From Here to Maternity (27 page)

‘No, Emma. Trust is the most important thing to me. You know that and you broke it.’

Her eyes were puffy from crying; she looked pale and fragile. I desperately wanted to hug her. She was my best friend, we had been through thick and thin together, and now she felt I had let her down. I’d really thought I was doing the right thing. At the time they had broken up – granted, only for a short time, but she had left him, suitcase in hand. I had chosen not to tell her about Babs because they were so right together and Donal genuinely had no recollection of what had happened and he was so full of remorse. Was I wrong?

I watched her walk away, followed by Donal, who was limping badly from cramp after a night on the corridor floor. I went back to discuss my next move with James.

‘Are you awake?’ I asked, poking him in the back.

‘I am now,’ he grumbled.

‘What am I going to do?’

‘What time is it?’ He looked at his watch. ‘Christ, it’s six in the morning. Yuri isn’t even awake. Mercy, Emma, please. We went over this for two hours last night. I need some sleep. I’ll discuss it with you later.’

‘But she’s my best friend,’ I wailed, ‘and she hates me. Who am I going to talk to now?’

‘Apparently me!’ said James, pulling the duvet over his head to block me out.

‘Can you believe Babs?’ I fumed. ‘Sleeping with Donal and now her married boss.’

‘Pardon?’ said James. His head popped back up.

‘The reason Babs is doing so well in work is because she’s shagging her boss. Classy, huh?’

‘Ambitious.’

‘It’s prostitution, James.’

‘Hardly.’

‘Sleeping with someone for free rent, a job and a social life is prostitution in my book.’

‘Sounds like the boss is getting a pretty good deal. Nice young thing on the side.’

‘He’s obviously a sleazeball, who goes around forcing himself on the young girls working for him.’

‘Knowing Babs, I’d say it was her idea.’

‘She’s not that bad.’

James looked at me. ‘Didn’t you just call her a prostitute?’

I nodded and sighed. ‘Yes, you’re right, she is that bad. What am I going to do about her? She’s out of control.’

‘I met lots of girls like Babs when I worked in the City. She’s the type who’ll always land on her feet. I wouldn’t worry about her.’

‘Did you ever sleep with your staff?’

‘Never, darling.’

‘Liar. You told me you slept with your secretary at the Christmas party one year.’

‘Me and my big mouth. OK, I did have one episode, but she was single.’

‘You told me she was living with her boyfriend.’

‘I should be muzzled.’

‘Do you think Lucy’ll forgive him?’

‘Donal will persist until she does,’ said James. ‘He won’t let her go. He’s mad about her.’

‘I hope you’re right, I really do. And, FYI, if you ever cheat on me, I’ll chop it off and feed it to a pack of hungry wolves.’

‘I do so enjoy these pre-dawn tête-à-têtes,’ said James.

Three hours later, we were assembled in the lobby, waiting for the minivan to take us to the airport. Sean and Shadee were getting a later flight to Malaysia, where they were spending their honeymoon.

‘So, did you enjoy it?’ asked Sean.

‘It was amazing, just perfect,’ I lied.

‘I heard Lucy thumped Donal. What’s going on there?’

‘Oh, you know those two. They’re always fighting about something or other. It’s no big deal.’

Sean smiled. ‘Good. I was worried she’d found out about his slip-up with Babs.’

‘God, no,’ I said, fake-laughing. Sean didn’t need to know what had happened: he was off on honeymoon and I didn’t want him worrying about anything.

As if on cue, Babs strolled in like someone who hadn’t a care in the world. ‘Is the bus here?’ she asked.

‘Yes, it is,’ I said. I pulled her aside. ‘Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused? Lucy and Donal might be breaking up.’

‘It’s not my fault. Do I have to remind you that I’m not the one who was engaged? If they’ve broken up it’s Donal’s fault for playing away from home.’

‘Because of you my best friend isn’t speaking to me and her marriage may be on the rocks and apparently you don’t give a shit.’

‘Honestly? No. It’s not my problem.’

‘There’s no talking to you. Go back to London to your sleazy affair.’

Dad wandered over. ‘Are you two arguing again?’

‘No, actually, Emma’s congratulating me on my progress in work,’ said Babs, smirking at me.

‘Yes, it’s amazing how well she’s doing. A true professional,’ I retorted.

