Some Girls Do

Chapter Twenty-two




In 1990 Jacqueline Ffrench travelled to Romania, moved by the reports about the horrors of Romanian orphanages that emerged after the fall of Ceauescu’s regime in 1989. She left with a truckload of clothes and toys, and a desire to help. She returned home with a family – her three-year old daughter, Alina, and seven-year-old son, Luca.

But back home in Ireland, while she quickly bonded with the little girl, her adoptive son felt like a stranger to her. As she went through the motions of mothering the little boy, she struggled to give him what he needed most – the love and affection that had been missing his whole life. In this brutally honest account, the author writes movingly about her failure to connect with her son and confronts the heartbreaking truth that love doesn’t come to command, and sometimes good intentions aren’t enough.


Claire’s finger hovered over the ‘Buy Now’ button. She felt guilty, as if she was prying into Luca’s private life – which was ridiculous, since the book was available to anyone who cared to read it. But that did nothing to ease her conscience. The idea of strangers poring over the detritus of his miserable childhood sickened her, and she experienced a rush of hatred towards the woman she had never met. How could she have done that to him? Wasn’t it bad enough that she didn’t love him, without publicly humiliating and betraying him by using their relationship as material? Had she never thought what effect it might have on him? She stared hard at the author photo, as if she could find some answers there, but all she saw was an attractive blonde woman with a pleasant smile.

She took a deep breath and clicked to order the book, then went downstairs to help her mother get ready for tonight. Yvonne would have a conniption if she could see her now, preparing to spend Friday night playing cards with a bunch of pensioners – and, even worse, looking forward to it. But her mother’s friends were fun, and Claire enjoyed their regular Friday-evening gatherings more than she’d ever enjoyed noisy bars or nightclubs. Sometimes she was secretly glad that all her friends were coupled up and she had no one trying to drag her out on the pull at weekends. Of course, she did yearn for a boyfriend sometimes, but she wasn’t prepared to endure the bar scene to find one. Anyway, she had Luca now. Okay, he wasn’t her boyfriend, but they were good friends and they were having regular sex, so it was close enough. She was looking forward to seeing him tonight, though she was still half expecting him not to turn up. He might find he had something better to do when the time came.

In the kitchen her mother was sitting at the table spooning tomato sauce onto pizza bases. A couple of lemon drizzle cakes fresh from the oven were cooling on racks on the worktop.

‘You’ve been busy,’ Claire said, bending over the cakes and inhaling deeply. ‘They smell amazing.’ She went to the fridge and took out the pizza toppings she had prepared when she got in from work.

‘Mum,’ she said, as she joined her mother at the table and began assembling pizzas, ‘do you remember a book that was out a while back by a woman called Jacqueline Ffrench about a child she adopted from Romania and couldn’t bond with?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Espie responded immediately. ‘It caused a bit of a stir, and it was a big hit. I always felt so sorry for that little boy.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘I remember seeing her on The Late Late Show, and everyone saying how brave she was to write that book, like she’d done something marvellous. But I thought it was cruel. No mother should do that to her child.’ She spooned a dollop of sauce into the centre of a pizza base and circled her spoon, working it outwards. ‘She actually said at one point that she wished she could give him back.’


‘Christ!’

‘I know – like a pair of shoes that you’d return to the shop. And people were telling her she was great to admit her feelings.’ Espie sighed. ‘I wonder what happened to that boy.’ She slid the pizza across to Claire so that she could load it with toppings. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘I’ve met him,’ Claire said quietly, as she sprinkled on grated cheese. She looked up at her mother. ‘So have you.’

Espie frowned questioningly at her. Then her eyes widened. ‘Luca?’ she gasped, a hand flying to her mouth.

Claire nodded.

‘Oh, my God! Poor Luca – and he’s such a pet.’

‘Don’t say anything to him,’ Claire said. ‘I don’t think he likes to talk about it.’

‘I’m sure he doesn’t. When I think of what happened to all those children,’ Espie said, tears welling in her eyes. ‘I’ll never forget seeing those orphanages on TV – all those babies with no one to love them. How could people treat children like that?’

‘I don’t know,’ Claire said sadly.

‘And then, after all that, to end up with a mother who just wanted rid of him!’ She sighed. ‘Do you know how he gets on with his family now?’

