by Anita Notaro
‘Well, it’s just, I know exactly how it feels to lack that confidence, to feel that instead of what everyone else has. It’s just a void—’ he began.
‘But I don’t feel that way, Niall,’ I interrupted him. ‘I was lucky in that my mum and dad gave me everything, all the love and attention I could possibly want.’
‘I know,’ he said seriously. ‘It’s not you, Antonia, it’s me. You see, my family are just great, couldn’t be better, but they’re not really mine, you understand?’
He was talking in riddles, and I had to shake my head. ‘Niall, I don’t understand. And I don’t know what’s bothering you, but it’s not a problem, honest. I know that you just want the best for me—’ I began.
He interrupted me. ‘I’m a foster child too.’ He blurted it out, and then put a hand over his mouth, as if it were too late. As if the words had just escaped.
‘Oh.’ I was at a loss to know what to say for a moment. So that was why he got so uptight whenever we strayed on to touchy subjects like his family. And that would explain why he’d been so pushy about me doing That’s Talent! Because he understood about not being like everyone else – not having the same foundation of security that they had. Because he was right. Being an orphan – or a foster child – did mean that there was something missing: that ‘confidence’ chip in the brain that others had naturally.
‘Oh, Niall, why didn’t you tell me?’ I tried to reach out to him, but he flinched, and so I sat still beside him on the sofa, waiting for him to relax a bit.
‘God, I don’t know,’ he said, putting his head in his hands. ‘I’m not ashamed of it or anything, it’s just, well, the timing never seemed right, and I thought if I said anything, you’d think I was …’
‘What? Not the kind of guy I’d go for?’
‘Well …’ he looked sheepish.
‘But that’s just nonsense, Niall,’ I said, feeling hurt that he could think otherwise. If he was inferior because he hadn’t grown up with his own family, well then, so was I. And one thing I knew, I mightn’t be the most outgoing person in the world, but I’d never felt inferior. Mum and Dad had made sure of that.
Niall’s voice interrupted my thoughts. ‘Look, I know that, but as far as I know, you had a wonderful mum and dad.’
‘And so did you,’ I retorted.
‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘My foster family … well, I couldn’t wish for a better one. They were just fantastic, and I love my brothers and sisters as if they’re my own flesh and blood.’
‘Well, you’re lucky then, aren’t you?’ I said.
He nodded. ‘I’m very lucky … But you never knew your family, Antonia. You could begin a whole new life. I knew exactly who my family were,’ he said bitterly.
I said nothing, willing him to go on. I knew that if I opened my mouth, the spell would be broken and he’d tell me that it didn’t matter, that he didn’t want to talk about it, and so I remained silent.
‘I don’t remember much about my childhood, because I was fostered at an early age, but apparently I was taken into care because I was found alone one day, wandering the streets in just my nappy. The social worker told me that I had a teddy in my arms, a blue one, and that I was freezing cold and dirty.’
‘Did you know where you’d come from?’
He nodded grimly. ‘I was the youngest of six, and I remember a lot of shouting when I was a kid. That and the cold and feeling hungry all the time,’ he said. ‘I must have blocked some of it out, because apparently, the flat where we lived was an absolute dump – there was rubbish all over the floor, and my parents were either drunk or stoned all day. We were just left to fend for ourselves.’
‘Did you have brothers or sisters?’
‘Two older sisters and a brother. He was just a baby at the time.’
‘That must have been hard … in a way, I was lucky to end up where I did, because the nuns were so kind and always did their best.’
He continued, as if I hadn’t spoken. ‘I went back one day a few years ago, to the flat, to see if I could remember anything, and my old neighbour came out. She told me that one day she’d called around and we were all in the place by ourselves, including the baby, and my mother,’ he said the word bitterly, ‘had just gone out to the pub the night before and left us. My sister had spilt a tin of powdered milk all over the floor because she’d been trying to make the baby a bottle. I mean, how on earth did these people get to be parents?’ He sounded so bitter, so hostile, that I felt a jolt of sympathy for him. I reached out and squeezed his hand.
‘And yet, you found good parents and overcame it.’
