Blackie stole a surreptitious look at his uncle, and said in a hushed tone, “Glad ter hear that. Ye can’t take Jack with ye. He’s been bowled over by her.… He’s stuck on her.”

Patrick eyed Blackie and couldn’t help chuckling quietly. “I’m afraid you’ve hit the nail on the head there. That’s a fact. But he’s a bit old for Moira; after all, he is thirty-four.”

“How old do ye think she is?”

“I don’t know, Blackie, maybe seventeen, even eighteen.”

“She could be older, ye knows, perhaps even twenty.”

“Oh come on, that’s a bit of an exaggeration. Why do you think she could be twenty?”

“She’s very grown-up. Mind ye. I think she’s also well educated.…” Blackie paused, and added, “There’s something worldly about her.”

“Do you mean ‘sophisticated,’ perhaps?”

Blackie just nodded. After a second, he said, “She’s been under someone’s influence; I feel that strongly.”

“Not necessarily bad, though. Good, I would say. Now let’s close this little discussion. We’re almost at City Square. When we’re on the tram to Armley, Moira will sit with me. Once we arrive at Whingate Junction, I’ll be off with her to the Towers. You will go with Finn and Jack down Town Street.”

“Jack might want ter come with you.”

“I’ll make sure he understands he can’t do that, Blackie. Leave everything to me, and don’t utter a word to Moira, except a simple good-bye.”

Twenty-Five

When he arrived home, Blackie was relieved his aunt had gone to bed for a rest. She always did this on Saturday afternoons; she usually helped out at the bakery in the morning and was tired. He worried about Aunt Eileen a little less these days. She was somewhat given to catching colds, ever since the bad illness just before he came to live with them, but over the past few years the bloom had returned to her cheeks.

Immediately he went upstairs to his room, took off his jacket and boots and lay down on the bed. His mind was racing; he was filled with mixed emotions. Angry with himself, ashamed and exceedingly embarrassed.

What a fool I am, he thought, focusing on the way he had questioned Moira. His uncle Pat was right. He had been rude and overinquisitive. No wonder Moira had been impatient with him. Worst of all, he’d probably hurt her feelings. He knew Uncle Patrick was furious with him; he had made no bones about that. Finn and Jack were also irritated, and barely spoke to him when they walked down Town Street from Whingate Junction.

Finn had not even mentioned going to the Dance Hall, as they usually did on Saturday nights. In fact, they didn’t speak to him at all.