‘This way, I find the best home for my baby. It can grow up to be anything it wants. Can you imagine it? Being brought up in a big house, adored by your parents, having all the money you need?’
‘Money’s not everything.’ Dympna shrugged.
‘The people who say that are the ones who’ve never been without it,’ I replied.
It was true. Dympna’s parents weren’t badly off. They had turned her loose to make a living, to see if she could make it on her own. But the ‘life lesson’ wasn’t a permanent one. She was only playing at being a grown-up, and the cleaning job was a stopgap until she decided what she wanted. The thought of her parents’ response to my predicament made bile rise in my throat.
‘You all right?’ Dympna said. ‘You’re a bit green around the gills.’
I jabbed at the space bar on my laptop as a screensaver of a whale came into view. I was beginning to wish I had never confided in my friend. ‘I just want to get this done. It’s our only day off work and you’ll be out with Seamus soon.’ Another thought entered my consciousness. ‘You mustn’t tell him. Promise. Not a word to anyone.’
Dympna crossed her heart with her finger. ‘I swear. If it’s what you want, I’m behind you all the way.’
I looked at her earnestly. ‘Are you? Really? Because if this gets out, I won’t care about anyone else. I’ll just need you to be OK with it all.’ I wished I could tell her the other half of the story, but I couldn’t bear for our friendship to be torn in two.
Throwing her arms around me, she answered with a death-grip hug. She didn’t need to say any more. We broke apart, both smiling. It had been tough, persuading her to see things my way, but we had finally broken through. Dympna was the sister I wished I’d had, and I desperately needed her support.
‘Let’s make a start,’ I said, concentrating on the screen.
‘Ooh, the power.’ Dympna smiled, gleefully scrolling through the list of prospective candidates. Sitting beside me in her sweatshirt and jeans, she was back to her jokey self. Her moods yo-yoed: she was serious one minute and laughing the next.
My plan was to get down to five prospective couples before looking at any more. The weight of responsibility felt enormous. ‘This is tricky stuff. Imagine trying to find a home for Diarmuid?’ I said, talking about her little brother. ‘How would you see these people then?’
‘What, devil child?’ She laughed. ‘I don’t hate any of these suckers that much!’
It was easy for her to say. What I would have given for a sibling when I was growing up. Someone who understood what I was going through. Dympna was my best friend, but she didn’t know the half of what had gone on. Her parents were young and trendy; they always had her back. Even Seamus, her boyfriend, was being welcomed into the fold. I would love to have known what it was like, growing up as part of a normal household.
I clicked on couple number one. Marcie and Geoff looked decent enough. She was a schoolteacher. He was a Presbyterian minister. Their bio spoke of ‘strict family values’. But they were in their late fifties. Did they have the energy to cope with the demands of a newborn child? The site accepted all age groups as long as they could afford the fees.
‘Too old and too strict,’ I said, narrowing my eyes at the frown lines on Marcie’s face. ‘She looks like she’s sucking a lemon.’
‘Agreed. Delete.’
Bubbly-looking blondes Sabrina and Felicity looked more like a pair of models than homely parents.
‘How are you with same-sex couples?’ Dympna gave me a curious glance. Their faces were pressed up against each other and they both wore cheesy grins.
‘They’re more than welcome,’ I said without hesitation. ‘I’m looking for a stable couple who are in love.’ I rested a hand on my stomach. ‘I’m sure she won’t care if her parents are male or female.’ And yet as the words left my mouth, I recalled the fire and brimstone sermons I’d sat through as a child and imagined the priest’s disapproving glare. But wouldn’t a father figure be more likely to do a bunk, just as my own had done? I sighed, wishing everything wasn’t so complicated.
‘You said she!’ Dympna twirled a lock of hair. ‘Do you think you’re having a girl?’