Match Me If You Can. Michele Gorman
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He just hadn’t planned to father Sissy so soon after meeting their mum.
Their poor mum. Her track record wasn’t great when it came to men sticking around once her epidural wore off. Sarah’s dad had been the first to run the hundred-yard dash, when Sarah was born and her brother, Robin, was a toddler. She didn’t have any interest in knowing her father. Sissy and Robin and their mum had always been enough.
Sissy found a spot under the tree for them to sit. The late autumn sun was weak and their toast turned stone-cold, but Sissy loved the garden.
‘I have a boyfriend, you know,’ she said.
‘Is that right?’ Sarah struggled to keep her voice steady. ‘Anyone I know?’
Most of the residents in the home were older than Sissy … much older.
‘Nope.’
‘Is he handsome?’
‘Yeah, and a bit fat,’ she said, nibbling her toast in perfectly even bites along each edge until she got to the last buttery golden mouthful in the middle.
‘Oh, well, that’s all right, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t mind.’
‘How old is your boyfriend?’ Sarah asked, holding her breath.
Instead of answering, Sissy brushed the fine blonde hair from her face so it didn’t interrupt her snack.
She wasn’t sly by nature, but if she got the tiniest inkling that Sarah might get upset she’d avoid her questions.
‘Same as me,’ she finally said.
At least he wasn’t some old perv, Sarah thought. Though he could still be a young one.
‘Do you and your boyfriend do fun things together?’
‘We paint and watch telly and hold hands.’
Sarah needed to talk to Kelly about this. A shared interest in EastEnders was one thing, as long as they weren’t shagging during the advert breaks.
It was probably the single biggest worry they had about Sissy. Her trusting nature was to be expected when she was little. Now that she was sixteen it could be dangerous.
As if sexual politics weren’t hard enough without Down’s syndrome.
‘Why don’t you have a boyfriend?’ Sissy asked, staring at her.
‘Do I need one?’
Evasion. It ran in the family.
‘It’s nice having one,’ she said. ‘You could bake him cupcakes.’
‘But I bake you cupcakes. Would you be happy sharing them with my boyfriend?’
Sissy thought about this for a minute. ‘You’d have to bake extra for him.’
Before Sarah left she sought out Kelly again to talk about her sister’s budding romance.
‘I know it’s hard, Sarah, but she’s growing up.’ The way Kelly said this made Sarah want to crawl into her lap for a cuddle. She had that kind of friendly authority. ‘Nature is making changes and it’s normal for her to want to explore these. She’s done really well so far when it’s come to her maturing body, right?’
Sarah nodded. She’d been the one who freaked out about Sissy’s first period. Her sister was fine with it.
‘We’re talking to her about sex and the feelings she’s starting to have,’ Kelly continued.
‘I understand that, but she’s got a mental age of nine. How can she understand what those changes mean, or how she’s supposed to handle them?’
Kelly squeezed her hand.
Just five minutes in her lap and Sarah was sure she’d feel better.
‘We help her understand things the same way we would a nine-year-old,’ she answered. ‘With a lot of clear explanation in an environment where she’s encouraged to ask questions and get honest answers. The boy she’s been spending time with is sixteen too. We keep a close eye on them and, as you know, we talk regularly to everyone here about expressing their feelings in an appropriate way.’
‘But you can’t stop hormones,’ Sarah pointed out, remembering her own teenage years. She may not have had sex till well into university but that hadn’t stopped her thinking about it a lot.
Kelly smiled. ‘I promise we’re keeping a close eye on them. And it’s good for her to have companionship. Everybody has intimacy needs. It can be unhealthy if they’re not expressed. See you on Thursday?’
‘Yep, Thursday.’
If her sixteen-year-old sister had a boyfriend, maybe she did need to think a bit more about RecycLove.
Catherine did a double take when she saw her next client. Was the universe just messing with her? After everything these past few weeks, it had to be having a laugh.
Struggling to keep her composure, she said, ‘Mr Larson? I’m Catherine. Please come through.’
But the universe didn’t answer. And when her client did, it was in a broad Australian accent.
‘Aw Catherine, don’t be so formal. You can call me Paul. Pleasure to meet ya.’
With just a glance she took in every detail, from his long legs to his shortish, nearly ginger hair and very ginger stubble, from his blue eyes to the quick smile he flashed as he sat in the wingback chair opposite her desk.
The man was the spitting image of Richard. Same aquiline nose, same strong jaw, same full lips and the kind of skin that burst into freckles at the sun’s first rays.
But he wasn’t Richard. He was definitely Paul. Australian Paul who just happened to look like her ex-husband and wanted her help finding the love of his life. She forced herself to stop staring and do her job.
‘So, Paul, I wanted us to meet so that I can get a good idea about you, your likes and dislikes and what you’re looking for in a partner. And I’d like you to feel free to ask me anything at all.’
He glanced around her office. ‘How’d you end up in this line of work?’
‘Oh, well.’ She hadn’t meant for him to ask personal questions. ‘It wasn’t a conscious plan at first. I worked for another introduction service when I first returned from the US. I simply answered her advert.’
‘Why were you in the US?’
Catherine felt her control of the interview slipping away. ‘I went with my husband when he took a job there. Now, if it’s all right, I’d like to talk a bit about you. Maybe you could start by telling me about your dating history?’
‘Straight in there, eh?’ he said.
Yeah, how’s that feel? Catherine thought. She waited for him to answer.
‘All of it?’
‘You can give me the highlights if you’d prefer.’
He scratched his stubble. ‘I wouldn’t call them highlights. I’ve gone out with a few women for a while. Mostly I just date.’
‘How long is a while?’
‘About twice as long as I should have, according to them.’
Her fingers flew over her keyboard, recording every word he said.
Issues? she typed after his last comment. Her eyes never left his. It was