A Love Like This Read online

  Vivienne nodded. ‘I know. I can’t survive on such little sleep. I just hope he gets the hang of those bottles soon.’

  Catherine decided not to say anything. There were enough nurses telling Vivienne how much better off she’d be if she gave the breastfeeding a try. But it was true. No washing and sterilising bottles. No making up feeds and checking temperature. Just straight out of the cot and onto the breast. But some people just wouldn’t be told. It struck Catherine that Vivienne thought she was too posh for breastfeeding – as though it was something for the common folk who couldn’t afford the milk.

  ‘So where are you from?’ Vivienne broke into her thoughts.

  ‘I’m from Finglas but we’re renting a little house just off the Navan Road. I suppose you’re from Foxrock or somewhere posh like that.’

  Vivienne glared at her. ‘Actually, we’re not too far from each other. We live in Castleknock. Both myself and my husband grew up not too far away and we decided to stay around when we got married.’

  ‘Lucky you,’ said Catherine, gulping down the last of her tea. ‘Having a husband, I mean. My fella is inside so we won’t be seeing him for a while.’

  ‘Inside? Inside where?’

  Catherine wondered if she was actually that stupid. ‘Inside – as in jail!’

  ‘Oh, I see. I’m sorry. I mean, that must be hard.’

  ‘It’s his own bloody fault. He’s a loser, to be honest. We’re probably better off without him.’

  Vivienne paled. ‘And what do you work at? Will you be able to manage on one salary?’

  That made Catherine laugh. ‘On one salary? Chance would be a fine thing. I’m living on benefits at the moment. We get by – just about. But this baby is going to put a real strain on the finances. She was a mistake, to be honest. I even drank a whole bottle of vodka when I found out, hoping I’d have a miscarriage.’

  ‘Oh my God. You did not!’

  ‘I did. And don’t judge me. You should try walking in my shoes for a bit and see if you wouldn’t have done the same. Actually, a vodka or two wouldn’t go amiss now.’

  ‘I … I think I’ll try and squeeze in a little nap while William is asleep,’ said Vivienne, sinking further down under the covers. ‘God only knows when I’ll next get the chance.’

  Catherine watched as the other woman buried herself under the covers. Posh bitch. It was clear she was looking down her nose at her. Just who did she think she was? She might have a big house and fancy cars, but she was certainly clueless when it came to baby stuff. To be fair, everyone was with their first. But Catherine had watched her the previous night as she tried to get the bottle into the child’s mouth and it was obvious she hadn’t a clue what she was doing. But someone like her would probably have a nanny to do it all for them.

  She glanced down at the little girl in the cot. Her little girl. Her friend was minding Tina and had brought her up to the hospital earlier. God, it had been stressful. They’d brought a little brown teddy bear for Donna but Tina had got very jealous and had insisted on holding on to it herself. She’d get used to the new arrival in time. She was only two years old after all. But Catherine had no such excuse. She was twenty-one years old and right now, she couldn’t imagine herself ever getting used to having two babies and bringing them up on her own.

  * * *

  ‘So much for bloody private health care,’ moaned Vivienne, as she packed up her bags to go home. ‘I mean, three days in this public ward, treated just the same as everyone else, and you can be damn sure none of them have paid the amount of money I have.’

  George nodded and pushed his black-framed glasses back up on his nose. ‘I know, love, but we always knew that a private room wasn’t guaranteed. We were just unfortunate that our William was born in the middle of a baby boom.’

  ‘Well, it’s not good enough and I’ll be writing a letter of complaint to the hospital.’ Vivienne thought she’d never get home. The combination of lack of sleep and hospital food had her in rotten form and, on top of everything else, her milk had started to come in. It had given the nurses another opportunity to tell her that breastfeeding would relieve the pain, but it had fallen on deaf ears. She’d prefer to get some cabbage leaves and stick them in her bra – a tip she’d picked up from her mother.

  ‘So have we everything?’ George asked, picking the baby up and securing him in his carry-cot for the car.

