From Here to Maternity (24 page)

‘I thought we’d agreed that you weren’t going to make comments like that any more,’ I said, wagging a finger at her.

‘For your information, Sean said that one of Shady’s aunties, who’s coming to the wedding, wears the black sheet and disapproves of Western women.’

‘Yes, and Auntie Doreen goes around spraying people with holy water. Neither is clever.’

‘Well, your auntie Doreen’s from your father’s side. Sure they’re all a bit touched,’ said Mum, condemning Dad’s entire family with one sweeping comment.

‘Anyway, back to the issue at hand. What am I going to do?’ I now had nothing to wear for my brother’s wedding and my mother wasn’t helping.

‘Your sister had better wear that nice frock I sent her in the post. It’s got long sleeves and a high neck. I won’t have Shady’s lot saying my children are badly brought up. I won’t be shamed on my only son’s wedding day.’

I opened Mum’s wardrobe and started looking through it. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Looking for something to wear.’

‘You won’t find anything in there that’ll fit you,’ said Mum, highly insulted at the idea that my big frame would fit into any of her clothes.

‘I just thought you might have a floaty dress or a loose top.’

‘I’m a size fourteen now, Emma. I’ve lost half a stone over the last month by cutting out the car-bo-hydrates,’ said Mum, twirling round to show me her new svelte figure.

‘I know, Mum. You told me, and you look great. Your outfit is gorgeous and the shoes and hat are perfect. But right now I need you to focus on finding me something to wear.’

‘What about the bag? You didn’t say the bag was nice. Do you not like it? I thought it was a different colour to the shoes but you made me buy it.’

‘The bag is perfect. It came with the shoes. It’s a matching set. They are all the exact same colour. And I didn’t make you buy anything. You love your outfit. Now, please, help me out here.’

‘Why don’t you go round to young Maureen Doherty and ask her if she has any of her old dresses from before she joined the Weight Watchers and lost four stone.’

‘She was fifteen stone and went around in smocks. I’m not that bloody big.’

Mum sniffed. ‘I’ll say nothing.’

‘What?’ I said. ‘I’m not that big. Am I? Do I look like Maureen used to?’ I was beginning to panic. I looked in the mirror. I was big: big bump, big boobs and, if I was being honest, big thighs and bum too. But my arms were still okayish. Weren’t they? Was I kidding myself?

‘Sure she has blonde hair,’ said Mum, looking at me as if I was stupid. Was that it? Was that where the only difference lay? In our hair colour?

‘Did I tell you Maureen’s cousin Suzanne bought that house on Talsome Road. Two million euros it cost. But sure didn’t she marry Harry Beacon, the beef baron. He’s money to burn that fellow. He used to go out with your second cousin Jackie, but it came unstuck. Of course her mother was devastated, she had the hat bought. You remember Suzanne, a plain slip of a thing? But you should see her now, she’s got fierce glamorous. Dyed blonde hair and always brown as a berry, has her own sunbed, according to her aunt, and apparently she’s had that Botox,’ said Mum, whispering the word ‘Botox’ and shaking her head.

‘Good on her, I could do with some,’ I said, staring at my wrinkles in the mirror.

‘Poppycock! Do you know what’s in it? Rat poison! The problem with you girls today is that you want a solution to everything. An injection for this, a pill for that, divorce, abortion. There are no morals any more. Young people today don’t take marriage seriously. They get divorced if they have a row. Marriage is a sacred oath and there are tough times, but you put your head down and get on with it. It’s not easy – nothing in life is easy. Marrying someone from your own country and religion is hard enough, but when you add opposing cultures and background to the equation you’re just –’

‘Mum,’ I interrupted, ‘save the speech for Sean. He’s the one getting married in two days. Now, can you please focus on finding me something to wear?’

‘Mark my words, Emma, it’s not all roses in the garden. There have been times when I’ve wanted to leave your father, but I stuck it out.’

‘Mum, I’m begging you, stop talking and help me,’ I pleaded, not wanting to know how many times she had contemplated leaving my father. It was him I felt sorry for: I’d say he had his bags packed every other week.

‘Fine, don’t listen to me or my pearls of wisdom. You young people think you know it all. Experience, Emma, that’s what teaches you about life.’

‘I get it. Marriage is difficult and there’ll be rocky times ahead. Now, in the name of God, will you please give me a hand finding a dress?’

