From Here to Maternity (8 page)

‘Wow. Donal’s mad keen to start trying,’ admitted Lucy.

‘Are you?’

Lucy shook her head. ‘Not yet. I want to enjoy our first year or two of marriage without the pressure of trying to get pregnant. I know I’m thirty-six and my biological clock’s ticking and all that, but I don’t feel ready yet. Besides, I’m not sure how I feel about kids. You know? Sometimes I think I’d like to have one, but other times I don’t. One would definitely be enough for me but Donal wants the bloody Von Trapp family.’

‘Well, don’t do anything until you’re ready. Take your time. Because, honestly, Lucy, once you start, before you know it, you’ll be consumed by it.’

‘That’s just it. I’ve seen Jess popping them out like a rabbit, and you had such a struggle and it took over both your lives. It took me a long time to meet my Mr Right and get married. I’d like to enjoy it before complicating it with children. Besides, my mother was pretty bad at parenting and my dad did a runner when I was five, so who’s to say I’d be any good at it?’

‘Lucy, no one’s born to this. From what I can see, everyone’s just winging it. I think I’m useless at it, but I’m hoping that I’ll get better as time goes on. You’d be a brilliant mother, but don’t rush into it until you feel ready. Tell Donal to relax.’

She nodded thoughtfully and I looked down at Yuri, who was merrily chewing on Lucy’s powder-pink suede Prada bag. He had dribbled all over it and bits of banana were stuck to the side. I reached into the playpen and grabbed it, which made Yuri bawl at the top of his lungs.

‘You’ll never want kids now,’ I said, handing Lucy her soggy bag.

‘Don’t be silly. I’d better go anyway,’ she said, backing out of the door and trying not to examine the damage to her bag in front of me. I waved her off, and sighed. I remembered well calling into people with kids and only being able to last about fifteen minutes before wishing I could leave. I’d have to meet Lucy at night in future. It was important to remember that just because I was besotted with Yuri it didn’t mean anyone else was.

When Lucy got home, Donal was back from training.

‘How’d it go? Is he gorgeous?’

‘Mmm, very sweet,’ she said, leaning down to kiss him.

‘Jesus, what’s that stink? I hope it’s not some new perfume.’

‘No, it’s the lovely scent of baby puke,’ said Lucy, grinning.

‘Ha-ha! Did he throw up on you?’

‘Oh, yes, and then he proceeded to eat my new bag.’ She waved the evidence at him.

‘He sounds like a great fellow altogether. High spirits – that’s what you want from a kid. How’s Emma getting on?’

‘She looks the worst I’ve ever seen her. She’s utterly exhausted and completely distracted. She says it’s all worth it and she’s clearly mad about Yuri, but I actually got a fright when I saw her. She obviously hasn’t slept in ages. I don’t know, Donal, this motherhood lark is definitely not all it’s cracked up to be.’

‘Well, she’s been through a lot in the last couple of years. You’ll have no problems – you’ll be pregnant straight away. My super-sperm will see to that. We’ll have a brood of kids in no time.’

‘Donal, you do realize I’m thirty-six, so the chances of us even having two kids are slim?’

‘Ah, I reckon if we got going now we’d squeeze at least three in, maybe four.’

‘One baby a year might be pushing it.’

‘We’re bound to have twins. My father’s a twin.’

‘Donal, I’d be quite happy with just one.’

‘One? But sure that’s no good. Only children are always spoilt and selfish and loners. There was an awful fellow in school with me who…’ Suddenly Donal realized what he was saying.

Lucy raised her eyebrows. ‘Go on.’

‘Obviously there are exceptions to the rule – like you.’

‘So I’m not selfish, spoilt or weird?’

‘No, not at all. You do like to get your own way, though.’

‘Like when?’

‘Like when you fecked your bike in a bush and demanded to be taken out of the jungle.’

‘And you almost knocked me over in your eagerness to leave.’

‘I was only trying to keep you happy.’

‘Yeah, right. Anyway,’ said Lucy, sighing. ‘I like my job.’

‘Where did that come from?’ asked Donal, looking confused. ‘I thought we were talking about the jungle.’

‘I’ve spent fourteen years working my arse off to get to where I am and I’m really good at what I do. I like being respected and being successful in a man’s world. I don’t want to give it up,’ said Lucy, who was a high-flying management consultant.

‘But it’d only be for a few years until the kids were in school.’

‘Donal, if you take more than two weeks’ holidays in my profession, you risk losing your edge.’