  Vivienne nodded. ‘Let’s get off as quick as we can. Catherine is gone down to change the baby and she’d been saying something about swapping phone numbers and addresses. There’s no way I want that woman in our lives.’

  George looked over his glasses. ‘That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it? I thought she gave you some good advice about settling William.’

  ‘She did, but that doesn’t mean I want her to be my new best friend. Our lives are very different – we’ve nothing in common.’

  ‘Except the babies.’

  ‘Well, yes, but millions of people have babies. Now, are we going to get out of here?’

  ‘You weren’t going to head off without saying goodbye, were you?’ Catherine appeared at the door, pushing the cot. ‘Donna here would have been very upset. She’s taken quite a shine to your William.’

  ‘Of course we weren’t,’ said Vivienne, lying through her teeth. ‘It was nice to meet you. I hope everything goes okay for you.’

  Catherine smiled. ‘And you too. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.’

  Not if I can help it, thought Vivienne. She couldn’t get out to the car quick enough, terrified Catherine would run after her looking for her contact details.

  Five minutes later they were on the road and Vivienne sighed with relief. Once she was home, she’d get herself into a better pattern and it would be easier to mould William into a routine. She hadn’t liked the feeling of not being in control in the hospital. She needed to take charge again and not be feeble. She glanced around at William, who was starting to cry.

  ‘The bag with his stuff is behind your seat there, love,’ said George. ‘I stuck that teddy he likes on the top.’

  Vivienne smiled at her husband. ‘He’s a bit young to have preferences, George. I’m not sure he can even see it.’

  ‘But he can smell and feel it. Go on, humour me. I bet it quietens him down.’

  She reached behind for the bag and immediately put her hands on the teddy at the top. But when she looked at it, her heart sank.

  ‘This is not William’s teddy – it’s Donna’s.’

  ‘How do you know that, love? It looks like the one I bought.’

  ‘Donna got the same one. But I saw her sister with it at the hospital yesterday and she pulled the eye right out of its head. I can’t believe we’ve ended up with their scabby one-eyed one.’

  William’s screams got louder and louder until Vivienne just thrust the one-eyed teddy at him. Miraculously, the screams stopped. It seemed a one-eyed teddy was better than no teddy at all. Vivienne made a note to wash it thoroughly when they got home.

  Chapter 3

  13 August 1995

  ‘Come on and help me with these lights, William. We only have another few hours before your guests arrive.’

  William Cooper-Smith sighed as he followed his mother out to the marquee in the back garden. He was fed up. It was his tenth birthday but, as usual, his parents had taken control and were having a party to suit them. A giant marquee, caterers and a whole load of kids he barely knew. He’d begged them for a football party. Some of the boys in his class had rented pitches in the local sports club for their birthdays and it had been the best fun he’d ever had.

  Football was brilliant. He played it every day in the school yard but his mother said he couldn’t play for the local team. Some of his friends were on the under-ten team and were always asking him to join but his mother said there wasn’t time. His nan minded him during the day when his parents were at work and it was enough for her to have to get him to piano lessons and tennis. He hated tennis. It was a poncy game. A
nd he wasn’t even any good at it. Not like football. In football he could juggle with both feet and dribble past every opponent on the pitch before sticking the ball in the corner of the net. Gooooooooaaaaaallll! He kicked his foot in the air, catching it on one of the catering tables, which promptly fell over.

  ‘William! For God’s sake. Can you help me out here rather than making more work for me.’

  ‘Sorry, Mum.’

  ‘You know your daddy and I have given up our Sunday to do this party for you. The least you could do is show some gratitude.’

  ‘But I—’

  ‘Seriously, William. You should be grateful that we’re going to so much trouble for you instead of what some of the other parents do. They think an hour in a grotty sports hall and a McDonald’s is a decent party.’