After going through every outfit in her wardrobe, most of which she tried on for me, describing in detail where she had worn it and who had said what to her in it, I found an old empire line chiffon dress that covered most of my lumps and bumps. The rest I could camouflage with a shawl. It was a pretty nauseating shade of green, but it was too late to get anything else. I’d just have to make do and look like a leprechaun.

When I got home, James was shouting, ‘Come on, you can do it,’ and whooping at the top of his lungs. Expecting to find him watching a rugby match, I walked in to find Yuri wobbling precariously on his feet. When he saw me he staggered three steps forward, and collapsed on his bum.

‘Oh, my God, James, he walked!’

‘I know! Isn’t it marvellous?’ said James, grinning. ‘The child is a genius.’

The next hour was spent cheering and clapping as Yuri staggered about like a drunken sailor, fell over and got up again. We were beside ourselves with pride. Our little man was growing up. After we had tucked him into his cot, telling him how wonderful he was and singing a glass-shattering version of ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’, we went to pack our cases and I tried on my dress for James.

‘Now, before you say anything,’ I shouted from the bathroom, ‘remember that I have no other options. Ta-da.’ I twirled round for him.

James swallowed loudly. ‘It’s really… green.’

‘Oh, God, that bad?’

‘No, not bad, just a shade of green I haven’t seen in quite some time. Not since the sixties, I believe. But it looks well with red hair.’

‘I realize that the colour is headache-inducing, but focus on the shape for a minute. Does it flatter?’

‘Flatter what exactly?’

‘My current Hobbit-like shape.’

‘Ah. Well, then, yes, it does.’

‘In what way?’ I asked.

‘In a good way,’ he fudged.

‘Be honest. I can take it. I want you to tell me the truth. It’s awful, isn’t it?’

‘No.’

‘Come on.’

‘OK, I’ve seen you look better.’

‘How bad?’

‘Have you got a coat?’

‘James!’

‘You asked me to be honest.’

‘Yes, but not brutal,’ I said, taking off the dress and sighing. ‘I look like an Irish heifer.’

James decided the best option was to say nothing so he just shrugged and smiled at me.

I put on my elasticated pyjamas and went to brush my teeth. When I climbed into bed, James was reading Clive Woodward’s autobiography in an effort to gain some insight into how he had coached England to victory in the rugby World Cup.

‘James?’

‘Mmm?’ he said, not looking up.

‘Should we be having more sex?’

‘Pardon?’ That got his attention.

‘I’m just wondering if we should be a bit more active. We’ve got very lazy about sex.’

‘But you’re always saying how tired and uncomfortable you are. And the last time we had sex you kept shouting at me not to crush the baby, which was slightly offputting.’

‘I know, and I’m sorry, but you were kind of squashing my bump. Still, the lack of activity can’t be much fun for you.’

‘It’s all right, darling, I’ll survive.’

‘We could try different positions if you like. I’m not very bendy but I’m willing to try.’

‘Really?’ said James, perking up.

‘Sure,’ I said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

Over the next half an hour we tried pretty much every position we could think of. Legs and arms akimbo, we twisted and turned, bent forwards and backwards without much success. We persevered until I fell off the bed during a particularly complicated manoeuvre.

‘Ouch,’ I squealed, rubbing my arm.

‘Are you all right?’ asked James, as he helped me up.

‘This isn’t really working for me,’ I said.

‘I think we’ll call it a night.’

‘Sorry, I was hoping we could find a comfy position.’

‘It’s all right, darling. Actually, I find having sex when you’re so pregnant a little strange.’

‘In what way?’

‘It just seems a bit odd to be having sex when the baby’s in there. It can’t be pleasant for it.’

‘Because of the poking?’

‘Yes, I’m rather afraid they may end up with a black eye.’

I laughed. ‘Don’t flatter yourself.’

‘Six and a half inches at full throttle, thank you very much.’

‘Is that good?’

‘Very.’

‘How did you measure it? With a ruler or tape measure?’

‘Ruler.’

‘Is this a recent event?’ I asked, giggling at the idea of James in the bathroom with his ruler out.

‘No, I did it years ago.’

‘When and why?’

‘It was back in the early days of my rugby career. I was only about sixteen and everyone used to slag Stewart – the prop – for being hung like a horse.’

‘Did you all go around looking at each other?’

‘Communal showers, darling, hard not to.’

‘I’d never look at another woman’s privates, communal or otherwise.’

