I looked out of the kitchen window; a never ending stretch of emerald beauty and resting sheep met my eyes. I always had adored the immense magic of Ireland, especially now, coming up for the start of April. The sun was just rising, like a golden marble, reflecting onto the shimmering sea from which it rose. The sky was an array of shades, fading from a deep purple into a shining pink, and then into a bright orange. I loved to watch the changing colours in the skies as the sun rose and as it set. It was like the Gods were mixing paint in there almighty palette's. I had no reason to be by the kitchen sink at such an early hour, except to take in the breathtaking beauty of the country I was born in, the country I had always lived in, and ultimately, the country I would die in.
That was until the dark and stormy night on the 9th of April, 1912.
I was sitting by the fireplace in my small cottage on the coast of Ireland. The house had been in my husband's family for generations, and now it belonged to us, and the baby we were planning to bring into the world. He made good money as a blacksmith and a tailor, but John McGraw wanted more out of life. He wanted fame, excitement, adventure… but that thirst for life which attracted me to him, sometimes landed him into trouble…
The front door burst open, John stood there cold, wet and shivering, his figure outlined with a white glow from the lightning that struck from the heavens above. A rumble of thunder roared as he ran into the house, bolting the door shut, shaking with not only cold, but fear.
I jumped up and ran to his side, "John, whatever is the matter with ya? You look like you've seen the devil!"
He turned around, slowly, as if shocked by my presence. "You can't be here Abigail." He stared into my eyes, a scared and serious expression on his handsome face, but his handsome face was bruised and bleeding.
I gasped and held his face in my hands. "John, what the hell happened to ya?" He flinched as I ran my hand over his bruised forehead.
He grabbed my hands and abruptly shoved me away from his face. "You're not safe here Abby, you have to go, now!"
He ran to the widow then, faster than any bolt of lightning that had ever struck the Earth. He looked out the window anxiously before slamming the shatters closed and locking them hurriedly. I had no idea what was wrong with him. He was scared of something, and that 'something' was obviously outside.
"John McGraw!" I said firmly, standing my ground. "What is happening? Why must I leave?"
He walked towards the bedroom, throwing open the wardrobe and dragging out my clothes as quickly as he could, shoving them into a rucksack. "I made a deal with a man…" he began.
I was interested now. "You made a 'deal?' What kind of a deal?"
He didn't reply at first, as he continued packing my most personal belongings. "God dammit John, what was the deal?"
He threw the fully packed rucksack onto the floor and looked into my eyes, his face crumbling in terror. "You know… Paddy McMillan?"
My heart dropped. "Not Paddy, John? You idiot! Of all men to make a deal with!"
Paddy McMillan was the kind of man that thought he ruled the land, but really was just a thug. He had been known to place bets with men in the local pub, and when he lost, these men were never seen in the pub… or anywhere else again. He was a tyrant that ruled out of fear, with the help of his followers, all bullies and criminals in their own right.
"A few weeks back Abby, when you were visiting your mother and sister in the mainland, I had to go across the hill to look for 2 sheep that went missing."
"And you found them, what about it?"
"I asked Paddy to watch my flock while I went away to search… and he did."
I felt sick, I knew what was coming. "You never told me that… how much did he want?"
John tried to act as if he hadn't heard me. I asked again. "How much fucking money did he want, John?"
He heard this time, "£100… I promised him £100." He lowered his head in shame.
I was enraged now. "£100? We don't have that kind of money to just throw away willy nilly! Why couldn't you have just asked him to have watch the flock… Why did you even ask him?"
"Because I thought I could ask him to do a simple task for free, but he grabbed me by the arm and held a knife to my throat, asking how much I would give him… He wouldn't let go til I got to double zeros…" John went back to getting my things together. I stood there, watching him, shaking with anger, and now a sudden cloud of dread. I couldn't stay? What was happening? Why was my husband locking the doors and windows?
"John… is he coming?" I asked, trying to hide the quiver in my voice.
Suddenly, there was a furious pounding at the door, as if the lightning had hit the door of our cottage directly.
"He's not coming…" John started, "…He's here."
He jumped up and shoved the rucksack into my hands and ran with me over to the fireplace. He felt around the wall above the mantle, patting at the bricks with shaking hands. I had no idea what he was doing. And then, the pounding on the door grew stronger.
"Open the fucking door!" Paddy yelled from outside.
