A Perfect Match

by Sinéad Moriarty

  James came over and gently removed the saucepan and cook book. ‘I take it you’ve been on to your mother?’

  ‘Yes, and she told me that I’m far too stressed out and that I should be nicer to you so you won’t run off with a young blonde.’

  ‘Did she have any particular blonde in mind?’

  ‘She wasn’t specific.’

  ‘Pity, now I’ll have to eye them all up.’

  ‘Not funny.’

  ‘Doesn’t your mother know I’m a sucker for redheads?’

  ‘It doesn’t appear to have registered. Sit down, I need to know what your grandparents died of.’

  ‘From affairs to death – never a dull moment. As far as I know, my mother’s mother died of breast cancer and her father died of a stroke. My father’s mother was run down by a car and died of internal injuries and my grandfather died three months later of a broken heart.’

  ‘Oh, that’s so sad. D’you think if I died you’d die of a broken heart?’

  ‘Not if I had a young blonde to cheer me up.’

  On the eve of our final adoption group session, I called James to remind him that he had promised to cook for everyone. I even offered to go and get the ingredients on my way home from work, but he assured me that it was all under control. When I got home he was glued to the TV, analysing Ulster’s previous win with Donal.

  ‘Howrya,’ said Donal, waving at me from the couch.

  ‘Hi, Donal. How’s things?’

  ‘Good. You?’

  ‘Fine, thanks. By the way, did you get the referee form from the adoption people yet?’

  ‘Sure, I filled that out ages ago. Did I not tell you?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The form – I sent it back to the adoption people a few weeks back.’

  ‘But you didn’t show it to me. I specifically asked you to show it to me before you sent it back,’ I said, panic rising in my throat.

  ‘I know, but it said on the form that I wasn’t to show it to you because you might influence my comments. So I jotted down a few things and stuck it in the post.’

  ‘Did Lucy see it?’

  ‘No.’

  I tried to remain calm. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Ah, I just said that you were a good pair and that although you fought a fair bit, you always seemed to make up, and that you liked to go out and have a few drinks, but you weren’t alcoholics. I said you hated your nephew, but I was sure you liked children in general – although I’d never actually seen you interacting with any …’

  Just as I was about to lie down on the floor and wail, I heard a snort from James.

  ‘You bastard,’ I said, hitting Donal as he roared laughing. ‘I do not need to be wound up. I nearly had a heart attack.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Emma. I have the form, but I won’t fill it out until you tell me exactly what you want me to say. You can come over and dictate the answers to me.’

  ‘I need a drink. Beer?’ I asked.

  ‘I’ll have one, but Donal won’t.’

  ‘How come?’ I asked.

  ‘No alcohol allowed until after the game,’ said James, in his serious coach voice.

  ‘He’s a slave driver,’ groaned Donal. ‘I’ll have a cup of tea, please. Normal tea though, not that green muck you have Lucy drinking.’

  ‘By the way, James, what are you cooking for tomorrow?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s a surprise.’

  Later that evening, after Donal had gone, I found James in the kitchen making sandwiches – lots of them.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Lunch for tomorrow,’ he said, grinning at me.

  ‘You can’t make sandwiches,’ I said, horrified. ‘You promised you’d bring Russian food. James, we have to make a good impression.’

  ‘This is Russian food,’ he said, waving a page at me. ‘I looked up the Internet to find a recipe and I came across this one.’

  I looked at the page. It was from the www.ruscuisine.com website. The recipe was called: Sandwich with Red Caviar. The ingredients consisted of – bread, butter, red caviar and greens. The instructions noted that the bread should be finely sliced with the crusts removed. It should then be buttered and the red caviar placed on top and decorated with greens.

  ‘You chancer!’ I said, shaking my head. ‘I thought you were going to do something proper like chicken Kiev. I hope the others aren’t hungry. These wouldn’t fill a mouse.’

  ‘Russian food is Russian food, whether it’s to Dervla’s taste or not is not my concern.’