  William couldn’t think of anything nicer. But he said nothing and held the fairy lights up for his mother to nail them to the wall of the marquee. There was no point in arguing with his parents. It never got him anywhere – except a grounding to his room and an extra couple of hours of study. Sometimes he hated them. They worked all the time and he saw way more of his nan than he did of them. And now, because they were throwing this stupid party for him, he was supposed to think they were great.

  Forty-two kids. That’s how many were coming today. He knew about fifteen of them and, even at that, none were his best friends. They were the kids of his parents’ friends mostly, a few who lived on his street and just a couple from school. Jack Fitzpatrick was his best friend in school but there was no hope he’d be allowed invite him since he was heard shouting ‘fuck’ at the school sports day when he lost the two-hundred-metre sprint. William’s mother hated bad language and had told him in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t to associate with riff-raff who expressed themselves in such a vile way.

  ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!’

  ‘What was that, William?’

  He almost jumped out of his skin. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. ‘Nothing, Mum. I’m just singing.’

  His mother stared for a moment before turning her attention back to the lights. Thank God for that! He would have been grounded for the rest of his life if she’d heard what he’d said. He smiled to himself. Maybe the day wouldn’t be so bad after all. Wait until Jack heard about the ‘fucks’. He’d crack up laughing.

  ‘I’ve organised for Nan to take you down to the party shop for some balloons when the caterers come. She’ll be here any minute.’

  ‘But I want to stay here,’ said William, glaring at his mother. ‘Can’t Nan go on her own for the balloons?’

  ‘No, she cannot! The caterers need space to set everything up and you’ll only be in the way. Besides, I want you to help her pick out some nice metallic colours – not those tacky multicoloured ones.’

  ‘But why can’t we get the colourful ones? They’re the best. John Delaney had fifteen different colour balloons at his party and they looked really cool.’

  Vivienne Cooper-Smith stood back to survey her work. ‘Well, John Delaney’s mother obviously has no taste. Now go and wash your hands and tidy yourself up. I’ve left a nice pair of chinos and a shirt on your bed for the party but it’s probably best to wait until then before you change.’

  William sighed as he headed up the stairs to wash his hands and face. But despite his mood, he couldn’t help feeling a little bit excited. Forty-two children. They may not be the kids he wanted there but it still meant forty-two presents. He prayed he’d get some Power Rangers and footballs but he was doubtful about it. The previous year, his mother had told parents that he’d prefer cash and they’d made him put it all into a savings account.

  Ten years old. He was in double figures at last. Almost grown up. It made him feel excited. He’d made up his mind what he wanted to do when he left school – and it wasn’t going to be anything like his parents. He couldn’t understand why they stayed in such boring jobs when they were rich. If he had all their money, he wouldn’t work – he’d just travel around the world. And that’s what he was going to do. He was going to be an adventurer – unless, of course, he got called up for a Premier League football team. But there wasn’t much chance of that when he wasn’t even allowed play the sport.

  He took a facecloth from the pile on the bathroom shelf and squeezed it under the flow of hot water. He quickly wiped his face and dried it with the hand towel on the rail. He looked at his face in the mirror and allowed himself to enter his imaginary world.

  William Cooper-Smith, the world famous adventurer, climbs Ayers Rock in his bare feet.

  The world’s most loved explorer, William Cooper-Smith, jumps out of a plane blindfolded.

  William Cooper-Smith breaks another world record.

  William loved having his dreams. They were sometimes the only things that got him through the humdrum of the day. When his parents would send him to his room to do some extra study, he’d lie on the bed with his books in front of him but his mind would go to an entirely different place. He placed the towel back on the rail and headed into his bedroom.

  The room was far bigger than he needed, with a double bed for himself and a spare single one. He could never understand why they had a need for a spare bed when they never let any of his friends stay over. He lay down on top of the covers and felt under the pillow for Cookie. Cookie was his beloved teddy that he’d had all his life. He was a filthy one-eyed creature but William adored him and, despite all the new teddies he’d collected over the years, Cookie was his firm favourite.

