From Here to Maternity (21 page)

‘Mauling. I would have thought it wasn’t allowed. What’s Philip supposed to do? Pinch the other players’ bums to distract them?’ I laughed.

James sighed. ‘A maul is when the players are trying to get the ball before it touches the ground. You understand as much about rugby as I do about makeup, and I think we should leave it at that.’

‘But I want to know more. I want to be able to tell Yuri about it when we’re watching the games.’

‘I appreciate the enthusiasm, darling, but it would take too long to explain it to you. I can teach Yuri everything when he’s older.’

‘OK, but I have one more question.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Who’s Gary Owen?’

James groaned.

‘You never mentioned him before and now it’s all Bath and their Gary Owen this and Gary Owen that, and I just wondered if he’s some amazing new player I should know about.’

‘A Garryowen is an up-and-under kick.’

I looked at him blankly.

Very slowly, trying not to lose patience, James said, ‘It’s a punt kick by a player on the attacking side where the ball is sent high over their opponent’s head. This gives the team time to charge down the ball.’

‘So who is Gary? Did he invent the kick?’

‘Garryowen is one of Ireland’s most famous rugby clubs. It’s based in Limerick and they invented the up-and-under kick, so it’s named after the club, not a person.’

‘Oh,’ I said, still not totally getting the up-and-under concept but not wanting to ask any more questions because (a) James was getting frustrated, and (b) it wasn’t really all that interesting. He was right: I was better off sticking to makeup. Besides, I understood the basics of rugby – tries and penalty kicks. James could explain the finer points to Yuri when he was older. ‘Well, you learn something new every day,’ I added.

James smiled. ‘I can see your eyes glazing over. I think we’ll leave the rugby talk for the dressing room. Anyway, I have to go. I’m due to talk over some key mauling techniques with Philip before we catch our plane.’

*

Donal was due to commentate on the match from the studio in Dublin, but at the last minute he was sent to Bath to report live from the stadium. Lucy was having a nervous breakdown because Annie was on her way out from boarding-school that weekend and she was going to have to deal with her alone.

‘Why don’t you call over here and watch the match with me and Yuri? At least it’ll kill a few hours and she’ll have to behave herself in front of me or I’ll tell her off.’

‘That’d be great,’ said Lucy, sounding relieved. ‘She’s going to flip when she finds out Donal’s gone to Bath.’

‘When’s she due?’

‘I’m collecting her from the station at half twelve. Wish me luck.’

‘It’ll be fine. Bring her straight here and we’ll have some lunch and watch the game.’

‘Thanks, Emma, you’re a life-saver.’

‘If she misbehaves we can get Yuri to dribble on her,’ I said, as Lucy laughed.

Annie was standing on the platform, looking thunderous. Lucy’s heart sank as she approached. It was going to be a long day. Thank God Donal was due back that evening. She took a deep breath and smiled. ‘Hi, Annie, how are you?’

‘Pissed off. Donal rang me an hour ago to say he’s had to fly to Bath. I wouldn’t have bothered coming up but I was on the train already.’

‘I know it’s disappointing, but he’ll be back tonight.’

‘What time?’

‘He should be landing at about nine.’

‘Which means he won’t get home till ten and I’m going back first thing tomorrow. I’ll hardly see him at all.’

‘Well, how’d you like to watch the match in my friend Emma’s house? You met her at the wedding – she’s married to James Hamilton, Donal’s coach at Leinster.’

‘I know who James Hamilton is. Anyone who has any interest in rugby knows who he is. I suppose it’s better than nothing.’

‘Great! Let’s head over there now. Emma’s offered to give us lunch,’ said Lucy, determined not to let Annie get to her. ‘She and James have a little boy, Yuri. They adopted him from Russia. He’s fifteen months old and very sweet, and Emma’s pregnant, which is brilliant for them.’

‘I know. Donal told me. You’re not getting clucky, are you?’ Annie stared at Lucy’s stomach for any sign of a bump.

‘No, I’m just pleased for my friend,’ said Lucy, gripping the steering-wheel and willing herself to remain calm.

‘Whatever.’

I opened the door to two long faces. Things obviously weren’t going well, then.

‘Hi, Annie,’ I said, as cheerfully as I could. ‘Come on in and meet Yuri.’

She shuffled past me and went to sit on the couch. Lucy sighed. ‘Total nightmare. She’s furious because Donal’s away and she hasn’t seen him in six weeks. It looks like I’m being blamed.’

‘Don’t worry, she’ll calm down in a while. She’s just disappointed,’ I said, trying to sound reassuring. ‘Is pizza and salad all right for lunch? I didn’t have time to get to the shops.’