  We arrived to the last session with our bottle of vodka and our small plate of posh sandwiches. Brendan and Joy arrived wheeling a heated hostess trolley. The smells wafting from it made our mouths water. Why oh why were they not adopting from Vietnam or China or somewhere else? They were showing us up. Brendan and Joy sat beside their moveable oven, smiling smugly as the rest of us put our plates on the table. When Yvonne walked in, she asked what the lovely smell was. Brendan was up like a shot.

  ‘As you are, I’m sure, aware – beef Stroganoff originates from Russia. The name of this dish comes from the Russian Count Grigory Stroganove. Born in 1770, he died in 1857…’

  And more’s the pity you didn’t croak with him, I thought as Brendan waffled on.

  ‘The Count was one of the richest noblemen in Russia and enjoyed gourmet food. He hired the best chefs available and one of these invented an original dish that the Count loved. The dish was christened Stroganoff – atter the Count, not the cook.’

  While Brendan droned on, Joy served us plates or steaming hot – and I have to admit – delicious beef Stroganoff. But the lecture wasn’t over. The class swot had brought wine. I hid my bottle of Stoli vodka under my chair.

  ‘I’d like you all to taste this wonderful wine from Georgia – “Old Tbilisi” Alazani,’ he announced in an exaggerated Russian accent.

  ‘Is it just me, or is he a class-A wanker?’ grumbled James under his breath.

  ‘The wines from Russia and the former Soviet states tend to be sweeter than European wines. The name Alazani comes from one of the major river systems of Georgia, which borders Georgia with Azerbaijan. The climate is slightly warmer than the rest of the Georgian wine-growing regions and gives rise to much sweeter grapes than those found elsewhere. Za Vas!’ said Brendan, raising his glass.

  I didn’t know what it meant. I was supposed to be learning Russian and I didn’t even know what a simple Russian toast meant. They had gone to so much trouble with their food and wine. We had made a few sandwiches and bought a bottle of vodka – total time allocated to research and assembly about twenty minutes. James and I were pathetic. We had really been shown up. We were obviously not dedicated enough. I felt completely deflated. Brendan and Joy were going to get the best baby in the orphanage and we’d be left with a dud. The one that no one wanted. The one with all the diseases that we wouldn’t be able to recognize, because we hadn’t done enough research. Then we’d make a balls of telling the child they were adopted and they’d piss off back to Russia, find their birth mother and never contact us again. I sipped my wine and sighed.

  ‘Well done, Brendan and Joy,’ said Dervla, beaming at them. So the old witch was capable of smiling, I thought bitterly. ‘Now what has everyone else brought in?’

  Much to my relief, the others weren’t as well prepared as the golden couple. Gary and his wife had brought a couple of bottles of Tiger beer and a Chinese take-away. Carole and her husband had made Vietnamese spring rolls and the other couple had brought Green Tea and chocolate chopsticks. The red caviar sandwiches were absolutely revolting and were largely left untouched, but the vodka went down well and everyone ended up getting quite merry. Emboldened by alcohol, I decided to approach Yvonne and ask if she was going to be our home study social worker.

  ‘I’m sorry, Emma, I can’t tell you who’s going to be assigned to you. You’ll have to wait until it’s been finalized.’

  ‘Well, could you give me a clue?’ I begg
ed. ‘It would be so great if it was you. Is there anything I can do to get you to choose us?’

  ‘No,’ said Yvonne, smiling at me. ‘Don’t worry, all the social workers are equally nice.’

  Yeah, right. Dervla was a real sweetie. I decided to press on and ask Yvonne the other question that had been eating away at me. My mouth, egged on by booze, ran away with me.

  ‘OK, I understand that you can’t say. But can I ask you something else? It’s about the second session we did. The thing is that I’m a bit worried about having made a fool of myself when we did the loss charts and I just wanted to ask if I really messed up our chances. Have we been black marked? And if so, what can I do to make it better? Please tell me I haven’t blown it. I really want a baby. Honestly, I know I’m not fluent in Russian and stuff, but I’m trying to learn the basics and I’ve been reading all about the history of the country and I know I haven’t had anything really bad happen to me like my parents dying in a horrible plane crash, but I have been really sad over the past few years with not being able to get pregnant and I know that sometimes I get a bit carried away, but I’m actually a very responsible and normal individual. Honestly, I’m very calm and together. As normal a person as you could hope to meet.’

