Chapters (59)
- Copyright Page
- About the Author
- Also by
- Praise
- About the Book
- Dedication
- Part One
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Part Two
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Acknowledgements
- Discover more from Rachael English . . .
- Prologue
- Part One
- Chapter 1
‘That’s fine. If it’s not, no harm done. If it is, that’d be brilliant.’
‘Fair enough. It’s … it’s something that’s been on my conscience. I’m eighty-four and my health isn’t the best, so if I don’t get this off my chest now, there’s a danger I never will.’ Her thumb-rubbing continued, to and fro, back and forth. ‘Gregory doesn’t know I’m meeting you. And what I’m about to say … he doesn’t know anything about that either. I’d prefer if it stayed that way too. My husband’s a good man but he’s very traditional in his views. He always was, and that’s unlikely to change.’
Hannah’s voice was low, and Conor strained to hear her above the hiss and bang of the coffee machine and the babble of customers. He stayed quiet. One ill-timed word might put her off.
‘You see, Inspec— Conor, Gregory’s family were very religious. In those days, most families were devout, but the Galvins were something else altogether. They went to Mass every day and said the rosary every night. It’s a miracle they hadn’t holes worn in the lino, they spent so much time on their knees. No one drank or smoked, and every spare penny was given to the Church or the Missions. Now, don’t get me wrong, they were kind people, only – how do I put this? – there weren’t many laughs in that house. You’re too young to remember those days, but take it from me, life was hard. Water came from the well, electricity was a novelty and frivolity was frowned upon.
‘I was sixteen when I started doing a line with Gregory. We married the following year, and with hindsight I suspect he saw a wedding as the best way to avoid the priesthood.’ Conor must have looked shocked, for she quickly added, ‘Oh, we loved each other. Don’t have any doubt about that. We were only children, though. We should have waited.
‘As was the way back then, at least one son was expected to join the priesthood. All going well, one of the daughters would enter a convent. With Gregory out of the picture, the pressure was on the next eldest son. That was Martin. When he was eighteen, he entered Maynooth. Everybody was delighted.’