Read Online A Killing Moon by Steven Dunne - Free Book Online
Authors: Steven Dunne
Tags: UK
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hesitated, the increased volume of a badly sung psalm giving her pause.
‘Come on,’ said Nurse Moran, appearing at her shoulder. ‘I’ll see you out.’
The nurse threw an arm behind the elfin figure and guided her out into the cold. The ground was damp underfoot and a stiffening wind persuaded Kassia to pull her too-thin coat tighter. Moran held her around the shoulder and Kassia braced herself as they approached the small gathering at the end of the path.
The assembled crowd were mostly elderly, huddled under umbrellas and clutching placards bearing an assortment of pro-life slogans.
HALF THE PATIENTS ENTERING AN ABORTION CLINIC NEVER COME OUT ALIVE!EQUAL RIGHTS FOR UNBORN WOMEN!
Kassia looked away, hoping not to be noticed. However, the psalm died on the lips of the protesters as all eyes in the group flashed towards her, and she found herself looking round for an alternative route. There wasn’t one.
Feeling her slow, Nurse Moran gripped her harder and walked her on. ‘To bring a child into this world takes so much love, my girl. You’ve already shown that love. Now your baby needs you to be brave for just a little longer and then you can get on with your life.’
The silence was broken by an elderly woman wearing an expensive fur hat and matching coat. ‘Baby killer!’ she screamed at Kassia in an American accent, a gloved finger raised to point. She moved towards the shivering girl but was restrained by the priest next to her.
‘We’re not allowed to intimidate, Mrs Trastevere,’ said the priest. ‘The police made that clear.’
‘Murderer!’ screamed Mrs Trastevere, ignoring him and wrestling for her freedom.
‘No,’ replied a sobbing Kassia, shaking her head to emphasise her innocence. ‘I not kill my child.’
‘The Lord is Life,’ continued the woman, not listening. She pushed against the priest again. Then, from the back of the knot of protesters, a camera flash briefly illuminated Kassia’s distraught face.
Moran’s head snapped round to scowl at the figure in the fading light. A man, his face hidden by a hoodie, lowered his hands to pocket his phone and turned away as Moran edged in his direction. ‘You, what do you think you’re doing?’ she shouted at his retreating frame. But Mrs Trastevere pushed towards Kassia once more, forcing the nurse to interpose herself, and in the fracas, he slipped away.
‘Murdering bitches!’ screamed Mrs Trastevere, looking from Kassia to the nurse.
The priest pulled her wiry frame back. ‘Constance, we can’t intimidate, or the police will move us on.’
‘Burn in hell, the pair of you,’ screamed the elderly woman, undeterred.
‘Like you’d know about hell, you pampered old bag,’ shouted Nurse Moran above the patter of light rain on umbrellas and coats. There was a shocked silence and everyone turned to listen to the fierce Irishwoman. ‘Hell is where these poor girls are. I bet you’ve never had to lift a finger in your life, and if you had someone at home that loved you, you wouldn’t be here now, causing grief to the troubled souls who pass through our doors.’
Hushed, the protesters watched the pair pass. Kassia looked furtively into the priest’s eyes and instinctively crossed herself. She eschewed a further denial and quickened her step, the tears turning to howls of pain.
‘Be safe, my child,’ whispered Moran into her ear when they’d cleared the picket. Then she let go of Kassia’s arms as though she was an injured bird being released back into the wild.
Once the slight girl had hurried off into the dark. Moran turned a blazing eye on the priest. ‘We’re throwing that one back, Father O’Toole, so spare me the homily.’
‘Praise the Lord . . .’
‘Don’t you dare mention the Lord!’ snapped the nurse, jabbing a finger towards his face. ‘And don’t think for a second that you and these other gobshites had anything to do with it. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves,’ she added, stomping
‘Come on,’ said Nurse Moran, appearing at her shoulder. ‘I’ll see you out.’
The nurse threw an arm behind the elfin figure and guided her out into the cold. The ground was damp underfoot and a stiffening wind persuaded Kassia to pull her too-thin coat tighter. Moran held her around the shoulder and Kassia braced herself as they approached the small gathering at the end of the path.
The assembled crowd were mostly elderly, huddled under umbrellas and clutching placards bearing an assortment of pro-life slogans.
HALF THE PATIENTS ENTERING AN ABORTION CLINIC NEVER COME OUT ALIVE!EQUAL RIGHTS FOR UNBORN WOMEN!
Kassia looked away, hoping not to be noticed. However, the psalm died on the lips of the protesters as all eyes in the group flashed towards her, and she found herself looking round for an alternative route. There wasn’t one.
Feeling her slow, Nurse Moran gripped her harder and walked her on. ‘To bring a child into this world takes so much love, my girl. You’ve already shown that love. Now your baby needs you to be brave for just a little longer and then you can get on with your life.’
The silence was broken by an elderly woman wearing an expensive fur hat and matching coat. ‘Baby killer!’ she screamed at Kassia in an American accent, a gloved finger raised to point. She moved towards the shivering girl but was restrained by the priest next to her.
‘We’re not allowed to intimidate, Mrs Trastevere,’ said the priest. ‘The police made that clear.’
‘Murderer!’ screamed Mrs Trastevere, ignoring him and wrestling for her freedom.
‘No,’ replied a sobbing Kassia, shaking her head to emphasise her innocence. ‘I not kill my child.’
‘The Lord is Life,’ continued the woman, not listening. She pushed against the priest again. Then, from the back of the knot of protesters, a camera flash briefly illuminated Kassia’s distraught face.
Moran’s head snapped round to scowl at the figure in the fading light. A man, his face hidden by a hoodie, lowered his hands to pocket his phone and turned away as Moran edged in his direction. ‘You, what do you think you’re doing?’ she shouted at his retreating frame. But Mrs Trastevere pushed towards Kassia once more, forcing the nurse to interpose herself, and in the fracas, he slipped away.
‘Murdering bitches!’ screamed Mrs Trastevere, looking from Kassia to the nurse.
The priest pulled her wiry frame back. ‘Constance, we can’t intimidate, or the police will move us on.’
‘Burn in hell, the pair of you,’ screamed the elderly woman, undeterred.
‘Like you’d know about hell, you pampered old bag,’ shouted Nurse Moran above the patter of light rain on umbrellas and coats. There was a shocked silence and everyone turned to listen to the fierce Irishwoman. ‘Hell is where these poor girls are. I bet you’ve never had to lift a finger in your life, and if you had someone at home that loved you, you wouldn’t be here now, causing grief to the troubled souls who pass through our doors.’
Hushed, the protesters watched the pair pass. Kassia looked furtively into the priest’s eyes and instinctively crossed herself. She eschewed a further denial and quickened her step, the tears turning to howls of pain.
‘Be safe, my child,’ whispered Moran into her ear when they’d cleared the picket. Then she let go of Kassia’s arms as though she was an injured bird being released back into the wild.
Once the slight girl had hurried off into the dark. Moran turned a blazing eye on the priest. ‘We’re throwing that one back, Father O’Toole, so spare me the homily.’
‘Praise the Lord . . .’
‘Don’t you dare mention the Lord!’ snapped the nurse, jabbing a finger towards his face. ‘And don’t think for a second that you and these other gobshites had anything to do with it. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves,’ she added, stomping
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