CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

 

As Sean watched Z Cars with Tommy, Oona was in the kitchen ironing, and thinking about Jack. Talking things over with him had been easier than expected and she’d been wrong to doubt him. The positive way he got things done impressed her, and she found herself looking forward.

Having worked for Jack for nearly a year now, she admired him greatly; not just as her boss. He had the qualities she liked in a man – decisive, considerate and caring. Even so, he must have another side, just as she had.

The ironing done, she flicked through the bills on the table before pushing them into a drawer. She couldn’t bear to look at them right now. Out of sight and out of mind. At least now they would get paid sooner, rather than later. With a contented sigh, she sat down to open Monica’s letter which she’d saved to read in peace.

 

Dear Oona,

It’s taken me days to pluck up the courage to write this letter. Chris is going to live in Canada, you know, on the assisted passage. He’s always loved Ontario. Now, after a lot of soul searching, I’ve decided to go with him.

It’s been bedlam at home. You know what Daddy’s like and Mammy’s been in bits. I feel bad about leaving them all, but it’s not as if I’m an only one, is it? I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. You understand, don’t you, Oona? Please write back with your support. All I can hope for is their blessing before I leave in April.

Forever friends,

Monica xx

 

April! Only a few weeks away. A lump caught in her throat. She’d known Monica since they were four years old; had gone to school with her. She’d miss her dearly. All she could do now was reply, show her support, wish her all the luck and happiness in the world and arrange to meet up before she went.

The click of the door made her glance up. ‘Goodnight, Mrs. Quinn.’

‘Oh, are you off, Tommy? I guess Sean’s told you he’s going to Limerick?’

‘Ah, sure he’ll have a grand time, so he will.’

Smiling, she nodded. ‘Well, goodnight, Tommy.’ As he turned to go, she couldn’t help noticing he was wearing one of the new skinny polo shirts in dark brown with a yellow stripe across the back. The colour did nothing for his sallow complexion, but Oona felt pleased to see him in something new for a change.

After Tommy left, Sean talked non-stop about his weekend trip while she compiled a list of things he would need to take with him. He was growing fast. Most of his clothes were too small. Even the stripey pyjamas her mother had bought him in the January sales didn’t fit any more.

He made a point of showing her his football kit. He was hard on clothes, and his shirt looked the worse for wear, yet he’d only had it a couple of months.

‘Can’t I have a new one, Mam?’ he moaned.

‘Where do you think the money comes from, Sean? You’ll have to manage and make do with your boots too.’

‘But they’re pinching,’ he scowled.

‘Take them off and hand them here a minute.’ She spread an old newspaper on the table. ‘Your grandad loaned me these.’ She held up a pair of wooden shoe stretchers.

‘What are you going to do with them?’

Removing the laces, she pushed a shoe stretcher into the boots, tightening each peg as much as she could. ‘Now leave them like that until tomorrow and we’ll see what happens. Your grandad swears by these.’

It would have been nice to be able to buy him new ones, but it would be a month before she felt the benefit of her increase in salary. Life was never easy. She’d have to borrow money from her dad to tide her over, otherwise she’d never manage. ‘Now, go and get ready for bed, Sean. I’m going over to see Aunty Connie. Will you be okay?’

‘I’m not five, you know.’ He poured himself a glass of milk from the jug on the dresser, spilling some in the process.

‘Go easy with that Sean or there won’t be enough for breakfast.’

‘We never have enough of anything. I thought you got promoted.’

‘I did, but being on a salary means I’ll get paid monthly. I’m sorry, love. Money is tight at the moment, but we’re better off than most.’

 

***

 

Dessie opened the door with a bottle of wine in his hand, making her wonder if they’d had news from the adoption society.

‘Come on in, Oona. You’re just in time for a glass.’

‘Are you celebrating?’

‘No, not yet, but if you’ve got time, we’d appreciate your opinion on this adoption thing.’

