29
It was Friday, and the céilí was underway.
The event was progressing as it always did – the same dances, the same faces, the same music.
The atmosphere was good, the dancers smiling and chatting, yet Maisie wasn’t feeling it.
Mammy was here, along with Maureen and Moya.
Oh, she was playing it well, helping the team doing the teas, speaking to various people she knew, but in between the hostess duties she was sending venomous looks towards Maisie and Alex.
Alex, too, wasn’t himself. He seemed restless, and his shoulders were tense.
It was funny, Maisie mused, how skills learned in midwifery could be helpful outside work.
In this case, it confirmed that Alex was becoming increasingly frustrated, as was Maisie.
They’d had their first kiss a year ago, had told some family members back in June, yet they still seemed no closer to gaining acceptance.
‘I think I’m gonna buy some tea,’ Alex announced when the band called a break. Before Maisie could stop him, he made a beeline to where Mammy was selling cups of tea at the side of the hall, determination in his every step.
‘Oh, sweet Jesus!’ she muttered. Alex had had a tough week, Maisie knew.
Now that she was out on the district they saw less of each other, but he had still managed to find time to tell her of his own father’s continued hostility, and also an odd conversation he’d had with his granda.
She had sensed the anger within him, the fading hope that their families would come round to the idea of them as a couple, given time.
As she approached, she saw Mammy turning from her previous customer.
Mammy literally leaned back in shock when she saw him there.
Maisie almost giggled, never having seen a person be actually ‘taken aback’ before.
Stifling her hysteria, and continuing to walk towards them, she searched her mother’s face as Alex ordered two teas.
He sounded perfectly polite, but his very presence was a direct challenge to Mammy.
And Mammy didn’t usually take too well to direct challenges.
She took his money and handed him his change before turning to get two clean cups from the back table, bringing them to the front – the table that stood as a barrier between her and Alex.
Her hand only shook slightly as she filled both cups with good strong tea, but Maisie’s stomach was now sick.
She’s gonna say something. Maisie stopped, hovering a few feet away – close enough to hear their conversation, but not close enough to catch Mammy’s eye.
‘Help yourself to milk and sugar.’ Mammy’s tone was flat, but her face hardened as she took a sharp breath. ‘You’re the Protestant doctor that works with our Maisie.’
‘That’s right. My name is Alex.’ Picking up the jug of milk, he added a splash to each cup.
‘And you care about our Maisie?’
‘I do.’
What’s this about? Alex caring was a good thing. Maisie’s mind was whirling in confusion.
‘Then you’d have been better leaving her alone. You’re hurting her and our whole family.’
Feck! The blow was delivered icily, and with precision. Maisie felt Mammy’s words like knives in her heart. Rage rose within her and she strode forward to stand by Alex’s side.
‘Don’t you start on Alex, Mammy! He’s the best person I know!’
Mammy’s mouth twisted in a sneer. ‘Aye, better than your own family, no doubt. Well, you—’
Maisie braced herself. Here it comes. Words of separation, of renouncement. By sticking up for Alex – who, by the way, was perfectly capable of fighting his own battles, but would have held back for her sake – Maisie had made her choice in Mammy’s eyes. It’s over.
Strangely though, Mammy hadn’t finished her sentence. Instead, her eyes had widened as she looked at someone or something to Maisie’s left.
‘Mrs Canavan!’ It was Father MacLaverty. ‘So lovely to see you tonight!’
Mammy was sunk. A lifetime of bowing to priests had stopped her, mid-flow.
‘Hello, Father.’ She tried to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it.
‘Maisie, good to see you.’ Father MacLaverty beamed at her, and Maisie stuttered a response.
But Father MacLaverty wasn’t done. ‘And the main man, Alex!’ He pumped Alex’s hand. ‘How are you, my friend? You haven’t called to see me this week. Scared I’ll beat you in chess again?’
There was the briefest of pauses, before Alex said, ‘Ha! Not a chance!’ His warm smile was genuine. They had become friends, Maisie knew, ever since that awful time last November when Mrs Lennon had died, but even she hadn’t quite realised the camaraderie that existed between the two men.
The shock in Mammy’s eyes had given way to speculation. ‘You two know each other?’
The two men looked towards one another briefly, warmth and humour in their shared glance.
‘We do, aye. We’re great friends,’ said Father MacLaverty.
