The Matchmaker

by Marita Conlon-McKenna

  ‘Oh no, what did you do?’

  ‘What could I do? I had to wear a knitted bainin cap on my head in the photos taken out in the open air but inside the church – well, I had to take the hat off! I looked like something that had escaped from a Russian gulag.’

  ‘Poor you.’

  ‘Certainly a day to remember,’ he confided. ‘That’s brotherly love!’

  ‘My sister Anna broke my big toe,’ she confessed.

  ‘How?’

  ‘We were staying in my granny’s house in Connemara. I remember it was freezing and Granny had put one of those ancient stone hot-water jars in the bed to heat it. We were sharing the bed and we must have been fighting over it when she gave the jar a huge shove. The pain of it! I could hear my toe break! Then I was stuck on crutches for the rest of the holiday wearing big goofy knitted socks as I couldn’t even put a shoe on.’

  ‘Family, you could kill them!’ he nodded, topping up her wine glass.

  Sarah relaxed. Ronan was good company and attractive too, with his dark curly hair and blue eyes so similar to his first cousin; the family resemblance was strong.

  ‘How long have you been in London?’

  ‘Six years. Though some days it feels like a whole lot more!’

  ‘So you must miss Dublin?’

  ‘Yeah, I suppose I do, and it seems the older I get the more I want to come home for weekends, keep an eye on the folks, catch up with people. London’s great and it’s been good to me but I do miss the crack here!’

  Sarah smiled. She was no expert on night life and the Dublin pub scene.

  ‘Where do you hang out, or is it always fancy dinners like this?’ he teased.

  ‘No.’ She reddened. ‘Karen was kind to invite me. My life is usually a lot quieter.’

  ‘That’s surprising,’ he said, obviously meaning it as a compliment.

  Sarah responded to his gallantry and thanked heaven that he had been put down her end of the table. Over the next few hours she discovered that he worked in graphic design, loved authentic Indian curry, lived in a small mews development near Notting Hill and his passion was wildlife photography.

  ‘I save up all my holidays or, if I can afford it, take a month out of work and go exploring with my camera. Catching a lioness with her cubs or a humpback whale breaching in the Pacific Ocean or a group of elephants gathered at a watering hole, there’s nothing like it!’

  ‘Ronan, that sounds so exciting!’

  ‘Well, you watch all these amazing programmes like Planet Earth and then you realize you can just go see it! Go do it! Explore while there are still these amazing animals and creatures and places to see.’

  Sarah was immensely impressed and while Chloe and Susan and Sean debated the merits of buying timeshares in Marbella or Portugal she made a mental vow to someday take Evie to Africa.

  ‘What about you? What gets you going?’

  Sarah was taken aback. People weren’t usually interested in what she enjoyed. ‘Obviously my daughter is the most precious thing in my life but the other thing that I suppose I really like doing, though it’s not very exciting, is drawing and writing. I enjoy making kids’ books and illustrating them myself.’

  ‘Did you study art?’

  ‘Yes, I went to Art College.’

  ‘Talented lady!’

  No one had ever said that to her before and Sarah could see by his eyes that he wasn’t slagging her but was actually interested. ‘I made a funny book about a little kitten called Mitten and its owner, and now I’m working on a sequel for Evie,’ she confessed, surprised to find she felt sure enough about the merit of her work to discuss it. ‘It’s based on a dog Evie’s mad about; I call him Mr Bones. I’ve made him into a curious dog detective who lives over a butcher’s. I have fun doing it. It relaxes me, makes me forget about bills and money and all that crap!’

  As the evening wore on people began to drift away. Karen had tossed off her shoes and curled up on the couch in the living room. Sarah went and sat beside her.

  ‘I hope you’re enjoying yourself!’ Karen said.

  ‘Yes,’ Sarah replied, realizing that she was being entirely truthful. She had enjoyed the adult company, the great food and lovely wines and the fact that Ronan had actually talked to her, treated her like an interesting woman.

  After a nightcap of Baileys, she wondered about calling a cab.

  ‘We’re going your way,’ insisted Rachel. ‘You can share with us and we’ll drop you en route.’

