Tonight she is bereft, her heart shattered into a thousand sharp-edged pieces. She looks down to her left beyond the stony fields that quilt the mountain, where weather-bowed, bare-branched trees and hedgerows define the boundaries to the Larkins’ farmland. Her heart feels as though a knife has stabbed and twisted it when she thinks of black-haired, brown-eyed Johnny Larkin, who had told her that he loved her more than he’d ever loved anyone. Who had pressed her up against the cold hard wall of his father’s barn and kissed and caressed her in her most private places and done things to her that, even though she’d demurred and then protested, had shocked her, yet given her a fierce delight that Johnny loved and wanted her and not that skinny little rake, Peggy Fitzgerald, whose father owned the big farm next to the Larkins’.

Two days after Johnny told her he loved her, his engagement to Peggy had been announced. Tomorrow at Christmas Mass, Peggy will simper and giggle on Johnny’s arm, flashing the diamond ring Pa Larkin has lent his son the money to buy.

She can’t bear it. An anguished sob breaks the deep silence of the night. Her sorrow overwhelms her. A sudden, unexpected pain in her belly doubles her up, causing her to groan in agony. She feels dampness on her thighs and pulling up her clothes sees the trickle of blood down her legs. Another spasm convulses her and, frightened, she takes deep breaths until it eases.

In the distance, she hears the sound of the carol singers who go from house to house singing the glorious story of the birth of a child who would bring peace to all mankind.

As she loses her own child, in the shelter of the prickly furze bush, she hears the singing of ‘Oh Holy Night’ floating across the fields from her parents’ house.

CHRISTMAS EVE

Mid-Eighties

Although the heat of the day has died down, she is hot and bothered. She thinks of Christmases at home when her fingers were numb with cold, and wishes for a moment that she could transport herself to Ireland, to Ardcloch, and feel the icy chill of a moonlit night in December. But she’s half a world from home and she needs to focus on the task at hand.

The children are beside themselves, their excited chatter and awestruck expressions bringing smiles to the adults’ faces. She casts a peek at the tall, lean man with the lopsided smile who is surrounded by them. How they love it when he is here. How she loves it when he is here. She has to be careful. Not by so much as a glance can she betray herself. She is well aware that Mother has been watching her like a hawk since her arrival this morning.