Page 66 of Heartbreak for the Irish Midwife

‘You all right?’ Alex murmured. ‘You’re all tense suddenly.’

‘Just thinking about Fenton.’ She couldn’t mention Wallis within earshot of Father MacLaverty.

‘Aye. We’ll talk tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow’s Saturday.’

‘We need to talk, though, don’t we?’

She sighed, then said, ‘Aye.’ Thinking quickly, she added, ‘Should we meet in town somewhere?’ Somewhere we won’t be spotted.

‘How about the Royal? The entrance to the tennis courts.’

‘Good idea.’

‘Ten o’clock?’

She frowned. ‘I’ll be helping Mammy with the housework.’

‘Right. One in the afternoon?’

‘Aye.’

Her pulse quickened briefly at the sure knowledge she’d see him the next day. Weekends without him could feel interminable. Just how he had become so essential to her happiness, she could not quite fathom. But he was. Dangerously essential.

21

They had reached Harrogate Street. A light was on in number 5 – they could see faint traces of it round the edges of the living-room curtains. Bracing herself for the challenge ahead, Maisie slid off the bike.

‘You sure you don’t want me to come in?’ Alex asked the priest, teeth still audibly chattering.

‘No, son. Get you on home to the warm. You’ve done plenty this night.’

Alex’s face twisted. ‘Not enough.’

Father MacLaverty placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘She’s received the Last Rites. That’s important.’

‘Is it?’

‘Aye. Come round to the presbytery and I’ll explain it some time.’

‘I just might do that,’ Alex replied softly. ‘Right! I’m away on then.’ Reaching out, he touched Maisie’s face with one cold hand and she eyed him helplessly.

‘Get yourself home,’ she managed, a tremble in her voice, and he went.

Father Mac leaned his bike against the wall and knocked quietly on the door. It was opened almost immediately by Mr Lennon – Danny, Maisie remembered. His hair was dishevelled, his shirt undone at the neck, and the anguish in his eyes was clearly apparent.

‘Teresa?’ His breath caught. A priest and an unknown woman at his door at near midnight. His eyes widened, then wordlessly he stepped back, allowing them to enter.

The house was a typical two-up-two-down, but Maisie realised straight away that the living room was not as tidy as most women kept it. The fire was lit and the house smelled clean, but there was a pile of ironing in the corner, and Maisie could also see through the open door the remains of dinner on the kitchen table.

‘Where’s Teresa? Have they found her?’

‘She’s in an ambulance on her way to the Royal.’

‘Oh thank God.’ Danny blessed himself. ‘What happened to her?’

‘I’m Father MacLaverty from St John’s. And this is Miss Canavan – Maisie Canavan.’