Page 36 of Experiments in Offline Dating

Maya: Hey! What about that lasagna I made you yesterday?

Jackie: Good Lord, I’ll be buggered over a barrel if that wasn’t the best lasagna I’ve ever had in my life. I had three servings and then another after we came home from the pub. Irish fellas like a girl who can cook, Maya. I’ve already told half the village about that lasagna.

Maya: You have? That explains a lot, actually. Last night I had three guys ask me if I was Italian. And one man came up to me and asked for the recipe for Alfredo sauce. Then he asked me if I wanted to go home with him. But only after he had confirmed that I could cook an Alfredo.

Jackie: I told you they’d be lining up, didn’t I?

Maya: Yeah, but I didn’t know it would be plate in hand. Okay, so we want to know more about you, Jackie! I think I can guess the answer to this, but how did you become a matchmaker?

Jackie: Well, I suppose you could say I was born into it, like my father, and his father before him, and his father before him. The Kellys have a reputation for love around here.

Maya: And so would you say that there was family pressure? Expectation?

Jackie: I wouldn’t, no. I was one of five boys and four girls, and we all tried our hand at matchmaking at one point or another, mostly when we were young, because we liked the attention. I reckon if I had wanted to be, I might have been an accountant or a solicitor or a plumber, and for a time I did move to Dublin to have a go at being a professional photographer. My sister Joany was the local matchmaker for a while, but she says she got tired of all the phone calls and late nights at the pub.

Maya: So what made you choose it, then?

Jackie: Well, I love phone calls and late nights at the pub!

Maya: Oh, I know you do. My sore head reminds me every morning.

Jackie: You just need a little more practice, then. But I suppose the honest answer is that I believe in love. It may sound a bit corny, but I grew up in this very house, where love was everywhere. It was what we talked about over dinner; our parents read letters to us by the fire from people writing about their wedding, or their new baby, or to ask advice on a tough relationship. There was the festival to look forward to, and we were invited to so many weddings that we had to have a separate wardrobe just for fine clothes to wear to them. Even when I was at school, people came to me for advice. One summer when I was twelve, I ran a little love clinic, and people paid me in sweeties and crisps for love advice.

Maya: That’s really cute. So, what do you like about your job?

Jackie: I’ll tell you, Maya, there’s nothin’ like the challenge of finding a match for someone, and nothing like the high you get when it works out. I have some albums here—hold on just a moment. Ah. Here we are.

Maya: Whoa!

Jackie: These are just some of the photo albums I have of happy couples I’ve made.

Maya: Those are huge. I can barely lift this thing!

Jackie: I’ve another ten or twelve in the closet under the stairs.

Maya: No way! But this is. Wow. Look at these people! There are so many. And they all look so happy. And some of these have notes. This couple named their baby after you!

Jackie: Oh, sure. There’re plenty Jackies out there now. I also have older albums that belonged to my father and grandfather. And old steamer trunks full of letters. There’s just something about them. Well, you could never just get rid of them or throw them away, could you?

Maya: I don’t know, Jackie. Maybe if I had trunks full, I could!

Jackie: Naa. These are people’s lives. And my life. There’s a little bit of me in those photos, though you can’t see it. I’m proud to have brought so many couples together. Changed their lives. Given them happiness.

Maya: Look at these! I wonder how many Irish babies you’re responsible for. Did you ever try to count?

Jackie: Whoa, now, Maya, I can guarantee that I’ve only been responsible for six Irish babies, and no more.

Maya: Six? You have six children, Jackie? That’s a lot!

Jackie: Well, it’s not too many, and it’s not too few.

Maya: I can imagine it was a noisy house!

Jackie: It was just perfect. Now I’ve got fifteen grandchildren. I’ve had to come up with a little rhyme to remember all their names!

Maya: And do you think any of them will be the next matchmaker?

Jackie: Now, that I don’t know. But I’m hoping my daughter Deidra might be taking up the torch one day. Or maybe my son Brendan. But they have the right to choose their path, just as I did. An unhappy matchmaker is about as much use as a chocolate teapot.