  She glanced over at Ronan. He was engrossed talking to Mick and didn’t volunteer to join her or see her out. She stifled a pang of regret as she grabbed her handbag and jacket.

  ‘It was such a lovely night,’ she said, thanking Karen and Mick. Ronan politely stood up and gave her a quick hug as she said her goodbyes and raced outside to join the others.

  Sitting in the back of the cab in the darkness as Rachel and Don held hands, Sarah suddenly felt more alone than ever.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Thirty, Grace decided, was an awful age – no, a shitty age that no woman with half a brain wanted to be; certainly not an age to celebrate, not even with her nearest and dearest. Staring at the wall of her bedroom, Grace considered it like a blank canvas. She had gone through it all: from babyhood via the fun of being a kid, to a lanky know-it-all teen, then enthusiastic care-free student, to qualifying and working and becoming a young professional woman. Now nothing she could say or do would change the harsh cold fact that she was a grown-up. Her life now stretched in front of her in monochrome. She could not predict what colour, if any, would invade the canvas of her life as she contemplated this first thirty years.

  Today was her thirtieth birthday, and here she was alone in her expensive pristine-white waffle-print-covered bed: a situation she had never in her worst nightmare imagined. She’d always seen a husband or a partner and a baby or toddler in the picture she had painted a long time ago of herself at thirty, instead she was utterly alone! Being single as she sailed into her middle years was something she had definitely not planned. As she stretched her long limbs she tried to shrug off the feeling of gloom that threatened to overwhelm her on this of all days. Her schedule was pretty packed for the day – deliberately – and she was having lunch in Bang Café with Niamh and Claire and Roisin, who would do their best to cheer her up.

  The phone rang on her bedside table: it would be her mother singing ‘Happy Birthday’ in time-honoured tradition, as she had since Grace was a little girl. It almost made her weep.

  ‘Happy birthday, Grace, darling,’ Maggie called. ‘I can’t believe it’s thirty years since I first held you in my arms in Holles Street. Such a beautiful baby, your dad and I as proud as punch with ourselves.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum,’ Grace said sitting up, trying to sound positive and happy.

  ‘I have your present but I’ll give it to you when I see you later this evening.’

  ‘Great, Mum.’

  ‘Don’t forget now; don’t be late to Sarah’s as dinner in Havana is booked for eight thirty p.m. And don’t work too hard today,’ she advised. ‘I don’t know why you didn’t take the day off.’

  ‘Mum, I can’t just not turn up to the office because it’s my birthday!’

  She could hear her mother’s harrumph of indignation at the end of the line. Her mother had been making all kinds of plans to organize a big family celebration for her birthday at home with loads of old college and schoolfriends and neighbours and all the relations to mark her thirtieth birthday and had been disappointed when Grace had put her foot down and insisted on a simple family dinner instead. She certainly did not want any big to-do to herald leaving her twenties behind and joining the ranks of the middle-aged! It was just too awful to contemplate. Grace had been relieved that in the end they had opted to go to one of the local restaurants in nearby Ranelagh.

  ‘Anyway, I’ll see you later, pet.’

  God, she groaned to herself, how was she ever going to get through this utter hell
of a day?

  She showered and took time to give herself an avocado and coconut body scrub, lathering on the moisturizer afterwards to ward off dry skin. Looking at herself in the mirror as she dried her thick blond hair, she resisted the temptation to search for a grey one. Two slices of toast and honey, a glass of orange juice and a quick mug of coffee as she listened to ‘Morning Ireland’, relieved to see that at least the day was bright and sunny and not pouring with rain as she began to dress.

  Her face glowed from the facial she’d treated herself to last Saturday and, as she pulled on her expensive John Rocha suit and slipped on a pair of high-heeled sling backs, she consoled herself that she was looking good even if she was hitting thirty. Grabbing her keys and handbag, she raced out of the apartment and walked briskly to the car park.

  She was barely at her desk in the office when Anna phoned to wish her a happy birthday. ‘See you later, big sis,’ she called cheerily.