‘Kids need to have their mothers around.’

‘Or fathers.’

‘What?’

‘Why do I have to give up work? You said yourself you’re getting too old for professional rugby and that this’ll probably be your last season. Why don’t you stay at home and mind the baby?’

‘Me? Stay at home? Like a big girl? Lucy, fellas don’t do that.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because they don’t.’

‘That’s your argument?’

‘Lookit, girls are naturally maternal. They know how to look after babies – it’s instinctive.’

‘Bullshit. They get lumbered with it. I can tell you now, Donal, I don’t think I’m very maternal. If I do ever have a baby I know I won’t want to give up work. I love what I do – it’s a huge part of who I am.’

‘When it’s your own kid, you’ll feel differently.’

‘I won’t. But if you feel so strongly about it, why can’t you be man enough to stay at home and mind the baby?’

‘Name me one fella you know who minds the kids while his wife works.’

‘Be a shepherd not a sheep.’

‘Lucy, can you focus on the conversation, please?’

‘I am. Why can’t you be the first guy we know to do it? Lead the herd.’

‘Why don’t you join the flock and stay at home like Flossie and the gang?’

‘Because, Donal, I’m a shepherd. Are you man or mouse?’

‘I thought I was a sheep.’

‘We’ll get a nanny,’ said Lucy.

Chapter 9

Sean and Babs flew home from London on 23 December. James, Yuri and I went to the airport to pick them up. Sean rushed over to hug me and to see his nephew for the first time. He swung him round awkwardly, then sort of patted his back. Babs lagged behind, busy chatting up a good-looking guy carrying a guitar. When they had swapped numbers, she finally trundled over to say hi. ‘What do you think?’ she asked, nodding towards the aeroplane guy. ‘He plays in a band. Cute or what?’

‘Hi. This is my son Yuri – the one I’ve adopted from Russia. Would you like to say hello or are we going to have to analyse some leper you just met on a plane for the next hour?’

Babs rolled her eyes. ‘It’s good to see that motherhood has really chilled you out.’ Then, turning to Yuri, she took his hand. ‘Cute kid. Lucky for him he’s adopted or he could have been a redhead.’

‘Thank you, Babs,’ said James, laughing, while I fumed. ‘That’s the nicest thing anyone has said. You really have a way with words.’

Babs shrugged. ‘I’m just being honest. Who wants a ginger baby? I hope the next one,’ she said, pointing at my stomach, ‘doesn’t get Emma and Sean’s redhead genes.’

‘Well, as long as they don’t inherit your nose they’ll be all right,’ I snapped.

‘You can’t wind me up about that any more, Emma,’ she said, ‘it’s all in the past.’ She wriggled the new one at me. I was tempted to punch it, but didn’t want Yuri to witness violence at such a young age.

‘Lucky you,’ I said, turning to Sean, ‘having Babs in your apartment twenty-four-seven. It must be heaven.’

‘Joy, the like of which I never knew existed,’ said Sean. ‘She’s a regular ray of sunshine to wake up to in the morning.’

‘Not to mention considerate and generous.’ I giggled.

‘Never stops giving. She was born selfless.’

‘Oh, shut up,’ said Babs, as the rest of us roared laughing.

On the drive home to Mum and Dad’s house, I warned Sean that Mum was sniffing around for information about the wedding. He said it was all booked and paid for, with no room for change or manoeuvre and he’d fill us all in on the details later.

‘They might as well be married now,’ said Babs. ‘They’re so dull. I thought they’d take me to all these cool bars and clubs, but all they do is sit in cooking dinner and watching movies or talking about wedding arrangements.
Boring!’

‘Why don’t you go out and make friends?’ asked James. ‘I’m sure the English boys would find you most entertaining.’

‘Well, I can hardly go out on my own and sit in bars like a slapper.’

‘God, no,’ said Sean. ‘Someone might mistake you for the type of girl who sleeps with other people’s older, rugby-playing boyfriends.’

James and Sean laughed at this, while I tried not to, out of loyalty to Lucy. To cut a long story short, last year, shortly after Donal and Lucy got engaged and had that huge argument about young Annie and Lucy had arrived on my doorstep, devastated because it was all off, Donal, who was equally upset, had gone out and got blind drunk. Unfortunately he bumped into Babs in a nightclub and one thing had led to another. I innocently called over to Donal’s the next morning to pick up some work suits for Lucy only to find my little sister strutting about naked, except for Donal’s rugby shirt. On hearing me shouting, Donal had woken up from his alcohol-induced coma and got the fright of his life when he realized what he’d done. Although I was furious with him, not to mention Babs, I had decided against telling Lucy as it was clear he regretted it and didn’t, in fact, remember it. Besides, I knew he was genuinely in love with Lucy, and shortly afterwards they had sorted out their differences and got back together.

