Mad About You (3 page)

I felt James’s body tensing again beside me. I knew what the hack was probing for, and there was no way I was going to give it to him. It was time for me to take control.

‘I’m delighted to be in London, Joe. I married an Englishman, so we’re a half-English family anyway. It’s such a wonderful city, so vibrant and with so much to do and see. We’re very much looking forward to settling into our new life here. And I think Irish London are very lucky to have James as their coach.’

I heard a groan from the doorway. ‘London Irish, you dope,’ Babs hissed. James threw back his head and laughed. I was blushing wildly, but he didn’t seem bothered by my mistake. Wrapping an arm around me, he said, ‘Emma has been very supportive of my career. I’m very lucky to have a wife who puts up with all the upheaval that this job entails.’

‘You won’t print that Irish London mistake, will you?’ I asked Joe. ‘I mean, I don’t want people to think I’m stupid or slow or mentally challenged or something. Not that there’s anything wrong with being mentally challenged, of course. I mean, loads of people are and they’re great and they lead really full lives. I’m not being racist or bigoted, or whatever the word is. I know people who are mentally challenged –
sure what difference does it make? We’re all God’s creatures, right? I mean, I have friends who –’

James was looking at me aghast, as was Joe Kendal, but I couldn’t stop the torrent of nervous words that was pouring out of me.

‘Put a sock in it, Emma.’ Babs strutted into the room. ‘Hello, Joe, I’m Barbara Burke. You probably recognize me from my show,
How To Look Good With Your Clothes On
.’

Joe stared at her blankly.

Babs carried on: ‘You’ll have to excuse my sister. She’s not used to the media. But I can tell you one thing, James is a bloody brilliant coach. He transformed that Leinster team. London Irish are lucky to have him on board. Make sure you print that.’

Joe took out his notebook. ‘What did you say your name was?’

Babs frowned. ‘Barbara Burke, host of the very successful
How To Look Good With Your Clothes On
.’

‘Never heard of it. What channel is it on?’ Joe asked, as James and I tried not to laugh.

‘Lifestyle,’ Babs snapped. ‘It airs at two o’clock on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. It’s a very popular show.’

Joe nodded and scribbled. ‘OK. Well, thanks very much, James and Emma – and Barbara. I’ll just pop out and ask Eddie to come in for the photos now.’

James and I shook his hand, exchanged a relieved glance, and I ran out to wrestle the children into their clothes.

While the photographer was setting up, I watched Lara and Yuri sitting beside James on the couch. Yuri looked adorable in his little blue shirt. With his fair hair and chocolate brown eyes, he would have melted anyone’s heart. And as for my little princess, she hadn’t inherited my red hair, as Babs had pointed out, so she wouldn’t have to go through school
being called ‘Carrothead’ or ‘Fanta’. She had beautiful blonde hair. It was very fine, so I kept it shoulder-length. But Lara’s best assets were her navy blue eyes and her killer smile. When she smiled, two big dimples appeared, one on each cheek. It was adorable.

I marvelled at my two beautiful children and silently thanked God for giving me the gift of motherhood. Although my infertility, Yuri’s adoption and then Lara’s premature birth had been really difficult times, there was never a day went by when I didn’t feel grateful that it had ended like this. These two children were my miracles, and I appreciated them all the more for having struggled so hard to have them.

As I watched my beautiful little ones snuggling into their dad’s arms, I willed myself to be positive. We were a family, a unit, a team, and together we would make it work. I shook my hair over my shoulder and shot the most convincing smile I could manage at the camera lens.

Once I saw my own linen on the beds and our clothes hanging in the wardrobes, the house felt less alien. The children’s rooms looked out onto the back garden and ours faced the main road. As I was putting away Lara’s clothes, I glanced out of the window. To the right I saw two very blond children in a paddling pool. To the left a woman in shorts and a T-shirt was digging a complicated vegetable patch, with rows and rows of plants and a small glasshouse in a corner.

The sun was shining and I began to feel more positive. Putney seemed a nice area. I was glad we had chosen to live there. James’s new boss had recommended it as a pleasant suburban village not too far from the London Irish training ground, where James would be working. There was a gorgeous French coffee shop and patisserie five minutes from the house, a good selection of restaurants and one really cool boutique on the high street.

