to tell me that it still wasn’t too late to back out and there were plenty more “suitable fish in the sea”. When I told her I was going ahead with the wedding, she told me the invitations looked cheap, the wine we’ve chosen is second class and we have to change the menu because she doesn’t like smoked salmon.’

‘Oh God, Lucy, I thought mine was bad. What did you say?’ I asked.

‘Nothing. I just said I’d look into it and I hung up. I’ll just avoid her calls and hope she doesn’t cause a scene on the day.’

‘Speaking of weddings, what’s Sean planning?’ asked Jess.

‘If he’s any sense he’ll go to Las Vegas and get married there without any family or fuss. Between her family and ours, they’re never going to win. He’s really happy though and she’s a lovely girl.’

‘How’s Babs’s nose?’ asked Lucy.

‘Small. I think it looks weird, but she’s delighted with it.’

‘She was very funny on the show,’ said Jess.

‘Don’t tell her that. She’s been offered an audition to do some presenting job on some satellite channel in England. I think it’s a shopping channel or one of those crappy ones, but needless to say she thinks she’s a TV star now. If she gets it, she’ll be insufferable. Sean –’

My mobile rang. I dove into my bag to answer it. It was Alexander, he sounded very pleased with himself. I held my breath – he had a match. I burst into tears as the girls joined in and hugged me. Then I raced down to the training ground to find James. I drove like a maniac; my hands were shaking so much I couldn’t change the gear stick, so I drove at fifty miles an hour in first gear. James heard the car screeching into the car park and looked out his office window. He saw me staggering out of the car, half crying, half laughing. He ran down to meet me.

‘What happened?’

I had managed to keep some small semblance of control until I saw James and then I fell apart completely. I sobbed into his shoulder.

‘Alexander called. They’ve matched us up,’ I wailed.

‘But that’s wonderful’ said James, wiping my tears.

‘It’s a little boy, James. He’s ten months old and his name is … uh uh uh,’ I sobbed. ‘His name is Yuri, like in
Doctor Zhivago.
It’s fate, James. It’s fate.’

32

Alexander said he was Fed-Exing us a video and medical summary of Yuri the next morning. I paraded up and down the road two days later looking for the postman and when I caught sight of him, strolling along, I charged over to him and started rifling through his bag. The poor man nearly died of fright. Granted, he probably thought he was being attacked by a recent lunatic asylum escapee. I had a mad glint in my eye, was wearing yellow paint-splattered pyjamas and my hair was standing in independent wiry tufts. When Postman Pat eventually managed to explain to me that he didn’t deliver the couriered post, I helped him pick up the letters I had flung across the footpath in my eagerness to find my video. As I tried to explain to him that I was normally quite rational, but I was waiting on some very important documents, he just nodded and backed away from me slowly. I went home and sat by the window waiting for the Fed-Ex van.

Alexander had said that Yuri was blond and brown-eyed and very healthy and very beautiful. James was a bit sceptical when I told him and was waiting to make up his own mind when he saw the video.

‘Now, Emma,’ he said to me when I came back from postman stalking. ‘Don’t get too excited until we see the video. This may not be the right match for us.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, of course it is. His name’s Yuri, it’s fate.’

‘Half the boys in the bloody country are probably called Yuri. It’s not fate, it’s just a coincidence. We need to wait and see the video and medical records before jumping in.’

I nodded. There was no point arguing. He could call it coincidence, but I knew fate when I saw it. Yuri was going to be perfect. I could feel it in my bones. Five long hours and ten bitten nails later, the Fed-Ex van pulled up outside the house. I sprinted out to sign for the package. My hands were trembling as I put it down on the table. James, who was only marginally calmer that I was at this stage, opened it and put the video into the recorder.

‘Wait,’ I shouted, as he was about to press play.

‘What?’

‘Unless he’s really badly damaged or sick I want to keep him.’

‘Let’s wait and see.’

‘Promise me you’ll keep an open mind.’

‘Fine.’

‘James?’

‘Yes?’

‘I love you,’ I said, gulping back tears.

‘I love you too,’ he said, squeezing my hand as he pressed play.

A very small, pale boy with sandy-coloured hair and enormous brown eyes stared at us. He looked very young and very frail. He did nothing for a few seconds and then someone began to talk to him and he looked up. He frowned and then after a few more seconds, slowly began to smile. A sad smile, but a smile nonetheless and in that instant I fell in love for the second time in my life. I was afraid to look at James. I knew he was wondering about how small Yuri seemed for a ten month old. We sat in silence as we watched Yuri playing with a little furry dog. He seemed a very serious child. Just as the video ended, someone began to play some music and his ears pricked up as he crawled over to listen, smiling to himself.

