26 #2
She told him. Ironically it had been her happiness following their declarations of love last night that had alerted her mother.
‘“It’s your family, or this Protestant,” Mammy told me, Alex.
’ Maisie’s eyes filled with tears. ‘And you should have seen her face. Determined, she was. Oh, what’s the word?
Grim. She was grim.’ She put her head in her hands.
‘Oh, this is awful. What am I going to do?’
‘Ach, come here,’ he said roughly, his voice thick with emotion. He embraced her again, and she had a good cry. All the while his mind was searching, racing, trying to find a solution. There wasn’t one. Maisie adored her family, and he could never be the one to take her away from them.
Once she was calmer they walked together, him with one hand in hers and the other wheeling the bike. ‘You asked earlier what am I gonna do?’
‘Aye. And I honestly have no idea.’
‘The thing is, you’re not on your own. It’s what are we gonna do.’
Her eyes widened. ‘That’s true.’ She nodded. ‘That helps.’
‘I don’t have any answers, like. But at least we’re in this together.’
‘There really are only four options.’ She took a breath. ‘I could become a Presbyterian and lose my family. Or you could become a Catholic and lose yours.’
‘Aye. Neither of them are good choices. What are your other two options?’
‘Third, we could go away – live in the south or England or Scotland.’
‘We’d likely lose both of our families that way.’
‘We would.’
She straightened her shoulders. ‘Or fourth, we could . . . we could break up.’
His gut twisted. ‘Do you want to break up?’
‘Of course not I – I love you, Alex. But it has to be on the list.’
Alex sighed. ‘I know.’ He sent her a glance. ‘Option five, we keep going and hope for a miracle.’
‘I thought Protestants didn’t believe in miracles.’ Mischief was dancing in her eyes now.
‘Only biblical ones!’ he quipped, then sobered.
‘I believe in you, Maisie.’ He stopped, turning to face her.
‘So light those candles and say those rosaries and do whatever it is you can do.’ He thought for a moment.
‘Put it this way, would yer man Jesus have cared about which subgroup his followers belonged to?’
‘Yer man Jesus!’ She laughed, pretending to be shocked.
‘What a disrespectful way to talk!’ She grimaced.
‘But you’re right. These divisions were created by men, not God.
He’s probably delighted that we love each other.
’ She straightened. ‘Right. Option five it is. We’ll pray and we’ll wait and we’ll hope they come round. ’
‘I still have to tell my ones.’
‘Aye. That won’t be easy. Have you thought about when to do it?’
‘Soon. I’ll have to just stay alert and wait for the right time.’
‘Will you tell your mammy first? Mammies are a nightmare but with something like this, daddies can be even worse.’
‘Aye, maybe. I’ll try and pick a good moment to do it.’ He frowned. ‘She’s gonna be so disappointed. I hate to do it to her. And I daren’t even think about my father.’ He trailed a hand down her soft cheek. ‘But I love you. That won’t change, Maisie.’
She pressed her hand over his. ‘I know. I love you too.’
* * *
Alex’s opportunity came the very next day.
They had been to church and were driving home when Mother, having discussed Mrs Thompson’s new hat and old Mr Taylor looking awful failed, added with a casual air, ‘I thought Alice Caulfield was looking well today. She’s a very pretty girl. Don’t you agree, Alex?’
Poor Mother. She can’t help herself. His heart was suddenly thumping in his chest as he realised this might be his chance to tell them both. ‘Who?’ he asked, and Mother tutted.
‘You know very well, Alexander! She’s my friend Sarah’s daughter.’
‘I don’t remember her.’
Mother sighed. ‘You know we want you to settle down, Alex. How can you do that if you won’t even walk out with a girl?’
Alex took a breath. ‘Sure I’m already walking out with a girl from work.
’ From his position in the back seat of the car he couldn’t see his parents’ faces, but he could tell that his mother had stiffened – probably recalling their previous conversation.
Granda, however, was now looking at him with great interest.
‘I hope she’s not unsuitable,’ Mother said, her tone disapproving.
‘I think she’s entirely suitable,’ he replied firmly. ‘I’m lucky she agreed to walk out with me.’
‘It’s not that Catholic you mentioned one time, is it?’ She sounded horrified, and his heart sank. Mother was generally the more persuadable one, and if there was no openness in her, he had already lost this battle.
‘It is, actually.’ Immediately, he added, ‘Watch out!’ This was addressed to Father, for the car had just swerved on the road, nearly crashing into one coming in the other direction. Father pulled in and applied the brake then, without turning to even look at Alex, said, ‘Get out.’
Alex found himself frozen, his mind unable to work and his body unresponsive. This was going even more badly than he had anticipated.
‘I said, get out!’ Father repeated, his tone menacing.
‘Why?’ I want him to say it.
‘For as long as you’re seeing a papist slut, you’re no son of mine.’
Rage flooded through Alex. ‘And for as long as you’re a hateful bigot, I have no father!’ Exiting the car, he slammed the door, wheeling away southwards to stomp in the opposite direction to home.
Oh, my God. He had been banished. No discussion, no explanation required.
Just ‘Get out’. His stomach felt sick with a curious mix of anger and devastation.
It had actually happened. And it was even worse than he had thought.
Today was the day he had lost his family.
When Father decided something this forcefully, no one contradicted him.
Granda and Mother would just tiptoe around him.
And while he couldn’t really say what Granda thought, he knew Mother likely agreed with Father.
Sighing, he walked on. But where, he didn’t know.
He certainly couldn’t go home. Perhaps he no longer had a home. You’re no son of mine.
* * *
Maisie was having a very strange day. Mammy was clearly fell out with her, avoiding her eye during Mass, and later saying things like, ‘Ask her to make a pot of tea’, making Maureen roll her eyes behind Mammy’s back and Molly look confused and curious at the same time.
‘Say nothin!’ Maisie hissed at Molly when Mammy’s back was turned. The last thing she needed was the whole family getting sucked in while she herself was still reeling from the enormity of what she’d told Mammy.
Thankfully, Da seemed oblivious to the drama unfolding between his wife and daughter, and when he returned from the shop with the Sunday paper he sat down to read about the Nazi occupation of Paris with seemingly no awareness that Maisie’s world was falling about her ears.
To be fair, the fall of France was a worrying development – not only for the poor French, who must be devastated, but also for the Irish, as Nazi aircraft could definitely reach places like Belfast from air bases in northern France.
They all discussed it, then Da and Matty went out to the yard to talk about building an air raid shelter.
Very few families had constructed one, and it left a sick feeling in Maisie’s gut to imagine that some day Nazi planes might appear in the sky above her beloved Belfast.
* * *
Having marched for an hour through the streets of Belfast, Alex was still raging.
Oh, he had known that seeing a Catholic would be taboo, but twenty-six years of having them as his parents, of knowing how good and kind they were – well, Mother, anyway – had encouraged him to hope that they might be – if not supportive, then at least . . .
Oh, he had no idea what he had hoped for. All he could feel right now was disappointment, anger, and a very real dread about the future. He couldn’t lose Maisie, but he might lose his family.