Lucy smiled. ‘It sounds great. Thanks.’

We followed Annie into the TV room where she was eyeballing Yuri, who was sitting on a rug, flinging toy cars at her and laughing. Several had hit her legs.

‘Ouch!’ she exclaimed, as another made its mark. ‘God! Can’t you get him to stop?’ she asked.

‘If I try to stop him now, he’ll start roaring. Trust me, it’s a lot better for all of us if we leave him to it.’

Yuri, obviously aware that he was being discussed, crawled over and sat at Annie’s feet. I bent down. ‘Yuri, this is Annie. She’s Lucy’s – ’ Suddenly I realized that I had no idea what she was. Lucy’s ward? Lucy’s niece? Lucy’s stepdaughter? Adopted daughter? Or, more truthfully, the thorn in Lucy’s side. I went for the safe option and said ‘friend’.

Annie seemed unimpressed. Yuri was used to being the centre of attention so he was fascinated by the creature who was ignoring him. He grabbed her jeans and pulled himself on to his feet, grasping her knees to balance. She continued to ignore him until he began to dribble all over her. ‘Gross! Can you please take him away?’ she squealed. ‘He’s spitting on me.’

‘It’s only dribble. He’s teething so he can’t help it, poor little thing,’ I said, hurt that she wasn’t as besotted by Yuri as I believed everyone else to be. Or, at least, as they all pretended to be in front of me.

Lucy bent down to pick him up. She wiped his face with a tissue and kissed his cheek. He smiled at her. ‘Hello, little man, don’t you look adorable today?’ cooed Lucy as Yuri basked in the attention.

Annie glared at her. ‘I thought you said you weren’t getting clucky.’

‘She’s being polite,’ I snapped. ‘Acknowledging the presence of a child isn’t unusual in civilized society. Maybe you should get out of boarding-school more often.’

‘Are you pregnant?’ Annie demanded, ignoring me completely and staring at Lucy.

‘Don’t answer that,’ I said to Lucy. ‘Listen here, Annie, you have no right to be rude to Lucy and ask her personal questions. If and when she and Donal decide to have kids, you should be delighted for them. Lucy is the best thing to happen to Donal so stop giving her a hard time.’

‘Just because you’ve got a baby factory going on here doesn’t mean that everyone wants one. I don’t want a brother or sister. Especially not one that throws cars around and dribbles.’

‘Annie, there’s no need to be rude,’ said Lucy.

‘If you have a kid, Donal won’t have time for me any more.’

‘Of course he will. Come on, Annie, we’ve been over this before,’ said Lucy, gently. ‘Donal will always put you first. You know that. He’s told you so a million times.’

Annie sniffed. ‘Yeah, but if you have a boy he’ll be all delighted and wanting to teach him rugby and stuff.’

‘First of all, this is a hypothetical situation you’re talking about,. and second, if Lucy and Donal do have a baby it’ll be your flesh and blood too, so you’ll be as mad about it as Donal,’ I said, deciding to step in before she blackmailed Lucy out of ever having kids. ‘Now, let’s eat our lunch before the game.’

Lunch wasn’t exactly a bundle of laughs and for once Yuri’s food-flinging was a welcome distraction. When we had finished, Lucy and I cleared away the plates and settled to watch the game. I’d put Yuri down for a nap, so we’d be able to focus properly on it.

Leinster didn’t play very well, and with fifteen minutes to go they were trailing by seven points. Donal, in the commentary box, was getting desperate. ‘Jesus Christ, Casey, what are you doing?’ he roared, as the new Leinster captain dropped the ball that was passed back to him. ‘Frank Spencer’d do a better job than that. Come on, lads, get it together.’

Donal’s fellow commentator, Pat Tierney, was still getting everyone’s names wrong.

‘Ah, now, Donal, do I detect a spot of jealousy? Do you think you’d do a better job yourself? Are you wishing you were down there leading the troops instead of Carney?’

‘Casey, his names’s Casey. Of course I’d love to be playing, but overall Casey’s had a good game. That was just a bad mistake he made there.’

‘Well, folks, it’s not looking good for Leinster. Carney just missed a lovely pass for a potential try,’ said Pat. ‘It looks like it’s goodbye to the dream of winning the European Cup again this year.’

‘Hold on, Pat. There’s fifteen minutes to go. Don’t be writing the lads off yet,’ snapped Donal. ‘Come on, Leinster, get stuck in. Give the bastards a few digs – show them what you’re made of. Stop waiting for a loose ball –
GET IN THERE!
’

Pat sniggered. ‘We don’t normally have such a partisan commentator so I’ll have to ask the viewers at home to excuse Donal’s language. He’s just a bit overexcited.’

