A Perfect Match (19 page)

‘Tell me we didn’t have sex. Please,’ groaned Donal.

‘Thanks a lot,’ said Babs, sitting on the edge of the bed. ‘I didn’t hear any complaints last night.’

‘How did this happen?’ said Donal, holding his head in his hands.

‘I’d imagine your penis had something to do with it,’ I snapped.

‘Emma, you’re not going to tell Lucy are you?’ asked Donal, looking petrified. ‘I’m begging you. Don’t tell her. This was a huge mistake. I don’t even remember coming home last night. I never meant this to happen. Jesus, Emma, I love Lucy.’

‘Mistake? Charming!’ said Babs, throwing a pillow at him.

‘No, I didn’t mean mistake, you’re a lovely girl, a fine-looking girl and I’m sure loads of fellas are queuing up to have sex with you. But it was not a good idea for me to be one of them. I’m in love with someone else, and the fact that you’re Emma’s sister isn’t helping matters.’

‘Well, you should have thought of that before you dragged her into bed,’ I growled.

‘Are you going to tell Lucy?’ Donal asked again.

‘Are you going to apologize for being a dickhead to her about Annie?’

Donal sighed. ‘I have to put Annie first, Emma. I’m stuck with that. It’s not necessarily what I want, but I was left in charge of her and her happiness is my priority.’

‘Oh, wake up and smell the coffee, you idiot,’ I snapped. ‘She’s a fifteen-year-old brat who’s been let away with murder. She needs a good talking to. You have no idea the things she said to Lucy.
D
o you know she told Lucy she hoped she died of cancer? No, you don’t – because Lucy is too bloody nice to tell you that your precious Annie is a little bitch.’

‘Did she really say that to her?’ asked Babs.

‘Excuse me. Was I talking to you?’ I hissed.

‘Or what? You’re ignoring me now?’

‘Shut up and get dressed, looking at you in that jersey is making me sick. I swear, Babs, you have gone too far this time.’

‘Ooooh, Emma, you’re really scaring me with your big sister routine.’

‘Why do you always have to be such a pain in the arse? Don’t you care about Lucy’s feelings? Don’t you give a shit about hurting someone you know?’

‘Hey, don’t blame me. He told me they’d broken up. How was I supposed to know it was only twenty-four hours ago.’

I glared at Donal. ‘What have you got to say for yourself?’

‘Nothing. I’m sorry about your sister. It was a really stupid thing to do. So will you tell Lucy?’

‘I dunno. I’m going to think about it for a few days. Let you sweat it out. I’ll decide after the match.’

I waited for Babs to get dressed and dragged her out.

‘How could you? I don’t understand how you could do that?’

‘I was bored, he was there, it was easy. I’m single, he said he was too.’

‘So what are you going to do? Shag your way around Ireland until you get a job?’

‘I can think of worse ways to spend your twenties.’

‘Not funny, Babs. Nothing about you is funny today. I don’t want to talk to you any more. I’m too annoyed.’

‘Fine with me.’

I dropped her home, shoved her out of the car and went for a drive. I parked the car at the sea front and sat back. What on earth was I going to do? I wanted to talk to James about it, but I knew that he needed to stay focused on the game. I’d tell him afterwards, now was not a good time. And then there was Lucy. Should I tell her? No, I thought. No point. It was meaningless sex. Besides I was afraid she might hate me too because Babs was my sister. Mind you, I’d like to let her loose on Babs. She would eat her for breakfast and Babs could do with a good telling off. What was she like? A boredom shag? The girl was impossible. She needed to grow up and start behaving like an adult. I thought back to my twenties. I was no angel either, but if I had an older sister, I wouldn’t have gone around sleeping with her friends’ boyfriends.

Some things were just off limits. And Donal. What did I think about Donal? Well, he was clearly an idiot – with all the girls in Dublin, he goes and sleeps with my sister.

I’d never realh’ thought what it must be like for Donal to have got stuck bringing up a teenager when his sister died. It had turned his life around. He had to move back from a successful rugby career in Kngland to look after her. She was, to all intents and purposes, his daughter, so I suppose he did have to put her first. Still though, he should never have let Lucy go. He should have talked to her and found a way to work it out. And getting pissed and shagging Babs was totally out of order. Maybe Lucy was better oft without him. He did love her though, you could see that. But was that enough? If he was off having sex with young blondes, twenty-four hours after breaking up with her, what did that demonstrate – weak mind, ruled by his penis, drunken fool, two timer …

James came home that evening, fuming. I was in pretty crappy form myself, having had to lie to Lucy about Donal not being there when I called in to pick up her things. She had a work dinner that night, so James and I had the place to ourselves. James threw his kit bag on the ground and stomped into the kitchen.