  Yvonne put her hand on my shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, Emma, you and James are –’

  ‘Yvonne, I think we’d better hand out the home study information leaflets now,’ said Dervla, interrupting a crucial conversation at exactly the wrong time. What had Yvonne meant? Don’t worry, you’re doing well. Don’t worry, it’s not as bad as you think. Don’t worry, you can make up for it if you do everything perfectly in the home study. Don’t worry what?!

  Bloody Dervla. What on earth was I going to do it we got her as our home study social worker?

  20

  Lucy and Donal were getting on famously. They were all loved up and Donal was even pretending to be interested in the wedding plans.

  ‘I’m thinking tiger lilies mixed with white roses,’ said Lucy, looking for approval.

  ‘Oh, I do love those tiger lilies,’ said Donal, clapping his hands together.

  ‘Smart arse. What about your suit? We need to get you fitted out properly.’

  ‘I’ll wear the suit I have.’

  ‘It’s brown.’

  ‘What’s wrong with brown?’

  ‘Donal, that suit is about a hundred years old and you will not be wearing it to our wedding. I’ll book you an appointment with a decent tailor. Now, readings for the church.’

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘Do you have any preferences on what ones you’d like?’

  ‘Short ones.’

  ‘OK. Photographs and/or video?’

  ‘Neither. I don’t want some poncy bloke chasing me around with a camera saying cheese even’ five minutes.’

  ‘Well, tough, because I want nice photos of my wedding.’

  ‘OK, but don’t get one of those creative types who’ll have us swinging from trees. By the way, did you get Annie’s dress sorted out?’

  Lucy winced. She had been avoiding Annie like the plague. She was supposed to call her in school and arrange a day to go shopping for dresses, but she was dreading it. She knew Annie would just upset her and wind her up and she really didn’t want to get into an argument with her. Lucy was afraid she might snap this time.

  ‘No, 1 must give her a call about it.’

  ‘I’m about to call her now, so I’ll put her on to you afterwards and you can make arrangements.’

  Shit, thought Lucy, she really wasn’t in the mood for the bolshie teenager. Donal called Annie and chatted to her for about ten minutes. Then he told her Lucy wanted a word and he left the room so they could discuss their girly stuff in private.

  Lucy took a deep breath. ‘Hi, Annie, how are you?’

  ‘Fine. What do you want?’

  ‘I wanted to arrange for you to take an afternoon off school so we could go shopping for your bridesmaid dress. When would be best for you?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘OK, Annie, give me a break here. I’d really like you to be involved in the wedding. I’ll buy you any dress you like, the choice is yours.’

  ‘I don’t want your charity. There isn’t going to be a wedding, you’re not going to steal Donal away from me. I hate you and I’d rather die than be your stupid bridesmaid.’

  Lucy counted to ten. ‘Look, Donal wants you to be involved, OK? I reallv don’t care what you do, but, for his sake, can you please work with me on this?’

  ‘Fuck off. I don’t want anything to do with you. You don’t love Donal. You’re just a sad old cow who wants to get married before her vagina shrivels up.’

  ‘That’s not true and you know it. I do love Donal,’ said Lucy, beginning to get upset.

  ‘No, you don’t. Mary loved Donal and she was nice and kind. The only person you care about is yourself. You’ll make him miserable because you are a selfish ugly old bitch. I hope you die of cancer.’

  ‘Now, listen here, you little brat. I’ve had enough of your insults. I’ve let you get away with murder. I am going to marry Donal whether you like it or not. So you better get used to the idea. And from now on you will treat me with respect and, if you don’t, I promise you I will make your life hell. Do you understand me? You’re a spoilt little girl who needs a good slap and I’ll be happy to oblige. You –’

  Donal grabbed the phone. ‘Annie, it’s Donal.’