Just then, John got to a particular brick and loosened it free from the wall, revealing a dark, empty space behind the brickwork. As it happens, the void wasn't empty, because from it, John pulled out a bundle of money, tied together with a string. My eyes widened and my jaw dropped at the sight of it.
"Where the hell did that come from?" I asked, in awe of the money in his hands.
"For as long as this house has been in my family, every year we put some money behind this brick, and after 105 years, it has amounted to a fair sum." He placed it into my hand. I was stunned.
"What will we do now John?" I asked, jumping each time the door shook with Paddy's violent bangs.
"Not 'we' Abigail… you." John said, rubbing my cheek lovingly, his handsome face beaten and tired looking.
"What… what do you mean?" I held his hand, causing him to flinch as I touched a fresh wound.
"Paddy won't stop at just giving me a kick in the teeth and a punch to the face… I can't pay him, and he won't be happy about that."
I held up the huge sum of money, more money than I had ever seen at one time. Holding it instantly made me second class. "This! We can give him the one hundred you owe him, and we still have loads left!"
He lowered the money down by my side. "My great grandfathers agreed when they put in the first bit of money that it was to be used by family in the future, not to be given to thugs."
John walked over to the small door next to the fireplace. We never really used it, except from in Summer when we used it as some kind of a window. He moved the chair aside that sat in front of it and opened it, the rusty hinges groaning as if in pain.
"Abby, go no, out this door, he won't see you leave." He held the door open, the front door still being thrashed like a punch bag.
"But why won't you come with me John? I won't go without you!" I satyed put, staring into his eyes, mine filling with tears.
"He wants me, not you, and if I run away with you, he will find us both and finish us both off! If you go, he has me and then you're safe. That's all I want."
"But… what if he-?" I couldn't even finish my sentence. John leaned forward and passionately kissed my, his trembling hands wrapped around my shoulders. And then, completely unexpected, he shoved my round by the shoulders and out of the door. I fell to the ground outside. It all happened so quickly. I looked up and saw him crouching by the door.
"I love you, Abigail McGraw… that won't ever change… and I'm sorry I have to do this." And with that he had shut the door, the sound of the lock echoing loudly, each vibration of the sound breaking my heart into even smaller pieces.
I ran forward to the door and hit it with my fist, my tears streaming down my cheeks more than the rain.
"Go to the dock in Queenstown tomorrow and wait." John told me through the door. I pawed at the metal separating us like an abandoned puppy.
"Wait for what John?" I asked, sobbing madly.
"You have to get away Abigail, you're not safe in Ireland. Get to the dock and wait for the Unsinkable to drop anchor."
My mouth dropped. I couldn't believe what he was telling me to do. "You mean-?"
"Abby, they won't find you in America. You need to get there. You need to get aboard the Titanic!"
Just then, as he finished talking, there was a loud crash. From the sounds of it, I believe it was the front door crashing down. After that there was a chorus of raised voices and angry accusations between Paddy and my husband. And then, the most awful thing to have to listen to. A thud, and I heard John gasp. Another thud, and I heard John pleading for him to stop. Then repeated thuds, and I heard John crying out in agony. I clawed the door in horror, too afraid to speak. He was attacking my husband, and I could do nothing but listen. Then there was silence. I waited in dread to see what would happen.
"He's still breathing." I heard an unfamiliar voice say, probably one of Paddy's evil sidekick's.
"Not for long… torch the place, while he's still unconscious." Paddy added, without a single ounce of emotion or remorse in his voice.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I screamed out, not caring if Paddy found me or not. But my scream was not heard by the ears of the devil in my home, because at that precise moment, Hell's fury was unleashed in the century old cottage. A sinister orange glow began emanating from beneath the metal door in front of which I stood, followed by smoke. I ran around behind the house to look through the bedroom window. The shutters were closed, but I could see a flickering red light, and thick black smoke pouring out of the window as if it were a square chimney. I dropped my rucksack and dashed around the cottage to get to the front door, and upon me getting there, I saw Paddy and his friend on their horses, galloping away into the distance without a care.
"You cruel bastards!" I shouted into the wet night air.
I turned to face the door, which was now gone and lying on the floor. Inside the small cottage was completely engulfed in orange flames, growing and spreading like something from a nightmare. And inside that scorching inferno was John, laying by the back door unconscious. I stared at the ceiling inside the house as the wooden beams began to collapse and crumble down, the flames working there way through the ancient structure in no time. Suddenly, there was a great roar and a flash of light… and then darkness.