Page 87 of Heartbreak for the Irish Midwife

‘Ah, it was no bother,’ Maisie said quietly, her eyes sad as she placed her discarded apron into the laundry basket. ‘I couldn’t have left her at that stage.’

Alex finished adding a final note to the woman’s file, which was at Sister’s desk. ‘Does Mr Russell know the outcome?’ he asked Sister.

‘He does, aye. Said he was relieved there were no unexpected complications.’

Only the expected ones. A stillbirth was always distressing, no matter the circumstances.

Sister straightened. ‘Right! I’m due to give Midwife Gildea a break in room 3. I’ll see you tonight, Midwife Canavan.’

‘Aye, see you then.’

‘I’ll go and speak to Russell while you get your stuff,’ Alex murmured to Maisie. ‘Meet you outside in five minutes?’

‘Perfect.’

Russell wanted all the details, so it was nearer ten minutes later by the time Alex got outside, but Maisie was waiting for him at their usual spot by the corner. They couldn’t hug or kiss here, for there were any number of hospital windows eyeing them, but he was able to send her warmth with his eyes. ‘How are you, love?’

Her eyes softened. ‘I’m all right. Better for seeing you.’

‘What about your ones?’

She shrugged. ‘It’s confusing. Mammy still hasn’t told Da. She’s ragin’ with me, like, but for some reason she’s decided not to tell him.’

‘Probably hoping this will blow over.’ Briefly, he told her what had happened with his own parents.

‘So, that’s good, right? They haven’t disowned you?’

‘Not completely, no.’

‘And my ones haven’t either. God, wouldn’t it be amazing if they came round?’

‘Course it would, but we can’t get our hopes up. My father . . .’ He grimaced. ‘He’s stubborn, so he is.’

She looked thoughtful. ‘In our house I reckon my ma is the boss on stuff like this. Neither of them like it, but if she came round, he might too.’ She shook her head. ‘What am I even sayin’? They’ll never come round. My mammy is so, so holy. Her faith is everything to her.’

His mind flicked to his own family. While they attended church like they were supposed to, they weren’t particularly into it all. That mattered. He tucked the information away, to think about it later. Another day.

‘Look, we’ve survived so far. They know, and we haven’t been kicked out yet. That’s something.’

‘It is.’ Her eyes searched his face. ‘How are you holding up?’

‘The thing is,’ he said slowly, thinking it through, ‘what we just did in there, for that girl – it kinda puts things into perspective, doesn’t it?’

‘It does.’ She smiled. ‘And this is why I love you, Alex Lowe. You’re so wise, and your heart is so big.’

‘Away on, and don’t be starting that oul nonsense!’ he declared, laughing, before saying goodbye and returning to work. Hope, irrational as it was, couldn’t be fully vanquished.

28

September 1940

The summer advanced, as did the Nazis. France had surrendered by the end of June, and German forces were now comfortably established throughout Western Europe – including in the Channel Islands, from where they clearly intended to invade Britain. The battles in recent weeks had been airborne, with the Luftwaffe and the Royal Air Force engaged in daily aerial dogfights. From what Maisie had been hearing on the radio the RAF were holding up, but surely they couldn’t last forever?

This morning’s newspapers, though, had held devastating news. Last night, the Luftwaffe had turned their attention to ordinary people and civic buildings, with hundreds of Nazi planes dropping bombs on London. The BBC correspondent on the roof of Broadcasting House had talked of firestorms, with Tower Bridge and St Paul’s Cathedral silhouetted against a sky that was red from flames. Hundreds of ordinary people were dead, among them quite possibly people Maisie knew – women she had supported, colleagues she had worked with, strangers she had passed on the roads and pavements of Lambeth and Camberwell. On the news, King’s College Hospital had been mentioned among other targets, the main entrance and casualty ward having taken a direct hit. The notion left Maisie feeling sick. It’s a hospital, for God’s sake!

Bowing her head as the Latin words of the Sunday Mass washed over her, she prayed for everyone affected, for the people of the occupied countries, and for her own family. As ever, she prayed too for a miracle that would allow her and Alex to be together always.

On that front, the situation was unchanged. Both she and Alex continued to live with their families, Alex’s father still not speaking to him and his mother still disapproving. Things were a little less grim in her own house, for Da still didn’t know and Mammy acted as if their conversation back in June had never happened. Except . . . the easy relationship between Mammy and Maisie was gone, replaced by something that was cool at best, and hostile at worst. Maisie had shed many tears over it, but was at a loss as to what she could do about it. Giving Alex up was unthinkable, but she missed her mammy.