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Seven Letters

Page 3

by Sinéad Moriarty


  ‘Nicely handled. I asked the headmistress to let me know if anyone approached her about Izzy or anything to do with Izzy. I checked again with her yesterday and there’s been nothing so far.’

  ‘Phew.’ Sarah smiled. ‘Tell me, how’s Johnny getting on? Any sign of something turning up for him?’

  Mia shrugged. ‘There don’t seem to be any jobs for journalists. I think he may have to retrain as something else.’

  ‘Like what?’

  Mia rubbed her eyes. ‘I don’t know. I need to look into options.’

  Sarah thought it was up to Johnny to search into options, but she said nothing. Her older sister had always liked to control everything. She couldn’t help herself – it was in her DNA. Their mother had been the same.

  ‘Well, hopefully he’ll get sorted soon.’

  ‘Thanks. Let’s not talk about Johnny. How are you feeling? You look pale. You might need iron. You’re probably anaemic. Ask the doctor today for a prescription.’

  ‘I’m fine. I just slept badly. Don’t fuss.’ Sarah didn’t want another lecture on looking after herself. Mia had always been bossy, but since their mum had died three years ago she’d gone into overdrive. It was as if she felt her role now was leader of the family. She was even bossing their poor dad, Charlie, about. Sarah thought Charlie’s romance with Olivia was an attempt to get away from Mia telling him what to do. Mind you, Sarah wasn’t sure Olivia was the best choice, but Charlie seemed content.

  ‘Well, good luck with the scan later. Will you find out the sex, do you think?’

  Sarah was still undecided. ‘I think so. It depends if they can see anything on the scan or not. Adam’s mad keen to know. He has a big meeting today and I’m worried it’ll run on. If he misses the scan, I’ll kill him.’

  Adam will always put work first, Mia thought. She picked up her bag and headed out of the door. ‘Call me if you want me to bring Izzy home. You might need a lie-down – you really do look tired.’

  Sarah didn’t bother responding. She walked to the front door and waved them off. She could see Izzy chatting to Riley, while her teenage cousin stared at her phone. She hoped Izzy would love the new baby as much as she loved Riley.

  3

  Sarah sat in the waiting room at the clinic, flicking through a fashion magazine. She kept one eye on the big clock ticking in the corner of the surgery. Photos of celebrities on the beach with big red circles around their stretchmarks couldn’t distract her from the anger rising in her chest. Where the hell was Adam? Her scan was scheduled for half past two. Knowing Adam’s disastrous time-keeping, she’d lied and told him it was at two o’clock. It was now twenty past and there was no sign of him. She dropped the magazine onto the coffee-table and picked up her phone. She dialled his mobile. Straight to voicemail. She left a third grumpy message.

  Damn him. He knew how important this was to her. And it should be just as important to him, for God’s sake. She’d told him to be there, no matter what. This was a really big deal. This was their longed-for, wished-for, prayed-for baby. She did not want to do this alone.

  A text flashed up. So sorry. Negotiations still ongoing. Good luck. Ax

  Sarah wanted to throw the phone against the wall. She felt emotion well up. She wanted support today. She’d been feeling really tired and headachy lately and she didn’t want to do this without her husband. She stared at the phone, silently cursing Adam for being so bloody unavailable all the time. Then she began scrolling through her contacts, stopping at ‘Dad’.

  Charlie lived ten minutes away. If he was at home, maybe he could come and support her if her husband couldn’t.

  Charlie answered on the second ring. Sarah explained the situation, struggling to hold back tears.

  ‘I’ll be there in ten minutes,’ he said.

  ‘Thanks, Dad, you’re an angel.’

  Sarah sat back and tried to calm her breathing. Getting worked up before the big scan was not a good idea. She was only twelve weeks pregnant, but she already had a tiny little bump. She’d thought it might be twins because she’d had no bump until about sixteen weeks with Izzy, but the original scan had shown just one baby. Mind you, it could be down to the daily scones she was scoffing. She’d have to be careful not to put on too much weight this time.

  She didn’t care what sex the baby was. A girl would be wonderful because Izzy would have a sister, like Sarah had Mia, but a boy would be amazing too, a little Adam.

  The sonographer, Frankie O’Sullivan, called her name. Sarah looked towards the reception door. Charlie hadn’t arrived yet.