He nodded. ‘I did. It was thanks to Jim and Eileen. They fostered me when I was three, and, really, my life began from the day I moved in there with my brother.’
‘What about your sisters?’
‘Jim and Eileen already had four foster children and they couldn’t take any more, so my sisters went to another family down the country.’
‘Did you see them again?’
He shook his head. ‘Once or twice. We didn’t really get on. It was as if we’d never been related. Odd, really.’
I nodded, knowing that it wasn’t really odd. They’d never been brought up to live as a family, more like a pack of wild animals. No wonder they didn’t see each other that way: they just didn’t have that bond. But then I supposed, neither did I. I had no ‘family’ of my own, not like Niall, anyway.
I realized that Niall was talking again, but I hadn’t been listening. I’d just been too wrapped up in my own thoughts. ‘My foster family,’ he was saying, ‘they’re my only family now. And I’ve done everything I can to make them proud.’ He was rubbing the knee of his jeans, over and over, in a nervous reaction, and I had to put my hand on his to get him to stop.
‘And you have made them proud. You can’t get better than being a doctor,’ I said. At the same time, I was thinking that it must be an awful responsibility. He must never be able to relax, thinking that he had to make his parents proud of him, and never give them a moment’s cause for concern. ‘You must have been a real swot,’ I tried to joke.
He laughed. ‘God, I was. I spent every moment studying. Didn’t misbehave, unlike my baby brother.’ He grinned. ‘He really made up for me: out all night, girls, fun …’
‘You sound envious.’
‘I was, a bit. Sometimes I feel as if I’ve spent my whole life doing the right thing, you know?’ he said.
I know, I thought to myself, and then said, ‘I know exactly what you mean, because so have I. I was the perfect daughter for my parents because I was afraid that, if I wasn’t, they’d send me back.’
He looked at me and I looked at him, and in that moment we realized that we were alike. That we’d both been through the same thing, and it gave us a bond. Niall said, ‘I thought if I misbehaved even once, I’d end up back there, with those people,’ he said, a look of distaste on his face.
‘But instead, you decided to make something of your life, Niall,’ I said. ‘And that takes guts. Your parents must be so delighted.’
‘They are,’ he grinned. ‘But they’re happy with all of us, even my ne’er-do-well brother.’ He smiled. ‘Matt got away with murder, and yet they loved him just as much. I only realized lately that I don’t have to please them all the time to make them love me. Do you know what I mean?’
I nodded. ‘Yep, only in my case, now it’s too late.’
He put his arm around me and drew me towards him, and I allowed myself to rest my head on his shoulder. It felt good: as if I could finally truly relax with someone, put my trust in them. Of course I trusted Mary and Colette and Sister Monica, but I felt that I was always a tiny bit on edge with them, never sure exactly how just to let go. But Niall and I, well, we were alike.
‘You know, it’s not too late, Antonia,’ his breath was warm on my ear. ‘Because you’re doing it for yourself and not for anyone else. And that,’ he said emphatically, ‘takes real guts.’ And then he enveloped m
e in a tight hug and I thought again of how good it felt to be held like that, tightly; to feel safe and protected. We held on for just a bit too long, and then pulled away, unsure of what to do next. We both looked at each other for a long time, his eyes taking in mine, his hands smoothing over my face.
‘You’ve got a red nose,’ he said eventually.
‘And you’ve got no hair on the top of your head,’ I responded smartly.
‘Touché,’ he said, and then he kissed me, a long slow kiss which seemed to go on for ever. Everything seemed to stop and yet I could still hear the ticking of the clock on the living-room wall. His lips were warm and tender, and I found myself returning the kiss, running my hands through his hair, feeling the curls at the base of his neck. I’d never felt anything like it: a tingling sensation that went right through me.
Eventually, he pulled away. ‘Wow, that was a first.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Kissing a girl has never felt like that, I can tell you.’ He smiled.
‘Oh, how many have you kissed?’ I tried to make it sound light, but really, I was covering up for the fact that at the grand old age of twenty-five, I hadn’t kissed anyone – not really. Not a proper, grown-up kiss like this.
‘A few. Not many. And nobody famous,’ he said, his face straight.
