Page 38 of Heartbreak for the Irish Midwife

‘Are we still talking about Mrs Lennon?’

Damn, he was far too perceptive. She shrugged, hoping the view he seemed to have directly into her soul was shuttering. ‘It applies to the situation today, but I’ve found it useful with other things in my life.’

‘Like?’ He had stopped eating, and was watching her intently.

‘I suppose I get disappointed,’ she said carefully. ‘By people. By the world. I worry.’

He nodded slowly. ‘I get that. I’m a bit different, I suppose. I don’t tend to . . . what’s the word? Ruminate.’

‘What a great word! I have an image in my head now of a very wise cow, chewing the cud and figuring out all the mysteries of life.’

He laughed. ‘For all we know, they might well have figured everything out already. They’re just waiting to be consulted!’

She laughed along, then they ate some more wheaten in companionable silence. ‘One thing I’d like to understand better, and I hope you won’t mind me asking . . . ’ He took another sip of tea. ‘The Catholic religion. Mrs Lennon, you know? How different are her beliefs to mine? I’m Presbyterian. I think it would help me as a doctor to understand it, since there are so many Catholics coming into the Royal.’

She thought about this for a moment. He seemed genuine, and if it would help even one woman to have her religious beliefs understood and respected, then that would be a good thing, surely?

‘I don’t think it is very different, to be honest. Don’t tell anybody I said that!’ She frowned. ‘Actually, I don’t know that much about Presbyterians. When I was in London my boyf— I knew someone who was Anglican, and we couldn’t work out many differences at all – except transubstantiation, which is frankly, a bit far-fetched.’

‘All right, I’ll ask.’ Laughter danced in his eyes. ‘What is transubstantiation and why is it far-fetched?’

‘Right. So you know the bread and wine, and how Jesus said “this is my body” and “this is my blood” at the Last Supper?’

‘I do, aye. A lifetime of bible classes.’

‘Well, Catholics believe that the bread and wine literally changes. Like, literally.’ She rolled her eyes, then ducked, looking about and adding furtively, ‘God, I hope nobody heard me! If Father Wallis finds out, I’ll be excommunicated!’

He laughed, then asked what ‘excommunicated’ meant. They talked for ages, then left together, walking up the Falls, past St Paul’s church, where even now the dour Father Wallis might be administering confessions. Don’t think about him! On they went, past Dunville Park and the shops, until they reached the corner of Dunlewey Street. Alex had his bicycle, which he wheeled alongside them. He seemed in no hurry to go home.

‘This is me,’ said Maisie, and he eyed the street keenly. Nerves rose within her. What does he make of Dunlewey Street? She tried to look at it through his eyes. A big convent on the corner, the school, the mill and chimney down the bottom, and most of the street taken up by tiny red-brick houses. ‘I suppose you’re thinking the houses are awful small. We’re all millies around here. Well, most of us.’ She lifted her chin. Well dare he say anything to criticise her community!

‘Actually I was thinking how well you’ve done to qualify as a midwife. It mustn’t have been easy for your family to get the fees and all sorted.’ He grimaced. ‘Sorry! I didn’t mean to be patronising. I genuinely—’

‘No, it’s all right.’ She could see he was mortified. ‘I can tell you don’t mean anything bad.’

‘No.’

‘Well, Maisie!’ Someone hailed her from behind and she turned.

‘Matty!’ A huge smile split her face as she saw her brother. He was clearly on his way home after his first day as an apprentice painter. ‘How did you get on?’

‘Good,’ he said sheepishly. ‘I done all right.’

‘Ah that’s class!’ Overcome, she threw her arms around him. Good news was powerful today.

‘Here, go easy, Maisie!’ The tips of his ears had turned pink, and he was looking askance at Alex.

‘Sorry, sorry! This is my friend Alex from work. Alex, this is my brother Matty.’

‘Brother!’ he echoed, then stuck out a hand. ‘Good to meet you, Matty.’

‘And you. Right, I’m away on in.’

‘I’ll be in in a minute.’

He raised a hand in farewell, and she noticed Alex watching to see which house Matty went into. ‘I bet yours is a bit bigger than ours.’ It didn’t matter if he judged her. She knew she had the best deal, even if he lived in a mansion. No family could be better than her own.

‘Aye, a bit. But a house is a house, right?’