‘Ah, sure we always knew she had it in her. Full of spunk,’ said Dad, as James spat his tea half-way across the room.

Chapter 30

The Saturday after Sean’s wedding it was the quarter-final of the European Cup. As usual James was up to ninety. Ray Phelan, the place-kicker, had injured himself in the Monday-morning practice session and things were not looking too good. James was not a happy camper. Without a top-class place-kicker, Leinster were vulnerable.

Meanwhile, between working and minding Yuri, I was stalking Lucy. I went to her office four times, but she refused to see me. I called her mobile at least ten times a day, but she hung up every time. She had moved out of the house she shared with Donal and into a hotel while she decided what to do. Donal was beside himself and spent all his spare time in our house moping about and trying to come up with new ways to win her back. He wasn’t having any success communicating with her either.

Annie called mid-week, and when she asked Donal to put Lucy on the phone he told her they were having a few problems and that Lucy had moved out for a while.

‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

‘Ah, we just had a disagreement and she’s cross with me, so she’s taking a few days away to calm down.’

‘What did you do to upset her?’

Donal cursed his stupidity. Why hadn’t he just lied and said Lucy was away on business? ‘Well, I kind of did a silly thing before we were married and she’s annoyed with me.’

‘How stupid?’

‘Very stupid.’

‘Were you with another woman?’ asked the canny sixteen-year-old.

‘Well, kind of.’

‘Were you or weren’t you?’

‘I suppose I was.’

‘When you were engaged?’

‘Um, yes, but it was when we had broken up that time after you had the fight with her on the phone.’

‘You cheated on your fiancée?’

‘Technically I didn’t cheat. We had broken up.’

‘Bullshit, you guys are all the same. You’re all arseholes. How could you do that to Lucy? She’s such an amazing person! How could you be so stupid?’

‘Easy now, there’s no need to curse the whole male species. And, in case you’ve forgotten, you were the reason we broke up at the time and I seem to remember you were delighted about it.’

‘Don’t blame me because you screwed another woman.’

‘Annie, watch your language.’

‘Don’t get all fatherly on me, Donal. It’s a bit late for that. What kind of an example are you, cheating on your wife?’

‘I didn’t cheat on my wife. I’d never do that.’

‘So what are you doing about getting her back?’

‘I call her fifty times a day. I’ve been round to her office and caused a scene trying to get to see her, but the secretary called Security and I got turfed out. I’m trying to come up with another plan.’

‘Crap.’

‘What?’

‘Crap efforts. For God’s sake, you have to do something huge to make her forgive you. You have to do something really romantic to sweep her off her feet. Don’t you watch movies? Haven’t you seen
Pretty Woman
? Ger her back, Donal. Do whatever you have to do but just get her back. She’s brilliant.’

‘I know she is. I’ll think of something. Now, go and do your homework and mind your language.’

‘And you go and keep your trousers on.’

Donal hung up and sighed. Annie’s new-found love for Lucy was almost worse than when she had hated her. He knew now that she’d be calling him every night for an update. He’d better get his thinking cap on. Maybe he’d rent that film. What had she said it was called?

The night before the game, James sat on the couch, head in hands.

‘What’s up?’

‘Ray’s groin strain hasn’t cleared up. He’s failed the fitness test. We’re buggered.’

‘Come on, you’ve got fourteen other great players. It can’t be that big of a deal.’

‘Emma, he’s the kicker. Without him we’ll lose all the penalty and conversion points. It’s a total disaster.’

‘Can’t one of the other guys kick? What about number fifteen, he’s always hoofing the ball up in the air.’

‘Place-kicking is a completely different skill,’ said the pessimist.

‘Well, maybe you’ll score loads of tries and the kicking won’t be so important.’

‘The Biarritz pack are bigger than ours. We need the easy points.’

‘But are their runners as fast as yours?’

‘Their back row is the best in Europe,’ he said, as he let out another enormous sigh.

I could see I was wasting my time here and, anyway, I’d run out of positive options. ‘Well, then, maybe you’ll lose.’

‘Thanks a lot. That’s just what I need to hear. Very supportive of you, darling.’

‘Well, I tried to cheer you up but you bashed down all my ideas. No team can win every game, especially if their best player and kicker is injured. But it doesn’t mean you’re not a brilliant coach. You’re the best in Europe, everyone knows that, and I’m really proud of you. A cook can’t bake a great cake without the right ingredients – or whatever the saying is – so if you’re down a man, well, it’s not your fault if you lose. Would Alex Ferguson be able to win cups if he didn’t have Beckham on the team? No.’

