‘I want it so much my body physically aches every minute of every day. But I don’t think I’m strong enough to dare to hope again, only to be disappointed. And I’m so tired, of the longing and the emptiness and the questions. This thing which hasn’t happened has taken up so much of our lives the past four years. I don’t know how much more I can keep giving, only to have it sucked down another black hole. It’s stupid, that I want it too much to dare to try. I’ve never let fear stop me from doing anything. But I know what this will cost me.’ She stopped, grabbed a tissue from the box on the table and wiped the tears pouring down her face, and then passed the box round so we could all do the same.
‘And then, when I carry out another baby blessing, or help out at the toddler group. When I sit with Oscar on my knee, and he snuggles in for a story, I wonder how on earth I could even considernottrying again. Other people try three, four, even more times until they get their baby. Why would I give up after only once?’
‘Well,’ Bridget sobbed, ‘you know whatever you decide to do, we are with you 100 per cent.’
‘You have to talk about all this with Moses,’ I added. ‘You’re both so emotionally involved it’s impossible to know completely what the other one’s thinking.’
‘Whatever you decide, you’ll only get through it together if you’re honest with each other,’ Orla said, ignoring another message lighting up her phone screen.
‘I know. And I will be. Thanks for listening, sisters.’ She opened her arms, and we all crowded in for a hug.
‘Now, can I tell you what I’ll be doing for the next three months?’ Bridget asked, once we’d done loving Sofia and were ready for a lighter topic of conversation.
‘Planning a wedding?’ Orla smirked.
‘Yes!’ Bridget smirked back. ‘But not just my own wedding!’
‘Eh? Whose, then?’
‘I don’t know!’
‘Ugh. This isn’t that bet the prof made?’ I asked, aghast. ‘He’s not palmed it off on you?’
‘He most certainly has. He’s made this terrible compatibility questionnaire, of five supposedly not random but I reckon completely random questions to go along with an even randomer DNA test to supposedly match a perfect couple. I have to use it to find potential candidates willing to marry someone who they won’t get to meet until the wedding. All so that he can win the Henry Munch award at next year’s dinner.’
‘What?’ Sofia asked. ‘What are you talking about?’
Bridget explained. It took a while as Sofia had never heard of theBlind Date Weddingtelevision programme, or Prof Love, being far too busy transforming her community to watch reality TV shows. But as she did, a weird thought started to creep into my head and promptly popped out of my mouth before I’d had a chance to stop it.
‘I don’t think it’s such a terrible idea. In principle.’
‘What? Marrying a complete stranger?’ Orla scoffed.
‘Well, look what happened when I tried to marry the person I’d loved since I was eighteen? That hardly turned out well.’
‘Maybe not for you!’ Sofia replied.
‘I was talking to Nita this week about her marriage. She’d met her husband three times before their wedding. She said it was chemistry, kindness and commitment that made it work, and from those things, love grew. I don’t know, I guess I began thinking about how I’d made such a rubbish choice of partner myself. I’ve been on so many awful dates in the past few years. Maybe someone else, someone with a bit of a clearer view, could make a better job of finding me a good match.’
Bridget looked at me, unusually serious. ‘I am not setting you up with a husband via Prof’s ridiculous test.’
‘Please don’t! I don’t want you to. I’m just saying, maybe it isn’t such a terrible idea. In principle.’
‘Does that mean I can set you up with some blind dates again?’ Orla asked.
‘No!’ we shouted back at her. ‘Your dates are hideous.’
‘Anyway,’ Bridget sighed, ‘if you can think of anyone who might like to apply, anyone who’s not a total loser, and would at least make a halfway decent husband or wife so I’m not left feeling guilty for the rest of my life, please let me know.’
‘There’s probably loads of people at church looking for a decent partner,’ Orla said, eyebrows raised at Sofia in question.
‘I’m not going to advise any of the congregation in my care to marry a stranger.’ She laughed. ‘Sorry, Bridget, but it doesn’t seem like an ethical thing for a church minister to do.’
‘I know. I don’t think it’s an ethical thing for me to do, either. But I like my job and I want to keep it.’ She shrugged. ‘Who knows? Maybe I’ll be flooded with applications. You can pray for me at least.’
‘I always do. But now I’ll be praying for that poor couple, as well. May God protect them from making the worst mistake of their lives!’
At that point, we heard the front door open and a moment later Moses came into the living room. A teenage boy carrying a rucksack hovered in the doorway.