  ‘My father’s on his way. Can you show him in when he arrives?’ she asked the receptionist.

  ‘Of course, no problem.’

  Sarah followed Frankie into the small, dark room. She hopped onto the bed, undid her belt and the zip of her jeans, pulling them down to just below her hips. Frankie squeezed cold gel on her stomach and began to run the probe over her pregnancy bump.

  Sarah held her breath. She hadn’t had any bleeding or spotting, but you never knew until you heard the heartbeat and saw the screen if all was truly well. The probe moved around and then … the beautiful thump of her baby’s heartbeat filled the room. Sarah smiled. The most wonderful sound in the world.

  ‘Everything looks good,’ Frankie assured her.

  The door opened and Charlie rushed in. ‘Sorry. Traffic. Am I too late?’

  ‘No, Dad, just in time. Look, there’s the baby.’

  Charlie sat down beside his daughter and stared at the screen. ‘Well, now, isn’t that something?’ He was transfixed.

  They stared at the screen and Charlie took Sarah’s hand in his. ‘I’m so glad for you, love.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’ Sarah tried not to cry. Turning to the sonographer she asked, ‘If possible, I’d like to know the sex.’

  ‘Are you sure, love? Would you not like a surprise?’ Charlie asked.

  Sarah shook her head. ‘No. Either way I’ll be thrilled. With Izzy I was happy for it to be a surprise, but I’ve decided this time I want to know.’

  Sarah turned back to face Frankie.

  ‘Well, Sarah, I can’t say with one hundred per cent certainty, but I can say that I’m very confident that it’s … a boy.’

  ‘Oh, a boy,’ Sarah whispered, as tears of joy ran down her cheeks.

  ‘A grandson.’ Charlie beamed. ‘The first boy in our family for decades.’

  ‘It’s perfect,’ Sarah said. ‘We’ll have the perfect family.’

  ‘You deserve it, pet.’ Charlie squeezed her hand.

  Sarah sat in the café next door to the hospital, staring at the printout of the ultrasound. The café was small and warm, full of students from the nearby college of art. Charlie came back to the table with a tray. He plonked down two cappuccinos and a large slice of sponge cake dripping with cream and jam. ‘To celebrate my grandson.’ He winked and handed Sarah a fork.

  She groaned. ‘Daaaad! I’m supposed to be trying not to eat too much in this pregnancy. You know cake is my downfall.’

  ‘Ah, will you stop! No man likes a skinny woman.’

  The cake was calling: ‘Eat me.’ Sod it. Sarah dug in her fork and put a chunk into her mouth. God, it tasted so good.

  ‘Do you think that person behind the counter is one of those transvestite or transgender types?’ Charlie asked.

  Sarah looked over. ‘No. She’s a girl with really short hair and a lot of tattoos.’

  ‘In my day you’d know who was a girl and who was a boy. Nowadays you can’t be too sure. And you’d be afraid to say anything in case you’d get it wrong or insult someone. I don’t know, I think it was easier in the old days.’

  ‘Easier for some, oppressive for others,’ Sarah remarked.

  ‘It’s hard for us oldies. We don’t know what to be saying to anyone any more. You’d be afraid even to tell a girl she looks nice. The world has gone mad.’

  ‘No, Dad, it’s just that people who were once marginalized can now openly be who they ar
e. And women don’t have to put up with being sleazed over. It’s a good thing, believe me. I had a really creepy boss in the call centre who was always making lewd comments. I hated it. It made me feel so uncomfortable.’

  Charlie ate a large chunk of cake. ‘Fair enough, point taken. Anyway, my little grandson will be a boy and that’s that.’

  Sarah laughed. ‘He’ll be whatever he wants to be.’

  ‘He’ll be marvellous. I can’t wait to take him to football matches and kick a ball about with him. I’ve been outnumbered by women for too long – me and this little fella will be great pals.’

  Sarah smiled at her father. He’d be a fantastic granddad to her son, just like he’d been a wonderful father and grandfather to her and Mia, Riley and Izzy. She was extra glad it was a boy for Charlie to hang out with.

  Sarah’s phone buzzed on the table between them and the screen lit up. It was Adam. Well? All OK? She ignored it.