‘Emma, David Beckham left Man U three years ago, OK? I know you’re trying to be helpful but you’re actually making it worse. Please stop talking.’

‘Fair enough. But don’t sit here all night wallowing. You need your sleep before the big game. If you appear confident, the team will too. Go, Leinster!’

James ignored me and went back to watching reruns of Biarritz annihilating Bath. I went upstairs and prayed for Leinster to win.

By half-time Leinster were down 13–5. Biarritz had scored a try, a conversion and two penalties. Leinster had missed two penalties and a conversion, but had scored a try. I sat in the stand with Mum, Dad and Yuri – who was looking very sweet in his Leinster shirt – and bit my nails.

‘Well, Dad? What do you think? Will they come back?’

‘Sure how can they win with no kicker? It’s a disaster.’

‘But maybe if they score some more tries?’

‘No way. That try was a steal. The only reason they scored it was because of an intercepted ball. They’ll lose this game. A team needs a back-up kicker, and James should have sorted one out.’

‘Don’t blame James,’ I said defensively, ‘He’s doing his best.’

‘Lord, I’m frozen,’ moaned Mum. ‘How long more does it go on for?’

‘Another forty minutes,’ I replied. I was an old pro at this stage. I knew my rugby.

‘It’s a bit dull, really, isn’t it?’ said Mum.

‘No, it’s exciting. You just have to get into it,’ I lied, as I shivered in the wind and rain, wishing the minutes away.

In the studio, a dishevelled Donal was arguing with the other panellists. Because of his broken heart, he hadn’t slept in a week and was feeling decidedly out of sorts. He had dragged himself to work, but without Lucy’s sartorial advice, he had matched a blue jacket with a brown shirt and a red tie. Gerry O’Reilly was slating James and the Leinster team. ‘They look like a bunch of amateurs. One player’s injured and they fall apart. The coach’s decision to run everything is a farce. This side is just not good enough, and Hamilton has a lot to answer for.’

‘Hold on a minute,’ snapped Donal. ‘Don’t badmouth the coach. James Hamilton is world class. In case you’ve forgotten, Leinster are the Cup-holders. They beat everyone last year, something that they’d never achieved before. And it was mainly down to James’s coaching. He is an expert tactician.’

‘Well, in fairness now, Donal, his game plan isn’t working too well today,’ said Pat Tierney. ‘I’m generally a fan of John Hamilton’s, but I think he’s let the team down today.’

‘Jesus, Pat, it’s James – James Hamilton. How difficult is it to remember names? You’re a television presenter, it’s your job to memorize them. And James has not let the team down. Leinster wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him.’

‘Well, Donal, I think you’ll find that television panellists are supposed to be impartial, which is something you seem to have trouble with,’ snapped Pat.

Before Donal could answer, the match resumed. Leinster played their hearts out. They scored another try, but missed the conversion and another penalty kick. Biarritz scored a drop goal and two further penalties. The final score was
22–10
. The team was gutted. We watched as James went over to congratulate the Biarritz coach, then patted all his players on the back. I could tell by the way his shoulders were slumped that he was devastated.

‘Well, Donal, I hope you’re not going to take the head off me when I say that the better team won today,’ said Pat.

This was the icing on the cake of the worst week of Donal’s life. ‘It’s desperate,’ he said. ‘A terrible loss. They really gave it their best in the second half.’

‘Their best is simply second-rate and that’s due to bad coaching,’ said Gerry, winding him up. ‘Hamilton needs to go. He’s useless, and he’s let the team down with shoddy leadership.’

‘What would a fat fuck like you know about sport?’ said Donal, as he stormed off the set, leaving Gerry and Pat open-mouthed.

Donal went straight down to the dressing room to see James. He found him giving the team an after-match talk.

‘I want you all to know how proud I am of you. You played your hearts out and that’s all a coach can ask for. We were simply outplayed today. It’s not the outcome we wanted, but it’s been an honour coaching you this season and I fully intend to come back next season and blow the competition out of the water. So, enjoy a well-earned rest and I’ll see you back here in two months’ time to resume training. Thanks for all your hard work. I’m really sorry that it had to end here today.’