Page 78 of Heartbreak for the Irish Midwife

She managed a shrug. ‘I like this dress.’ And she no longer associated it with London, with him. Blinking, she broke his gaze, looked about her, seeing colleagues from the hospital among the crowd. This is Belfast.

This was her home, her territory. Here, she was Maisie Canavan, qualified midwife. Maisie Canavan of Dunlewey Street. Maisie Canavan, who was no longer Gerald Somerville’s plaything. Lifting her chin, she added, ‘Anyway. Enjoy Belfast.’ She turned away.

‘Wait!’

She turned back, then cursed herself inwardly for obeying. Some responses within her still ran deep. He trained me well. ‘What.’ Her tone was clipped.

‘Just so you know,’ he sneered, ‘you meant nothing to me. I never loved you, Maisie, and I was certainly never going to marry you.’ Strangely, his words were not hurting her at all. He’s lost his power over me. ‘I only picked you up because you were Irish, and poor,’ he continued, ‘and I reckoned I might persuade you to keep my bed warm.’

All those times he’d pressured her, all the times when his hands had wandered and she’d had to stop him. He had only ever been after one thing, and she had been too much of a fool to see it.

‘Interesting.’

A new voice. Maisie whirled around, relief flooding through her as she saw Alex – tall, and handsome, and full of barely contained anger towards Gerald. Maisie knew him so well now, she could tell at a glance – the hardness in Alex’s eyes, tension in his shoulders. Yet his tone was deceptively calm.

‘And you are?’ That was Gerald at his upper-class haughtiest.

Alex raised an eyebrow, and said nothing. After a brief silence, Gerald said, ‘I’m Somerville,’ he said. ‘Captain Gerald Somerville.’

Alex inclined his head slightly, stepping forward to stand beside Maisie. ‘Lowe. Doctor Alexander Lowe.’

Gerald looked from one to the other. ‘Oh, I think I see.’ He gave a short laugh, then punched Alex lightly on the shoulder. ‘I wouldn’t build up too many hopes that she’ll put out, Lowe. I was with her in London and got very little satisfaction.’

‘Excuse me?’ Alex’s tone was deceptively soft.

‘She was handy to have around,’ Gerald continued, seemingly unaware of the danger he was in. He looked at Maisie, and his expression hardened.

He’s really angry! A shiver went through Maisie, but she lifted her chin defiantly. ‘You are not a good person, Gerald,’ she said. ‘You lie, and you manipulate, and you play games with people’s feelings.’

‘Play games with people’s feelings,’ he echoed, in sing-song mockery. ‘Well, poor little Maisie!’ He leaned closer, so lost in rage that he seemed to have forgotten Alex’s glowering presence. ‘Since you’re so far below me I thought you’d put out and be my whore. I was making progress too until your backwards, superstitious notions turned you frigid. You—’

What he was about to say next, Maisie had no idea, for now he was crashing to the floor, Alex having delivered a powerful punch to Gerald’s smug face.

Before Maisie could even properly react, Gerald was scrambling to his feet again. He lunged for Alex, swinging wildly. Alex, unruffled, evaded him with ease.

‘I think you broke my nose!’ Gerald declared then, in high-pitched outrage, wiping his bloody muzzle with the back of his hand.

‘It’s the least you deserve,’ Alex returned calmly. ‘You’re a disgrace.’

‘You f—’ Gerald lifted his fist again, but this time his arm was held. Two of his comrades, also in battledress, had come up silently behind him, followed by an older soldier with a determined expression on his face.

‘Somerville!’ The older man spat out his name, and Gerald straightened.

‘Yes, Major!’

‘You will return to barracks immediately!’

‘But he hit me first!’

‘I don’t want to hear it, Somerville.’ The man paused for a moment, clearly appraising the situation. Gerald looked nervous, Maisie noted. Good.

‘I was watching the whole time,’ the major continued, his expression signalling thoughtful reflection and consideration. ‘Whatever it was you said to this young lady’ – he inclined his head towards Maisie – ‘caused this gentleman to take you out.’ He sent Alex a swift glance. ‘Nice technique, young man.’ Returning to Gerald, he added, ‘I’m tired of you causing trouble wherever you go, Somerville. Henceforth, you will be confined to barracks on social evenings.’

‘But—!’

The major raised an eyebrow.

Yes, sir.’ Gerald’s tone was sullen.