‘Good day at the office?’

‘What’s the point?’ he asked the wall. What is the bloody point in turning up if you’re going to perform like that?’

‘What happened?’

‘Donal turned up late, stinking of alcohol, and played atrociously. I’m thinking of dropping him for the game. He’s the captain for God’s sake. What kind of example is that to show the lads?’

‘Yeah, he’s an irresponsible tosser all right,’ I said, enjoying the Donal bashing.

‘He’s not supposed to be drinking. OK, I know he’s had problems with Lucy, but I told him to put everything out of his mind until after the game on Saturday. If he doesn’t play well it affects everyone. God, Emma, you should have seen him today. He dropped everything, missed tackles and couldn’t win a line-out to save his life. Christ, at this rate we’re going to lose the most important match of my career. And to add insult to injury, Tom Brown from the
Irish Times
was at training today. I dread to think what the papers will say tomorrow.’

‘Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. You’ve done so much work for this match you’ll definitely win.’

‘Research is no bloody good if you can’t put it into practice because your captain’s gone off the rails. Of all the times for them to split up, why did it have to be now? Why couldn’t Lucy have argued with Annie some other time.’

‘Don’t you dare blame Lucy for this. It’s all Donal’s stupid fault. If he wasn’t such a gobshite none of this would have happened. Poor Lucy is heartbroken, while he’s out getting pissed and shagging girls.’

Shit! What had I just said?

‘For goodness sake, Emma, the guy went for a few drinks to drown his sorrows. There’s no need to start accusing him of being unfaithful,’ said James, thankfully assuming I was exaggerating as usual.

‘OK, OK. So what would you like for dinner? Do you want a steak?’

‘No, I’ll just grab some toast,’ sighed the deflated coach.

‘Come on, I’ll cook you a nice steak. You need to keep your strength up to motivate the lads tomorrow.’

We ate in silence. Both ot us fuming with Donal – for very different reasons.

I got up early the next day to grab the paper before James got to it. Tom Brown was not kind and not generous.

… Leinster’s captain and supposed jewel in the crown, Donal Brady, arrived late to training yesterday, looking as if he’d had a night on the tiles. With only two days to go to the match it was sad to see such unprofessional behaviour. Coach James Hamilton was clearly furious and gave Brady a rollicking on the sidelines. The team spent the next two hours practising line-outs, scrummaging and some new backrow moves. But it was marred by Brady’s inability to catch the ball, tackle anyone or run more than five yards without stopping to retch. Unless Hamilton comes up with a miracle, it looks – to this sports writer and disappointed Leinster fan – like an easy victory for Ulster tomorrow.

I sat down on the stairs. James was going to go mad. He’d be so disappointed. I could kill Donal. Not only was he ruining my best friend’s life, but he was now about to ruin my husband’s career. I threw the paper in the bin, hiding it under the leftovers or last night’s dinner. James came down.

‘Where’s the paper?’

‘Dunno, it never arrived.’

‘Emma.’

‘I swear it didn’t come.’

‘It must be savage if you’re protecting me from seeing it. Where is it?’

‘Don’t read it. It’s mean, and that stupid old Tom Brown doesn’t know what he’s talking about.’

James opened the bin and fished out the soggy paper. He turned to the sports page and read in silence.

‘Look on the bright side, at least now you’re the underdogs so when you win the victory will be all the more sweet. Like Britain in the Second World War.’

James managed a limp smile and glumly went off to take the final training session. As he left, the postman arrived. Among the mountains of bills there was an official-looking letter. I opened it: it was from the Adoption Board, telling me that Dervla Egan had been appointed as our home study social worker. She’d be in touch to arrange dates and times.

Could this week possibly get any worse?

22

Training on Friday went marginally better than Thursday – due mostly to Donal’s sobriety. But James was still a wreck on Friday night. He paced up and down the bedroom muttering to himself about career-defining moments and winning is everything. I had moved the Post-it from the fridge up to the bedroom and stuck it on the headboard –
Winning is a mind-set, attitude is everything.
I tried to get him to calm down. I offered him food, drink, sex, songs, baths, massages … anything I could think of, but he was too uptight. Eventually, realizing that I wasn’t going to get any sleep either, I went downstairs to make myself some tea. I found Lucy in the kitchen crying over a glass of wine. I sat down and hugged her.