Even though the area looked promising, I was still worried about filling my days while James and the kids were at work and school. James was already deeply involved in his job while Yuri and Lara would start nursery school soon. What would I do then? I didn’t know anyone and, besides, I was used to working. Back in Dublin, I’d loved my job as a makeup artist on the TV chat show
Afternoon with Amanda
. Amanda had been a great boss and I’d really miss her. I knew the competition in London for makeup artists would be fierce. I wasn’t sure how to break into the industry. I’d have
to talk to Babs. She worked in TV, so she could put me in touch with whoever did her makeup. I could ask them how to go about getting work. For now, I’d just have to stay focused on getting the children settled and finding my bearings.

I went downstairs to make some coffee and try to sweet-talk James into agreeing to do a big shop – we needed everything to fill the fridge and cupboards. He was standing at the kitchen counter, trying to persuade Yuri and Lara that dry toast was nice.

‘But I want butter on mine,’ Yuri said.

‘I know, but we don’t have any. Mummy will do a big shop later.’

We’ll see about that, I thought, with a smile.

‘But I don’t like bread with no butter. It’s yucky.’

‘Yuckity-yuck,’ Lara added.

James was relieved to see me. ‘Oh, look! Here’s Mummy now – she can sort this out. Daddy has to go to work.’

‘Work? I thought you were going to be around for a week, to help me settle in.’

‘We finished unpacking the last boxes yesterday,’ James reminded me. ‘We’re settled.’

‘But I don’t know where the nearest big supermarket is.’

James shrugged. ‘Nor do I, darling. I’ve never lived in Putney before. Why don’t you ask one of the neighbours?’

I tried not to get too annoyed in front of the children. If they hadn’t been there to act as a buffer, I’d have whacked him over the head with the nearest weapon I could find. ‘I don’t know them. I don’t want to go banging on doors yet. Come on, James, please. You can go in tomorrow.’

James ran a hand through his dark hair, pushing it back from his eyes. He looked tired. He had tossed and turned all
night. ‘Sorry, darling, but I have to show my face today. I want them to know how keen I am. I really need to make a good impression. You’ll be fine,’ he said, giving me a quick hug before picking up his kit bag. ‘Besides, Imogen said she was going to pop in to check on you today.’

I stopped dead. ‘What did you say?’ Had he really just casually announced that my nightmare of a sister-in-law was coming over?

James was walking towards the door, making a quick escape. I grabbed his shoulder. ‘Excuse me. Imogen?’

He sighed. ‘She knows the area – she lived here as a student – so she can help you out.’

I glared at him. ‘You know I can’t stand her.’

‘What does “can’t stand” mean?’ Lara asked. ‘Does it mean you has wobbly legs?’

‘Nothing,’ James and I answered in unison.

‘It means you hate something,’ Yuri informed his little sister.

Lara’s eyes widened. ‘Mummy, do you don’t like Imogen?’

‘No! Of course I do,’ I said, desperately trying to do damage control. Lara had a habit of repeating everything she heard at home. ‘I meant I can’t stand her to come here when we have no food in the house and it’s still messy.’ I pulled James aside. ‘Why didn’t you make up an excuse?’ I hissed.

James put up his hands defensively. ‘I’m sorry, Emma. Look, I was talking to Henry last night and she came on the phone and offered to call in. I couldn’t very well say no.’

‘Yes, you could. “No” is the easiest word in the world to say.’

‘It would have been rude.’

‘Imogen has skin like an elephant’s. She’s incapable of being insulted.’

James grinned. ‘That’s a bit harsh. She means well.’

‘No, she most certainly does not. She goes out of her way to be nasty.’

‘She’s just a little direct at times.’

‘She’s a cow,’ I muttered.

‘She’s my brother’s wife,’ James protested, a bit alarmed. I’d say he was worried about the reception Imogen would get from me.

‘Why are you talking all quiet?’ Lara asked.

‘We’re just discussing Daddy’s work,’ I said brightly. Then to James, ‘You can’t leave me now.’

James peered at his watch. ‘Sorry, darling. I said I’d meet the management team at nine thirty. I have to go.’

‘James, this is not a good start to our new life. You may come back to an empty house,’ I grumbled, my earlier positivity evaporating.

