Match Me If You Can. Michele Gorman
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caught Sarah’s eye. I’m sorry, his look said, but watching your mother bleed is a big deal. ‘I’m making you an appointment with the GP tomorrow, Mum.’
This time she didn’t fight them, or dismiss the suggestion. Something was obviously wrong. The evidence was right there, dripping down her face.
But Sarah didn’t expect cancer. Maybe a sinus infection or haemophilia at a stretch, but not cancer.
She should have been more worried, but she clearly remembered not being that worried. She went whole days without thinking about her mum and her nosebleeds. Partly it was because she’d downplayed everything (another of her Parenting 101 skills) and partly it was because Sarah was caught up in her own life. Still pretty new at her job, she was excited about living in London. And she was more concerned with catching the last Tube home than her mother’s health.
She should have been bone-freezingly terrified for her.
The GP sent her off for blood tests and when they came back showing that her white blood cells were going haywire, it finally hit Sarah. This was no sinus infection or pollen allergy.
Her mum had lived two days past her six-month prognosis. Acute lymphoblastic leukaemia doesn’t like to be kept waiting, and by the time she’d gone to the GP it had already travelled to her spine. Her last weeks were horrible, painful and undignified, yet her only concern had been for them, her children. When Sarah had promised her she’d look after Sissy no matter what else happened, Sarah saw the relief in her expression. They’d already talked about what should happen if the worst came to the worst.
Sarah had wanted to come live in the house with Sissy.
‘No you will not,’ her mum had said with nearly her usual strength. ‘You can give her all the love in the world, but she’s only a child and you can’t take that responsibility. I’ve cared for her for thirteen years, every minute of every day and night. Believe me when I tell you it’s a twenty-four-hour job and you haven’t had the experience or training to do it. She’ll need someone qualified to look after her.’
‘I could learn!’ Sarah said.
‘I know you want to, love, but we have to think about what’s best for Sissy too. Promise me, Sarah. I mean it. I’ve got to know that she’ll be safe and looked after. There are good facilities that can do that. We’ll have to find one.’
Sarah had hated the idea of her little sister moving out of her home but her mum had been adamant.
‘It’s not just a matter of making sure she’s fed and clean and happy,’ her mum had said. ‘There are medical issues. What if you didn’t spot an infection in time? It wouldn’t be your fault, you wouldn’t know, but have you thought about that? Or have you thought about what you’d do if you came back here? You can’t leave Sissy alone in the house all day to work. Would you give up your job and your life to stay with her? Then I’d have to worry about you both while I’m up there knocking on the pearly gates.’
‘Don’t talk like that, Mum.’
‘Why, do you think I’m heading south instead?’ She’d pointed to the floor, mustering a laugh. ‘Promise me, Sarah.’
She’d had no choice. Every time she had brought it up, her mum panicked at the thought that Sissy wouldn’t get the care she needed. So they had a lot of really uncomfortable meetings with social services. Each time, Sarah had felt like she and Robin were plotting behind Sissy’s back. She knew her mother was right, but that didn’t make it any easier.
Thankfully, Sissy was pretty healthy. They had to watch for the infections but she didn’t have the heart defects that many Down’s syndrome kids did. And so far there was no sign of leukaemia either. Not that Mum’s was hereditary, at least as far as they knew, but Sissy was at a higher risk with her condition. There was so much that doctors didn’t know yet about Down’s, but what they did know was depressing. Sissy had a one in fifty chance of developing leukaemia by the age of five. Sarah was sure their mum had known this. Not that she’d have worried them with such a potentially deadly fact.
But Sissy was beating the odds (screw you, Fate! thought Sarah).
Each birthday that they celebrated put more distance between her and the disease. She could still get it, but every time she blew out her birthday candles, the odds swung further in her favour.
‘But, Georgina,’ Catherine tried again, glancing at the time, ‘I’m just suggesting that you might have better luck if you were a little less …’
Picky?
Petty?
Unrealistic, spoilt or exasperating?
‘… less restrictive in your requirements,’ she finally said. They’d been on the phone for nearly ten minutes, going round and round. She’d never refunded a client’s fee before but she was nearly ready to cut a cheque for this woman.
It was only supposed to be a routine checking-in call. They had them weekly with their Love Match clients, but this had turned into Georgina’s bitch session about the quality of the men she’d been set up with.
It was setting Catherine’s teeth on edge.
No, hang on, that wasn’t really fair, she reminded herself. Yes, Georgina was a pain in the arse, but what was really making her cross was knowing that Richard and Magda were lying in wait to ruin her night straight after the call.
‘Are you saying there’s something wrong with my approach?’ Georgina demanded. ‘Because I’ve never had any complaints before.’
No, thought Catherine. And you’ve not had that many dates either.
‘But everyone can benefit from an outside perspective,’ she said instead of what she was thinking. ‘That’s my job, after all. In fact …’
She knew she’d regret her next words but she also knew that Georgina would never get anywhere in her current state. ‘In fact, we do offer another service here that may interest you. It’s an advisory relationship.’
‘But you already advise me.’
Catherine heard the snarky ditto marks around the word advise. She took a deep breath. Calm professionalism, that’s what she needed to get through this call.
‘Well, I do guide you towards suitable men, yes. But this is more about working together to overcome any barriers that may be stopping you from finding what you’re looking for.’
‘What kind of barriers?’ Georgina sounded suspicious. ‘How much does this cost? I’m not keen to pay more money when, to be honest, I’m not a hundred per cent convinced about the service as it is.’
Catherine bit her tongue. ‘It’s completely free.’
‘I see. And what kind of advice would you give me, for example, if I said yes?’
Catherine glanced again at her mobile as it flashed incoming emails at her.
She was going to be late for dinner. She’d managed to put it off for nearly a month already. Now it would look even more like she didn’t want to meet Magda.
But no, this was work. Let Richard wait. Magda would just have to stay up past her bedtime.
‘Well, you could streamline your criteria. Home in on the five or six things that are really critical to you.’ She scanned down the long, long list of requirements Georgina had insisted on since she joined. ‘For example, are you sure you wouldn’t consider someone who golfs? Even the occasional round?’
‘But Catherine,