He sobered, and Maisie could tell he had some sort of plan.
This was no random conversation, she would swear to it.
‘The thing is, being a priest can be a lonely enough life, Mrs Canavan. And that means having strong friendships is really important.’
She frowned in confusion. ‘I never thought about that before.’
‘These two’ – Father MacLaverty slung an arm around each of them – ‘are one of the nicest couples I’ve come across in a long time, Mrs Canavan.’ Dropping his arms, he leaned closer. ‘You’ve reared a fine daughter, Mrs Canavan.’
‘But . . .’ Mammy was lost for words. ‘But . . . he’s a Protestant!’ she eventually spluttered.
‘He is, aye. But I’m working on him!’ And with an insouciant wink, he was gone, leaving all three of them standing there in shock.
Mammy, naturally, was the first to speak. ‘Well – are you then? Are you gonna convert?’ she asked Alex baldly – the very question Maisie had been avoiding for what seemed like forever.
Alex stiffened, and Maisie held her breath. There was a pause, then he said slowly, ‘I honestly don’t know.’
She nodded. ‘Right. Well you may decide soon. It’s not right for yous two to be snaking around behind Maisie’s Da’s back. Do the thing right.’
Alex nodded. ‘Fair enough.’ He thought for a moment. ‘I’ll speak to him.’
Mammy’s expression softened. ‘Don’t think I’m like this because I’m wantin’ to be bad to you. No, I’m thinking of our Maisie, and if you thought anything of her you’d never have asked her out in the first place. But you did, and here we are, and so I suppose we’ll have to make the best of it.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Canavan.’ His expression was serious, his tone neutral. God knows what’s going on in his head!
A gleam of humour lit her eye. ‘Don’t be thanking me yet. Wait till I see you converted!’
He grimaced, but wisely, bit his tongue.
‘Now, I need to serve some more people here. The band will be starting up again soon. Sugar’s there,’ she repeated, reminding them of the tea they’d just ordered.
They took their tea, then stepped away. Maisie’s heart was still thumping. Thanks to Father MacLaverty, they had avoided a falling-out with Mammy, but of course Mammy had set a fox among the chickens with her question about Alex converting.
Taking their tea to the other side of the hall they supped, then agreed to step outside to talk.
Once hidden by a cloak of darkness they hugged, Alex’s arms around her having a calming effect on Maisie’s nerves.
After the ‘Oh, my God!’ and sharing how they had felt at different moments during the exchange, Alex shook his head.
‘What do we do now, Maisie?’
She bit her lip. He was asking for her insight into her own family, but in reality it wasn’t only about the Canavans, and nothing had really changed. ‘Your ones will want me to convert too Alex. We’re no further on, are we?’
He sighed. ‘I suppose not. But I have properly met your mother now, and I’ve agreed to speak to your father.’ His voice changed. ‘Good Lord, what am I gonna say to him? Is he here? Should I do it tonight?’
‘No, he didn’t come. Besides, it might be better to think about what to say and when. Don’t they always say a windy day isn’t the time to try and fix the roof?’
He laughed. ‘You’re so wise, Maisie Canavan!’ Leaning in, he kissed her. Love flowed through her. He was her fella, and she was his girl, and they would continue to fight to be together.
* * *
By morning, Alex’s mind was still in turmoil, and his heart little better.
Mrs Canavan’s words from last night were haunting him.
If you thought anything of Maisie you’d never have asked her out in the first place.
That had felt like an accusation, and the truth of it had struck him to the core.
Mrs Canavan was right. He should never have pursued Maisie.
Even though it was a Saturday, Father had gone into work already by the time Alex emerged.
He didn’t always, but since they’d started working on the new order for RAF aircraft parts, he was working long hours, six days a week.
The factory workers were doing the actual manufacturing, of course, but Father was looking after paperwork and keeping an eye on the supervisors, as well as quality-checking the products.
Normally, he’d have been chatting to Alex about it all – working out things in his head by talking, with Alex’s gentle probing helping him to plan and prioritise.
Instead, Alex was getting snippets of information indirectly, from Mother and Granda.
Given his father was gone, Alex had his breakfast in the dining room. After his mother also left – for her usual Saturday browse around the shops – that left only him and Granda, and so Alex decided to take the opportunity to question Granda some more about his childhood.