The Perfect Gift

by Emma Hannigan

  ‘Sorry Mum, I’ll be back to you in two minutes.’

  As it turned out, Yvonne had a pile of questions to ask so they had to go back up to the office for privacy.

  ‘I won’t be long,’ she called over to Keeley.

  ‘I might have to go,’ she said. ‘If I miss you, we can chat on the phone later.’

  Róisín ended up spending the guts of an hour with Yvonne, but it was all very productive. By the time she had any sort of breathing space, Róisín needed to round off on the till for the day and help Brigid to look over the orders for the following morning.

  Steve and Eoin had heard of a music festival and a horse show, both of which were taking place over the course of the next few weekends.

  ‘We could pitch a tent and bring some stuff to sell,’ they said. ‘We’re thinking of going to the music one anyway.’

  Róisín struck a deal with the guys that she’d pay for their festival tickets and throw them some pocket money if they manned the food tent for a set number of hours each day. They were delighted. Grinning, she realised yet again how lucky she was to have such easy-going staff.

  Róisín had never felt more on top of things. She felt a shiver of anticipation as she allowed herself to imagine the potential of Nourriture. Once she had all the ducks in a row, and assuming Mr Grace accepted her offer, who knew where she’d be in a few years’ time. The future was looking very bright.

  Brigid called up to say goodbye and handed her the post from that morning.

  ‘See you tomorrow,’ she said.

  ‘See you bright and early,’ Brigid called back.

  Most of the letters contained bills. But one stopped her in her tracks. It was an airmail envelope and the postmark was Bordeaux. She stared at it for a few moments, then ripped it open, her heart beating madly.

  Dear Róisín,

  It is with deep sadness that I write to inform you of Jacques’ death.

  We are all still in shock. He was out on a boat with friends and fell overboard and drowned.

  I know it is almost five years since you have seen him, but he told me recently that you were the love of his life.

  I never knew why you left France, but I suspect it was due to Jacques’ inability to commit.

  Our hearts are broken. I thought you would like to know what has happened.

  Yours truly,

  Vivienne Augustine

  Chapter 15

  The mental image of Jacques with his tanned and toned body and his pale green eyes and floppy, caramel-coloured hair made her long for him with such intensity, she felt physical pain. Róisín felt as if she would vomit. In spite of everything, it tugged at her soul to know that he’d told his mother, Vivienne, that she’d been the love of his life.

  Leaving him had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. She’d loved him completely, but she knew she couldn’t allow him to treat her the way he had. His actions had left her with no option but to walk away. But that didn’t mean it was easy.

  The first time she’d met Jacques she was sitting outside a café, rooting in her bag for change to buy an iced coffee. He approached, wearing the customary pristine white apron folded over and tied to perfection. It was only when he stood in front of her and spun around and proceeded to spin the small round tray on one finger that she realised he was wearing shorts.

  ‘Oui?’ he said, pulling a pen from behind his ear.

  ‘Uh, je voudrais …’ she knew the French for can you bring me an iced coffee, but right at that moment she was dumbstruck. He bounced down onto his hunkers and it was as if a force had whooshed through the gap between them.

  ‘Je voudrais un café frappé, s’il vous plaît,’ she managed.

  ‘Uh?’ he answered. His expression couldn’t have been any more goonish than her own, but it made her giggle. He laughed too. Standing upright again he shot off and returned with two iced coffees.

  ‘May I?’ he asked, gesturing to the chair beside her.

  ‘Mai oui!’ she answered with a smile.

  He explained that he was new to the whole waiting tables thing and that he wasn’t sure it was for him. After a few moments of quick-fire questions, they established that he was studying in the same university where she was training.

  ‘So you’re earning some spare cash? To help with your fees?’ she asked in French.

  ‘Non!’ he said, flicking his hair and sitting back in his chair with one leg thrown up on the other. ‘It’s to keep me away from ze trouble.’

  ‘Why?’ she laughed. ‘Do you get into a lot of trouble?’

