It was seven weeks to the day since George had returned to Vietnam that Mildred neither turned up to perform the early morning tasks she undertook at St. Patrick's that doubled as meetings with John, or even to the daily mass that followed. John found himself, unsurprisingly, concerned.
He was so concerned in fact that he felt himself stumble and stutter over the words of his mass. His eyes were automatically drawn to where Mildred would always sit and it unsettled him to see her spot vacant. He found himself glancing towards the church entrance too in some hope she would be a late arrival, but she never came.
"Thank you for a wonderful mass, Father," Dorothy Keene told him on her way out of the church. "It's so strange for Mildred not to be here though, don't you think?"
"Yes, it's most peculiar," Dorothy's friend and fellow gossip Ruth Johnson interjected. "She's always so diligent when it comes to matters of the church."
"Yes, I'll uh…" John rubbed at his forehead. "I must go and check up on her."
"Of course," Dorothy said, her words dripping with sarcasm as she glanced a knowing look in the direction of her friend - although John was far too distracted to notice or care.
His heart hung in his mouth as he knocked at Mildred's door. Although she had been fine the previous evening, all manner of scenarios ran through his head: did George unexpectedly come home? Was she hurt or ill? Or perhaps worst of all, had she finally come to her senses and decided it was time for things between them to end?
When Mildred answered the door, he saw immediately that she looked pale and tired, the dark circles beneath her eyes making her face appear hollow. She pushed her hair behind her ear to try and somehow make herself more presentable, wrapping her cardigan across her body in an unconscious act of comfort.
"Oh Millie, I was so worried. Is everything alright?"
"You erm…" She debated for a second. "You should come in."
Mildred moved out of the way to let John in, closing the door carefully behind them. It was the first time John had ever been in her house, she realised, having previously kept him away out of some respect for George, but given the situation she now found herself in, she felt such a misguided sense of loyalty especially pointless.
Once they were both seated, John turned to her and took her hand in his, his eyes wide with fearful curiosity.
Mildred took a steadying breath before she finally began: "I've felt…a little unwell for the last few days, I just couldn't shift it...and this morning, I was just so sick that I couldn't think about leaving the house. I lay down just for a second and I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, the telephone was ringing… And, well…"
John squeezed her hand in his and nodded along, still confused but now concerned she was going to tell him something terrible in regards to her health.
"I was due to…menstrate," she blushed a touch at the intimate nature of the topic, although unlike George - who had firmly vetoed any discussion of the subject early in their marriage - John seemed unphased by it, "a week ago now."
Mildred studied his face and watching, she saw the precise moment that realisation of what she was saying appeared.
"I-I didn't want to say anything until I was sure," she told John apologetically, "but Dr. Roberts rang and confirmed it this morning. I'm going to have a baby."
John knew Mildred's body well enough at this point to know that there was no way it could be George's; she'd gotten her period a couple of weeks after he'd left. Given the difficult circumstances they found themselves in, he felt guilt over the relief that washed over him upon realising the baby could only belong to him.
Mildred wasn't sure what sort of reaction she had been expecting from John, but the smile of undeniable happiness that lit up his whole face surprised her. "That's…that's wonderful."
"Yes, it is," Mildred agreed - because if she ignored their circumstances, she couldn't think of anything more wonderful than finally being pregnant, and with John's child at that. "You know I've wanted a baby for so long…" She took a breath. "And George…"
John nodded, his face falling as he looked down. "And George," he said, now glancing up with a look of resignation, "he wants one too."
Mildred nodded, teary eyed. "He does. He would never know."
All John could do was nod in reply and swallow the lump of emotion that rose thickly in his throat.
"You could-you can be a father to the baby…in a way," Mildred offered as some sort of compensation, having spent the last few days considering all the possibilities. "At least until George returns, whenever that might be."
"Yes," John agreed with a stoic acceptance. Her hand remained clasped in his and he glanced down at it, unable to meet her eyes, as he continued to rub it soothingly with his thumb.
"And even when he's back, you can watch the child grow." Mildred was reaching, desperately trying to make the situation less dreadful. "You can be in their life, maybe not as their father, but-"
"As their priest," he interjected, letting out a bitter huff of a laugh. "Yes, I can," he added with a little more sincerity, looking at her with a taut smile.