I punched him playfully on the arm. ‘Chancer.’
‘What about you?’ he said, and he looked friendly, curious.
Oh no. I looked down at my knees. ‘Well …’ I began.
‘So many you’ve difficulty remembering?’ he joked, but when he saw my face, he changed his expression. ‘Antonia, I’m sorry …’
‘Don’t be.’ I attempted a smile. ‘The truth is, Niall, that I haven’t ever kissed anyone, not really. Not to mind … anything else.’
There was a long silence and I thought: Oh, no, what on earth must he think? I hardly dared look at him. Finally, I blurted, ‘You must think I’m from the Victorian era.’
I’d expected him to laugh, but instead, he pulled me to him again, and this time his kiss was gentler, softer, as he held his face in mine. ‘I think you’re wonderful,’ he finally said. ‘And I don’t care if you’ve never kissed another man in your life, or if you’ve kissed a hundred. It doesn’t matter, because when I kiss you, it feels as if I’m kissing a woman for the very first time.’
‘Bet you say that to all the girls,’ I joked.
He held me at arm’s length and looked at me seriously. ‘I don’t, because I don’t fall in love with other girls every day of the week.’
I swallowed, wondering what on earth I was supposed to say to this. Because I didn’t really know what love meant. Was I in love with Niall? How on earth would I know? But if it meant feeling like this … well, I supposed it must be love, then. Because I’d never felt like this in my whole life.
‘What have I been missing?’ I said, only realizing as I did so that I’d spoken out loud. And we both burst out laughing, before collapsing into each other’s arms.
Later, much later, we were lying on the sofa, wrapped up in each other. My head was against his chest, and I could hear his heart beating, a steady thump-thump. We were silent and sleepy, the remains of a Chinese takeaway on the table in front of us. ‘You know, this is the best date I’ve had in ages,’ Niall said.
I turned my head to look at him. ‘Me, too. And we didn’t even set foot outside the door.’
‘Well, it’d be difficult, what with the dressing gown and all,’ Niall teased, nodding at my pink fluffy number.
I shrugged. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Now that I’m famous, I’m sure I could get a table at Chez Maurice, even in my dressing gown.’ Chez Maurice was a tiny, exclusive French restaurant just outside Wicklow town, which was famous for being booked at least a year in advance.
He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close, planting a kiss on top of my head. ‘Well, when you win That’s Talent! I’ll take you there, OK?’
‘It’ll be booked up,’ I retorted smartly.
‘Well, they’ll open it specially for Toni Trent, pop star.’
‘Oh, God, don’t say that. I managed to forget about the show for one whole night.’ I groaned.
‘Sorry.’
‘No, it’s OK, it’s just the semis were so hard, I’m not sure I have the stomach for the finals. It feels as if I had to drag the performance out of myself, and I’m not sure I can build myself back up again for the finals. It’s such a big mountain to climb,’ I said, the very thought of it making me begin to panic. I put a hand to my throat and sat upright, so Niall shifted uneasily behind me.
‘Just take it easy, OK?’ he said, stroking my hair and kissing me gently on the forehead. ‘Start with the song, and then the practice and the run-through, and just think about each stage as it comes. Simply focus on the moment, and the future will take care of itself. And I’ll be there, remember, every step of the way.’
I nodded. ‘Thanks, Niall. But you’ve got your own life and—’
‘Not for a few days, I haven’t.’ He smiled. ‘My girlfriend’s in a talent show this week. Now, what song are you thinking about?’
Had he just said ‘girlfriend’? For a moment, I was stunned. I’d never been anyone’s girlfriend. ‘Ehm. Well, I was thinking of Whitney Houston, some big showstopper like, “I Will Always Love You”. It seems to fit the occasion, somehow.’
He proceeded to warble the opening lines of the song, clutching his chest and throwing his arms into the air until I had to punch him playfully. ‘Shut up. It sounds better when I sing it.’
‘I should hope so.’ He laughed. ‘Seriously, I think it’s a great choice, because you have the voice to carry it.’
‘Thanks. If the cold goes, I should be OK. I’m not sure I can take a repeat of last night.’ I shook my head, willing myself not to remember.
