Page 61 of Heartbreak for the Irish Midwife

He grinned. ‘I’m glad we agree.’

So there it was. Settled. They would be light. They could kiss again, and not let their families know, and everything would be perfect. The music was starting again so Alex rose, his fingers trailing against the back of her neck as he slid his arm out from behind her. Sensation fizzed through her. My God!

‘Do you want to dance?’ he asked, his hand outstretched, and she nodded.

‘I do.’ Walking with him to the dance floor, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something momentous had just happened. Where it would lead, she had no idea. But Alex was special, and they were going to kiss on the way home, and that was enough.

It had to be enough, since in its own way this was as doomed as her relationship with Gerald had been. Would she end up being hurt again? Perhaps. But something light was right for her at this point – and this time, she would go into it with her eyes open and her heart guarded.

So they did kiss again – delicious kisses in the darkness when he walked her home. And after they parted she made her way down her street and into the house feeling beautifully strange – as though walking on a cloud. This was all part of it, she told herself. It would wear off, so there was nothing to worry about. But this time, she fell asleep with the smallest of smiles on her lips.

19

The St John’s céilís were renowned in West Belfast, attracting people from throughout Catholic West Belfast and further afield. Most locals walked there, but there were quite a few bicycles and even some motor cars outside the parish hall as Maisie and Peggy arrived.

Peggy’s friend Kathleen came up to greet them, a girl called Therese by her side. Kathleen was an apprentice handywoman and had worked alongside Peggy in that role before Peggy had gone to train as a certified midwife.

Having bagsied some seats on the girls’ side of the hall by the simple expedient of placing their coats on them – Maisie still absurdly proud of the fact she now had a coat rather than a milly’s shawl – they bought minerals and chatted idly. Therese wandered off when the three childbirth experts began talking ‘shop’, and so they got stuck in even more, Kathleen quizzing the qualified midwives on what would happen to pregnant women if Nazi planes did decide to attack Belfast.

‘God, it doesn’t bear thinking about!’ said Peggy, shuddering. ‘But we would just do what we always do, as midwives and handywomen. Support the women.’

‘Aye, I suppose. I’m thinking about air raid shelters and stuff.’

Maisie was picturing the same. ‘There’d be no privacy in the public shelters. I saw them building one down in Royal Avenue. It’s only a big concrete hut, so it is.’

‘Aye.’ Peggy nodded, her expression thoughtful. ‘Early labour would probably stop in one of them huts. Women in labour don’t like being looked at.’

‘Or being afraid!’ Kathleen added. ‘You’re right, if she was only starting it would probably all pause for a while. I’d be more worried about a woman being taken there when she’s well on.’

‘If she was pushing or near pushing the baby would come regardless.’ Maisie nodded slowly. ‘The district midwives would all have their kit bags, so they’d be all right if they were asked to help with a birth in an unusual spot.’

‘Handywomen have their bags for home births too. It would be the hospital midwives who might be the least prepared.’ Peggy grimaced. ‘Ironic, isn’t it? We rely on the equipment stores in the hospital, which means we’re less prepared for real-life situations.’

‘What about the flying squad?’ Maisie was thinking out loud. ‘When they get called to an emergency at a home birth, there are grab bags for both the midwives and the doctors.’

‘Aye. Dan says the obstetricians are planning to have a bigger stock, in case there’s trouble and women who need the hospital can’t get there.’

‘What’s a flying squad?’ Kathleen asked curiously, and Peggy explained.

‘It’s an emergency team of a midwife and a doctor. They go to a woman’s house if there’s an emergency and she can’t be moved easily – like a bleed or if she has fits.’

‘Good to know,’ said Kathleen, nodding firmly before sending Peggy a glance filled with mischief. ‘Is Dan here?’ She was looking around.

‘Aye. He’s with Alex, over there.’ She indicated the far side of the hall, where Dan was indeed deep in conversation with Alex.

Kathleen’s eyes widened. ‘Wow, who’s that Alex fella? Haven’t seen him before!’

‘He’s a doctor at the Royal. Not married, but – but,’ Peggy emphasised, ‘I reckon he has his eye on our Maisie!’ She winked, and Maisie could feel a flush travelling up her neck and face. God, it was so frustrating having fair skin!

Kathleen was laughing. ‘Aye, well you may nab him quick, Maisie, for a tall, good-looking, unmarried doctor won’t last too long around here!’

‘He’s Protestant,’ Maisie said bluntly, and Kathleen’s smile faded.

‘Ah, right.’

‘I have to say though,’ Peggy’s expression was pensive, ‘there were quite a few mixed couples at the Rotunda in Dublin. It’s like them things are less important in the Free State – at least among that sort of people.’

‘Like, fancy people?’ Kathleen’s eyes were round. ‘They always do what suits them. The likes of us have to stick to the rules, don’t we?’