  Lucy could hear Annie beginning to bawl down the other end of the phone. She was screaming, ‘She hates me. She said she’s going to make my life hell …’

  Lucy left the room and sat on the edge of the bed. She was shaking. How much had Donal heard? Oh God, why had she lost her temper? Why did she rise to the bait? Annie was a teenager for God’s sake. Shit, shit, shit.

  Donal came in a few minutes later. He was really angry. The veins on his neck were bulging. ‘What the hell were you doing? She’s a child. A child who’s lost everything. How could you speak to her like that? The poor girl is hysterical. What were you thinking?’

  Lucy tried to suppress the lump forming in her throat. ‘Look, I’m sorry, but she was being really nasty and I just lost my temper.’

  ‘She’s fifteen!’ shouted Donal. ‘I heard you saying you’d make her life hell and give her a few slaps. What type of a person says that to a child. Jesus, Lucy.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it. She was saying some really horrible things to me and I just lost my temper.’

  ‘You’re supposed to be the adult. The poor girl has had enough shit to deal with in her life without you threatening her. I can’t believe you said those things. I’m shocked.’

  ‘She hates me. OK? The girl hates me, she keeps telling me the wedding won’t go ahead and that you don’t love me and I don’t love you. Every time you leave the room she starts bitching at me. You just never see it. So, tonight I snapped. I was trying to be nice to her, but she kept coming back with nasty little comments. I’m sorry, but she just wound me up. She’s very difficult to deal with.’

  ‘No, she isn’t. You’ve just handled it all wrong. She’s a messed up kid who needs attention and reassurance. My sister left her in my care, she’s my priority, Lucy. If that’s the way you’re going to treat her then we have a serious problem here.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I can’t have you upsetting her like that. It’s not fair on her.’

  ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘Call her back and grovel.’

  ‘Grovel?’

  ‘Yes. You’ve really upset her, so you’ll need to do some serious grovelling.’

  ‘What about the things she said to me? Do I get an apology?’

  ‘Grow up.’

  ‘Fuck you.’

  ‘Well, that’s very mature.’

  ‘Are you always going to take her side?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, then this isn’t going to work.’

  ‘It would if you tried harder.’
/>   ‘Jesus, Donal, I’ve bent over backwards for her. I can’t do it any more.’

  ‘So that’s it? That’s your answer?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Donal didn’t stop Lucy when she packed her bag and he didn’t say anything when she left. She cried all the way to my house, where she poured out the story. It was awful. She was devastated. I plied her with wine and tissues and she eventually cried herself to sleep. I went in to talk to James who had made himself scarce when he saw the suitcase and the teary face.

  ‘Oh, God, James, it’s awful. They’ve broken up over that stupid litde brat.’

  ‘What happened?’

  I filled him in.

  ‘I have to say, in Donal’s defence, Annie’s his child. He has to put her first. And Lucy is the adult, she shouldn’t have lost her temper.’

  ‘But Annie said she wanted her to die of cancer! Come on, James, the girl is like something from The Omen.’

  ‘Emma!’

  ‘She is, I’m telling you. She’s a total brat and Donal obviously lets her get away with murder. And now she’s broken up the best thing that ever happened to him. You’ll have to talk to him. Make him see sense.’

  ‘I’ll have a word at training. I hope this doesn’t put him off his game.’

  ‘James!’

  ‘The semi-hnal is in five days’ time, 1 need Donal to be in top condition. He mustn’t be distracted. If he plays badly, we’ll lose.’

  ‘Well, then tell him to get over here and beg Lucy to get back with him.’

  ‘I’ll have a word.’

  ‘Have several – and don’t focus on the rugby. Focus on his feelings and what a treasure Lucy is and how lucky he was to meet her and how he needs to cop on and get down on his knees and beg her to come back.’

  The next day at training, Donal was a mess. He looked as if he hadn’t slept a wink. He couldn’t concentrate. He kept dropping the ball, tripping over himself and generally playing like a man with two left feet. James was not impressed. He took him aside after training and tried to talk to him.