  ‘Are you not going to tell him?’ Charlie said, nodding at her phone.

  ‘No. He can wait. I’m really furious with him. I begged him to be there, but he got stuck in some negotiation. It’s always work with him.’

  Charlie put down his fork. A group of loud students left the café, bringing a lot of the noise with them. It was a relief. Sarah’s headache was back and throbbing.

  ‘I know you’re angry but, to be fair, if he was stuck in negotiations for a new contract, he couldn’t really walk out. He’s a very driven man and you have to admire that.’

  Sarah pushed a strand of hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. ‘I do, Dad, but sometimes I think he’s too driven. In the last year he’s been so busy in work he’s rarely home for dinner or even to tuck Izzy in. I miss him. Izzy does too.’

  Charlie sighed. ‘It’s hard for him to turn down contracts – you have to make hay while the sun shines. Look at Johnny. Will he ever get another job in journalism? Poor old Mia is worn out with the worry and stress. She’s very short-tempered, these days. Jeepers, she ripped my head off the other day just for telling her she looked tired.’

  Sarah winced. No woman wanted to be told she looked tired, especially a woman who was tired and under pressure. ‘I guess you’re right, Dad, but there has to be a better work–life balance for Adam. Izzy is growing up so fast and I don’t want him to miss it. We don’t need a bigger house or fancier cars. I just want him to be there more.’

  ‘Talk to him, love. The key to a good marriage is communication. Even if you’re roaring at each other, at least you’re communicating. It’s when you stop talking that things go wrong.’

  Sarah polished off the last bite of cake. What the hell? She was eating for two. She glanced at her watch. It was half-past three. She’d put Izzy into after-school care until four.

  ‘I’d better go, Dad. I need to collect Izzy.’

  Charlie stood up and they walked out to the car park. He hugged her. ‘I’m thrilled for you, love. A little boy. I can’t wait to meet him. I’m so proud of you.’

  Sarah kissed his cheek. If Adam could be half the father Charlie had been to her, this little boy would be very lucky indeed.

  4

  Mia hadn’t sat down all morning. She glanced at her watch. A quarter to three: no wonder her stomach was rumbling. Between Communion practice, a meeting with the headmistress, the endless form-filling, then dealing with three children who seemed to have a vomiting bug and needed to be picked up early, she hadn’t had a second. Work was piled up on her desk, but there was no way she could get to it. Her chest tightened at the thought of all that still had to be done today.

  She took a deep breath to calm her racing thoughts. Harry’s parents were waiting for her in her office, and it was going to be a difficult meeting. Poor Harry was falling behind in his senior infants’ class and the tests she’d asked the learning support teacher to conduct showed that he was within the autism range. The family had two other kids in the school who were bright academically, so this would be new territory for them. She took another deep breath, then straightened her shoulders and opened the door. ‘Joan, Peter, lovely to see you,’ she said, extending her hand. ‘Thanks so much for coming in.’

  Over the next hour, Mia listened as Harry’s parents went through all the stages of shock, disbelief, questioning, anger, upset and, finally, acceptance. She felt for them, but it was essential that they get to grips with the diagnosis and focus on helping Harry to cope with school and fulfil his potential. He needed them to be strong now.

  ‘I’m here if you have any other questions,’ Mia said, standing up and smiling at them. ‘The staff are here for you and Miss Coakley is one hundred per cent behind Harry, there to support him every day.’

  When she closed the door behind them, Mia heaved a sigh of relief. Another tick on her unending list. The next thing she wanted to sort out was the broken curtain rail in the sitting room at home. It was driving her crazy looking at it every evening. She texted Charlie, as he’d promised more than a week ago to do a run to the hardware shop, get the necessaries and come over to fix it. Johnny was hopeless at DIY. Her phone pinged almost immediately: Just with Sarah. Can’t today. Sry. Mia cursed under her breath. The curtain would never be fixed at this rate. She’d just have to try to do it herself. No doubt the two of them were having coffee or out on a walk. God, what Mia wouldn’t give for some time out, just five non-pressured minutes in her day. A leisurely cup of coffee with nowhere to be and nothing to do would be utter bliss.

