Page 135 of The Missing Sister

‘We’ll all have to pray that she’s stronger now than she was the last time. The doctor might be wrong.’

‘James, you know what this might mean for Mary, and she’s doing so well at school.’

‘She is indeed, and what makes it worse is that Miss Lucey came by only the other day to talk with me about her. Merry is in desperate need of superior teaching. She’s surpassed everyone in the school and Miss Lucey is in a quandary as to what to do with her next year. After that, well,’ James concluded, ‘if her mother is having another baby, her help may be needed at home.’

‘What can I do?’

‘Very little for now,’ said James. ‘I can at least make sure the doctor puts Maggie in a hospital to have this baby. Then, if things go wrong, she has professionals around her.’

‘Marymustcontinue her education, James,’ Ambrose urged him. ‘She’s read the entire works of Charles Dickens, and last time I saw her, I gave her a copy ofJane Eyre.’

‘Would you not think that the... romance side of it was a little grown-up for her?’

‘There’s nothing of the physical side of love in that story, James.’

‘No, and we must both remember that Mary has grown up watching bulls mount cows. The children round here are innocent in many ways, yet at the same time they have to grow up so fast.’

‘Not as fast as young women are growing up in Dublin. Have you heard of this new book,The Country Girls, by a young writer called Edna O’Brien? It’s just been banned in Ireland because it talks openly of women having sex before marriage. There’s been an outcry from the church, but my English Fellow friend provided me with a copy,’ Ambrose grinned.

‘And?’

‘It’s a triumph, if one is eager to break boundaries and move Ireland – and the lives of women here – forward, although I doubt it would be your cup of tea. We also have the imminent prospect of a national television service, which will again change the country as we know it.’

‘Have you seen a television?’

‘Yes indeed. I have a friend who lives up close to the border with the North and is able to get a picture from the British transmitter there. It’s like having a miniature cinema in your own sitting room.’

‘I’m sure ’twill be years before such a thing makes its way down here to West Cork,’ said James.

‘Are you glad about that, or not?’

James gazed down over the fields, the town beyond them, and the bay. ‘I’d certainly like my flock to live above the breadline and to have advances in medicine... I’m all for that.’

‘Even contraception?’

James saw his friend had a mischievous glint in his eye. ‘We both know the answer to that. As a priest, how can I be in favour?’

‘Not even when it would have safeguarded Maggie O’Reilly’s life?’

‘No, Ambrose. Wilfully stopping human life arriving goes against every Christian belief. It must be God’s decision to give life or to take it away. Not ours.’

‘This from a man who, after a few drops of whiskey last month, agreed that more wars have been fought and more millions of lives lost in the name of religion than anything else.’

James couldn’t deny he’d agreed, so drained his teacup and placed it back in its saucer.

‘Anyway, dear boy, we have veered heavily off track,’ said Ambrose. ‘Whether we like it or not, Mrs O’Reilly is having her baby in – what? Six months’ time? And Mary’s fate will then be known. I suppose all we can do is wait.’

‘And pray for them both,’ whispered James.

As the glorious summer months descended into autumn and then into winter, Merry watched as her mother’s stomach grew large and sapped her energy. Dr Townsend had been to visit only last week and had advised, to everyone’s relief, that mother and baby were doing well.

‘However, given the damage inflicted on Mrs O’Reilly during her last labour and the fact that she’s underweight herself, I must advise complete bed rest. This will give her a chance to save the energy she needs for when her time comes.’

Merry had looked at her father aghast, but he’d hardly seemed to hear what the doctor was saying. These days she rarely saw him, nor he his family. He’d be out all day on the farm, come in for his tea, then be off to either the Henry Ford pub or the Abbey Bar in Timoleague to chat with the other farmers. Merry didn’t like the sound of Pa Griffin, the owner of the bar. When he wasn’t pouring the stout or whiskey, he’d be off taking in dead bodies and making the coffins to bury them in, because he was also an undertaker. Merry was long in bed when she’d hear Daddy arrive home. In the mornings, when he came in for his breakfast, his eyes would be red, like he was the devil.

‘What will we do, Daddy?’ she’d asked him once the doctor had left. ‘While Mammy has to be in bed,’ she’d added in case he didn’t understand.

Daddy had shrugged. ‘Well so, you, Katie and Nora are the women of the house. Sure, you can sort it out between yourselves.’