  Sarah phoned a half an hour later, all excited about the birthday too. ‘Evie’s made you a card and I’ve made you a cake with that butter icing you like.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she replied trying to sound in good spirits.

  Her secretary Kate had organized the delivery of a huge floral arrangement from Crazy Flowers on behalf of her work colleagues and the delivery boy struggled to carry the vibrant orange display of Birds of Paradise and spiky green leaves to the fifth floor. A constant round of visitors called in to wish her many happy returns; Grace recognized the sympathy in the eyes of some of her female colleagues as they asked her about plans for the evening.

  ‘A family dinner,’ she confided.

  She dealt with a rake of work and cost projections on the shopping centre development in Gorey that the company was bidding for as she answered a stream of text messages and emails from her friends. There was no sign of Shane and she was relieved to hear that he was away in London for two days, which avoided the possibility of running into him on today of all days.

  At lunch in Baggot Street she took two glasses of wine as she ate her asparagus risotto and a tossed green salad. The girls had clubbed together to buy her an expensive Helen Cody handbag.

  ‘Wow, it’s gorgeous,’ she said appreciatively as she studied the contrasting terracotta and turquoise print on the cream bag.

  ‘Celebrate getting through the terrible teens and the troubled twenties,’ advised Roisin who was thirty-one and ran her own small PR company which looked after clients in the TV world. ‘And arriving in a place with a semblance of maturity and knowing where you want to be.’

  ‘I’m not sure where I want to be,’ admitted Grace candidly. ‘I love my job but I suppose I thought things might be a bit different.’

  ‘It’s no disgrace being single,’ Roisin reminded her. Roisin loved to preach about independence and the power of women but had recently started dating an old college friend, an accountant, who had returned to Ireland from Chicago.

  ‘I bawled the day I was thirty,’ confided Claire, ‘and nothing Lorcan could say or do could console me. Remember he’d booked a night in that expensive country house hotel in Wicklow?’

  ‘Of course I remember,’ teased Grace, ‘and nine months and two days later baby Cormac came into the world.’

  ‘That’s what I’m saying. I had no idea such good things were around the corner for me when I was thirty.’

  Looking at the dessert menu, Grace considered the fact that since no loving partner was about to appear and whisk her away for a night of romance she would have to rely instead on a serving of the chocolate fudge tart to sate her carnal desires. Her friends made her laugh and she realized that long years of friendship with such witty women was certainly something to value.

  ‘Dinner in my place in two weeks’ time,’ said Niamh. They all made a note of it in their diaries and BlackBerries.

  ‘Have a great birthday night,’ they all chorused as they said their goodbyes.

  Back in the office she tried to concentrate on work. If she was going to end up a career woman she’d better focus herself on the projects on hand.

  At home later, getting changed, she softly applied mushroom-coloured eye-shadow and cream highlighter, then added a layer of black mascara which opened up her blue eyes. She resisted the temptation to crawl into bed and stay there as she slipped into a new figure-hugging wrap dress she’d bought in London last month. She would drive to Pleasant Square and leave the car there as she’d promised Sarah she’d call into her place first for a glass of wine and at least let her little niece help blow out the birthday candles on the cake.

  ‘You look amazing,’ her younger sister complimented her, hugging her close as she welcomed her.

  ‘Auntie Grace, I got you a present and made you a card,’ boasted Evie, running out to greet her.

  Her mother and Anna, who were both sitting on the navy couch, jumped up and kissed her warmly.

  ‘The birthday girl is here!’ cheered Maggie as Sarah produced a bottle of chilled white wine and glasses.

  ‘We thought we’d do the presents here before we went to the restaurant,’ said Sarah.

  Grace’s mood immediately lifted and she knew that celebrating another year surrounded by her family was what it was all about and her age didn’t actually matter. She turned her attention to Evie, noting her little niece’s giddy excitement, even when it wasn’t her own birthday.

  ‘This is my card, Auntie Grace,’ Evie said, solemnly producing a huge cardboard square which opened up. On the outside there was a blobby painting of a woman with a round smiley face, yellow hair and blue eyes wearing a pink and blue polka-dot dress and big square clunky red shoes with giant daisies all growing around her. ‘That’s you,’ she proclaimed, ‘on your birthday.’