‘In case you’ve all forgotten, he was the one with the fiancée, not me. So if you’re going to give anyone a hard time, slag him,’ retorted Babs.

‘Believe me, I have,’ said James.

When we arrived home, Mum and Dad were waiting for us with a lovely big fire burning and food and drink laid out. Dad loved Christmas, and every year the house looked more like Santa’s grotto. Yuri was dazzled by all the lights and decorations. He sat on the floor cooing and the Christmas-tree lights flashed – much to my mother’s disgust: she thought flashing lights were very tacky.

‘Well, how are you both?’ asked Mum.

‘Great,’ said Sean.

‘Cool,’ said Babs.

‘How did the meeting go, Barbara? Did you sign your contract?’

‘She stupidly signed her life away for two hundred quid a week even though I told her not to agree to anything until I had looked it over.’

‘It’s only for the first three months. After that I’ll get a raise. But until then I’m going to need you to help me out, Dad.’

Dad shook his head. ‘You’ve bled me dry for twenty-four years and you’re on your own now. It’ll do you good to learn to budget.’

‘Daaaad!
There is no way I can survive on two hundred quid a week. It’ll barely cover my tube pass. Do you want me to live in a hovel with no running water or electricity in some dodgy area
in London
and get mugged coming home at night after a long day’s work?’

‘I pity the poor fool who tries to mug you,’ said Dad, grinning. ‘Besides, the last I heard you were living in the lap of luxury with your brother.’

‘Who has had enough of her, thanks very much,’ said Sean. ‘She’s out on her ear in January.’

‘Ah, Sean, would you not put her up for the first three months until she finds her feet?’ pleaded Mum. ‘That way you could keep an eye on her. I don’t want her getting mixed up with a racy television crowd.’

‘It’s not just me. There’s Shadee to consider, too.’

‘Well,’ sniffed Mum, ‘maybe Shady could go home to her parents for a few months before the big day, like a good Catholic girl would.’

‘First of all, it’s Shadee – Sh-a-dee. Second, you’re going to have to get used to the fact that she is not Catholic, nor ever will be. Third, you seem to have conveniently forgotten that Emma lived with James for two years before they got married.’

I decided to jump in before Mum started having a go at me for being a loose woman pre-marriage. ‘Speaking of weddings, any developments with your plans?’ I asked Sean, as Mum bristled beside me.

‘Yes, it’s all booked. April the twenty-second at Abigail House near Brighton. It’s a lovely old country manor overlooking the sea.’

‘I thought Shady wanted to get married in Cornwall,’ said Mum.

‘We thought the drive would be a bit long for all the guests travelling from Ireland so we compromised and chose Brighton because it’s only half an hour on the train from Gatwick. It’s a lovely place, Mum, you’ll like it.’

‘Is the church close by?’ asked Mum.

‘What church?’ said Sean, evenly.

‘The church you’re getting married in,’ said Mum, digging her heels in.

‘There isn’t going to be any Catholic church. Shadee is Muslim.’

‘She said she didn’t practise her faith so I presumed, seeing as you do, it’d be a church wedding.’

‘Mum, this may come as a surprise to you but I haven’t been to mass in about fifteen years. It’s fair to say that neither of us practises our religion, so we’re just going to have a blessing.’

Mum looked at him blankly.

‘We’ve found a Unitarian minister who’s going to marry us in an open ceremony. We’ll have a few general readings and exchange our vows. It should be all over in about twenty minutes.’

‘Unitarian, did you say?’ asked Mum.

‘Yes.’

‘Is that some kind of cult?’

‘No. Unlike the Catholic Church, which spends most of its time damning other people for their beliefs and life choices, the Unitarian Church welcomes people of any faith, nationality, race and sexual orientation. It promotes freedom in religion, spiritual growth and social justice,’ said Sean, sounding a bit like a brainwashed cult member.

Mum stared at Dad.

‘I see. Well, that sounds great, but you’ve not actually joined this church, have you?’ asked Dad. ‘They haven’t asked you to give them any money, have they?’

Sean groaned. ‘It’s
not
a bloody cult and, no, I haven’t converted. It’s just a good solution to our very different religious upbringing and it’s supposed to keep everyone happy.’