29 #3
As he cycled through the hospital grounds there were random pictures in his head – Maisie and her I love you.
Father MacLaverty. Maisie’s mother, flabbergasted at the priest’s intervention.
Maisie’s father, a dark and shadowy image, for he’d barely even seen the man.
As he left the Falls Road to freewheel down the slight incline that led to St John’s, Alex realised he’d somehow decided to go and see Father MacLaverty.
‘Ach, well, Alex.’ The priest’s housekeeper knew him well now. ‘Father MacLaverty is out but he’ll be back shortly. Go you on into the front parlour.’
He often had to await his friend while Father MacLaverty was out and about on pastoral duties.
Today though, instead of perusing the newspapers on Father MacLaverty’s side table, Alex went straight for a book he’d seen before on his friend’s bookshelf but never touched.
The Catechism, it was called, the subtitle indicating it had been Ordered by the National Synod of Maynooth.
St Patrick’s College in Maynooth, he knew, was the main seminary for Catholic priests in Ireland.
Holding his breath, he went to the first page of the preamble.
Nothing too shocking there – the Lord’s Prayer, the Hail Mary words of the angel Gabriel, and the Apostles’ Creed, listing the core beliefs of all Christians – not only Catholics.
The only line he had any worries about was the ‘I believe in the Holy Catholic Church’.
In the Presbyterian religion, the word ‘Catholic’ was taken to mean ‘universal’.
In this context however, Alex suspected a different slant.
Intrigued, he read on. Lesson One contained nothing he could disagree with.
He was just getting stuck into Lesson Two when Father MacLaverty arrived.
* * *
Everyone was right about Mrs McGrath’s baby coming that day – just about.
Unusually, Mrs McGrath had a long pause in her labour before the pushing part.
Maisie had seen it before, and so she didn’t panic.
Some women needed to rest a while before the hard work of pushing began, and Mrs McGrath, she suspected, rarely got a minute to even bless herself.
So when regular pains gave way to sleep, Maisie simply noted the time and quietly left the room to do a small bit of housework for her.
She kept checking on the woman, who had a sound sleep lasting more than an hour, before labour woke her up again.
She was pushing soon after with renewed energy.
Baby Frances was born by teatime in the front bedroom, and the family were allowed back in to coo and celebrate by eight in the evening.
Maisie, who had finished all her midwifery duties with the mother, happily helped the older children get the younger ones ready for bed before returning to the living room, where Mrs McGrath and her husband were saying a decade of the rosary in thanks for the safe birth of Frances.
Maisie joined in, enjoying the familiar words, yet at the same time feeling a bittersweet pain at the thought she might have to leave her faith and her family to be with Alex.
No point in thinking about it. Right now, she was here, with a beautiful wee baby and a lovely family.
After saying her goodbyes she headed for home, feeling a sense of warm satisfaction as she walked away knowing the children were cosy, the mother and baby were well, and that she definitely, one hundred per cent, had the best job in the world.
* * *
Calmly, Alex set the Catechism book down, though it was clear Father MacLaverty had seen what he was reading. After the usual greeting and banter about their last chess game, Father MacLaverty sent him a keen glance.
‘Mrs Canavan is a formidable woman,’ he began, throwing the words into their light politeness like a pebble into a still lake.
‘She is.’ Alex exhaled. ‘Thank you for – intervening last night. I think it probably prevented her and Maisie having a major row.’ He looked steadily at his friend. ‘Over me.’
‘Aye, I wondered about that.’ He made a face. ‘It’s a tricky one, I’m not going to deny it. As a Catholic priest, I’m supposed to try and convert you. But despite what I said last night, as your friend I wouldn’t dream of it.’
‘I appreciate that.’ To be fair, Father MacLaverty had never pushed his religion on Alex – though he had always readily answered his questions.
He took a breath. ‘Theoretically, if there was a person interested in converting, what would it involve?’ He knew some of the answers already, having questioned a random priest back in June.
But asking Father MacLaverty made it seem more real somehow. More scary.
‘Well,’ Father MacLaverty leaned back in his chair, ‘that part isn’t particularly complicated.
It involves taking instruction, making a profession of faith, and being received into the Church.
’ He made a face. ‘Apparently it’s become fashionable in intellectual circles to convert to Catholicism.
Poets, philosophers, and authors are all finding their way to the Church, but I’m not sure what I think about it.
Evelyn Waugh, GK Chesterton, Graham Greene.
People like that.’ He frowned. ‘I worry that some are just following their herd – even thoughtful, clever people.’ Sending Alex a keen glance, he added, ‘You’re not a man to follow the herd, I think. ’
‘Am I not?’ Alex wasn’t sure about this.
He had been the ‘good boy’ all his life – at school and university, at work .
. . But perhaps not all the time. Memories came to him now – of standing up to Father and insisting he wanted to study medicine.
Of his adventures with those lively girls in Edinburgh – adventures that would shock even Father MacLaverty if he knew about them.
His attempt to challenge Fenton over poor Mrs Lennon.
Each had required courage, in different ways.
The courage to be different. ‘Maybe,’ he said slowly.
‘Walking out with a Catholic girl goes against expectations – for both of us, but it’s left us in something of a pickle.
’ He gave a rueful laugh. ‘We’re up the left, as Maisie might say. ’
‘Let me guess. You want to marry her.’
Alex shrugged. ‘Of course I do. You know her, Father MacLaverty – you know how wonderful she is. How could I not want to marry her?’
The priest shook his head sadly. ‘I do see many’s a couple that worry me, you know.
I’ll never have a wife myself, but priests notice certain things.
Some couples bicker and fight, or they disrespect one another – even before the wedding.
You and Maisie, though . . .’ He shrugged.
‘If it wasn’t against the rules, I’d say you epitomise a truly sacramental couple. ’
Alex blinked. This was one of the things he loved about the priest – his ability to flip from the concrete to the intellectual without missing a beat. ‘What does that mean?’
‘The sacrament of marriage and the love between a couple is a sign of Christ’s love.
It’s a reflection of the faithful, enduring love between Christ and his church.
You two, you and Maisie – you’re properly loving and faithful and committed .
. .’ His unspoken words hung in the air. But you are from different religions.
They played chess then, and Alex tried hard to concentrate on the game, rather than all the other things buzzing around his head.
‘Checkmate!’ Father MacLaverty’s glance this time held humour along with triumph. ‘That’s three in a row to me, Alex. The turmoil over Maisie Canavan is granting me unexpected benefits!’
‘Ha! Just you wait until it all gets sorted, then.’ He pretended to be shocked. ‘A man of God, using my personal distress to win a game! Outrageous!’
Father MacLaverty laughed, and as Alex rose to leave, said casually, ‘Take that book with you. I’m always available to answer any questions.’
‘Thanks.’ Equally casually, Alex stowed the small book in his inside pocket, where it rested, pressing on his heart. Everything was confusing – and he still had no idea what he was going to say tomorrow to Maisie’s father.