Page 60 of Heartbreak for the Irish Midwife

But when he and Dan had come up to her and Peggy, like last time, Alex had smiled at her, and her heart had melted, and stupidly, she had smiled back. Yup, she had stood there grinning like a loon, and when the music had started they had moved to the dance floor together without him even asking.

They had now reached the interval, and were seated together on the plush chairs, his arm along the back of her chair and his face dangerously close to hers.

‘Dan keeps going on at me about these céilís,’ he said, rolling his eyes. ‘But what could be better than this?’ He waved a hand vaguely at their fancy surroundings. ‘Beautiful ballroom, good music, great company . . .’ His eyes darkened as he said the last, and her pulse skipped at his undoubted meaning. Alex had this power to make her entire body thrill and fizz when he gave her certain looks – like the one he was giving her now.

‘To be fair,’ she managed, ‘St John’s parish hall isn’t fancy like this, and there bees only a few musicians on the stage, but . . .’ She thought for a moment. ‘The dances be special. And the locals getting up to sing or say a poem . . . there’s a sense of belonging. Like, the dances in London were exactly like this one. Not one bit o’ difference. Same music, same type of hall, same dances. And you’d get the same in – I dunno, New York or Paris or somewhere. But you can only get a St John’s céilí at St John’s, you know?’

‘Well, no. I don’t know. That’s kind of the point. But I am curious, so I’ve finally agreed to go to the next one with Dan in a fortnight.’

‘Oh.’ Her sister would be there, and she didn’t want to get in trouble with Mammy. But, oh! It would be such great craic to try to teach Alex the céilí dances! He was watching her intently, so she babbled on. ‘Aye, that’ll be the last one before they stop for Advent. There’s always a big one between Christmas and New Year, though.’

‘Well, mebbe I’ll go to that too, if I like the first one.’ He grimaced theatrically. ‘Or if they don’t kick me out for being a Protestant!’

‘And sure why would anybody do that?’ Her hackles were up. ‘We welcome visitors, so we do. There’s usually a few Anglicans who come that are into Irish music.’

‘Ah, the Anglicans . . .’ He sent her a keen look. ‘I remember you said you used to have an Anglican boyfriend?’

She took a breath, knowing she was more ready this time to talk about this. ‘I did. Gerald, he was called. I went out with him in London.’ She had told him this much before, but if Alex was interested enough to ask questions, she’d answer them. Her insides were surprisingly calm. Right now, her time with Gerald seemed like a hundred years ago.

‘And how did that land with your ones?’

Her eyes widened at the very notion. ‘Jaysus, I never told them. They’d have went mad, so they would.’

‘Aye.’ He looked thoughtful. They both knew the craic. ‘So you knew from the start it would go nowhere with him – this Gerald.’

‘I did.’ And she had. From the very beginning. Even though she had deluded herself for a while, with foolish daydreams about Gerald moving to Belfast, converting, becoming a nicer person, once she had loved him enough . . . ‘We broke up in July,’ she offered, ‘just before I came home.’

‘I see.’

It was now November, and she was definitely healing from the wounds Gerald had inflicted on her spirit. Definitely. She eyed Alex curiously, wondering if he too carried hidden wounds. ‘What about you? Did you have a girlfriend in Edinburgh?’

‘I had a few!’ He jiggled his eyebrows suggestively, making her laugh. ‘But like you and Gerald, I kept it light, you know? Knowing there was no future in it.’

Light? Her relationship with Gerald had not been light. Not in the least. That had been her mistake with Gerald – her failure to keep it light. But she was scared to correct Alex on that point. She was scared to tell him everything that had happened in that relationship; everything she had let happen. Guilt thrummed through her. Had she led Gerald on, as he had accused her of doing? She had known from the start that she couldn’t bring home a British Army officer who was both posh and Protestant. God, I was such an eejit! A stupid, deluded eejit! And yet here she was, sitting with another posh Protestant, and flirting the bit out with him. While a doctor was on the complete opposite end of the acceptability scale from a British soldier, the fact he was Protestant could never be overcome. So why, then, was she encouraging this?

Alex was speaking again. ‘Given the way families be here – religion and all – there’s something to be said for a light relationship now and again, isn’t there?’

His gaze was intense, and her mind was suddenly whirring with possibilities. Why not? She thought to herself. A light relationship. Alex had managed it, so he said, with some girl (or girls) in Edinburgh. Some of her chums in London had lived that way too – no thought of marriage, just the joy of being young and enjoying life and having the craic. And given what she’d dealt with at the hands of Gerald, she knew she didn’t want to get into something else serious again any time soon. God, the notion was appealing!

‘There . . . is . . .’ she said cautiously.

He grimaced. ‘Like, my ones wouldn’t be too happy if I was to go out with . . .’ His voice tailed off.

‘A Catholic?’ she offered, and he nodded.

‘Aye, my ones would be as bad.’ It didn’t bear thinking about. Her eyes were locked with his, and she couldn’t have looked away if her life depended upon it.

‘So.’ His voice was low, his eyes communicating possibility.

‘So.’ Should she go for this? Oh, she wanted to. There was no doubt about it. But should she? Was this another misstep? How could she know?

‘I didn’t tell my mother and father about our kiss.’ He looked rueful.

‘No. Me neither.’ Her heart was thundering. He understands. It was the opposite, but the same.

‘And if we were to do it again, I wouldn’t tell them again.’ Now his gaze dropped briefly to her mouth, and a wave of desire went through her. I want his kiss!

She took a breath. ‘Good plan.’ None of the Canavans would ever be at the Orpheus, and so long as they were careful at the céilí, it should be all right.