Some Girls Do (34 page)

‘Are you close?’ he asked, as her breathing became jagged.

‘Yes,’ she gasped into the phone. ‘So close. I’m—’

There was a tap on the door, and she froze.

‘Claire?’ Her mother called. ‘I’m just making a cup of tea. Would you like one?’

‘Shit! Hang on,’ she hissed into the phone, before tossing it away from her as if it was scorching hot. She struggled off the bed, grabbed her dressing-gown and pulled it on. Then she opened the door, hoping she didn’t look too flushed. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I was just … waxing my legs.’

‘Sorry to interrupt.’

‘It’s okay. I was just finished.’ Ha! If only …

‘So, cup of tea?’

‘I don’t think—’

‘Only I didn’t tell you earlier, but I made paradise slices this afternoon – your favourite.’

‘Lovely!’ She smiled, wanting to cry. But she couldn’t say no when her mother had made such an effort to do something nice for her. ‘I just have to put my stuff away, and then I’ll be down.’

‘Right, so. We can have them while we’re watching
Come Dine With Me
– I recorded it earlier.’

‘Great.’ Claire glanced at the clock as she closed the door. It was just after nine. She hadn’t realised it had got so late. They shouldn’t have wasted so much time chatting about rubbish – well,
she
shouldn’t have. She knew she had only herself to blame – Luca had tried to keep them focused.

‘Sorry,’ she said, picking up the phone. ‘Time’s up. That was my mum.’

‘Don’t you have time just to finish off? It’ll probably only take another couple of minutes.’

‘I can’t. I have to go downstairs and eat paradise slices and watch
Come Dine With Me
with her.’

‘Oh, okay.’

‘Are you going to, um … finish off on your own?’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘But I’ll be thinking of you.’

‘Good. Thanks,’ she said, then laughed – fancy thanking someone for using you as inspiration for a wank.

‘Um, Claire? About that. Before you go …’

‘Yes?’

‘Would you send me a photo?’

‘A photo of me? Naked?’

‘Yeah. With your new hairdo.’

‘Oh … I—’

‘It’s okay,’ he interrupted. ‘If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I’ll be thinking of you anyway.’

‘No, it’s okay,’ she said, wanting to be brave. She needed to get over her inhibitions, and this would be a good start. ‘I’ll do it. Just give me a minute.’

She shrugged off her robe and stood in front of the mirror, since that was the only way she could get herself in the frame. She wasn’t very good at self-shots and it took a couple of goes before she got a photo she was happy with.

‘Okay,’ she said, picking up the phone again. ‘It’s not great, but I’ll send it to you now.’

‘Thanks, sweetheart.’

When they had said their goodbyes and hung up, Claire texted the picture to Luca. Then she got into her pyjamas to go down and watch TV with her mother. She was just about to go when her mobile chimed with a message alert. It was a text from Luca:
Beautiful picture, thank you. Can’t wait to see you in the flesh. X

Claire smiled and tossed the phone back on the bed. She spied the vibrator again. She’d have a play with it tonight in bed, try to get to grips with it. She hoped it was as quiet as the sales assistant had promised.

Chapter Twenty-two

In 1990 Jacqueline Ffrench travelled to Romania, moved by the reports about the horrors of Romanian orphanages that emerged after the fall of Ceau
escu’s regime in 1989. She left with a truckload of clothes and toys, and a desire to help. She returned home with a family – her three-year old daughter, Alina, and seven-year-old son, Luca.

But back home in Ireland, while she quickly bonded with the little girl, her adoptive son felt like a stranger to her. As she went through the motions of mothering the little boy, she struggled to give him what he needed most – the love and affection that had been missing his whole life. In this brutally honest account, the author writes movingly about her failure to connect with her son and confronts the heartbreaking truth that love doesn’t come to command, and sometimes good intentions aren’t enough.