‘You never know, you may have fun.’ James winked at me, then legged it out of the door.

I was in the middle of a whirlwind effort to tidy the kitchen when I heard Imogen’s loud, horsy voice bellowing outside.

‘Come along, children, we have to visit poor Aunt Emma. She’s never been to London before so she needs our help. She’s not used to big cities. She won’t be able to manage at all.’

Yuri looked up from the jigsaw he was doing. ‘Is that Imogen?’

I nodded.

‘Do you think Thomas is there, too?’ He looked terrified.

I peeped out of the window. ‘Yes.’

‘
Muuuuuuum!
’

‘I know he can be a bit of a pain, Yuri. Why don’t you just
try to stay away from him? Hopefully they won’t stay too long.’

The bell rang. Damn! No time to run up and change. I reluctantly went to open the door, with Lara at my side. My three-year-old daughter was dressed from head to toe in a frog outfit she’d found in one of the boxes when my back was turned.

Imogen was standing at the door in her usual uniform of white shirt, navy blazer, cream chinos and sensible slip-on shoes. She was all about smart, practical clothes. I’d never seen her in heels. She’d once told me that she thought my clothes were very ‘jazzy’ and that my ‘sky-high shoes’ were ‘utterly ridiculous’. Apparently I’d develop bunions from wearing them. Imogen’s idea of glamour was putting a scarf – probably dotted with horseshoes – over her navy blazer.

Her brown hair was cut in a short bob, which she held back from her face with an Alice band. She always wore one, even though I was pretty sure they’d gone out of fashion in the eighties. Mind you, I was in no position to criticize anyone: I’d answered the door in an old pair of tracksuit bottoms and the T-shirt I’d slept in.

Imogen’s children were dressed like clones of their mother: cream chinos and white shirts. I looked at Yuri, who was wearing a T-shirt that said
I Hate Homework
and red pyjama bottoms with bright green aliens all over them. I cursed James under my breath for landing this on me. ‘Hi, guys,’ I said, plastering a smile on my face while Imogen took in my unkempt, trailer-trash look.

‘Just up?’ she asked, brushing past me, followed by Thomas and the twins.

‘Uhm, kind of, yes. We stayed up late unpacking.’

‘Hello, Aunt Emma,’ the twins said. Thomas ignored me. Nothing new there.

I smiled at the twins, who were sweet girls. Luckily for them, they had inherited Henry’s sunny disposition and so far had avoided their mother’s sharp tongue and large posterior – we’re talking Kim Kardashian plus J-Lo
and
Beyoncé. I felt positively petite beside her. Every cloud …

I bent down to the twins. ‘Girls, please just call me Emma. “Aunt Emma” sounds so formal and makes me feel ancient.’

‘They address all of their aunts and uncles like that. I don’t see why they should make an exception for you.’ Imogen was looking around the hall, wrinkling her nose.

‘Come on in. I’ll put the kettle on,’ I said, praying it would be a flying visit. The older children went into the lounge, but Lara followed me into the kitchen. ‘It’ll just be black coffee, I’m afraid, Imogen, I haven’t had a chance to find a supermarket.’

Imogen lowered her oversized posterior into a seat and arched an eyebrow at the general clutter. I moved towards the kettle and clicked it on.

‘Ribbit,’ Lara said, hopping like a frog.

Imogen looked at her. ‘Oh, hello. Are you off to a fancy-dress party?’

Lara shook her head. ‘Ribbit.’

‘Is she still not talking?’ Imogen asked.

I took a deep breath and willed myself to remain calm and serene, two very alien emotions in my life. I’d have loved to be both calm
and
serene all the time. ‘I like you. You’re feisty,’ James said, when he first met me. ‘Feisty and spirited.’ I wasn’t sure how thrilled he was by my feistiness now, but in the beginning he’d thought it was great.

I was very touchy about anyone commenting on Lara’s speech because she had been late to talk. She hadn’t said a word until she was almost three, which everyone kept commenting on, of course. But once she started, she came out
with complete sentences and hadn’t stopped since. We’d had five months of non-stop chatter and she had an opinion on everything.

‘Lara, say hello to Imogen,’ I said, desperate for my daughter to show Imogen how wonderful her vocabulary was.