  ‘I am a bad boy, RooSheen,’ he said. The way he pronounced her name made her weak. ‘I don’t look for ze trouble, but she always find me.’ He shrugged and threw his hands to heaven.

  As soon as the iced coffees were gone, so too were Róisín and Jacques. He peeled off his apron, folded it neatly and they walked away. It didn’t seem in the slightest bit odd when he took her hand and they strolled like that. He pointed out lots of cool buildings and told her what happened inside each one.

  ‘How do you know all this?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t,’ he said with a wicked grin. ‘Zis is my favourite game. I love to guess what will happen inside all zes beautiful buildings.’

  When he kissed her, it felt as if it were always meant to happen. Yes, her heart skipped a beat, she felt butterflies in her tummy and all the sparks flew. But most of all it felt right. She didn’t jump backwards nor did she want him to stop.

  Their romance flourished at the same pace as their friendship. It never felt forced and it was always mutual – without the need for words. Their eyes did all the talking and he knew instinctively what she wanted and vice versa.

  ‘Come and live wis me, Roo-Sheen,’ Jacques said after a year together. ‘I want to spend the rest of my life raising our babies.’

  ‘Our what?’ Róisín nearly keeled over. ‘Are you saying that you want us to have children together?’ She was so happy she felt as if she were floating on air. Although she was still only twenty-three, Róisín had finished college and thought she was mature and ready to commit. Besides, she’d known from the first second Jacques had dropped to his hunkers and stared into her eyes that he was her one. Their relationship had been so smooth. No pretence, no game-playing, no lies. Now he wanted to have babies with her! It was all too good to be true.

  ‘We will need to have IVF, chérie.’ Jacques took her hands and explained how a childhood illness had left him unable to conceive naturally. Instead of causing a rift in their relationship, it cemented things. Although they were young, they were making a conscious decision together, to start a family. Róisín felt as if she were floating on a cloud of love.

  The only downside to their relationship was the guilt she felt every time she called home.

  ‘You sound like you’re still having a lovely time,’ Keeley said. Róisín had cradled the phone and longed to tell her mother that she and Jacques had just taken an apartment together. That they had soft buttery leather sofas and a state-of-the-art kitchen. That their bedroom suite was like something from an old French movie: stressed wood with calico fabric cushioning between ornate frames. His parents had insisted on decorating and providing anything they needed.

  ‘He is our only child and we cannot take the money when we die. Live, love and enjoy every second,’ was Vivienne’s philosophy.

  Róisín brought Jacques home to Ireland for St Patrick’s Day the following month. He was astounded by the parades and the celebrations. Her parents were more than hospitable and welcomed him the same way they would any guest. But they wanted him in a guest room, alone.

  ‘He seems like a lovely person,’ Keeley said with tears in her eyes. ‘Does this mean you’re never coming home?’

  ‘We’ve no concrete plans, Mum,’ she lied.

  ‘You’re very pale, love. Is everything OK? Are you eating? Does Jacques look after you?’

  Róisín longed to tell her parents and Liv and Jill that she was looking
peaky because she and Jacques were in the middle of IVF treatment. But she was feeling so hormonal that she couldn’t risk having to deal with her mother sobbing and making her feel like a selfish cow for going back to France.

  The IVF took more out of them than either of them had anticipated. Jacques insisted he couldn’t tell his parents if Róisín wasn’t telling her parents.

  ‘I know my mother,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘She will be crazy with excitement. I cannot say to her zat we cannot talk about ze babies.’

  The first embryos were implanted successfully.

  ‘Jacques, can you believe we’re having twins?’ she said hugging him and sobbing through her giggles. ‘Let’s wait until my twelve-week scan and then we’ll tell our parents, OK?’

  He nodded and held her gaze. ‘Je t’aime, ma RooSheen,’ he said. ‘Je t’aime.’

  He treated her like a princess, insisting she didn’t do too much.

  ‘I’m pregnant, not ill, Jacques!’

