Page 82 of Heartbreak for the Irish Midwife

He had also learned through his own research that many Presbyterians had suffered along with Catholics in what was often described as a famine, but in reality had been nothing of the kind. When the potato crop had failed, there had been plenty of other food in Ireland – wheat, oats, barley, livestock. But the ascendancy class had exported most of it to England, and prevented ordinary Irish people from accessing it. It made his blood boil even to think of it.

We should have been allies. Why was it that the two poorest groups in Ulster had ended up fighting one another so heartily, while the wealthy class – mostly Anglicans – cleaned up? I wonder if Father would be open to a conversation along those lines?

He frowned. Not a chance. Father was rigid in his beliefs. No way would he accept Alex marrying a Catholic. And even if Maisie converted to Presbyterianism – which Alex thought unlikely – she would never be fully accepted into his parents’ tight-knit social circle.

As he made his way towards the tennis courts his heart felt heavy. Maisie loved him back, which was wonderful, but their path ahead was dark and dangerous and currently, he could see no obvious way through.

She was there already. As he spotted her waiting for him, his spirits rose. Being with Maisie always had that effect on him. Braking, he jumped off the bike, letting it fall to the ground, and drew her into his arms.

They hugged, then kissed, then kissed again. Finally, he drew back to look at her, frowning as he saw reddened eyes and skin that looked a little blotchy. She still looked beautiful, but she had clearly been crying.

‘What happened?’

She told him. Ironically it had been her happiness following their declarations of love last night that had alerted her mother. ‘“It’s your family, or this Protestant,” Mammy told me, Alex.’ Maisie’s eyes filled with tears. ‘And you should have seen her face. Determined, she was. Oh, what’s the word? Grim. She was grim.’ She put her head in her hands. ‘Oh, this is awful. What am I going to do?’

‘Ach, come here,’ he said roughly, his voice thick with emotion. He embraced her again, and she had a good cry. All the while his mind was searching, racing, trying to find a solution. There wasn’t one. Maisie adored her family, and he could never be the one to take her away from them.

Once she was calmer they walked together, him with one hand in hers and the other wheeling the bike. ‘You asked earlier what am I gonna do?’

‘Aye. And I honestly have no idea.’

‘The thing is, you’re not on your own. It’s what are we gonna do.’

Her eyes widened. ‘That’s true.’ She nodded. ‘That helps.’

‘I don’t have any answers, like. But at least we’re in this together.’

‘There really are only four options.’ She took a breath. ‘I could become a Presbyterian and lose my family. Or you could become a Catholic and lose yours.’

‘Aye. Neither of them are good choices. What are your other two options?’

‘Third, we could go away – live in the south or England or Scotland.’

‘We’d likely lose both of our families that way.’

‘We would.’

She straightened her shoulders. ‘Or fourth, we could . . . we could break up.’

His gut twisted. ‘Do you want to break up?’

‘Of course not I – I love you, Alex. But it has to be on the list.’

Alex sighed. ‘I know.’ He sent her a glance. ‘Option five, we keep going and hope for a miracle.’

‘I thought Protestants didn’t believe in miracles.’ Mischief was dancing in her eyes now.

‘Only biblical ones!’ he quipped, then sobered. ‘I believe in you, Maisie.’ He stopped, turning to face her. ‘So light those candles and say those rosaries and do whatever it is you can do.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Put it this way, would yer man Jesus have cared about which subgroup his followers belonged to?’

‘Yer man Jesus!’ She laughed, pretending to be shocked. ‘What a disrespectful way to talk!’ She grimaced. ‘But you’re right. These divisions were created by men, not God. He’s probably delighted that we love each other.’ She straightened. ‘Right. Option five it is. We’ll pray and we’ll wait and we’ll hope they come round.’

‘I still have to tell my ones.’

‘Aye. That won’t be easy. Have you thought about when to do it?’

‘Soon. I’ll have to just stay alert and wait for the right time.’

‘Will you tell your mammy first? Mammies are a nightmare but with something like this, daddies can be even worse.’