When the Lights Come on Again by Maggie Craig Page B

again, she thought, taking a sip of tea, wasn’t his print of King Billy crossing the Boyne his own version of a religious idol?
    Liz liked the picture the Gallaghers had of Jesus. He looked so kind, His eyes beautifully gentle. He had a lantern in His hand and He was knocking at a solid old door in a deep and dark forest.
    ‘The door to our hearts,’ Helen’s mother told Liz, seeing her studying it. ‘All we have to do is let Him in.’ Then she crossed herself.
    They were obviously a very devout family but they seemed to have no objections to Helen having a Protestant friend or, judging from what Conor had said, to one of their sons being an atheist. Remarkable, thought Liz, lifting her teacup to her lips.
    The next thing she knew, Helen’s mother had appeared out of nowhere, fetching Conor a wallop on the back of his coppery head. Finn growled, opened one eye, saw who was attacking his master - and stayed where he was on the floor. The big animal had obviously decided that discretion was the better part of valour. Liz didn’t blame him one little bit.
    ‘An atheist, is it?’ cried Marie. ‘And your brother going in for the priesthood? I ought to wash your mouth out with soap, Conor Gallagher!’
    ‘Ma,’ protested her large son, putting his hand to the back of his head and doing a fair imitation of a man who’d been mortally wounded. ‘Please!’
    Liz took another sip of tea, the better to hide her amusement. Conor’s hair was very thick. His mother’s hand was very small. However, he was obliging enough to pretend to be suffering.
    ‘Ears like a hare,’ he observed ruefully to Liz. ‘Much better, in fact. I don’t know how she does it, but she always manages to hear the things you don’t want her to. If what Finn and I go after had hearing like that, we’d never catch a bloody thing.’
    That earned him another smack.
    ‘Mind your language,’ said his mother. ‘There’s ladies present - in case you hadn’t noticed. As to how I manage to hear you - our Lord Himself helps me,’ she went on primly. ‘That’s how. Otherwise how would I keep you lot in order?’
    She turned with a smile to Liz. ‘Will you have another piece of gingerbread, Miss MacMillan?’
    “Thank you,’ said Liz. Then, a little shyly: ‘And please call me Liz, Mrs Gallagher.’
    ‘So are your parents not like that, Liz?’ asked Helen when she saw Liz downstairs and out on to the street.
    ‘That,’ said Liz, ‘might very well be the understatement of the century. By the way, do you have another brother?’
    Helen looked blank. ‘No. Why do you ask?’
    ‘Well, your ma said something about one of them going in for the priesthood. I thought maybe he was away studying somewhere.’
    ‘Oh,’ said Helen, realization dawning. ‘She thinks Dom’s going to become a priest.’
    ‘And he doesn’t?’
    ‘Not unless he can travel about his parish in a spaceship,’ laughed Helen. ‘He’s daft about Flash Gordon at the moment.’
    ‘Well,’ said Liz comfortably, ‘I’m quite fond of old Flash myself.’
    Helen smiled. ‘It’s either that or steam locomotives. You know this one called the Mallard that’s just broken some speed record? Last week, in fact?’
    Liz was forced to admit that she didn’t.
    ‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Helen easily. ‘I only know because Dominic’s so interested in it’ She ticked the relevant points off on her slim fingers. ‘She was designed by a man called Nigel Gresley - chief engineer for the London and North Eastern Railway, and one of Dom’s heroes - she achieved a speed of a hundred and twenty-six miles per hour and she’s built to a streamlined design.’
    ‘I don’t even know what that means,’ cried Liz in mock despair.
    ‘Neither do I, really,’ admitted Helen. ‘Although Dom does try to explain it to me. Quite frequently.’
    Liz grinned.
    ‘Well, brothers are like that. Speaking of which, are you coming to the exhibition with Eddie and me next