  ‘Ah but you are growing babies. Es such an important job. Sit, ma chérie.’

  The day she was ten weeks pregnant, Jacques took her for lunch. They sat in the sunshine and watched people going by. The pains came from nowhere. She began to sweat profusely. He panicked and called an ambulance, which she tried to say was ridiculous. By the time they reached the hospital and a monitor was connected an hour later, there were no heartbeats.

  Jacques wanted to tell Vivienne.

  ‘She can ‘elp you. She is woman, she know ‘ow woman feel. Let me tell her.’

  Róisín was adamant that nobody should know what had happened. At night, once he was asleep, she would curl in a ball and sob. Thoughts of her own mother, who she’d never known, danced in her mind. Thoughts of Keeley and the lonely years when she’d longed for a baby added to her misery.

  No wonder her parents didn’t want her living in France. She’d only known for ten weeks what it felt like to be a mother, but it was enough to show her just how strong the bond could be. It was immaterial that Keeley hadn’t given birth to her. She was still her daughter. She knew how it felt to have a child and suddenly have it taken away.

  As it turned out, all the silence and hiding took its toll. By the time their remaining embryos were ready to be implanted, Róisín had noticed a distance between them. They made the decision to keep the embryos on ice. They’d fully intended using them within a year. But once they began to talk about the cracks in their relationship, things went from bad to worse.

  ‘Your parents didn’t want me zere,’ he argued. ‘Zey look at me like I am a murderer and zat I steal zeir daughter. Why you let zem be zis way, RooSheen?’

  The hurt in his eyes almost killed her. He was right. She hadn’t fought for him. She hadn’t told her parents the truth about the IVF or indeed just how deep their love really was. She wasn’t strong enough to tell her parents that she was choosing him over them, because she knew that’s the way her mother would see it.

  ‘My parents adore you. Zey do anysing to make you ‘appy. But it’s like I am some sort of dirty secret for you.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ she wailed. ‘You don’t understand. My parents adopted me. They adore me too and I can’t bear to hurt them.’

  ‘But it’s OK to hurt me?’

  ‘I’ll make it up to you,’ she said, kissing him and stroking his face.

  ‘Prove it. Tell your parents you will stay en France. Zat we will have a family, but you will raise zem here, with me.’

  Róisín hesitated. Only for a second, but her eyes said it all. Just as they had done from the first second she’d met him. Jacques gave her no opportunity to respond. He packed his bag and walked away.

  She stayed in the apartment for two days without moving. She sobbed her heart out and tried to think of a compromise. Perhaps they could have a holiday home in the west of Ireland and divide their time?

  After a week she called him. He was cold and straight to the point. Either she gave him her all or he wasn’t interested.

  ‘True love ‘ave no compromise, Roo-Sheen. I thought what we ‘ad was pure and nobody would ever touch it. Au revoir my love.’

  She knew it was over when she saw him kissing another girl under the archway in Bordeaux city centre. The breath stopped in her body and she began to shake uncontrollably. She was engulfed by a storm of emotions. Three days later, she packed her belongings and returned to the delighted embrace of her family.

  Almost as soon as he’d arrived, Jacques was gone. It still made her heart ache that he hadn’t loved her nearly as much as she’d loved him. She honestly believed he did. But although he was perfectly happy to live with her and allow his parents to throw money at their relationship, he wasn’t willing to compromise in any way to make her happy.

  The pain in her heart, after she returned to Ireland, was so deep and raw that she simply couldn’t begin to put it into words. At first she was numb and by the time she felt she might like to tell someone, she’d been smiling and hiding her feelings for too long. The moment had passed. It was too late. She’d made her bed and had to lie in it.

  Róisín read and re-read Vivienne’s words, trying to take in the idea of Jacques gone from the world. It was surreal. She felt a tightening in her chest as she thought about the embryos they had created, which were still stored at the clinic in Bordeaux. Should she destroy them? The legal document they’d compiled stated that both parties must be in agreement in order for them to be used. But should she fight for them? Knowing what it was like growing up with a parent who had died, she honestly didn’t think she wanted to inflict that on a child. But perhaps she owed it to them, to Jacques’ memory, to continue what had been started?

