Page 56 of Heartbreak for the Irish Midwife

‘Ah, never worry, I’ll teach you!’ Her heart was now thumping at the thought of doing ‘The Waves of Tory’ with him, of introducing him to her culture and the joys of Irish music.

‘I’ll hold you to that.’ His voice was low and his eyes had darkened, his expression intense and compelling.

This is it! She caught her breath, knowing that she wanted his kiss more than anything. He bent his head and she lifted her chin, their lips meeting as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Maisie’s eyes fluttered closed. His mouth was moving on hers, and now their tongues were dancing, and Maisie’s entire body was taken up with desire for him.

What a kiss! Having kissed only Gerald for almost a year, it was odd to be kissing someone else, but in a good way. He knows what he’s doing, this boy! Alex’s arms slid around her, pulling her closer, and she leaned into him, delighting in the sensation of his strong body against hers. They kissed again, and again, then finally separated to breathe for a moment, foreheads touching.

His hands were stroking her hair, and trailing down her back through her thin coat, but thankfully he was making no attempt to touch her where he shouldn’t. The last weeks with Gerald had been particularly difficult – he had become even more handsy and pushy than usual, and had left her crying more than once when she had not complied with his demands. That last night had been the worst.

But Alex was different. He wasn’t like that.

‘I really like you, Maisie,’ Alex murmured, and abruptly anxiety began to run through her. A kiss was all very well, but nothing could come of this! She knew what came next – she was Catholic, and Alex was Presbyterian. It didn’t matter if she was over Gerald, or if the two of them liked each other. Ultimately, they could never be together.

‘Aye,’ she said brightly, stepping back. ‘But remember we have to work together! We probably shouldn’t have done that.’

There was hurt in his expression, and her heart turned over. ‘I don’t regret it, though.’ He shrugged. ‘Can’t see myself ever regretting it.’

‘I hope you’re right. I don’t want to regret it.’ She touched her hair, pressed one of the combs back into place. ‘Right. I better get inside, before my mammy comes looking for me!’ She wheeled away, avoiding his gaze.

‘See you!’ he called after her, but she didn’t look back.

Thankfully the house was in darkness, and ten minutes later she slid into bed beside Maureen and Molly, wee Molly protesting at her coldness and shrinking away from her.

Cold? Alex might begin to call her cold now, as Gerald had. But she had to be cold when something wasn’t right. Hopefully she had made it clear that tonight was all there could ever be. Turning on her side away from her sleeping sisters, she allowed a silent tear to make its way to the pillow.

17

November 1939

Weeks passed, and the war progressed far, far away. At home the corporation started painting white lines down the middle of roads to try to reduce the number of traffic accidents that were happening in the darkness of the blackout. Everyone had dug their gas masks out of cupboards, and were getting used to carrying them everywhere – little boxes of hard cardboard with a handle of yellow cord.

At work, there were more preparation meetings – discussions about back-up generators for electricity, and how the team might work with local volunteer services, and the extra supplies they might need if they got an influx of women frightened of giving birth at home during an air raid or gas attack. It was all very scary, but Maisie noticed how often Matron and Mr Russell said things like ‘improbable’ and ‘highly unlikely’, and took reassurance from it. Germany and Poland were very far away, and while she felt sorry for the people of Poland and what they were suffering, she desperately hoped the war wouldn’t affect Ireland.

So far, she had managed to keep her friendship with Alex at work light and cheerful, but inwardly she was experiencing something that felt suspiciously like . . . yearning. It sounded odd in her own mind to be using such a fancy word, but that was what it felt like. She had managed to get out of the October tea dance by feigning a cold, but the November event was tomorrow night, and she was going to have to go. Keeping away from him was vital, for she was far, far too drawn to him, and dancing was dangerous when it was with him.

At work they saw each other regularly, and often met for tea breaks or dinner breaks when their shifts overlapped. Peggy was doing more and more shifts with the district team, which she loved, but it meant that sometimes there were only the three of them – Maisie, Alex, and Dan – at their favourite table in the hospital canteen. Maisie was now based in labour ward, and was working a pattern of a week of day shifts followed by a week of night shifts. She loved her work, and all her confidence was gradually coming back. She often thought of Mrs Lennon, wondering how she was doing now, and would light a wee candle for her regularly.

Yearning. Had she felt like this during the early days with Gerald? Maisie couldn’t recall, but everything had happened really quickly with Gerald – too quickly, she reflected now. Caught up in the excitement of having a young, handsome army officer showering her with compliments and kisses, Maisie had allowed her head to be turned, and look at how that had ended up!

To be fair, she rarely thought of Gerald now – a sign that she had definitely turned a corner that day when she had begun to think of him differently. With Alex, the difference was that this time, she knew they weren’t suited and so wouldn’t allow herself to get sucked in.

Not suited. That was a complicated thought. Gerald and she hadn’t suited because he had turned out to be an eejit and a bully, with his class and his religion being added complications. This time she was in Belfast, and she and Alex didn’t suit because she was a Catholic girl from Dunlewey Street, and him a rich Protestant from somewhere up the Cliftonville. Ironically, mixed marriages had been common in London, and there were occasional tales of mixed couples from here who had left Ireland, taking their mixed marriage to England where such things were more accepted.

But we’re not in London. She was home, and having lived away from Ireland and from her family for a whole year, Maisie knew it would kill her to do that again. So there was no point in starting something with Alex, even if it ended in the unlikely situation of the two of them married and having to move to England to be together – something that would be doomed to failure, for it would break her heart to leave her family again.

Besides, there was no suggestion that he wanted more from her anyway. Since their parting on the night of the September Orpheus dance, he had been friendly, but nothing more. He had seemed to be a bit put out at her breezy response to their kiss at the time . . . but then, men were like that, so they were.

So going to the tea dance tomorrow night would be fine. Completely fine. She was on night duty tonight but would sleep during the day tomorrow, then go out in the evening.

‘Maisie, for the tenth time, would you bloody listen to me!’

‘Sorry, Mammy. I was miles away.’ Bringing her attention back to her own living room, she listened as Mammy went through her list of foods to buy for the Christmas. One or two extra items a week would be put in the Christmas cupboard from now on, and well dare anybody touch them.

‘I was thinking of gettin’ our Matty a pair of capped work boots for Christmas. I seen a pair in thon Dolcis shop in Castle Place that would do him lovely.’

‘Ah, that’s a great idea. What are you looking yourself, Mammy?’ It would fall to Maisie to make sure Mammy had something wrapped up for Christmas morning. Da wouldn’t have a clue.