Page 9 of Heartbreak for the Irish Midwife

‘I was. Great city. I maybe should have stayed there. Plenty of jobs, and they’re unlikely to get sucked into this damn war.’

‘It’s a bloody nightmare, so it is.’

‘Aye. It all seems real now – the Navy, the evacuation. And they brought that emergency legislation through Westminster about conscription,’ Dan said, a worried look on his face.

‘Doctors are exempt, you know.’ Still, there was a sick feeling in Alex’s stomach too. The Great War was recent enough for it to be talked about by people who knew. Both Alex’s uncles had been killed in 1917, leaving Father as the only Lowe left of that generation. Granda, Father, and me. On his mother’s side there was an elderly aunt who lived in a home in England, and nobody else. Just the five of us. Compared to most families he knew, his was tiny.

‘Aye. Doctors and farmers. Something odd about that.’

‘I know what you mean.’ Alex shrugged. ‘I wonder if my ones will say anything about the fact that being a doctor means I won’t be sent to the front line.’

‘But sure it doesn’t include us at all.’ Dan seemed to be considering his words carefully. ‘These six counties, I mean.’

Northern Ireland. Those on the opposite side of the political debate – as Dan surely was – didn’t like the term, Alex knew. They preferred to continue thinking about Ireland as a whole, even though the island was now split into two separate countries – the six counties of Northern Ireland, and the twenty-six that made up the Irish Free State.

For the first time in nearly a year, Alex found himself having to go carefully. Dan was a potential friend, even if their political views were different. Stick to the facts.

‘Aye – they said all along that it would only be brought in for men in England, Scotland, and Wales.’

Dan sighed. ‘Aye.’ He looked right, to where Fenton was rising. ‘Lunch break is done, it seems.’

‘So it is.’ Alex drained his cup, then stood. ‘Let’s do this.’

* * *

‘It’s Maisie, Mammy! Maisie’s home!’

Maisie couldn’t suppress a smile as she heard the excitement in her wee sister’s voice. It was nice to be welcomed, nice to be noticed. As the middle child in a family of seven, she had grown up not being noticed very much at all.

But the oldest two – Michael and Maolíosa – had become adults, married, and left, leaving Moya as the eldest in the house for a while. Then Maisie too had left – not to marry, but to spend a year in London training as a midwife, thanks to Granny Canavan’s generosity. Unlike her older siblings, though, she had come back.

And now Moya was married – her wedding to John-Joe O’Keeffe having taken place a few weeks ago. That meant Maisie was now the eldest child in the house – a position she was enjoying.

Having gone round the back entry to stow her bike in their tiny yard (complete with outhouse), Maisie had just entered by the kitchen door – straight into wee Molly, her twelve-year-old sister, who was washing dishes. The dinner was on, and Molly was tidying up the bowls, boards, and knife used to prepare the various vegetables.

‘Well, Molly!’ She grinned. ‘How was school today?’

Molly grimaced. ‘Boring. And don’t tell me,’ she added fiercely, ‘that it’s better than the mills. I’m sick of hearing everybody yappin’ on at me to be grateful.’

‘Then I won’t even mention the mills.’ Setting down her work bag, Maisie picked up a tea towel and started drying the dishes.

‘Did you hear the latest about Poland?’ Molly’s brow was furrowed. ‘Them Germans are nearly at Warsaw, so they are.’

‘I did.’ Instinctively, she wanted to reassure the girl, who would always be the chile of the family. A week ago, she’d probably never heard of Warsaw. ‘Poland’s very far away, like.’

‘Aye, but Britain’s in it, which means it all could come here.’

‘I’m sure yer man Hitler isn’t even thinking about a wee island like Ireland, out on the very edge of Europe. If you sailed out from Donegal, the next place you’d find would be Canada!’

‘Is that right?’ Molly seemed to think about it for a moment. ‘I’d love to go somewhere.’

‘Where?’

‘Somewhere. Anywhere. Somewhere other than school and Mass and home.’

Maisie squeezed her shoulder. ‘Then you will. We’ll make it happen. Once you’re twenty-one you can do what you want. And before that I can take you places in Ireland. Have you ever been to Dublin?’

‘No. Dublin would be good.’