  She looked around her office in a daze. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since Brigid had handed her the envelope. The future she had seen beckoning to her clouded over once again. Just when she thought she was free, Jacques had dragged her back into the past again. And now, she had to make a decision that she never thought she’d have to face in her life.

  Chapter 16

  The following morning Keeley had just switched off the vacuum cleaner and wound the flex away when she heard a car screeching to a halt on the gravel outside.

  Puzzled, she opened the front door and met an extremely flustered Liv.

  ‘Mum,’ she said. ‘I need you to mind these two. I am run ragged making packed lunches, washing sheets and driving other people’s children from A to B. Martin has to stay on in the States for an indefinite bloody period.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Keeley said. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Nothing bar the usual scenario where I’m left to do absolutely everything while he swans off into the sunset.’

  ‘He has to work, love. You can’t really blame him for that.’

  ‘Yes, take his side, why don’t you?’ Liv said angrily.

  ‘Ah Liv, that’s not fair,’ Keeley said.

  ‘Look,’ Liv said, her voice high with fury. ‘The housework and ferrying about never stops! I need some time for me.’ Yanking Jess by the arm, she extracted her from the car seat and set her down on the gravel as she ushered Billy out too. ‘Be good for your granny and I’ll see you later.’

  ‘I’ll drop them home by six thirty! I have to taxi some guests to the castle this evening, OK?’

  She was back in the car and gone, kicking a cloud of dust behind her, before Keeley could even argue.

  ‘Mum is sick of her bloody life,’ Billy said, his eyes wide. ‘She didn’t sign up for this. We have endless weeks of school holidays and she isn’t an entertainer.’

  ‘Did she say that to you?’ Keeley asked as she crouched down to pull the children closer to her. Billy nodded as he took Jess’s hand. Keeley stood up and watched as he led his little sister into the house. Normally they were arguing and squabbling with one another, but clearly they’d been subjected to one too many of Liv’s loud rants so they’d joined forces for a change. Keeley felt a stab of pure anger at her daughter, allowing he
rself to say such things in front of her children. It was totally irresponsible and unfair.

  ‘I think your mum is just finding it very busy with all the other children in your house,’ Keeley said as she sat them at the table and fished two cupcakes out of the freezer. ‘We’ll have a little snack and things will seem so much better.’

  ‘The new girls are really fun,’ Billy said. ‘And they brought us sweets.’

  ‘They speak funny,’ Jess said with a grin.

  ‘They do,’ Billy agreed. ‘They come from Spainland and Franceland and they smell nice.’

  ‘They smell nice?’ Keeley asked in awe.

  ‘Yes, they use baby cologne,’ Billy said. ‘All the kids in Spainland where they live have it.’

  ‘I see, and do they like talking to both of you?’ Keeley asked. ‘Because you should make an effort to chat to them, you know. They’re trying to learn English.’

  ‘But they know how to talk,’ Jess said.

  ‘Yes, but they know their own language better,’ Keeley said.

  ‘Why can’t people all talk the same way?’ Billy asked with a sigh. ‘It would be much easier.’

  ‘The girls from Franceland are very good at cleaning as well,’ Jess said earnestly. ‘They do all the carpets and the dishwasher and the brown girl from Spainland puts the clothes on the line. Last night she runned out to find the things when the rain came.’

  Keeley could barely believe her ears. What was Liv playing at?

  ‘And they are all very good at not fighting over the iron. We have ironing time after they clean the dinner pots.’

  ‘And we had a special dinner last night,’ Billy said. ‘It was called tortilla and we liked it, didn’t we Jess?’ Jess nodded emphatically. ‘Mum was very cranky though and said that the girls are ungrateful hussies because they turn their noses at her chicken nuggets. What does that mean, granny? How do you turn your nose at a nugget?’