‘Boarding-school makes you more relaxed about nakedness. Anyway, when I compared myself to Stewart it was like a hot-dog and a cocktail sausage. So I decided to measure mine. I was concerned that I was stunted and at sixteen all you think about is getting laid, so I was seriously worried about my future.’

‘And so you got out the ruler.’

‘And realized that I looked smaller than I was.’

‘Thank God for that.’

‘Best day of my life.’

‘Should I call you stallion?’

‘If you like, I’d have no problem with it. Might be a bit awkward at family occasions, but I‘m game if you are’.

I snuggled down under the duvet. ‘James?’

‘Yes?’

‘You’re not going to have an affair because your wife won’t put out and you’re hung like a donkey, are you?’

‘Where would I meet my mistress? I work with rugby players, remember?’

‘Sure you can meet people in the supermarket, these days. I’m always hearing about affairs starting over the frozen section.’

‘To think of all the time I’ve wasted lurking about by the cheeses.’

‘James?

‘Yes?’

‘How bad is the dress?’

‘Put it this way, darling, I’d have no problem if you wore it grocery shopping.’

Chapter 27

When we landed at the airport the next day, Sean was anxiously waiting for us at Arrivals. He was excited and nervous. Babs was with him, looking bored.

‘Jesus, you’re massive,’ said Babs, eyeing my stomach. ‘You look like you’ve about ten kids in there.’

‘It must be great to have the ability to make people feel really good about themselves,’ I snapped.

‘Can you please not start fighting yet?’ groaned Dad. ‘We’ve only just landed.’

Sean put his arm round me. ‘Don’t mind her, you’re blooming,’ he said.

‘Blooming huge,’ giggled Babs.

We trundled out to the car park, suitcases and travel cot in tow, and loaded up the minivan Sean had hired. Then we climbed in and set off for Brighton.

‘I can’t believe you’re getting married tomorrow. It’s so exciting. How do you feel?’ I asked, as Sean swung the van on to the motorway.

‘Good, thanks. Bit nervous, but really looking forward to it. It should be a great day. Shadee’s put so much effort into organizing it – she’s thought of everything.’

‘It’d want to be good,’ said Babs, ‘You talked about nothing else the whole time I lived with you.’

‘Rome wasn’t built in a day,’ said Dad. ‘And how are you, my little ray of sunshine?’ He winked at Babs.

‘Brilliant. My job’s going really well, I’ve been promoted to lead salesgirl, everyone in the place loves me and I’m due a pay rise soon.’

‘And as humble as the day you were born,’ said Dad.

‘How’s that flat you’re living in? I hope you’re keeping it clean while the girl who owns it is in Australia. I won’t have people saying the Irish are dirty. Have you it nice and tidy?’ asked Mum.

Babs rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, Mother, I Hoover every night. I never take the Marigolds off.’

‘You certainly fell on your feet there,’ said James. ‘I’ve never heard of someone paying so little rent. Especially not in that area.’

‘Yeah, well, I’m just lucky, I guess,’ said Babs, a little defensively.

‘You’d sell ice to the Eskimos. I’d say you persuaded that poor girl to go to Australia and give you the place for nothing,’ said Dad.

Babs shrugged.

‘I hope you packed the dress I sent you,’ said Mum.

‘The one that looked like something an Amish person would wear? Of course I did. I love it. It’s exactly what I would have chosen for myself.’

‘Have you a nice sensible pair of shoes to go with it?’

‘I found a lovely pair of wellies to match.’

‘You cheeky lump,’ said Mum. ‘I won’t have you disgracing us in front of Shady’s family.’

‘How is Shadee?’ I asked Sean, interrupting the bickering.

‘Wonderful as always,’ said Sean, smiling. ‘She’s so excited about tomorrow.’

‘Where’s this dinner on tonight?’ asked Dad.

‘It’s in a little restaurant down the road from the hotel. It’ll just be all of us and Shadee’s parents, her brother and his wife.’

‘Is the brother’s wife a Prussian?’ asked Mum.

‘Persian, Mum,’ corrected Sean. ‘Yes, she is. I was a big disappointment to them. They wanted Shadee to marry a Persian too.’

‘Disappointment!’ said Mum, horrified at the thought that anyone could think ill of her precious son. ‘They should be down on their hands and knees thanking God – or yodelling to Allah or whatever it is they do – that their daughter is marrying you. Do they not realize what a catch you are?’