‘He has a sister he seems really close to. She was adopted at the same time. But I get the impression there’s no love lost between him and his mother.’

‘I’m not surprised.’

‘His sister’s invited me to her birthday party. I’ll probably have to meet her at that. I don’t know how I’m going to be civil to her.’

Espie looked at Claire thoughtfully. ‘You’re very fond of him, aren’t you?’

‘Yeah.’ Claire smiled. ‘I am.’

‘He’s welcome to spend the night here, if you want him to, Claire. You do know that, don’t you?’

‘I know, Mum. But it’s not like that.’

‘You don’t have to worry about my heart. I won’t expire from the shock of it. Or cast you out for bringing shame on our house.’

Claire smiled. ‘I know. But we’re just friends, honestly.’

‘Seems an awful waste to me.’

‘Actually, there’s someone else – well, potentially. He lives in London. He’s coming over next Saturday, and I’m going over for a weekend soon – if that’s all right with you.’

‘Of course. I’ll be fine. Where did you meet this one? Another “evening class”?’

‘I know him online, from Twitter and stuff. And he was in Dublin a couple of weeks ago and we met up.’

‘Truly, you are the darkest of horses,’ Espie said, looking at her quizzically. ‘Not a man in sight, and then, the minute I turn my back, they’re swarming out of the woodwork. Maybe I should go into hospital more often.’

‘Please don’t. If that’s what it takes, I’d rather join a nunnery.’

‘You’d make a lovely nun.’ Her mother smiled mischievously.

‘I’d lead a life of quiet contemplation and find solace in my books.’

‘And reflect on your sins,’ Espie said, passing the last pizza to Claire for topping. ‘You’d better get started on doing some sinning first or you’ll have nothing to reflect on and you’ll be bored out of your tree.’ She began to get up as the doorbell rang.

‘I’ll go,’ Claire said, waving her mother back down.

‘Hiya.’ Luca grinned as she opened the door.

‘You came!’ She beamed.

‘I told you I would, didn’t I?’ He stepped into the hall and gave her a peck on the cheek.

‘I just thought you might change your mind.’

‘Why would you think that?’

‘Well, it’s not exactly cool, spending Friday night hanging out with my mum and her friends.’

‘Cool?’ Luca rolled his eyes. ‘I’m not sixteen,’ he said, as he followed her into the kitchen.

‘Luca! It’s lovely to see you again, darling.’

The doorbell rang again. Espie picked up her crutches and went to answer it, waving away Claire’s protests. She came back with Jim just as Claire was sliding the pizzas into the oven. A big bear of a man with a long grey ponytail, he was carrying a large pipes bag on one shoulder and a twelve-pack of beer in his arms. Jim was an old boyfriend of Espie’s, but they were still very fond of each other. He had been around for as long as Claire could remember and she often wondered why they had split up. They would have made such a great couple.

‘Claire!’ Jim set the beer down on the table, shrugged the instrument bag onto the floor, and enveloped her in a hug. ‘And who have we here?’ he said, turning to Luca.

‘This is Claire’s friend, Luca,’ Espie said.

‘Very pleased to meet you, Luca,’ he said, shaking his hand firmly. ‘Do you play?’

‘Play?’

‘An instrument,’ Espie explained. ‘I forgot to ask you. We usually have a bit of music after cards.’

‘Oh, no. I’m not really musical at all.’

‘You sing maybe?’ Jim asked eagerly.

‘Not really. Just in the shower, and Claire will tell you it’s nothing to write home about,’ he said, smiling at her.

Espie gave Claire a sharp look. ‘Luca’s an artist,’ she told Jim, as proudly as if he was her own son.

‘An artist?’ Jim was clearly impressed. ‘Well, isn’t that wonderful?’

Claire broke open the beer carton and started putting bottles into the fridge. ‘I’m just going to finish setting up inside,’ she said, when she was done.

‘I’ll help,’ Luca said, following her out of the kitchen.


‘Why did you say that about the shower?’ Claire hissed, as soon as they were out of earshot. She started laying out plates on the large round table. ‘Here, put these around,’ she said, handing Luca a packet of napkins.

‘Sorry. I didn’t realise it was a secret.’

‘That we’re sleeping together? Yeah, it kind of is.’

