8 #2
While Maisie couldn’t fault Sister’s reasoning, and while she wanted to be there to support Mrs Lennon, part of her was wondering whether she would be strong enough to cope with such a dreadful situation.
As she set out chairs and tidied magazines, all the while her insides were churning.
The leaflet about the D&C procedure that she had given to Mrs Lennon had been designed for women whose miscarriage hadn’t completed – an unfortunate situation, since Mrs Lennon showed no signs of miscarrying, yet the procedure was the same.
The woman had been told to come to the clinic at half past eight, having fasted since supper time last night. Will she come? Maisie wasn’t sure.
At around ten to eight Peggy popped in, wondering if Maisie was free to take a brief walk. Since Maisie wasn’t officially on duty yet, she went, curious to know how her friend was doing.
They walked along the corridor then up the stairs, taking their time. ‘I woke up this morning feeling so good after being out on the district yesterday!’ Peggy’s broad smile warmed Maisie’s heart.
‘I can only imagine!’ She frowned. ‘It must have been hard, keeping it a secret – the fact you were a handywoman, I mean.’
‘It was. And it came between me and—’ She paused, then continued. ‘Dan Sheridan is my boyfriend,’ she said in a rush, warm colour flushing her face. ‘We got back together a few days ago.’
Maisie nodded, and Peggy raised an eyebrow. ‘You don’t seem particularly surprised.’
‘Somebody told me yesterday,’ she confessed. ‘I suspect it will be hard to keep a secret in this place!’
Peggy laughed. ‘You’re probably right. Thank God I don’t have to try any more. And thank God the news about me and Dan is spreading by itself. I wanted to make sure you knew because we’re like, friends now, though.’ She sent Maisie a curious glance. ‘Who told you?’
‘Alex. Dr Lowe, I mean.’
Peggy gave her a knowing look. ‘Alex, is it?’
A slow flush was sending heat to Maisie’s cheeks. Ignoring it, she bit back. ‘I only met him a lock of days ago. And anyway,’ she retaliated, ‘how come you and Dr Sheridan had split up?’
Pain flashed in Peggy’s eyes. ‘We were walking out together in Dublin, but I broke it off.’
‘Oh. I’m sorry. That must have been awful.’
‘It was. I never wanted to finish with him, you see.’ Peggy grimaced. ‘There were a few reasons – but the main one was my secret past as a handywoman. And also—’ She broke off, adding in a different tone, ‘It’s complicated.’
‘Then I won’t pry,’ said Maisie firmly. Some impulse, inspired by Peggy’s beginning to share personal information with her, made her then say, ‘I had a boyfriend in London. He was called Gerald.’
Peggy sent her a keen look. ‘Did you? And . . .?’
‘We broke up just before I came home.’
‘Aye, that’s when me and Dan broke up too. I bet we were both going through it at the same time!’ Her brow furrowed, but she gave a light laugh. ‘I broke my wee heart over him.’
‘Same. But I wish I’d never met Gerald!’ Maisie shook her head slowly. ‘I learned a lot about how charming people can be different deep down.’
‘Oh, so he wasn’t good to you, this Gerald?’
She grimaced. ‘He’s not a nice person. Unlike your Dan.’
‘Ach, I’m sorry, Maisie.’ She squeezed her arm. ‘Heartbreak, eh?’
‘Aye.’
They shared a sad smile, then parted.
As she made her way back to the clinic, Maisie’s thoughts were chaotic.
What she hadn’t told Peggy was that Gerald hadn’t simply been some random lad.
He had been upper-class, and Protestant, and was in the British Army.
While there were many Irish Catholics who had fought in British wars over the centuries, recent events had put a lot of people off the notion.
The wounds from the Irish War of Independence were still raw, and here in the north it was the army who enforced control of the Catholic people, along with the police.
Even now, years after partition and the setting up of this strange little state, army units patrolled Catholic areas, ignoring the sullen resentment of the locals.
Those who knew they were Irish had the habit of rising up against the British invaders from time to time – and the last time that had happened, the Easter Rising of 1916, Britain had been distracted by its last war with Germany.
Memories of that war – the Great War – were also recent, the scars not yet healed.
Some near neighbours of the Canavans had lost uncles at the Battle of the Somme.
Apparently thousands of Irishmen had perished – including from the 16th Irish Division and the Royal Dublin Fusiliers.
Their families rarely spoke of it, as joining the British Army was now frowned upon in Catholic communities.
Well, why should Catholics fight alongside their oppressors?
This war felt a bit different, though. Scarier.
Thon Hitler boy seemed like a madman, but he was dangerous and determined and was wildly popular in Germany.
Maisie knew that there would be Irishmen so worried about him they would be tempted to join up, especially since the Irish Free State had declared neutrality.
And what if Gerald did end up in the thick of it? A pang went through her. She would not wish that. Since yesterday’s insight had come to her, she had been filled with rage at times about how cruelly Gerald had treated her. At the same time, she couldn’t bring herself to wish him harm.
All British Army units, she had heard, were undergoing heightened training to prepare for whatever would happen next – either to be shipped off to fight, or to build defences in Britain in case the Nazis invaded.
Nobody really thought that would ever happen, though.
France was on the front line, and would bear the brunt of the fighting.
Still, there were plans to evacuate children and build air raid shelters in Britain.
Some were even talking about similar shelters in Belfast, which sent a shudder through her.
Refocusing on the present, she glanced at the wall clock as she entered the clinic, relieved to see it was only one minute to eight. A young couple were already seated in the chairs she had laid out shortly before, and her insides went cold for a second as she recognised Mrs Lennon. They’re early.
‘Good morning, Mrs Lennon,’ she said, with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. Whatever this woman had decided, she would support her. I’m a midwife. That’s what we do.
‘Midwife Canavan! I hoped you’d be here.’ She looked pale and exhausted, and her hand trembled as she indicated the man by her side. ‘This is my husband, Danny.’
Mr Lennon had risen, and as she briefly shook his hand she recognised the expression in his eyes – a kind of bewilderment. God help them!
‘You’re good and early, Mrs Lennon. The doctor won’t be here until half eight, and you’re booked for theatre at nine.’
Her husband cleared his throat. ‘I wanted to speak to the doctor – ask a few questions, you know? My Teresa is awful annoyed about it all.’
‘I’m sure.’ Annoyed was the local way of saying upset. ‘Can I get you anything?’
‘I had me breakfast.’ Mr Lennon nodded. He looked to his wife, but she seemed to be too upset to speak. ‘Teresa hasn’t had a bite.’
‘I feel sick. I couldn’t have ate if you paid me,’ Teresa managed. Fishing in her handbag she retrieved a clean white hanky, perfectly ironed. ‘I can’t cope with this!’
Other women were beginning to arrive for their appointments, some of them eyeing the Lennons with open curiosity. Maisie made a decision. ‘Come with me. You too, Mr Lennon.’
Leading them to one of the empty doctor rooms, she got them sitting, then made polite conversation. They were from a place called Derrybeg Cottages near Bessbrook, and had moved to Belfast for work. Both were millworkers, though Mrs Lennon had quit to be a mother.
‘See, what I don’t understand,’ said Mr Lennon abruptly, ‘is how this Dr Fenton can be so sure and certain that Teresa is a hundred per cent gonna die. Like, can they not do something for her if her scar gives way, Midwife Canavan?’