Lara blinked. ‘Ribbit.’

‘Oh dear. It’s getting serious now, Emma. Have you considered that she may have –’ Imogen leant in and whispered loudly ‘– learning difficulties? I know a marvellous woman who deals with children who –’

I cut straight across her: ‘Lara does not have learning difficulties. She’s pretending to be a frog. She’s very creative.’

Imogen sat up. ‘How can you be sure if she doesn’t speak?’

‘She speaks perfectly well.’ I turned to Lara and eyeballed her. Keeping my voice neutral, I urged her, ‘Come on, sweetheart, talk to Imogen. Show her how clever you are.’

Lara stared at me, unblinking, then turned and hopped away shouting, ‘Ribbit.’ Right then and there, I wanted to kill my own child.

Imogen looked at me as if I was living in denial and her point had been irrefutably proven. ‘I’ll text you the woman’s number later. It’s useful to have.’

‘Lara is not – Oh, never mind.’ I slammed two mugs of coffee onto the table, slopping them.

‘It’s a pity you didn’t consult me before renting this place.’ Imogen took out a large handkerchief and wiped her coffee cup. ‘The other side of Putney is so much smarter. This road is a bit, well, mixed.’

Imogen had been in the house ten minutes and I already wanted to slap her. I fantasized briefly about wrapping a whole roll of masking tape around her mouth. ‘What are you going to do about the awful décor?’ she continued.

‘As we’re renting, there isn’t much I can do. But I’m going
to cover the walls with paintings and photos and get some colourful rugs to put over the carpet. We’ll fix it up so it looks more homely.’

‘Have you put the children down for schools?’

‘They’re going to attend a Montessori ten minutes’ walk from here. I had a quick visit to it the last time I was over and it seemed nice.’

‘But isn’t Yuri five?’

‘No, he’s four and three-quarters, so he can go to big school next year. I’m happy for him to be a bit old for his class – he had a difficult start in life.’

‘I see. I presume you explained to the teacher about Lara being different?’

I gripped the table to stop my arm shooting out and punching Imogen. ‘Lara isn’t different. She’s perfectly normal.’

As if on cue, Lara hopped in, grabbed a biscuit and said, ‘Ribbit.’

Thomas came in behind her, scowling. ‘I’m bored, Mummy, let’s go.’

‘Not yet, darling, I’m trying to help poor Emma find her feet. She has no idea what to do in London.’ Imogen put her hand on Thomas’s shoulder. ‘Thomas goes to St David’s College. They start aged six. And from nine years old they offer weekly boarding, which Thomas does. It’s one of the best schools in the country. It has an excellent equestrian centre. You should put Yuri down for it. Of course, it’s impossible to get into, the waiting list is never-ending, but …’ Imogen paused for effect ‘… I’m one of the governors, so I could get him a place next year.’

As if I would consider sending my angel boy to some horsy boarding school with his wretched older cousin. Did she think I was completely certifiable?

‘He wouldn’t last a day.’ Thomas snorted. ‘A midget like him couldn’t handle St David’s.’

‘Do not call him a midget,’ I snapped.

‘All right, dwarf.’

‘Yuri is not a dwarf!’ I was now sitting on my hands because I didn’t trust myself. I was definitely going to punch someone.

‘There’s no need to be so defensive, Emma,’ Imogen said. ‘The child
is
extremely small.’

I turned on her. ‘My son is not a midget or a dwarf. He had a shitty start in life at the orphanage, but he is growing all the time, and although he may never be ten feet tall, the doctors have assured me that he will end up being of average height.’

Thomas took a biscuit and stuffed it into his mouth. ‘Your house smells.’

‘It just needs to be aired.’

‘It stinks.’

So do you, you little brat, I thought darkly.

Yuri came in. ‘Mummy, can I have a biccie?’

I swept him onto my lap, inhaling the scent of his hair. ‘Of course you can, pet.’

Imogen leant over. ‘Yuri, wouldn’t you like to go to the same school Thomas goes to one day? It’s a boarding school. You sleep there from Monday to Friday. Doesn’t that sound like fun?’

Yuri shook his head vigorously. ‘Please don’t send me away, Mummy.’