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feels. God, Greg, I’m surprised you can live with yourself.’

      ‘Dad, I’m not proud of this, any of it,’ Greg said. ‘But, for God’s sake, what was I to do? I’d finished with Nancy long before I declared myself to Maria and since that moment I have been true to her. But Nancy is pregnant with my child, Dad. I can’t desert her.’

      ‘Aye, I see that. It’s a dreadful thing you did to that girl too.’

      ‘Her father’s beaten her black and blue.’

      Greg’s father imagined how the man would feel, how he would react if one of his daughters came home with the news she was with child. God, it didn’t bear thinking about.

      But what of his son? Should he allow him to come here, flaunting his sin for all to see, showing a bad example to his siblings and further heartache for Maria?

      ‘Your mother and me have talked this over, Greg,’ he said. ‘You are right, you must marry this Nancy, but we don’t want to see either her or you ever again.’

      ‘What are you saying, Dad?’

      ‘I’m saying you are not welcome here. Go back to England, do your duty by this girl and sever connections with your home. As far as your mother and me are concerned, by your actions and for the grave hurt you have caused a great deal of people, you can no longer regard yourself as a son of ours.’

      Greg almost staggered from the room. He could scarcely believe the words his father had spoken. He’d always thought whatever he did, or said, they’d always love him, forgive him and welcome him. He’d never envisaged a time when he might be estranged from his parents—disagree with them, certainly, but exiled from home, never.

      For Christ’s sake, he was their eldest son. He sought out his mother, but her eyes were cold, her face set as she looked at him. ‘I thought your father had spoken to you.’

      ‘He has, Mom.’

      ‘Well then?’

      ‘I thought-’

      ‘You thought I would be different. Let me tell you, Greg, you have cut me to the quick and I am engulfed with shame for the wrong you have done Maria and also, to a lesser extent, the piece you are marrying. Do you think I want you here after that, your brothers emulating you and your sisters thinking this is the way to behave? No, Greg. You made your bed and now you must lie in it. You can have one day here to get over the travelling and tomorrow you go back, and I don’t want to see, or hear from you again.’

      ‘Mom—’

      ‘It’s my last word on the subject.’

      The ring plopped through the letterbox, the day after Greg left. Greg’s mother opened the envelope and held the ring in the palm of her hand. She cried for Maria and the dream that had come crashing down on her head.

      Knowing none of this, Maria skulked about the house for the first few days after seeing Greg, terrified of bumping into him.

      Each day she’d wake with a heavy heart after a fitful sleep. It was as if she’d fallen into a pit of sadness and it tainted everything she did and said. Food tasted like sawdust, though the lump in her throat prevented her eating anything much. Never was she more glad of work, glad of the chatter of the girls that covered her own silence, and glad of the weary feeling after work, though she knew weariness alone didn’t necessarily signify a decent night’s sleep

      She was worried which Mass Greg would attend on Sunday and she slipped into the one at nine o’clock, and looked around surreptitiously, but she was seen by one of Greg’s sisters. None of Greg’s brothers or sisters had been told about Greg, but they all knew. By eavesdropping on the raised voices, they’d put two and two together and, if there should be any doubt, one of them found the ring in the envelope that their mother had stuck behind the clock on the mantelpiece.

      Now, that same girl, Josephine, sidled up to Maria as soon as the Mass was over, guessing why she was so edgy. ‘Greg’s gone,’ she said, with any preamble.

      ‘Gone! So soon?’

      ‘Well, banished is more the word.’

      ‘Banished!’

      ‘There was a terrific row,’ Josephine said. ‘We all know that our Greg did the dirty on you and none of us were too pleased with him. But Daddy and Mammy were furious. They told him to go and not come back, and none of us now are allowed to speak his name.’

      Maria wondered if she had it in her heart to feel sorry for Greg, for she knew he cared for his family, but she felt nothing, as if his sister was talking about some stranger she hardly knew. It didn’t make her feel any better, but it meant she could stop looking over her shoulder every five minutes.

      ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Please give your parents my regards.’

      “S all right,’ Josephine said. ‘We all like you. You could still come. Mammy and Daddy would love to see you.’

      But that time was linked to Greg, visiting the parents of the man Maria intended spending the rest of her life with. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ she said, ‘but thanks anyway.’

      The following day in the chapel of St George’s Barracks, a sad little group gathered. Greg looked tall and handsome in his uniform, but Nancy was dishevelled, her face still discoloured and awash with tears, her eyes red-rimmed and her hair piled untidily on her head. But in front of her, for all to see, that no dress could hide, was the swell of her pregnancy.

      The priest—Greg had insisted on a priest so that their marriage would be recognised in the Catholic Church—was a bit nervous of Nancy’s belligerent father, sitting glaring at his daughter in the front row. He wanted the marriage over speedily and was glad neither had plumped for nuptial Mass. In a matter of minutes, Nancy was Mrs Hopkins.

      She thought it made little difference. Greg was going overseas, so she was going back to live at home with the father, who had terrorised them all since babyhood.

      However, Greg wasn’t frightened of the man. He rather despised him as he would any who would hit a woman, and now he intended to see to it that marriage to him would protect her.

      ‘There’s to be no more heavy stuff,’ he told Nancy’s father sternly. ‘Never raise your hand to Nancy again, or you’ll have me to deal with. She is my wife now and not your responsibility.’

      ‘You young—’

      ‘There is nothing to be gained by calling me names,’ Greg snapped. ‘As soon as we can, we’ll get a place of our own, but until then, please treat Nancy with respect.’

      There was a lot more Nancy’s father could have said, but looking Greg up and down he changed his mind and instead made do with a glare before leading his wife away.

      Nancy’s eyes were shining. No one had ever stood up to her father before. ‘Oh, Greg,’ she breathed. ‘Oh, I love you so. I know you don’t feel the same and I’m sorry you’ve been pushed into this.’

      Greg suddenly felt sorry for the girl for the shabby wedding with the reluctant bridegroom, and he drew Nancy into his arms. ‘I can’t say I love you,’ he said, for he thought she deserved honesty. ‘But I can say I like you, and like you a great deal. I knew what I was doing the last time I slept with you. Between us we have created a baby, part of you and part of me, and for that I could love you. I’m sure when we are a proper family and have some place to call our own, then we will be happy together.’

      Nancy thought of her own parents’ turbulent marriage. ‘D’you think so?’ she said. ‘See, my mom and dad—’

      ‘Your parents are different people to us,’ Greg said. ‘I promise you two things: I will never raise my hand to you, nor will I be unfaithful. I might not have entered into this wholeheartedly, but now we are married I want to be a good husband to you and a good father to the child.’ He’d been avoiding Nancy’s eyes as he spoke, but he now took her chin and turned her

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