We sat in silence. For once I didn’t know what to say and I was terrified of what James was going to say. I knew what I wanted, but I had to let James make up his own mind. I couldn’t try to sway his decision. Finally, after what seemed like for ever, he spoke.

‘Yuri Daniel Hamilton. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?’

‘James! Really? Are you sure? Daniel after my Dad? Oh my God, James, we’re going to be parents,’ I squealed, as I threw my arms around him.

‘Well, we need the paediatrician to look at the video and to review the medical records, but he looks healthy enough to me,’ said James, looking shaken but very happy. ‘Christ, I need a drink. Come on, put your shoes on, we’re going to the pub.’

The next day we were in Doctor Liz Costello’s surgery and she was reviewing the video. I listened closely as she talked us through the tape.

‘Ten fingers and toes … head circumference proportional to body … responds well when spoken to … seems very alert … good movement, good muscle mass … no signs of discomfort when he crawls … good response to music …’

After she had looked over the medical records, she told us that as far as she was concerned he seemed like a healthy young boy. He was small for his age, but a lot of children who had been institutionalized were underweight. His senses seemed to be in good working order and he seemed very alert.

‘It’s impossible to say for definite from looking at a five-minute video if this child is perfectly healthy. As you know there is a leap of faith involved here. But from what I can see, this little boy seems in good health.’

We left on a high. Yuri was going to be our son. We were going to be his parents. After three long years, we were going to have a baby. We rang Alexander and told him we were happy to travel to Russia to meet Yuri and then officially accept the referral. He said we needed to book flights to Moscow and he would sort out the transfer details, set up a visit to the children’s home and have a translator waiting to meet us. If everything went according to plan, he would then try to organize a court date for us as soon after our visit as possible, but it could take up to a month, he warned us. We should apply for a visa now, he said. It took two weeks to process the visas, so we should aim to be ready to travel in three weeks’ time.

I called Mum next and she came straight over to see the video.

‘Oh, is that him?’ she asked, as she stared at the only child on the screen.

‘Yes, isn’t he beautiful?’ I answered dreamily. ‘I think he looks like James.’

Mum looked at me as if I were mad. ‘He looks nothing like him, but he is a sweet little thing. Very small though? Is he sickly?’

‘No. The paediatrician said he’s fine.’

‘Looks very small to me.’

‘They’re all small for their age.’

‘Seems a sad little fellow.’

‘Well, what do you expect; he’s been locked up in an institution for the past nine and a half months after his mother abandoned him. He’s hardly going to be back-flipping across the orphanage singing “When Irish Eyes are Smiling”, now, is he?’

‘I suppose not. Still, the Russians can be a melancholy lot. You wouldn’t want a depressed little baby.’

‘He’s not depressed, look, he’s smiling.’

‘Ah yes, he looks better when he smiles, less wan.’

‘Everyone looks better when they smile.’

‘He’s definitely all right? No hidden diseases?’

‘Not that we know of, but you can never be one hundred per cent sure when you’re adopting. You just have to trust your instincts. He’s going to be your grandson, so you better be nice about him and you better smother him with love.’

‘I’ll love him more than if he was your own flesh and blood. Sure, he’s a little dote. I’m just being cautious for you. Oh, look, he likes music. Well, that’s a good sign. He might end up being a famous musician, or a ballet dancer like that Rudolph Nureven.’

James walked in at this point. ‘God, I hope not, Mrs B. I don’t want my son prancing about in tights. He’s going to be a good old rugby player if I’ve anything to do with it.’

‘I don’t know about a career in rugby,’ said Mum, looking at Yuri’s tiny little pale face.

‘He can be whatever he sodding well likes and if he’s gay, who cares,’ I said.

‘Gay!’ said Mum and James.

‘Well, you were talking about Rudolph Nureyev, and he was gay.’

‘Yuri won’t be gay,’ said James.

‘Rudolph was having an affair with Margot Fonteyn, he wasn’t gay,’ said Mum.

‘Come on, Mum, he was as gay as Christmas. Everyone knows that.’

‘He was not. I’m sick of you young ones saying everyone’s gay. Anyone with any bit of creativity now is homosexual according to you lot. It’s ridiculous. Sure, that man had women throwing themselves at him all day long. They used to throw their knickers at him at the ballet. Can you imagine, the ballet crowd throwing knickers. Gay, my foot. James, you tell her.’

‘I think actually in this case, Emma’s right,’ said James.

‘What? I don’t believe it. He couldn’t be –’

‘Who bloody well cares?’ I interrupted, sharply. I couldn’t believe we were having a debate about Rudolph stupid Nureyev and his gayness when we were supposed to be talking about our beautiful son. ‘The only thing that matters is that our son is beautiful and alert and likes music. And, despite what you say, I think he looks like James. He has his eyes.’