A Perfect Match

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A Perfect Match Page 25

by Sinéad Moriarty


  ‘And you think, how can I love something I don’t even know so much? It’s really scary.’

  ‘Yes, it’s so frightening because you know if anything happens to them you’ll die,’ Jess agreed.

  ‘I know, it’s exactly the way I feel when I look at Annie,’ said Lucy, giggling. ‘Come on, girls, this is supposed to be a fun day and you’re both nearly in tears. Enough of the baby love.’

  ‘Sorry, Lucy,’ I said, smiling at her. ‘Oh, did I tell you about Yuri when I gave him the little quacking duck?’

  Yes,’ said Lucy and Jess.

  ‘Did I mention how he lights up when he hears classical music?’

  ‘Yes,’ they groaned.

  ‘Have you noticed how interesting my conversation has become since I went to Russia?’ I laughed. ‘Speaking of Annie – how’s she been?’ I asked.

  ‘Angelic,’ said Lucy. ‘In fact, she was being so nice to me that it was beginning to freak me out a bit. She keeps telling me how thrilled she is that I’m marrying Donal and how wonderful I am and how much she loves her dress. But then yesterday she had a freak attack when she discovered she wasn’t sitting beside Donal at the top table, so we had to change the place names around. I was relieved to be honest, her perfect behaviour wasn’t fooling me. She’s a million times better than she was, but she’s still a teenager.’

  ‘God, Lucy, this day next week you’ll be walking up the aisle. Mrs Lucy Brady.’

  ‘I don’t think so. I’ll be hanging on to my own name. I’m not burning my bra over the issue, but it’s too much hassle to change it in work, so I’ll still be Lucy Hogan.’

  ‘I couldn’t wait to change mine. Burke is a desperate name. Hamilton is a lot better. Yuri Hamilton sounds great, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Lucy and Jess, rolling their eyes.

  The next morning Alexander called. Our court date had been fixed. We were going to become Yuri’s official parents in exactly two weeks’ time. We were flying to Russia two days after Lucy’s wedding to spend a few days with Yuri and then we’d take him to court and have him officially adopted. Alexander told me to be prepared to answer questions from the judge.

  ‘Russians view the woman as the primary care giver,’ he said, ‘so most of the court’s attention will be on you. Some questions the judge may ask include – describe your house, how old is the child? Why did you choose this child? Are you aware of his medical record? How will you teach your child about its heritage? Why are you adopting from Russia … that kind of thing. But don’t worry, Emma, he will probably only ask a couple of simple questions. Just dress smart and keep calm. Also, don’t forget to bring clothes and bottles and a carry cot for Yuri.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I won’t,’ I said, smiling at the thought of the amount of baby gear I had crammed into the nursery.

  I rang James and screamed down the phone. The anxious knot in my stomach was gone. It was OK now, we had a date. Yuri would be ours in two weeks. I called Mum and told her.

  ‘Oh, Emma,’ she said, getting emotional. ‘That’s wonderful, pet. I’ve been really worried, you know. I thought they might change their minds on you. I was down on my knees praying for you.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum. I’m so relieved it’s all nearly over. You’ll be a granny soon.’

  ‘And a little dote he is too. Thank God it’s sorted out. You just never know with those Russians. The wall may have come down, but once a communist, always a communist.’

  ‘Mum, you have to remember that Yuri is Russian, so you can’t be slagging them off.’

  ‘He’s not Russian, he’s Irish.’

  ‘No, he’ll be half Russian, half Irish. I want him to know all about his roots, so no negative comments about Russia, please.’

  ‘Would you not change the child’s name? It’d be easier for him in school. Yuri’s a bit foreign sounding. He might get bullied.’

  ‘Yuri is a beautiful name and it’s what he will be called for the rest of his life, so get used to it.’

  ‘How about a nice Irish name like Seamus?’

  ‘Mum.’

  ‘Or Donal?’

  ‘Mum.’

  ‘Oh, I know what’d suit him – Colm. He’s a real look of a Colm about him.’

  ‘Mother! His name is Yuri. End of discussion. End of conversation. End of subject – never to be raised again. Yuri Daniel Hamilton.’

  The night before the wedding, Sean and Shadee arrived and we went out for a family meal. Mum was very impressed with the ring and Shadee was saying all the right things. Sean had clearly prepped her for the wedding question onslaught.

  ‘Where do you think you’d like to get married?’ asked Mum.

  ‘We’re looking at a lovely country hotel in Cornwall,’ said Shadee.

  ‘Oh. Would you not think of getting married here in Ireland?’

  ‘Yeah, in the pissing rain and the freezing cold. Great idea,’ said Babs.

  ‘Babs may have a smaller nose, but her gob is as big as ever,’ said Dad, chuckling to himself.

  ‘We know some people who own a very nice hotel outside Dublin that would be suitable,’ continued Mum in her quest to strong arm Shadee into getting married in Ireland, where Mum could control the whole event.

  ‘That sounds nice, but –’ said Shadee.

  ‘Mum, we’re getting married in Cornwall. It’s not bloody Tehran. You should be pleased,’ said Sean.

  ‘Will you have many of the Shite Muslims coming over from your country?’ asked Mum.

  ‘No, all of my family now lives in the UK. The only relation I have left in Tehran is my uncle Tony and he is a bit of a black sheep, I’m afraid.’

  ‘We all have those,’ said Dad, pointing to Babs, as we laughed.

  ‘So, guys, tell me about Yuri,’ asked Sean, changing the subject.

  ‘Noooooo,’ squealed Babs. ‘Don’t get them started, they’ll never shut up. We’ll be having a slide show in a minute. Why don’t we talk about my new job instead?’

  ‘What new job?’ asked Mum suspiciously.