Donal ignored him and whooped as Leinster were awarded a penalty in front of the posts.

‘Excellent. If we can get this, all we need is a try to win. Come on, Ray, don’t blow it,’ he said, as Ray Phelan stood up to take the kick. It sailed over the bar.

‘GO ON, YOU GOOD THING
,’ bellowed Donal into his microphone.

With five minutes to go, Leinster were still four points down and didn’t look like scoring.

‘Jesus, lads, you couldn’t score in a brothel, playing like that,’ hissed Donal, as Peter O’Hare knocked the ball forward, giving possession to Bath.

‘Donal, if I could just remind you again, we have young viewers and we really must watch our language,’ said Pat, increasingly nervous about what obscenities might come out of Donal’s mouth next.

Donal snorted.

Two minutes to go and Leinster had the ball. Phelan kicked a Garryowen up the pitch and the team charged after the ball. Ben Casey got to it first. He passed it to the scrum half, Ivan Green, who whipped it out to Peter O’Hare. He ran towards the line, sidestepping two defenders, and as a third Bath defender caught him in a tackle, O’Hare flung himself over the line, arms at full stretch, just placing the ball in the corner for a winning try.

Donal went ballistic. ‘
DID YOU SEE THAT? DID YOU BLOODY WELL SEE THAT FOR A TRY? THE MAN IS A GENIUS. I TOLD YOU LEINSTER HAD IT IN THEM. JESUS, MY HEART NEARLY STOPPED THERE! GO ON, YOU BUNCH OF HAIRY MONGRELS, I’D SHAG YOU ALL RIGHT NOW. WE’RE GOING TO WIN THE CUP
.’

‘I think it’s time to go back to the studio,’ whispered Pat, as Lucy, Annie and I giggled helplessly on the couch, united by Donal’s emotional outburst.

Chapter 24

Donal sashayed into the room and tossed a letter onto the coffee-table in front of Lucy, who was busy painting her nails while watching reruns of
Sex and the City.
He sat down beside her and cleared his throat.

‘Ssssh, I love this bit.’

‘You’ve seen this show a million times.’

‘I know, but this one’s my favourite. It’s so sad,’ she said, as she watched Miranda standing alone at her mother’s funeral while her siblings walked behind the coffin with their partners. Lucy’s voice quivered: ‘I was Miranda. I always thought I’d end up alone at my mother’s funeral while my sisters and brothers had partners to support them.’

‘You’re an only child.’

‘That’s irrelevant. I was convinced I’d end up on my own.’

‘Believe you me, if you looked like that boot you would have,’ said Donal, finding himself very amusing.

‘Typical! You’re so shallow. Just because Miranda’s a successful lawyer and doesn’t take shit from anyone, you dismiss her.’

‘No it’s really got more to do with the fact that she looks like the back of a bus.’

‘She’s extremely attractive, in a quirky way.’

‘Is “quirky” the politically correct word for “plain”?’

‘No, Donal, it isn’t. Look a little deeper for once. She has a brilliant personality and is a feisty, independent woman. I’d say loads of guys fancy her.’

‘Oh, I’d say they’re queuing round the block, all right.’

‘Looks aren’t everything. You could end up with a good-looking mute.’

‘Now you’re talking.’

Lucy hit his arm. ‘OK, so what happens if I end up in a car crash and am horribly disfigured?’

‘How bad?’

‘Very. Half my face is crumpled and I’m missing an eye.’

‘Well, a gorgeous girl like you wouldn’t be able to live like that so I’d help you out and smother you with a pillow to put you out of your misery, then go off with the foxy mute.’

‘Donal, I’m serious, what would you do?’

‘I was being serious.’

‘You’d kill me?’

‘No, I’d put you out of your misery.’

‘Say if I wanted to live?’

‘You wouldn’t.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because you wouldn’t want me to suffer with a hound of a wife.’

‘Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You’re no oil-painting.’

‘Well, apparently the ladies find me irresistible,’ said Donal, smirking.

‘Delusion is not healthy, Donal.’

‘I have here some fan mail from a female admirer,’ said Donal, picking up the letter and waving it at Lucy.

‘No way.’

‘Yours truly is a babe magnet.’

‘Steady on! One letter is hardly a fan club,’ said Lucy, opening it. She read it aloud. ‘ “Dear Donal, it is so refreshing to see enthusiasm from commentators. I’m sick of listening to panellists who have only negative things to say. Keep up the good work and I sincerely hope Leinster win the Cup this year. It’s such a pity you won’t be playing, you were always exciting to watch. P.S. you look great on TV. I love your shirts they’re so sexy. Sarah Talbot.” The cheeky cow,’ said Lucy.