"I'm sorry." Mildred shook her head furiously, realising there was no way to make it less painful. "I'm so sorry. I've spent the last few days thinking about it and there just…" she shrugged, "there isn't another way."
"I know," John agreed, taking her other hand in his. "You're right, it's just sometimes I…"
"I know." She was crying now as she reached out and touched his face. "I love you so much and I'm so sorry."
"Shh," he muttered soothingly as he pulled her tightly to him. "It's OK." He kissed the top of her head, closing his eyes for a moment to compose himself. "We'll be OK."
Although John protested she should stay at home if she felt unwell, Mildred assured him she was well enough to visit him that evening as she always did, eager to get back into what was the normal routine they had developed together. Fate would however, have other plans.
John went to kiss her in the way he always did when she entered the rectory, but he felt her stiffen.
"What is it?" he asked immediately. "Is it-is it the baby?"
Mildred shook her head no. "There was a mix up with the post, Mrs. Turner got my mail and she didn't bring it to me until supper time…" She stopped herself, knowing she was rambling information that was inconsequential in some attempt to postpone the real news. "I got a letter. From George."
John frowned, knowing this wasn't an unusual occurrence. "OK…"
"He's in hospital, he says he-" She frowned and shook her head as she tried to remember the way she had rehearsed she would tell him the news on the walk over. "He took a bullet to his leg. He's going to be fine, but they're-they're discharging him. He's coming home in three weeks, for good this time."
John was silent, shell shocked by the news.
"I thought we'd have more time." Mildred was openly sobbing now. "He wasn't supposed to come home yet. We were meant to have more time."
As he had done earlier, John again pulled her to him, kissing the top of her head and calming her as best he could while his shirt grew damp from her tears. "I'll still be here, you'll still be here…" He tried desperately to grab at straws. "We can still see each other, maybe we won't have as much time alone, but-but we'll work something out."
This seemed to calm Mildred somewhat and she pulled back, wiping her eyes. "You promise?" she asked him, her eyes like a rabbit in the headlights as anxiously searched his face for comfort.
"I promise," he assured her. "I love you and I promise."
Mildred pushed her lips to his, desperately craving a connection, some physical reassurance of his words. While John too was eager to connect with her, the uncharacteristic forcefulness she displayed, pushing him down until he lay beneath her in the best way he could on the small sofa, took him by surprise.
"Millie," he said, cradling her face a breath from his. "We should be careful, the baby…"
She smiled, charmed as ever by the sweet innocence of him. "John please, I need you."
He considered her words for a second. "OK," he agreed. "But can we move to the bedroom? If I lie on here any longer I won't be able to move in the morning." He was pleased that that at least elicited an affectionate laugh from her.
The love they made that night held the tender kind of desperation only known to two people who know their days together are numbered, each trying to touch every bit of skin possible for fear of never getting that chance again, while every kiss filled with the sadness of knowing it's one more that they're never going to get again.
"I can't believe there's a baby in there," John whispered, his hand touching her lower abdomen as he and Mildred lay together, limbs tanged and skin on skin.
"Mm-hmm," she hummed with a smile, eyes closed as she bathed in the sensation of being in his arms, utterly surrounded by his scent. "I wonder if it will be a boy or a girl," she mused idly.
"As long as they're happy and healthy, I don't care."
Mildred turned to look at him, pure love in her eyes in the knowledge that he was being completely sincere. "You're amazing, you know that?"
John lent forward and kissed her. When they broke apart, she reluctantly looked at the clock. "I should go."
"Just 10 more minutes," he whispered, pulling her to him. "We don't have many more nights left."
The 10 minutes turned into 30, which turned into an hour, and before she knew it, Mildred was desperately hurrying home for fear of the clock of darkness lifting that normally covered her tracks.
She didn't notice Ruth Johnson's husband - one of the few men left on the island deemed unfit for war who was tasked with keeping the fishing trade going as best he could - as he headed to his boat, but he noticed her. He saw her rushing from the direction of the rectory, still hastily pulling her coat on. His wife would be interested in this, he thought, very interested indeed.