  ‘Let me guess, you’re going to have a boob job live on TV,’ said Sean.

  ‘No, smart arse, I’m going to be presenting on BFL.’

  ‘What’s BFL?’ asked Dad.

  ‘It’s Buy For Less – a shopping channel,’ I said.

  ‘What will you be selling?’ asked James, trying not to laugh.

  ‘Harnesses?’ said Sean, as we roared laughing.

  ‘Saddles?’ I giggled

  ‘Riding crops?’ said James, joining in.

  ‘Stop, please, you’re cracking me up,’ said a humourless Babs. ‘I’m actually going to be selling carpet stain remover initially and then I’ll probably move on to jewellery.’

  ‘I’d say Nicole Kidman’s quaking in her boots,’ said Dad, choking on his drink.

  ‘You’ll have an Oscar in no time,’ said Sean.

  ‘Laugh all you want. Eveone has to start somewhere. I’ll be moving to London next month. So, Sean, I’ll be crashing at your place until I get settled.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ said Sean

  ‘So anyway,’ I interrupted. ‘About Yuri …’

  While James spent the morning of the wedding with Donal, doing God knows what, Jess and Lucy and I lolled about in our dressing gowns, drinking champagne and taking our time getting ready. I did their make-up and then my own. The hairdresser did our hair. Everything was simple – the way Lucy wanted it. Then Lucy went to put on her dress and when she came out, Jess and I gasped. She was truly the most beautiful bride I have ever seen. Her long black hair was in stunning contrast to the off-white Vera Wang dress. It fitted her like a glove and showed off her fantastic figure. She looked radiant. Jess and I began to get emotional, but Lucy nipped us in the bud.

  ‘No more crying. God, you mothers are emotional wrecks. I don’t want you ruining your make-up. Come on now, let’s go. I’ve waited thirty-six and a half years for this, I’ll be damned if I’m going to be late.’

  When Lucy walked up th
e aisle, Donal came forward to meet her.

  ‘Jesus, could you not have made an effort, the day that’s in it,’ he said, beaming at her.

  ‘You don’t look so bad yourself,’ she said, smiling up at him. ‘We should get you out of that tracksuit more often.’

  ‘Any time you want to get me out of my tracksuit is fine with me.’

  ‘Donal!’ said Lucy. ‘We’re in a church.’

  The ceremony passed without a hitch and an hour later they were officially married.

  When dinner was over, Donal stood up to speak.

  ‘I’m not usually a man who’s stuck for words, but when I tried to write down how I felt about Lucy I got tongue tied. I know – there’s a first for even-thing,’ he said, smiling. ‘I suppose it’s fair to say that I’m not very good at the romantic talk, so I’ve decided to leave it to a man I’ve admired all my life, a man who can really express his emotions. Lucy, these may not be my words, but they sum up exactly how I feel about you. As Christy Moore says …

  Black is the colour of my true lore’s hair,

  Her lips are like some roses fair,

  She’s the sweetest smile, and the gentlest hands,

  I love the ground, whereon she stands.

  I love my love and well she knows,

  I love the ground, whereon she goes,

  I wish the day, it soon would come,

  When she and I could be as one.

  There wasn’t a dry eye in the house. Lucy stood up and hugged Donal, tears streaming down her face.

  ‘What a sap,’ snorted Babs. ‘She’s welcome to him.’

  ‘And Sean’s welcome to you,’ I said, winking at Sean, who put his head in his hands and groaned.

  The first dance was to Lucy’s favourite song – ‘My Heart Will Go On’, by Celine Dion. Lucy had impeccable taste in everything but, when it came to music, she was a saddo. James and I shuffled around trying not to step on each other’s toes.

  ‘Happy, darling?’ he asked, beaming at me.

  ‘Very,’ I said, smiling back.

  ‘Only two more days and we’ll see Yuri again,’ said the besotted father.

  ‘I know, it’s great. By the way, did I mention that I’m pregnant.’

  ‘What?’ said James, stopping abruptly mid-dance.

  The words tumbled out of my mouth. ‘Last night Jess asked me if I had any spare Tampax. I didn’t, but it made me realize that I hadn’t had a period in ages. So when I got back to the room I checked my diary. I’m four weeks late. With all the to-ing and fro-ing to Russia, I hadn’t even noticed. So when I got up this morning, I drove down to the chemist and bought a pregnancy test and I’m pregnant.’

  ‘But, we’re going to court in a week. What about Yuri?’

  ‘Well, it looks like Yuri’s going to have a little sister or brother,’ I said, grinning at him.

  ‘How do you say “Fuck-me!” in Russian?’

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to the fantastic team at Penguin Ireland for their kindness, warmth and enthusiasm, in particular, my editor Patricia Deevy, team leader, Michael McLoughlin and sales manager, Brian Walker.

  Warm thanks to all at Penguin UK especially Tom Weldon, Helen Fraser, the lovely Clare Pollock and the wonderful sales team led by James Kellow. Thanks to my copy editor Ann Cooke for her precision.

  A big thank you to everyone at Gillon Aitken Associates; the dynamic Sally Riley, Ayesha Karim and most of all, Gillon himself.

  I owe a debt of gratitude to Catriona Kirwan for her kindness and patience in talking me through the adoption experience. Thanks also to Helen Kingston for her humorous insight into the home visits.

  Thanks to Lis Leigh for her help and guidance; to Paul White for his legal advice; to my friends for cheering me on. Thanks Mike and Sue for being so enthusiastic and supportive always.

  The book is dedicated to Mum and Dad with deep gratitude for being such wonderful parents. My biggest and most heartfelt thanks go to the two men in my life – Troy for his unwavering encouragement, love and support (and his significant input into the book!), and Hugo for giving me the precious gift of motherhood.

 

 

 


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