‘Okay,’ she said and smiled. Her own news could wait. A new baby was much more exciting and she was delighted to see a smile on Dessie’s face.

‘Hi, Sis!’ Connie called, as she entered the room. ‘Here, sit down.’ Lifting her feet from the sofa, she patted the cushion next to her.

Slipping off her coat, Oona settled on the comfortable couch. Dessie handed her a drink. ‘Is red okay, only we’re out of white?’

‘Red is fine.’ It was just what she needed to help her relax. The coffee table was covered with literature on adoption.

‘What’s all this?’

‘I’ll give you one guess,’ Connie laughed.

The atmosphere seemed relaxed, unlike the last time she’d called.

‘Well,’ Dessie said, picking up a few of the leaflets. ‘We’ve read through all this lot and Connie’s made a list of questions we might get asked at the interview.’

‘You’ve got one then?’ Oona’s eyes widened.

‘Yes, next week.’ He sipped his wine.

‘Can you think of anything we might have overlooked?’ Connie passed her the notebook.

Oona ran her eyes down the page. ‘You've covered quite a lot here, Connie, but they won’t be interested in the fact that you have a comfortable home and two spare bedrooms, one you plan to turn into a nursery. They’ll want to know how you’ll cope as parents. Their concern will be for the baby or child they will be releasing into your care.’

‘What’d you mean?’ Dessie asked.

‘Well. It’s clear that Connie wants a baby. Are you prepared to be flexible? How would you react if they asked you to take on a difficult child, or one with a disability, for instance? I’m sure your home will be inspected later.’

She leant back, relaxed by the wine. ‘You could mention you’ve looked after my kids.’ And in the brief silence that followed, Oona knew they were all thinking of Jacqueline.

‘Yes . . . of course. You’re right, Oona,’ he said. ‘And there’s the question of fostering.’

‘I don’t know about that, love,’ Connie said. ‘I’d want the child to have stability. There’s nothing permanent with fostering.’

‘Then we must agree not to foster,’ he said. ‘Surely there’s dozens of babies and children in Dublin no-one wants?’ He turned to Connie. ‘I know you have your heart set on a baby, love. But does it really matter how old the child is?’

‘I suppose not. But we need to be accepted first.’

‘You will be. You’ll be perfect. Any idea what the age is for adoption these days?’

‘It says here,’ Dessie quoted, ‘‘‘Couples must be married and living together, and must have the same religion as the child they adopt.’’ And, this is the important bit, ‘‘they must both have attained 30 years of age’’.’

‘No problem there then.’ Oona smiled.

‘I’m both excited and nervous at the same time,’ Connie admitted. ‘And I can’t wait to get things moving.’

‘Well, good luck.’

‘More wine?’ Dessie lifted the bottle and began to fill their glasses.

‘Not for me.’ Oona held her hand over hers. ‘I’ve had enough already. I’ll never get up for work.’

‘How are things at work, then?’ Connie asked.

‘Jack’s promoted me to assistant manager, starting next week.’

‘But, aren’t you that already?’ Dessie frowned.

‘Not really. Not officially. Jack’s getting someone in to do my job. I’ll be working alongside him in his office.’

‘Oh.’ Connie giggled. ‘You’ll be like . . . his partner.’

‘Not quite! I guess I’ll be more involved in what goes on in the agency, though.’ Smiling, she stood up. ‘I’d better be getting back. I’ve left Sean.’

‘Well done.’ Connie got to her feet and hugged her. ‘I’m pleased things are working out for you.’

‘I suppose Sean’s excited about Limerick, then?’ Dessie said. ‘Are you feeling better about him going?’

She shook her head. ‘It’s just so close to the anniversary.’

‘Aye, that’ll be tough.’

‘The sooner the better you two adopt some children,’ she said, moving towards the door.

‘Hey, hang on a minute,’ Dessie chortled. ‘One step at a time.’