‘Mmm,’ said Sian, ‘I’m not so sure about that. I think you’d be just as bossy even if you’d been the youngest.’
‘Cheeky cow!’ Joanne gave her a playful thump on the arm and they all laughed. There was a short pause while they watched Andy run around the garden, the children in hot pursuit.
‘Andy’ll make a great dad,’ observed Joanne.
The assumption behind the question needled Sian. With her wedding pencilled in for next year she thought it best to put Joanne straight. ‘Andy doesn’t want to be a dad.’
Joanne tucked her chin in and frowned. ‘Has he said that?’
‘Yes. We’ve talked about it at length.’
‘But you’re getting married.’ Joanne brought her perplexed gaze to bear on Sian.
‘So?’ Sian returned a hard stare.
‘But … but the whole point of getting married is to have a family, or at least try for one. Isn’t it, Louise?’
A twisted smile passed fleetingly across Louise’s lips. ‘You’re asking the wrong person, Joanne,’ she said, grimly.
‘Well, you know what I mean,’ said Joanne, with a dismissive wave of her hand and a faint blush on her cheek. She quickly brought her gaze back to Sian and ploughed on as though she had not touched a raw nerve with Louise. ‘That’s one of the reasons most people get married anyway.’
Sian smiled patiently. ‘We’re not like most people, Joanne. You know that.’
‘But what about you, Sian? Don’t you want children?’ said Louise with a look of curiosity on her face.
As though she was the one who was utterly mad, thought Sian, and not the rest of the world. She took a drink of wine and collected her thoughts, remembering the way Oli had looked so lovingly at his mother.
‘I don’t need children to make me happy. Not my own anyway. I have my nieces and nephew, don’t I?’
Joanne shot Louise an appalled look and Sian went on, ‘Don’t act so surprised. Sure you both know I’ve never wanted children.’
‘But that was before you met Andy.’ Joanne’s voice was full of dismay.
They all looked out across the garden at Andy who was crouched down, talking to Oli.
‘And,’ said Louise, who had been quiet for some moments, ‘you used to want children. When you were a little girl you played with your dolls all the time.’
Sian sighed. ‘That was before I knew what … what I know now.’
Joanne shot Louise a cautious glance. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘There are simply too many people on the planet. And I for one would rather reduce the human population with voluntary birth control than war and famine.’
Joanne rolled her eyes at Louise, then buried her expression in a big glassful of wine.
Sian sighed, feeling belittled by her older sister yet again. ‘Anyway,’ she went on, doing her best to ignore Joanne. ‘I couldn’t possibly run the shop and look after a baby at the same time. Plus The Friends of Ballyfergus Lough takes up almost all my spare time. And I don’t see the point of having a child if you pay other people to look after it all day. Do you?’
‘Some people don’t have any choice,’ said Louise.
Sian’s reply was swift. ‘But they do, you see. They have the choice not to have the child in the first place.’
Louise shrugged, indicating that she wasn’t going to take the discussion any further. She knitted her brows together, pulled her thin beige cardigan tightly around her body and asked, ‘But don’t you have any … any maternal feelings?’
‘Nope.’ Sian shook her head.
Louise persisted. ‘No desire, no urge, to give birth to your own child?’
Sian shivered involuntarily – the very idea making her break out in a cold sweat. ‘No.’ She had meant what she said about the need to curb the growth of the human population, but that wasn’t the only reason why she would never have a child of her own.
‘I imagine seeing Abbey born put you right off,’ said Joanne flippantly.
Sian tried to laugh in response but it came out off key. ‘It was very special being there,’ she said blandly, not wanting to hurt Joanne’s feelings, and added, ‘Though I have to admit it was a bit scary.’
‘Well, I think you might be making a mistake,’ said Louise, staring at her son. ‘Having Oli is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.’
‘Is that why you had him? For you to feel happy?’ The words, judgemental and accusing, slipped out before Sian could stop them.
Louise looked at her younger sister with steely blue eyes and her voice in response, though defensive, had a well-practised air about it. ‘Yes, one of the reasons I had Oli was because I felt something was lacking in my life.’ A pause to let this sink in. ‘I’ve thought harder about this than most people, Sian, and you’re right, choosing to have a child is an entirely selfish act. But I’m no different from anyone else in that respect, married or single.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ snorted Joanne. ‘I’m never done doing things for my three. I can’t remember when I last put myself first.’
‘I’m not disputing that,’ said Sian. ‘As a mother you do selfless things every day but the decision to have a child in the first place is self-centred. That child doesn’t exist unless you create it. It’s not asking to be born. It doesn’t need to be born. You have it to enhance your life and make you feel fulfilled in many different ways.’
Joanne shrugged and pulled a face. ‘People usually say the opposite – those that choose not to have children are the selfish ones.’ She flashed a quick glance at Sian who opened her mouth to respond but before she could do so, Joanne turned her attention back to Louise. ‘But it’s an interesting point. I guess I haven’t ever really considered my motivation for having children.’
‘You haven’t had to. No one’s ever accused you of being selfish just because you’re a mother, Joanne,’ said Louise, effectively bringing to an end this particular thread of the conversation.
She turned her gaze, softened now, to Sian. ‘All I’m saying is don’t make any hasty decisions, Sian, and don’t leave it too late either. You might regret it.’
Sian sighed and tried to smile. The decision was far from a hasty one. In fact she was quite sure that she’d put more thought into the implications of not having a child than Joanne ever put into having hers – and at least as much as Louise. She’d come to terms with the idea that she would never be a mother and she was certain that her decision was the right one for her – and Andy. It frustrated her no end that her sisters treated her like she didn’t know her own mind. In fact, while paying lip-service to the idea of sustainable living, they treated everything she felt passionate about as though it was all some big joke. Just like they’d always done. Perhaps it was time to prove to them that she was serious.
She had tried to get her doctor to sterilise her when she was in her early twenties and again when she was thirty, but he had refused. But she was older now and about to be married to a man who felt the same as she did about having children. No doctor would refuse her now, surely?
‘Right! Time out!’ called Andy and he formed his hands, like a basketball coach, into the internationally recognised ‘t’ signal. He loped across the grass towards the women in a few athletic strides, his face beaming. He came to a halt in front of Sian and ran his hand through his hair. ‘That lot are absolutely crazy,’ he said rubbing his right elbow, and then the small of his back. There were smears of mud and grass down the front of his T-shirt. Sian put