though she had never wanted to bring that sordidness and brutality into her life here. Ah, dear Christ, she thought, when Paul knew the type of home she came from, it would wipe the love from his eyes all right.
Should she break off any friendship they shared before they got in any deeper? But then she remembered him saying that his heart would be broken if she did that, and the bleak look in his eyes when he said it. Could she inflict that hurt on someone she cared for?
The dilemma she found herself in drove sleep well away and when it was eventually time to rise she felt like a bit of chewed string. She hoped that Lois wasn’t going to ask questions about Paul, but fortunately she was more interested in talking about her and Chris, and Carmel was grateful.
As soon as her shift was over and she had eaten a scratch meal, she set off for the church, knowing the priest would be there to hear confession in the evening. She wanted so badly to pour her feelings out to someone.
When Father Donahue saw Carmel enter the church, and the dejected stance of her, he rushed forward and led her to one of the pews. ‘Carmel, my dear child, what is all this? Are you in trouble of some kind?’ He hoped, even as he spoke the words, that she wasn’t in that kind of trouble.
Carmel looked at the priest, her eyes glistening with tears and said. ‘It’s trouble of my own making, Father, for I think I must tell Paul our friendship is over.’
‘And why is this, my dear?’ the priest asked gently, sitting down beside her.
‘It’s because of something from my past. Something no one can help me with.’
‘I see,’ the priest said. ‘And this thing—was it something you did, something you could confess, get forgiveness for and put behind you?’
‘It wasn’t anything I did, Father.’
‘But you are not responsible for the sins of others.’
‘I know that deep down, Father,’ Carmel said. ‘It’s just…I can’t expect Paul to…He’s going to be a doctor, Father.’
Father Donahue had seen Carmel in the church a few times with Paul and had been delighted that she had found herself a good Catholic boy. Carmel’s duties prevented her from doing more than attending Mass on Sunday and Holy Days and she had been unable to go to any social events where she might meet other Catholic young people.
When he expressed this regret not long after Carmel made herself known to him, she had told him not to worry; that she didn’t intend marrying anyone. He had hidden his smile, though he did say she was young to make such a momentous decision. He couldn’t help thinking, however, that a doctor was a good catch for this girl, whom the nuns had told him came from one of the most desperate families in Letterkenny.
Suddenly the priest knew what Carmel was talking about because shame and degradation were mirrored in her eyes and he said gently, ‘Carmel, I know the sort of home you come from and the sort or rearing you had.’
Carmel’s head shot up and she looked at him in sudden alarm.
He went on in the same soothing voice, ‘The nuns told me. They thought I should know.’
‘Oh, Father,’ Carmel said, and the tears began trickling down her face. She covered her face with her hands and moaned.
The priest took hold of those hands and pulled them from her face as he said, ‘Come, come now, Carmel. Don’t distress yourself like this. There is no need. Have I ever treated you differently because I had this knowledge?’
Carmel made an effort to control herself. ‘No, Father, you haven’t,’ she said. ‘In fact you have always been kindness itself to me. But that isn’t the same everywhere. In Letterkenny, for example, there were many there who looked down on us and I can’t expect Paul to want even friendship from the likes of me.’
‘Are you ashamed of your family, Carmel?’
‘Aye, Father,’ Carmel said. ‘And ashamed of being ashamed.’
‘Then be ashamed no more,’ the priest said. ‘Pity them instead. Take responsibility just for yourself. Seek out your young man and tell him about your background and see what he says.’
‘I couldn’t, Father,’ Carmel said. ‘I couldn’t bear it if he despised me.’
The priest gave Carmel’s hands a small shake and looked deep into her eyes. ‘He will never despise you. The love he has for you shines bright in his eyes and that will not be dimmed when he hears how you were reared. Carmel, you owe it to him to tell him.’
‘You really think so?’
‘I know so. And you speak of friendship—is that all you really want from Paul?’
‘Yes, Father,’ Carmel said. ‘As I said, I never intend to marry.’
‘And how does Paul feel?’
‘He admitted last night that he loves me, Father.’
‘And you can’t feel the same?’
Carmel shook her head and the priest said, ‘I know that I am a fine one to talk about love. But sometimes you have to open your heart and see what God wants for you in the future. I had to open my own so I could hear him calling me to the priesthood. Maybe you are approaching this with your head only, giving reasons why it isn’t sensible to become involved with someone, when really a person’s heart is often a better indicator of what will make them happiest and bring the greatest fulfilment in their lives.’
‘So you think I should keep seeing Paul?’
‘Not if you continue to feel only friendship,’ the priest said ‘That way only pain and anguish wait for him and, knowing you, even as well as I do, you will feel guilty for the hurt inflicted. However, the stumbling block in all this is your background and your home in Letterkenny. You must tell Paul. Give the man a chance and then see if it makes a difference to the way you feel.’
‘All right, then,’ Carmel said with a sigh. ‘I will be guided by you, but it will be the hardest thing I will ever do.’
Over the next few days Carmel didn’t see Paul to speak to. Any time they had off never fell together and, anyway, he was in the throes of studying for his finals, as Chris was. So Carmel and Lois were thrown together quite a lot, for Jane and Sylvia were courting strongly. Carmel had admitted to Lois what had happened on the walk home after the pictures, and some of what the priest had said, omitting all mention of her background.
‘So how d’you know you don’t actually love Paul, then?’ Lois asked.
Carmel shrugged. ‘How would I know? How does anyone know?’
‘Well, do you think about him a lot?’
‘It used to be just now and then,’ Carmel said. ‘But he’s rarely out of my thoughts at the moment.’
‘And can you imagine life without him, if he wasn’t here, or if he got on with someone else?’
Carmel had to think about that and eventually she said, ‘Yes, when I suggested Paul see other people, as I couldn’t feel for him the way he wanted me to, it gave me quite a pang to think of Paul with another girl, and that quite surprised me. Yes, I would miss him if he was no longer around, if he wasn’t an important part of my life. Oh God!’
‘You have answered your own question,’ Lois said, and hugged her in delight. ‘You are in love with Paul and I know he is besotted with you. I tell you, Carmel, if I can’t have the man myself, there is no one I’d rather he take up with than you. You’ll still have to be careful, though, for if Matron gets one sniff of romance between a junior doctor and one of her probationers they’ll likely be “wigs on the green”, as my Uncle Jeff is fond of saying.’