  ‘One day, Cookie, I’m gonna travel the world, and you’re gonna be right there with me.’

  * * *

  Donna O’Neill opened her eyes and it took her only a moment to remember what day it was. Ten years old today. It was the most exciting day of her life. She’d spent her seventh, eighth and ninth birthdays craving the day she’d be into double figures – all grown up at last.

  She pushed the duvet off her body and swung her legs out the side of the bed. The sun was streaming through the cheap, yellow curtains, highlighting the little dancing bits of dust in the air. Her mam hadn’t mentioned her birthday yet and Donna was hoping it was because she was planning a surprise and not that she’d forgotten. Her mam was forgetting a lot of things these days. She seemed to spend more time drunk than sober, and even when she was sober, she seemed to be confused and forgetful. Still, she’d never forgotten a birthday yet and Donna couldn’t wait to see what was in store for the day.

  She glanced at her bedside clock. Nine o’clock. Her sister, Tina, was staying in her friend’s house but said she’d be back with her present at lunch time. Tina was almost a teenager and often more like an adult than their mother. Sometimes when their mother was drunk or out with her friends, Tina would make lunches for school, put some sort of dinner together from whatever she could find in the fridge and make sure their clothes were washed. She was a bit serious at times, but Donna loved her to bits.

  Slipping into her well-worn dressing gown, she skipped down the stairs, excited to see what would be waiting for her. But her face fell as soon as she walked into the little kitchen. There were dirty dishes piled high in the sink, the remains of a Chinese takeaway on the table and a half-empty bottle of vodka on the floor. Her mother had seemed okay when Donna had gone to bed last night so she must have decided on a party of her own later on. There wasn’t a sign that it was her birthday today – no balloons, no cards or presents – not even someone to give her a birthday hug. She felt tears in the corners of her eyes and, not for the first time, wished she belonged to a different family.

  But not one to dwell on the negative, she filled the sink with hot water and added a squirt of washing-up liquid. Maybe if she got the place cleaned up a bit, her mother would get up in a good mood and they’d have a decent day after all. Maybe things weren’t so bad, she thought, as she piled the sudsy plates high on the draining rack. It was still early so there was plenty of time to celebrate.

  When she’d finished her cleaning, she emp
tied the end of a box of cornflakes into a bowl and took them into the sitting room to watch telly. It was a small but cosy room with a two-seater red corduroy sofa and a matching armchair. The walls were a scruffy cream but Tina had made them hang their artwork from school on the walls to hide the dirt.

  Her mam would be up soon and they could discuss what they were going to do for the day. She knew there wouldn’t be a party – there just wasn’t enough money. She’d learned to accept that over the years, and once there were a few presents and a birthday cake, she was happy enough with that. Sometimes they’d go to the cinema – just the three of them – and maybe even McDonald’s after, if the money would stretch that far. Her mother wouldn’t win any awards for mother of the year but, in fairness to her, she always tried to make birthdays special for both her girls.

  Two hours later there was still no sign of her making an appearance so Donna thought she’d go and give her a gentle nudge. Dashing up the stairs, she paused outside the bedroom door, where she could hear her mother’s snores. Her heart sank a little. Snoring usually meant drunk. Donna said a silent prayer that she wouldn’t be in a state today of all days. She shoved open the door and almost immediately gagged. The stench in the room was unbearable. Her mother was sprawled on the bed, still fully dressed and her head pointed in the direction of a bucket on the floor. Donna held her breath and walked a little closer. There was sticky drool coming out of the side of her mother’s open mouth and the bucket contained a substantial amount of vomit.

  ‘I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!’ Donna picked up a shoe from the floor and threw it at her mother. It hit her arm but she barely stirred. It was obvious there’d be no celebrations today. Big fat tears poured down Donna’s face as she ran out of the room and slammed the door. She was the unluckiest girl in the world. She had a drunken mother, a father who didn’t want to know her and a sister who couldn’t even be here for her important day. Well, she didn’t need them. None of them.