  ‘I can see that, Evie,’ Grace said admiringly, ‘and I’m all happy and smiley.’

  ‘Now you have to open my present,’ she insisted. ‘It’s something you are really going to like!’

  Grace unwrapped the first present and was surprised by the big red kite with its multicoloured tail and string. ‘Oh my God,’ she laughed. ‘It’s perfect, thank you, pet.’

  ‘See, Mummy, I told you Auntie Grace needed a kite. Now you have to open your other presents,’ she said bossily, hunkering down in front of her.

  Anna started the proceedings by passing her a big parcel wrapped in pink tissue and ribbon. Feeling like a little kid she unwrapped it. It was an exquisite low-cut Kenzo silk shirt in baby pink and ivory with a classic Japanese retro design.

  ‘Oh Anna, I love it! It must have cost a fortune.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed her sister, ‘but I guess that you’re worth it.’

  ‘This one is from me.’ Sarah smiled, handing her a heavy square gift wrapped in multicoloured paper.

  Curious, Grace tore off the paper to reveal one of her sister’s simple coloured illustrations framed. It was stunning. It showed a small girl, her fair hair in plaits, holding a bright red kite that was blowing in the breeze. The detail of the leaves and the kite tail, the clouds and the small robin standing near her feet almost jumped off the page. ‘Sarah, it’s beautiful.’

  ‘She reminds me of you when you were a kid,’ said her sister honestly. ‘It was fun doing it.’

  ‘It’s such a special present, Sarah, thank you so much,’ said Grace, realizing that it was the first of her talented sister’s works that she possessed.

  ‘Now Granny’s present,’ insisted Evie.

  Her mother handed her a small box wrapped in gold paper. Grace held her breath as she unwrapped it. It was a gold ring of her mother’s with three small blue sapphires and three diamonds.

  ‘Your dad gave me this ring when I was thirty years old,’ Maggie said slowly. ‘Now I’d like you to have it.’

  ‘Mum, I can’t take it,’ she said recognizing the family heirloom that had originally come from South Africa.

  ‘Of course you can,’ she insisted. ‘As you are our eldest daughter Leo would have liked you to have this. It belonged to his
grandmother Grace, the one whom you are named after. In time you can pass it down to your own children.’

  Grace swallowed hard. At present this seemed a very unlikely prospect and she secretly resolved to give it to Evie when the time came. She slipped the ring on her finger: it was a perfect fit. ‘Thank you, Mum,’ she said, almost overwhelmed.

  ‘You still have the cake,’ reminded Evie.

  The cake was enormous and had at least twenty candles on top. Sarah dimmed the lights as the candles flickered and the family sang her ‘Happy Birthday’ as Evie with much huffing and puffing helped her to blow them all out. They all took a small slice; they would save the rest for the weekend.

  ‘Come on, we’d better get a move on to the restaurant,’ chivvied Sarah, when Sinead, a student who lived on the far side of the square, arrived to babysit. ‘You know how busy they get on Friday evenings and we don’t want to lose our table.’

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Havana’s was packed and Grace was glad her sisters had had the foresight to book something special for her birthday night.

  ‘This way, ladies,’ called Jake the head waiter as he led them to a great table slap in the middle of the room. A bottle of Sauvignon Blanc was ordered and, realizing how hungry she was, Grace perused the menu. Her mother as usual enquired about all the specials and the fish dishes, the three girls casting their eyes to heaven as the young waitress patiently explained each dish.

  ‘I’ll try those salsa prawns, they sound delicious,’ said their mother, finally making a decision.

  Grace opted for a red pepper and mushroom starter and lime-baked sea bass for her main course.

  Lifting their wine glasses her mother and sisters toasted her. ‘Have a wonderful birthday, Grace!’

  She suddenly felt such an eejit about tonight: here she was, surrounded by the people she loved, about to enjoy a great meal and she had the audacity to moan about her birthday. ‘And here’s to the best family ever,’ she responded, ‘and to another thirty years of fun together!’