Page 55 of Heartbreak for the Irish Midwife

‘I bet you did,’ he murmured, an odd edge to his voice.

‘What does that mean?’

‘Unless London boys are complete eejits, you’d never be short of a partner.’ He paused. ‘You mentioned a boyfriend?’

Maisie felt herself blushing. She knew she had slipped up the other day – and Alex had caught it. ‘Aye. Gerald,’ she confessed, reluctantly.

‘The Anglican.’ His eyes were dancing.

‘Shh!’ She laughed. ‘If my mammy found out, I’d be dead!’

The music was starting properly. They stepped closer, his right hand sliding round to rest flat on the upper part of her back, tangling with her long curls, her left hand going across his upper arm to the upper part of his back. Oh, how wonderful it was, to feel the strength and power of his frame! Their bodies were touching all along Maisie’s left side, and now they began to dance. His upper body was swaying – as was required – and she matched him, moving in harmony to the smoothness of the music.

‘I can imagine!’

‘What?’ She had entirely lost the thread of the conversation.

‘My family wouldn’t be too impressed either – though you could say my own parents are a mixed marriage.’

‘No! Really?’

‘Aye. A Presbyterian and an Anglican.’ He winked.

And that was that. They were inseparable all night, dancing every dance and chatting throughout. He was a good dancer, fluid and confident, and Maisie felt safe in his arms.

Safe? An odd word, yet it fitted. Oh, the sensations he was arousing in her were anything but safe – passion, flames, inferno were the words that came to mind. But in terms of her person, her deepest self, she felt she could trust him.

Was she being foolish? Surely she had trusted Gerald at first? Looking back, the signs of arrogance and selfishness had been there from early on – and she was sensing none of that from Alex. Plus she knew Alex from work, too . . .

Something strange was happening to Maisie. It wasn’t simply the thrill of dancing with Alex, and the sense of being anchored in Belfast once more. She was chatting, laughing, sparkling in a way she hadn’t done for a long, long time. With Gerald, she had receded into the background as he had taken centre stage when they were out together socially. I made myself small, she thought now. Why did I do that?

‘Thank you, and good night!’ The band leader finished the evening with a flourish, and after applauding along with everyone else, Maisie and Alex went back to finish their drinks and get their coats. Maisie could hardly believe the night was over already. It had flashed by in what seemed like an instant. Alex helped her by holding her coat, and Maisie’s heart turned over at this display of gentlemanliness. He’s well-reared, this boy.

Peggy and Dan were in great form still, but now Maisie and Alex were matching them. Happiness was fizzing through Maisie. Would she regret this, tomorrow or next week? Possibly. But right now she felt alive – as though she had finally begun to live again after Gerald’s cruelty had turned her into a wee mouse outside work.

While she had never lost her passion for midwifery, nor her conviction that she could do it, and do it well, the longer she had been with Gerald, in social settings she had gradually become . . . less. The sensation was a vague one, but dimly she remembered a time before Gerald had chipped away at her confidence – a time when she had known who she was and was comfortable to simply be Maisie Canavan. It was as though a weight was slowly lifting from her shoulders. I’m home, and I have friends. Maybe, after all, she wasn’t entirely worthless.

They left together, all four of them, and Maisie was now conscious of a sense of belonging. She had had chums in London – at least until Gerald had discouraged her from seeing them – but these three were from her home town. She knew them – even Dan, who was of a different class to her and Peggy, and Alex, who was a different class and a different religion. In London, it wouldn’t have mattered one bit that he was Presbyterian, only that they liked each other.

I like him. I really like him. There, she had finally admitted it to herself. Alex made her heart sing when he looked at her, and made it race when he touched her. He took her hand as they made their way down Henry Street and onto North Queen Street, where the Victoria Barracks loomed darkly over them. Might Gerald be posted there eventually?

At this moment she literally didn’t care. The notion was exhilarating. Unexpectedly, she was beginning to sense that Captain Gerald Somerville had done her a favour. He had kicked her into freedom, and she was enjoying it. Actually enjoying it.

Eventually they reached the Falls, and Alex stayed with them all the way to the corner of Dunlewey Street, where they said goodbye to Dan and Peggy. As the four of them had walked home together, Maisie became increasingly quiet and turned in on herself, though the others didn’t seem to notice. New worries had beset her – not about Alex’s character, but about the fact they were from different communities.

As they parted, Peggy sent Maisie a mischievous wink – both girls knew that kisses from their respective doctors would normally be happening soon.

Peggy’s kisses from Dan were guaranteed. But Maisie found herself suddenly uncertain. While she would love to be kissed by Alex, would he even take things that far? She was Catholic, after all, and he was Presbyterian. Surely he too knew they shouldn’t start anything?

Yes, they’d been flirting, and he was holding her hand. But maybe when it came to it he would decide that kissing her was a step too far . . . Doubts began to creep into her mind. What did she have to attract a man like that? He was handsome, clever, rich, and Protestant, while she was only—

No. She was herself, and she was worthy. Catholics were just as good as Protestants, and she, Maisie, was as good as anybody, despite what Gerald used to say. She repeated it to herself in her head.

Turning away from Peggy and Dan, whose shadows had already retreated into the darkness, Alex took her other hand, both thumbs idly stroking her skin and sending sensation fizzing through her like electricity. ‘That was a great evening, so it was. The music was brilliant, and the dancing.’

‘Still not as good craic as a céilí!’ she shot back, unable to resist.

‘Aye, Dan invited me to some céilí he goes to every month. He said you and Peggy go too. But I have to warn you – I’ve never done céilí dancing, so I’ll be hopeless!’