Claire’s finger hovered over the ‘Buy Now’ button. She felt guilty, as if she was prying into Luca’s private life – which was ridiculous, since the book was available to anyone who cared to read it. But that did nothing to ease her conscience. The idea of strangers poring over the detritus of his miserable childhood sickened her, and she experienced a rush of hatred towards the woman she had never met. How could she have done that to him? Wasn’t it bad enough that she didn’t love him, without publicly humiliating and betraying him by using their relationship as material? Had she never thought what effect it might have on him? She stared hard at the author photo, as if she could find some answers there, but all she saw was an attractive blonde woman with a pleasant smile.

She took a deep breath and clicked to order the book, then went
downstairs to help her mother get ready for tonight. Yvonne would have a conniption if she could see her now, preparing to spend Friday night playing cards with a bunch of pensioners – and, even worse, looking forward to it. But her mother’s friends were fun, and Claire enjoyed their regular Friday-evening gatherings more than she’d ever enjoyed noisy bars or nightclubs. Sometimes she was secretly glad that all her friends were coupled up and she had no one trying to drag her out on the pull at weekends. Of course, she did yearn for a boyfriend sometimes, but she wasn’t prepared to endure the bar scene to find one. Anyway, she had Luca now. Okay, he wasn’t her boyfriend, but they were good friends and they were having regular sex, so it was close enough. She was looking forward to seeing him tonight, though she was still half expecting him not to turn up. He might find he had something better to do when the time came.

In the kitchen her mother was sitting at the table spooning tomato sauce onto pizza bases. A couple of lemon drizzle cakes fresh from the oven were cooling on racks on the worktop.

‘You’ve been busy,’ Claire said, bending over the cakes and inhaling deeply. ‘They smell amazing.’ She went to the fridge and took out the pizza toppings she had prepared when she got in from work.

‘Mum,’ she said, as she joined her mother at the table and began assembling pizzas, ‘do you remember a book that was out a while back by a woman called Jacqueline Ffrench about a child she adopted from Romania and couldn’t bond with?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Espie responded immediately. ‘It caused a bit of a stir, and it was a big hit. I always felt so sorry for that little boy.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘I remember seeing her on
The Late Late Show
, and everyone saying how brave she was to write that book, like she’d done something marvellous. But I thought it was cruel. No mother should do that to her child.’ She spooned a dollop of sauce into the centre of a pizza base and circled her spoon, working it outwards. ‘She actually said at one point that she wished she could give him back.’

‘Christ!’

‘I know – like a pair of shoes that you’d return to the shop. And people were telling her she was great to admit her feelings.’ Espie sighed. ‘I wonder what happened to that boy.’ She slid the pizza across to Claire so that she could load it with toppings. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘I’ve met him,’ Claire said quietly, as she sprinkled on grated cheese. She looked up at her mother. ‘So have you.’

Espie frowned questioningly at her. Then her eyes widened. ‘Luca?’ she gasped, a hand flying to her mouth.

Claire nodded.

‘Oh, my God! Poor Luca – and he’s such a pet.’

‘Don’t say anything to him,’ Claire said. ‘I don’t think he likes to talk about it.’

‘I’m sure he doesn’t. When I think of what happened to all those children,’ Espie said, tears welling in her eyes. ‘I’ll never forget seeing those orphanages on TV – all those babies with no one to love them. How could people treat children like that?’

‘I don’t know,’ Claire said sadly.

‘And then, after all that, to end up with a mother who just wanted rid of him!’ She sighed. ‘Do you know how he gets on with his family now?’

‘He has a sister he seems really close to. She was adopted at the same time. But I get the impression there’s no love lost between him and his mother.’

‘I’m not surprised.’

‘His sister’s invited me to her birthday party. I’ll probably have to meet her at that. I don’t know how I’m going to be civil to her.’

Espie looked at Claire thoughtfully. ‘You’re very fond of him, aren’t you?’

‘Yeah.’ Claire smiled. ‘I am.’

‘He’s welcome to spend the night here, if you want him to, Claire. You do know that, don’t you?’

‘I know, Mum. But it’s not like that.’

‘You don’t have to worry about my heart. I won’t expire from the shock of it. Or cast you out for bringing shame on our house.’

Claire smiled. ‘I know. But we’re just friends, honestly.’

