Back The Night of The Party
Chapters (59)
  1. Copyright Page
  2. About the Author
  3. Also by
  4. Praise
  5. About the Book
  6. Dedication
  7. Part One
  8. Chapter 1
  9. Chapter 2
  10. Chapter 3
  11. Chapter 4
  12. Chapter 5
  13. Chapter 6
  14. Chapter 7
  15. Chapter 8
  16. Chapter 9
  17. Chapter 10
  18. Chapter 11
  19. Chapter 12
  20. Chapter 13
  21. Chapter 14
  22. Chapter 15
  23. Chapter 16
  24. Chapter 17
  25. Chapter 18
  26. Chapter 19
  27. Chapter 20
  28. Chapter 21
  29. Chapter 22
  30. Part Two
  31. Chapter 23
  32. Chapter 24
  33. Chapter 25
  34. Chapter 26
  35. Chapter 27
  36. Chapter 28
  37. Chapter 29
  38. Chapter 30
  39. Chapter 31
  40. Chapter 32
  41. Chapter 33
  42. Chapter 34
  43. Chapter 35
  44. Chapter 36
  45. Chapter 37
  46. Chapter 38
  47. Chapter 39
  48. Chapter 40
  49. Chapter 41
  50. Chapter 42
  51. Chapter 43
  52. Chapter 44
  53. Chapter 45
  54. Chapter 46
  55. Acknowledgements
  56. Discover more from Rachael English . . .
  57. Prologue
  58. Part One
  59. 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.’