  Mia spent an hour trying to tackle the work on her desk, but eventually realized it was impossible to get through it all. She’d have to stay late again tomorrow. For now, she had to be at the post office before it closed, pick up her dry cleaning, and Johnny had texted her to buy some pork chops for a new recipe he was trying. Now that they only had one car, Mia ended up doing all the bloody picking up and shopping. She fired some work into her bag, grabbed her car keys and set off at a brisk trot to the car park. Hers was the only car there. The last to leave, as usual, she thought crossly.

  She hit roadworks on the way to the post office and got there just as they were pulling down the hatch. Then she had to dash to make it to the dry cleaners before they shut up shop as well. She decided to drive to the supermarket, as their meat counter was the cheapest. It never ceased to amaze her that she had become the woman who carefully cut out coupons and knew the discounts offered in every shop in a five-mile radius. When Johnny was working and Riley’s demands didn’t stretch beyond Barbies, she’d been able to buy as she pleased. She wouldn’t have had a clue how much pork chops were, she’d just have paid whatever was asked. And she would have gone to the organic butcher near Sarah’s house and paid way over the odds without a second’s thought.

  Her life was almost unrecognizable to her now. She tried to tell herself that family was all that mattered, but it was hard to keep your chin up when everything fell on your shoulders. Mia felt old and tired. Tired right down to her bones. She was sick of having to carry everyone on her back. She earned the money, budgeted, nagged Riley to study, tried to keep track of her movements, and did the majority of the shopping. She did most of the worrying as well. It was great that Johnny was into cooking now, but texts with ingredient orders weren’t so great. He could have got the bus to the supermarket.

  The worst thing was, it was impossible to go from Mrs Coping With It All to Mrs Might Just Want Sex Occasionally. Johnny had tried it on last night, but she was so tired and felt so deeply unsexy that she’d swatted him away. How was she meant to do the household accounts, argue with Riley, tidy up, then be all hot and seductive at the drop of a hat? She just couldn’t do it. The imbalance between her and Johnny had crept into their bedroom, and while it upset her deeply, she couldn’t see a way out of it. All she wanted to do after ten o’clock at night was collapse into bed and sleep.

  As she walked towards the checkout with the pork chops in hand, she saw Rebecca’s mother coming towards her. Great, thought Mia. Now I have to be nice to this cow who
was mean about Izzy. It was such a pain to have to put her work face on outside school, but everyone expected her to be deputy head at all times.

  ‘Mia, how are you?’

  ‘Hello, Grainne. Just grabbing a few dinner things on the way home.’

  ‘Same here,’ Grainne said, rolling her eyes. ‘The work never stops, does it? We working mothers are heroes. Mind you, you teachers have it easy with the short days and the long holidays.’

  ‘Not really. I think everyone is busy, Grainne,’ Mia said evenly.

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ Grainne said. ‘Those stay-at-home mums have no clue about the pressures of the corporate world. They just don’t understand the demands of being in a high-powered, high-pressured job. It’s all coffee mornings and yoga with them.’

  Mia felt the irritation prickle across her like a skin rash. Could this woman be more judgemental? She had no idea of the lives of the other mothers with children at the school. Those who didn’t hold down day jobs did Trojan work, throwing themselves into school fundraising events, committees and every other task going, regardless of difficulties at home, like money worries or elderly parents who needed minding. From her years of experience in dealing with families, Mia was all too aware that no one got away lightly.

  ‘I think you’ll find they do a lot more than that,’ she said, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. ‘Everyone has their own stress and pressure. It’s easy to judge from the outside but looks can be deceiving.’

  ‘Oh, sorry. I forgot your sister doesn’t work. Oops, hit a nerve, did I? Anyway,’ Grainne said, ‘speaking of Sarah, how is Izzy getting on? She’s in my Rebecca’s class, you know.’

  Mia smiled tightly. ‘She’s getting on extremely well. She’s a bright little girl. Sorry, Grainne, but I’ll have to dash. My husband is waiting for the ingredients to arrive.’

  ‘Sure I’m rushing myself,’ Grainne said. ‘Never get a minute to sit down. It’s non-stop conference calls and meetings. Mind you, the hefty bonuses always help ease the pain.’ She winked. ‘This is last year’s bonus.’ She shoved a hand in Mia’s direction to show her a huge diamond ring. ‘Present to myself.’ She tittered.

 

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