‘Seems an awful waste to me.’

‘Actually, there’s someone else – well, potentially. He lives in London. He’s coming over next Saturday, and I’m going over for a weekend soon – if that’s all right with you.’

‘Of course. I’ll be fine. Where did you meet this one? Another “evening class”?’

‘I know him online, from Twitter and stuff. And he was in Dublin a couple of weeks ago and we met up.’

‘Truly, you are the darkest of horses,’ Espie said, looking at her quizzically. ‘Not a man in sight, and then, the minute I turn my back, they’re swarming out of the woodwork. Maybe I should go into hospital more often.’

‘Please don’t. If that’s what it takes, I’d rather join a nunnery.’

‘You’d make a lovely nun.’ Her mother smiled mischievously.

‘I’d lead a life of quiet contemplation and find solace in my books.’

‘And reflect on your sins,’ Espie said, passing the last pizza to Claire for topping. ‘You’d better get started on doing some sinning first or you’ll have nothing to reflect on and you’ll be bored out of your tree.’ She began to get up as the doorbell rang.

‘I’ll go,’ Claire said, waving her mother back down.

‘Hiya.’ Luca grinned as she opened the door.

‘You came!’ She beamed.

‘I told you I would, didn’t I?’ He stepped into the hall and gave her a peck on the cheek.

‘I just thought you might change your mind.’

‘Why would you think that?’

‘Well, it’s not exactly cool, spending Friday night hanging out with my mum and her friends.’

‘Cool?’ Luca rolled his eyes. ‘I’m not sixteen,’ he said, as he followed her into the kitchen.

‘Luca! It’s lovely to see you again, darling.’

The doorbell rang again. Espie picked up her crutches and went to answer it, waving away Claire’s protests. She came back with Jim just as Claire was sliding the pizzas into the oven. A big bear of a man with a long grey ponytail, he was carrying a large pipes bag on one shoulder and a twelve-pack of beer in his arms. Jim was an old boyfriend of Espie’s, but they were still very fond of each other. He had been around for as long as Claire could remember and she often wondered why they had split up. They would have made such a great couple.

‘Claire!’ Jim set the beer down on the table, shrugged the instrument bag onto the floor, and enveloped her in a hug. ‘And who have we here?’ he said, turning to Luca.

‘This is Claire’s friend, Luca,’ Espie said.

‘Very pleased to meet you, Luca,’ he said, shaking his hand firmly. ‘Do you play?’

‘Play?’

‘An instrument,’ Espie explained. ‘I forgot to ask you. We usually have a bit of music after cards.’

‘Oh, no. I’m not really musical at all.’

‘You sing maybe?’ Jim asked eagerly.

‘Not really. Just in the shower, and Claire will tell you it’s nothing to write home about,’ he said, smiling at her.

Espie gave Claire a sharp look. ‘Luca’s an artist,’ she told Jim, as proudly as if he was her own son.

‘An artist?’ Jim was clearly impressed. ‘Well, isn’t that wonderful?’

Claire broke open the beer carton and started putting bottles into the fridge. ‘I’m just going to finish setting up inside,’ she said, when she was done.

‘I’ll help,’ Luca said, following her out of the kitchen.

‘Why did you say that about the shower?’ Claire hissed, as soon as they were out of earshot. She started laying out plates on the
large round table. ‘Here, put these around,’ she said, handing Luca a packet of napkins.

‘Sorry. I didn’t realise it was a secret.’

‘That we’re sleeping together? Yeah, it kind of is.’

‘Why? Are you ashamed of me?’

‘No, of course not! But that doesn’t mean it’s something I want to discuss with my mum.’

‘Your mum’s cool. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.’

‘Oh, she wouldn’t. She was saying it was okay for you to spend the night here.’

‘Really?’ Luca paused in what he was doing and raised his eyebrows. ‘So I have your mother’s permission to have my wicked way with you under her roof?’ he asked, with a crooked smile.

‘But I said we were just friends, and I told her about Mark, and then you come in and say that—’

‘Sorry.’

She sighed. ‘It’s all right.’