‘Why? Are you ashamed of me?’

‘No, of course not! But that doesn’t mean it’s something I want to discuss with my mum.’

‘Your mum’s cool. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.’

‘Oh, she wouldn’t. She was saying it was okay for you to spend the night here.’

‘Really?’ Luca paused in what he was doing and raised his eyebrows. ‘So I have your mother’s permission to have my wicked way with you under her roof?’ he asked, with a crooked smile.

‘But I said we were just friends, and I told her about Mark, and then you come in and say that—’

‘Sorry.’

She sighed. ‘It’s all right.’

‘We could be friends with benefits.’

‘I suppose.’ She knew her mother wouldn’t bat an eyelid, and it would be handy if Luca could stay here sometimes. She took a handful of glasses from the sideboard and began putting them around. ‘You don’t have to stay for the music, by the way, if you don’t want to.’

‘I’d like to.’

‘They’re pretty good. Jim plays the uilleann pipes, and Mum plays the bodhrán. But feel free to leave any time, if you get bored.’

‘So, what about you? Do you play any instrument?’

‘Not really,’ she said, blushing. ‘I mean I do kind of join in the sessions sometimes, but it’s not exactly an instrument …’


‘Do you sing?’

‘No.’

‘What, then?’

‘It’s kind of embarrassing,’ she said, wincing.

Luca grinned. ‘Is it a comb and paper?’

‘No! Though that’s not far off.’

‘Go on … tell me.’

‘Spoons,’ she mumbled. ‘I play the spoons.’

Luca threw back his head and laughed. ‘You play the spoons? Seriously?’

‘Hey!’ she said, punching his shoulder playfully. ‘Jim taught me when I was a kid.’

‘So is it just the spoons, or do you play any other kitchen implements? Garlic press? Cheese grater?’

‘Okay, it’s not a sexy instrument, I’ll give you that.’

‘It’s not an instrument. It’s cutlery.’

‘Well, it’s more than you can play.’

The doorbell was ringing as she finished setting the table. Espie led everyone into the sitting room and introduced them to Luca.

Lily was a stooped, white-haired lady with a kind, wrinkled face. ‘Luca, I’ll try to remember that,’ she said, as she shook his hand. ‘My memory’s not what it used to be. Lady Gaga, that’s me.’

It was a joke she had made many times before, but Espie, Claire and Jim laughed anyway.

Mary was next, a stout woman with a shock of wiry grey hair and a permanently harried expression, carrying a violin case. ‘Lovely to meet you, Luca,’ she said, as she took his hand in her gnarled, twisted fingers. ‘I brought the fiddle,’ she said, to Espie and Jim, ‘but I don’t know if I’ll be able to play. The arthritis has been very bad this past week. But I’ll give it a go and see how I get on.’

Espie’s neighbours, Nancy and Michael, were carrying guitars. They had lived across the road from Espie since they had moved to Dublin from Cork almost twenty years ago.

Everyone dumped instrument cases and greeted each other before taking their places at the large round table. They were a motley collection of people, brought together at various stages by Espie, but they had forged strong friendships over the years, and Claire was touched by their joy in each other’s company.

‘So, we have new blood,’ Jim said, rubbing his hands as he sat beside Luca.

‘Do you know how to play forty-five, Luca?’ Espie asked him.

‘Haven’t a clue.’

‘Ah, not just new blood,’ Jim said. ‘Prey!’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t let them fleece you,’ Espie said.

‘We only play for small change,’ Claire said to Luca, as she sat beside him.


As the evening wore on, Claire kept them supplied with a steady supply of food and booze. It was good to see her mother enjoying herself, and she was glad that Luca seemed happy too. He was a big hit with the ladies, who fussed over him, plying him with pizza and cake, and telling him how handsome he was.

‘It’s good to have another man to swell the ranks,’ Michael told him. ‘We’re sorely outnumbered, aren’t we, Jim?’

‘Aye. We’re a dying breed,’ Jim agreed.

‘Well, women live longer,’ Espie said, ‘because we’re tougher and lead exemplary lives. Speaking of which, you must come for my birthday next month, Luca. We’re having a bit of a party.’

‘Great! I’d love to.’

‘I’ll be sixty-nine, but I’m celebrating anyway.’

