Page 96 of Heartbreak for the Irish Midwife

They had circled the park and were back at the Falls Road gate. ‘Right!’ said Mr Canavan. ‘We’re away on.’

Maisie nodded, then glanced at Alex. ‘Em, I think we’ll take another turn round the park.’

‘It was good to meet you, sir,’ said Alex. ‘Nice to see you again, Mrs Canavan.’

Maisie’s mammy inclined her head in a queenly fashion, giving nothing away. ‘And you, Dr Lowe.’

* * *

Maisie’s head was spinning. ‘Alex!’ she exclaimed, as soon as her parents were gone. ‘What in God’s name did you say to my da to make him so nice towards you?’

‘First things first!’ Alex replied, taking her hand and pulling her under the canopy of a nearby oak tree. He bent his head towards her and she lifted her face for his kiss. It was a proper, serious kiss, both of them wanting to prolong it. To Maisie, it felt like relief – like water to a thirsty person or food to the hungry. She needed it.

‘Maisie.’ Here was serious Alex – one of his moods that never failed to make her heart turn over. ‘There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you for a very long time.’

‘What is it?’ Was this gonna be a good thing, or a bad thing? Was he gonna ask her to leave her family for him? To convert?

‘I know how close you are to your ones, and I love how tight you all are. I also know how religious you are – and your mammy too. My ones—’ He shrugged. ‘They’re religious, but not in that way. I actually realised recently that my father’s Presbyterianism is more about the social side. And I get that, I really do. Having a social group gives people a sense of belonging. Community, you know?’

She nodded, still unsure where this was going.

‘See, having looked into it a tiny bit, I reckon we’re all the same religion anyway. Yer man Jesus would have been bemused at the divisions between us.’ He took a deep breath. ‘As for politics, I’ve been reading about the 1798 rebels – Wolfe Tone and Henry Joy McCracken.’

There was a sore lump in her throat. How good is this man! ‘Protestant, Catholic, and dissenter, standing side by side.’

‘Yes! Religion shouldn’t dictate politics. I still think Ireland would be better as part of the British Empire, but that doesn’t stop me from knowing I’m Irish. Am I making any sense here?’

‘You are. And I don’t disagree with anything you’ve said – apart from the Empire stuff. We’re not here because they love us. To the English we’re only a colony to be exploited. Sure look what they done during the famine!’ She laughed lightly. ‘It’s not what you might call a deal-breaker for us, though, is it?’

‘Definitely not! We can agree to disagree on certain things, can’t we?’

‘We can. Because we love each other. And that’s more important.’

‘Yes. That’s the most important thing of all.’ He took a breath, a curious expression on his face, and suddenly Maisie’s heart was pounding. ‘Maisie,’ he said formally, ‘I love you. I love your kind heart and your lively mind and the way your hair always tries to escape when you pin it up. I love your beautiful face and your way of speaking and the fact that you’re an amazing midwife. I want to be with you forever and wake up beside you every morning. So,’ he took both her hands, ‘I’ve decided to convert to Catholicism.’

She felt her jaw sag in shock. ‘What? Are you sure?’

‘I am. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time – even before I realised that’s what I was doing.’

‘But – your family!’

He grimaced. ‘Mother will be all right, I reckon – eventually. She has already switched religion herself, remember – from Anglican to Presbyterian. And my granda is already supportive. Unexpectedly so – I reckon he thinks it will challenge my father. In a good way, like.’

‘And what about your father?’

‘I have to hope the others will work on him, bring him round over time.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘I honestly think this isn’t about religion for him. It’s a kind of pride, mixed with his set views about me following in his footsteps in every possible way.’ He frowned. ‘That sounds a bit unfair. He’s a good person, but he always wanted to dictate what I did – to make me follow his path.’ He shrugged. ‘Because that path worked for him, I suppose. He has a good life – a loving family, a job he enjoys, enough money . . . Sure why wouldn’t he want that for his only child? It’s just that he can only see the one way to go about it.’ He sighed. ‘I do feel sorry for him, like. He’s always been trapped in a way, by his own stubbornness.’ His eyes searched her face. ‘So, what do you think? Would your ones be all right if I switched?’

‘They’d be delighted.’ She exhaled in relief. ‘I was dreading the thought of having to be the one to convert. I reckon the Presbyterians are against the best bits of my religion. I love the rosary and the candles and the holy pictures and all the trappings that they think are only superstitions.’ She beamed up at him. ‘But I love you more,’ she quickly added, ‘so I would have given it all up eventually. It’s just . . . this is so much better – as long as you’re sure.’

He grinned. ‘This way, I get to go to the céilís as a proper member of the community, not a guest. I get to be part of your big, mad family, and learn more about my Irish heritage. But best of all, I get to be with you forever.’ He paused, a strange light in his eye. ‘Maisie Canavan,’ he said, ‘will you marry me?’

‘Yes! Oh yes! A hundred times yes!’ She flung her arms around his neck and he lifted her and swung her around. She shrieked with joy, and he laughed along with her, and in that moment everything in the whole world was perfect.

31

Alex’s joy carried him all the way up the Falls and across the Shankill. Maisie had agreed to be his wife! Even better, he knew deep within that converting was the right thing for him to do. It wasn’t only for Maisie. He liked the way the Catholics thought, liked their so-called superstitions and the way they had put an Irish spin on Christianity. Father Mac was one of the wisest people he knew, and while he was aware that not all priests were as filled with love and grace as his friend – sure look at what had happened to Mrs Lennon when she had consulted Father Wallis – still he knew that the whole thing felt right.

By the time he was cycling up Clifton Park Avenue in the chilly air his thoughts were turning to his own family, and how he would break the news to them. Gradually, carefully? Or should he do it suddenly and dramatically? He wanted to inflict as little hurt as possible, and he also wanted to give everyone the best possible chance of coming round to the idea. Gradually, then. Maybe he would tell Granda first. His heart quickened as he recalled Granda’s cryptic comments earlier. Was he close to uncovering the family secret, whatever it was?