‘It won’t be,’ he soothed. ‘You’ve been through the worst, and the rest will be plain sailing.’ And then he asked the question that I hadn’t dared ask myself: ‘What about after?’
I pretended not to understand. ‘After what?’
He looked at me sharply, as if to say, ‘You know what I mean.’
‘Oh, God, I don’t know. Is there life after That’s Talent!?’
‘Well, that depends,’ he said. ‘What do you want?’
‘Honestly? I never thought I’d get this far, not to mind to the finals. I’ve just been concentrating on the competition. I haven’t a clue what’ll happen after. I’ll probably go back to my old life and the choir and all that. Oh, and I need a job,’ I added.
I was surprised and a little hurt when he guffawed. ‘I can’t see you working in the supermarket in Glenvara, somehow.’
‘How do you know? I’ll need something to do.’ I was a bit dismayed that he thought me incapable of doing any kind of real work.
‘You won’t be going back to the way things were, Antonia. No matter what happens. You do realize that, don’t you?’
I shook my head. ‘Next Saturday night, it’ll all be over, Niall. And we can get on with normal life.’
He laughed again and tousled my hair. ‘Life will never be the same again.’ And then he kissed me and I managed to forget everything for a while.
20
‘LIFE WILL NEVER be the same again.’ How often did I think of that phrase the following week, and in the months that followed? Because Niall was right, of course. I’d been kidding myself. I’d imagined that, win or lose, That’s Talent! would be a fantastic experience, after which I’d go back to being Miss Mouse again, and not Toni Trent, pop star. Well, how wrong I was.
It started with the media. Niall had bought all the papers that Sunday, when he’d gone out to get the takeaway. ‘I’ll pretend to read them while you pretend to make me dinner,’ he’d joked, as I took the Chinese cartons into the kitchen to serve up on plates. He then proceeded to read me out the headlines, until I had to beg him to stop. ‘Brave Toni Sings on in the Face of Illness’ ‘The Girl from No
where Who Captured Our Hearts’, ‘The Nightingale’, ‘Our Pop Princess’. It just went on and on. The Sunday Star had even commissioned its own poll, inviting people to ring in and say who they wanted to win. ‘Toni Trent by a Mile’, the paper announced in block capitals.
I was speechless. It seemed as if they were writing about someone else, not me. I had spent my whole life out of the spotlight, and now here I was, in every newspaper in the country. I had only gone on the show to sing, and the thought of what that might bring me hadn’t even entered my head. But now it was becoming more and more real. Part of me wanted to spend the next week in hiding, until the show was over, to slide in under the duvet and not see anyone until the whole thing was finished, but the other part was so grateful for all the support. I’d slept through Mass on Sunday, but Betty called around specially to tell me that the parish priest had said a special prayer for me and that the whole village had planned a That’s Talent! finals party in the parish hall, where they’d screen the final live. I was mortified and chuffed at the same time. Maybe being the girl from Glenvara wasn’t so bad after all.
The curious thing was that as the night of the finals drew near, just two weeks before Christmas, I found myself strangely relaxed. My choice of song had worked really well, in spite of Niall’s teasing. With my cold on the wane, I was able to stretch my voice a bit more, and hit the top notes in the song. It sounded great with the orchestra, and we had a ball practising. In fact, the whole thing was fun. It was odd, with so much at stake, but Damien and the boys from 4Guys and I just larked around, joking with each other and generally enjoying ourselves, probably because after all of the grind of the last few weeks, there really was nothing we could do except go out there and do our best. We’d proven that we were good enough to get this far, and the rest wasn’t up to us. Not any more.
Of course, I missed Amanda. She’d been like a sister to me, and it wasn’t the same without her to giggle about the boys’ haircuts or Damien’s attempts to chat up the production assistants. I’d met up with her once since the semis, but it hadn’t been a success. We’d had coffee together in town, and for a while it had seemed like nothing had changed. We’d chatted about music, and she’d teased me about the ‘new man’ in my life. I’d found myself opening up to her, the way I always had done, even telling her about Niall’s past. ‘It means we really share something,’ I’d said, blushing.