‘So, where are you from, Luca?’ Jim asked, during a lull, while they waited for Lily to play a card.

‘I grew up here, in Dublin. I was adopted from Romania.’

‘Romania? Were you in one of those awful orphanages?’ Nancy asked, with a pitying expression.

‘Yeah. I was in a couple, actually.’

Claire shot him an apologetic look and he gave her a little shrug, seemingly not bothered.

‘Ah, that’s terrible,’ Jim said, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘I’m sorry for that.’

‘Have another piece of cake,’ Mary said, sliding the plate across to him. ‘Sure there isn’t a pick on you.’

‘They were desperate places, weren’t they?’ Michael shook his head sadly.

‘It was no Disneyland,’ Luca said.

‘Shooting was too good for that bastard Ceauescu and his wife,’ Espie said.

‘But you’re here now,’ Jim said consolingly, putting a hand over Luca’s on the table. ‘That’s the main thing.’

‘And you’ve got a great girl there,’ Michael added, giving Claire a wink.

Claire squirmed, but Luca grinned as he took another huge slice of cake.

‘It’s still your turn, Lily,’ Espie said, nudging her.

‘What’s trumps again?’

‘Diamonds,’ everyone chorused patiently.


‘Do you have any songs of your people, Luca?’ Michael asked later, as they all set up to play.

‘He’s from Dalkey,’ Claire said.

‘Sorry. I haven’t been in Romania since I was seven. Anyway, I’m not a singer.’

‘He only sings for Claire’s benefit, apparently,’ Espie said archly.

‘Actually, do you have any paper?’ Luca asked Claire.

‘Sure.’ She went across the hall to the room she used as a study and grabbed a sheaf of A4.

‘Thanks,’ he said, when she handed it to him, and produced a pencil from a pocket. ‘Do you guys mind if I sketch you?’ he asked, raising the pencil and paper.

‘No, not at all,’ Espie said, and everyone agreed.

Luca’s fingers flew over the paper as they began to play, and Claire watched him, fascinated not only by his skill but by the way he seemed to capture the very essence of each person with just a few strokes. Soon the table was covered with sketches. ‘They’re really good,’ he said, nodding at the shambolic group of musicians.

‘They are.’ They were all playing well, and Nancy and Jim, who took turns singing, both had beautiful voices.

The only discordant note was the violin, which constantly jarred on the ear as Mary kept hitting wrong notes. ‘Sorry, that was brutal, wasn’t it?’ she said, when they had finished the first song. ‘I can’t seem to get my hands to do what I want them to do.’

‘It was grand, Mary!’ Jim said. ‘We all know what you meant.’

‘Maybe I should stop playing,’ she fretted. ‘I don’t want to spoil it for everyone.’

‘Don’t be daft,’ Espie said. ‘It wouldn’t be the same without you.’

‘Oh, well if you’re sure …’ Newly emboldened, Mary scraped away for the rest of the evening, missing more notes than she hit, but clearly having a whale of a time.


‘I take it all back,’ Luca said later, when they were alone in the kitchen. ‘Spoons is a very sexy instrument.’ He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, one hand sliding up underneath her shirt to caress the bare skin of her back. ‘I’ve missed you,’ he said. ‘It seems like ages since you’ve been in my bed.’

‘I’ve missed you too.’

He bent to kiss her again, and Claire clung to him, kissing him back, her breathing becoming ragged.

‘I won’t be able to see you next week either,’ she said. ‘There’s a book launch at the shop on Thursday, Mark’s coming over on Saturday, and I don’t want to leave Mum on her own too often.’

‘Mark’s coming over?’ He frowned, releasing her.


‘Just for the night.’

‘But you’re still sticking to your five-date rule?’

‘Yeah. I still need more practice.’

‘Okay. Good. Don’t let him rush you into anything.’

‘I won’t,’ she said, laughing at his grumpy expression and his over-protective attitude. If she didn’t know better, she’d almost have thought he was jealous.

‘Ready, Luca?’ Jim said, appearing in the doorway. He had offered Luca a lift home.

‘I’ll see you the Saturday after next, then,’ he said, as Claire saw them to the door. ‘You’re still coming to Ali’s party with me?’

‘Definitely. I’ll pick you up.’