she couldn’t make out their alarmed expressions as their faces swam in a blurred haze through her tears.
Maura was weak. She was lost. Events had knocked the stuffing right out of her and she was as close to done for as it was possible to be.
Nana Kathleen decided it was time to take over. Twenty years older than Maura, Kathleen had also been crushed by events but it was not her daughter who was about to suffer. They were her closest friends facing a problem to which there was almost no answer.
Nellie sensed something utterly catastrophic was about to take place.
Had they all stopped breathing? They had. They had.
Fear gradually wrapped its icy tendrils around Nellie’s heart and slithered down into the pit of her stomach. Under the table, she slipped a hand across and met Kitty’s, searching for her own.
For a heartbeat of a moment, a drumroll of domesticity filled the silent kitchen.
Maura’s gentle sniffling into her hankie.
The click of Alice’s knitting needles.
The tick-tock from the clock and the slow, repetitive drip from the tap pinging onto an enamel bowl in the sink.
As the coal burnt in the fireplace, it hissed and spat in accompaniment to the slow bubbling simmer of a pan of broth, warming on the range.
Kitty looked at Nana Kathleen and knew that whatever she was about to say had something to do with the night the priest had raped her in her hospital bed. Nothing had been the same since. Then, after years of abusing her, he had elevated his depravity to a new level and was about to do it again in her own bedroom when all were at the Irish centre and dancing at a wedding. But Nana Kathleen had caught him and then the priest was found murdered. He had never bothered her again.
Kitty had been stunned by the reaction of her da. She thought he was going mad with the rage. Tommy, normally mild-mannered and gentle and who loved them all to distraction, had been torn apart by the knowledge that the priest had been helping himself to his precious daughter, in his own house.
The man they had trusted above all others – the Holy Father of the community, whom everyone revered as though he were God himself – had abused their trust. And Tommy, whose only job was to protect and provide for his family, had let down his first-born and closest in a way he could never have imagined, not in his very worst nightmares.
Just when Kitty had thought the horrors of the past were about to fade, she had now begun to throw up every morning and most of the day.
Kitty really couldn’t remember normal any more.
Kathleen found the words hard. Kitty was still only fourteen but she looked just twelve and, sure, wasn’t that the reason Kitty and Nellie got on so well? Kitty was still an innocent little child, hesitant to embrace her teenage years, while Nellie, having faced adversity at such a young age, was older and wiser than most.
‘Kitty, my lovely one,’ said Kathleen in a soft voice.
She rubbed the top of Kitty’s hand, a thin, pale hand of innocence, held in a plump, warm hand of wisdom.
Kathleen raised her gaze and looked her straight in the eye.
She wanted Kitty to fully understand each and every word she was about to say. There was no room for ambiguity once it was spoken out loud.
All eyes rested on Nana Kathleen.
Kitty waited. Mouth open. Licked dry lips. Heart beating.
Tense expectancy cast a spell and drew them in closer.
‘Kitty, we have to tell ye important news, my darlin’. Ye need to know now. We cannot keep this in the dark any longer. Yer mammy and I, we are very sure ye is having a babby.’
She held Kitty’s hand more tightly.
‘Ye is pregnant with the priest’s child and we have to decide what we are going to do about it.’
All eyes were on Kitty and silently they witnessed the moment when her childhood died.
‘No,’ she screamed loudly, as she dropped Kathleen’s and Nellie’s hands, pushing the chair away and staggering backwards towards the range – desperately needing
Maura was weak. She was lost. Events had knocked the stuffing right out of her and she was as close to done for as it was possible to be.
Nana Kathleen decided it was time to take over. Twenty years older than Maura, Kathleen had also been crushed by events but it was not her daughter who was about to suffer. They were her closest friends facing a problem to which there was almost no answer.
Nellie sensed something utterly catastrophic was about to take place.
Had they all stopped breathing? They had. They had.
Fear gradually wrapped its icy tendrils around Nellie’s heart and slithered down into the pit of her stomach. Under the table, she slipped a hand across and met Kitty’s, searching for her own.
For a heartbeat of a moment, a drumroll of domesticity filled the silent kitchen.
Maura’s gentle sniffling into her hankie.
The click of Alice’s knitting needles.
The tick-tock from the clock and the slow, repetitive drip from the tap pinging onto an enamel bowl in the sink.
As the coal burnt in the fireplace, it hissed and spat in accompaniment to the slow bubbling simmer of a pan of broth, warming on the range.
Kitty looked at Nana Kathleen and knew that whatever she was about to say had something to do with the night the priest had raped her in her hospital bed. Nothing had been the same since. Then, after years of abusing her, he had elevated his depravity to a new level and was about to do it again in her own bedroom when all were at the Irish centre and dancing at a wedding. But Nana Kathleen had caught him and then the priest was found murdered. He had never bothered her again.
Kitty had been stunned by the reaction of her da. She thought he was going mad with the rage. Tommy, normally mild-mannered and gentle and who loved them all to distraction, had been torn apart by the knowledge that the priest had been helping himself to his precious daughter, in his own house.
The man they had trusted above all others – the Holy Father of the community, whom everyone revered as though he were God himself – had abused their trust. And Tommy, whose only job was to protect and provide for his family, had let down his first-born and closest in a way he could never have imagined, not in his very worst nightmares.
Just when Kitty had thought the horrors of the past were about to fade, she had now begun to throw up every morning and most of the day.
Kitty really couldn’t remember normal any more.
Kathleen found the words hard. Kitty was still only fourteen but she looked just twelve and, sure, wasn’t that the reason Kitty and Nellie got on so well? Kitty was still an innocent little child, hesitant to embrace her teenage years, while Nellie, having faced adversity at such a young age, was older and wiser than most.
‘Kitty, my lovely one,’ said Kathleen in a soft voice.
She rubbed the top of Kitty’s hand, a thin, pale hand of innocence, held in a plump, warm hand of wisdom.
Kathleen raised her gaze and looked her straight in the eye.
She wanted Kitty to fully understand each and every word she was about to say. There was no room for ambiguity once it was spoken out loud.
All eyes rested on Nana Kathleen.
Kitty waited. Mouth open. Licked dry lips. Heart beating.
Tense expectancy cast a spell and drew them in closer.
‘Kitty, we have to tell ye important news, my darlin’. Ye need to know now. We cannot keep this in the dark any longer. Yer mammy and I, we are very sure ye is having a babby.’
She held Kitty’s hand more tightly.
‘Ye is pregnant with the priest’s child and we have to decide what we are going to do about it.’
All eyes were on Kitty and silently they witnessed the moment when her childhood died.
‘No,’ she screamed loudly, as she dropped Kathleen’s and Nellie’s hands, pushing the chair away and staggering backwards towards the range – desperately needing
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