‘I’m just so lonely. I can’t believe this is happening. I love him, Emma. He’s the first guy I’ve ever met who I feel totally myself with. He made me feel so good about myself. He’s always telling me how clever I am and beautiful and sexy and fun. I never thought a guy could make you feel so wonderful. I miss him. I can’t believe we’ve broken up. Is this it? Am I doomed to go back to the shelf? I can’t bear it; I just can’t bear to go back to being alone again. I know I’ll never find someone who’ll love me so completely.’

I was crying now too. Poor Lucy, it was awful. Damn Donal and his rotten niece and his drunken sex. I sat up listening to Lucy and tried in vain to console her until we both eventually gave in to sleep and went to bed. Thankfully James had fallen into a fitful sleep so at least I got a few hours’ rest.

The next morning I waved a very pale and anxious-looking coach off to war. I told him how proud I was of him and that no matter what happened today he had proven what a fantastic coach he was to everyone.

Lucy came to the match with me. We met Dad outside the stadium. Babs was standing beside him. The cheek of her.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ I snapped.

‘Supporting James.’

‘Since when have you ever supported James?’

‘Since now.’

‘Bored at home, were you? Nothing to do but sit around on your arse all day causing havoc.’

‘Ladies, we’re at a rugby game, can you please not bicker for the next two hours. Come on, Lucy, you’re the only sane one here,’ said Dad, taking Lucy by the arm and escorting her in.

‘You little cow,’ I hissed. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

‘Just wanted to check out if Donal is as good on the pitch as he is in bed.’

I grabbed her arm. ‘Have you no respect tor Lucy’s feelings?’

‘I didn’t know she was going to be here. Dad just said he was meeting you,’ shrugged Babs. ‘And if I was you, I’d start being nicer to me or she’ll suspect something.’

‘I don’t want to hear another word out of you. Do you understand?’

‘Relax, I’m not interested in an old fogey like Donal. I heard the scrum-half was cute, so I decided to check him out. I’m planning on taking up your suggestion to shag my way through my boredom. I’m starting with rugby teams.’

I decided to ignore her – I was wound up enough about the game and sick with nerves for James. We all sat down together. I put Dad and myself in between Lucy and Babs. Lucy got a bit teary when she saw Donal running on to the pitch, but she held it together.

‘What do you think, Dad?’ I asked, desperate for him to tell me Leinster were going to sail through.

‘It’ll be a tight one, love. That Ulster out-halt is a dangerous weapon.’

‘But Leinster will win, won’t they?’

Come on, Dad, work with me here. Your son-in-law is giving himself a heart attack down there.

‘It’s hard to say. It’ll be close.’

‘Dad,’ I whispered, ‘I need reassurance, not honesty.’

‘Right, love, sorry. I’d say Leinster will walk away with it. That coach they have is a genius.’

‘Much better,’ I said, smiling at him. ‘Keep it up.’

Both teams seemed nervous to begin with. Possession lurched from one side to the other. They were six all – two penalties apiece until five minutes before half time, when Donal passed the ball which was intercepted by an Ulster player, who then ran the length of the pitch and scored a try.

‘Jesus Christ,’ said Dad. ‘What’s Donal doing? That was dreadful. He’s having a shocking game. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. That could cost them the match.’

I looked down at James who was deathly pale. The referee’s whistle went and the teams ran into the locker rooms.

‘I hope James has some stern words,’ said Dad. ‘They’re not playing well. Donal’s supposed to be their danger man and he’s not in the game at all. Very poor,’ he said, shaking his head.

Lucy looked surprisingly upbeat. ‘He looks miserable. He’s obviously missing me too,’ she said, smiling tor the first time in days.

My stomach was doing back-flips. If they lost this match James was going to be gutted. Come on Leinster, I prayed – please win. They came back out and tor the next fifteen minutes, Donal lost the ball in the Leinster line-out and then missed a crucial tackle for Ulster to score another try. It was awful. I felt sick. Poor James. Dad was muttering under his breath. Then I saw James motion to the referee – he pulled Donal off and put on a young replacement – Peter O’Hare. Donal walked off the pitch to some booing. The supporters were not happy with his dreadful performance. For the next half an hour we watched as Leinster pulled back with a couple of penalties and a drop goal. With three minutes left, Peter stole an Ulster line-out ball and charged over the line for a try. If the kicker could convert the try, Leinster would win. Ray Phelan placed the ball down and took three steps back and prepared himself for the most important kick of his career. You could hear a pin drop in the stadium. We all held our breath. He ran towards the ball and kicked it. It wobbled and swayed in the wind and then it hit the post … but, somehow, it managed to drop over. The stadium erupted. Leinster was in the final.