Chapter 10: Meltdown
22nd December
I couldn't write last night.
For years finding the right words has come naturally to me.
Last night that ability disintegrated.
I am barely holding it together. After my… realisation yesterday, I cannot go a single minute without thinking about him. About her. She is coming to this party…
It has dawned on me that maybe this is what I deserve for how I have acted. I have not been honest with James or even myself when it comes to how I feel. I've watched from afar, disrupted any hint of love for him when it has threatened me but this time, I could not prevent it. My jealousy of Harriet has only driven them closer together…
My life has reached a crossroads. I am dreading the next few hours because this party will change everything for me. So much so that this may be the last ever entry in this diary. If it is confirmed that my hope is lost, then I will bury this diary, in an attempt to bury everything that I feel for him. Little memories of… us… remain in here and I know I cannot survive the pain that they will bring me. But if that is the case and if this diary is ever found, please know one thing.
My name is Erin Quinn and I love James Maguire with all my heart.
Closing her diary, with a lone tear trailing down her cheek, Erin took a deep breath. Picking herself up off of the bed, she made her way over to a photo that was taken after James had returned to Derry. A photo which did not look out of place amongst the collection of ones with her friends but this one was different. Erin and James stood side by side grinning wildly. Erin stroked her thumb over it.
"Please God… Please".
The disgusting weather seemed to have temporarily cleared and it was a relief for Michelle, James, Clare and Harriet as they walked over to the Quinn house. Clare and Michelle walked ahead of their English companions, who laughed and joked to themselves merrily behind.
"Christ, I still think I'm gunna boke". Michelle whispered to Clare.
"Oh come on Michelle".
"Catch yourself on Clare. You do realise what this means?"
Clare only just avoided rolling her eyes at Michelle's disdain.
"I'm happy about it. I think it's… nice".
"Nice!? Nice?". Michelle seethed. "I can't believe you sometimes Clare".
The two of them continued to argue under hushed voices, something which both James and Harriet noticed from a few paces back. James was the only one of them close to Harriet's level of formality when it came to their outfits, sporting a plain white shirt along with black trousers. His coat was around Harriet's shoulders, keeping her warm as the temperature began to drop in the early throngs of the evening.
"I have never found such freedom as I have here. Back home I would never have been allowed to stroll through a place like this at this time of the evening". Harriet recited to James.
"Derry is a beautiful place. I can't say I thought it was at first, but it's grown on me and I am so glad that I did not leave".
"Me too. I doubt we would have met otherwise".
They shared lopsided grins at Harriet's sincere remark before breaking out into a light laughter, earning a stern look from Michelle in front.
"I don't think she'll ever be happy about it". James sighed.
"Change is a malicious beast James. Like fear, you have to face it, it cannot be ran from forever and it should not be either".
"Michelle doesn't see it that way".
"She will have to in time James. Love should not be frowned upon".
"If only it were that easy".
James's dejection concerning Michelle was well founded. The conversation between the four them before setting off went from awkward to heated in a matter of seconds. Not that he expected it to be any different with Michelle. Only a fool would think it possible to be.
A few doors short of the Quinn house, Michelle and Clare slowed to a halt, James and Harriet matching their rhythm and stopping next to them. Anticipating a final display of bullish bravado from his cousin, James closed his eyes for a brief second and turned his head up to the sky. Feeling Harriet's nudge, he turned his head back down to the awaiting Michelle.
"I'm sorry. Alright". She blurted out, slightly uncomfortably.
His shocked look only encouraged her to continue.
"It's your life James and ye should be happy. I'll just have to deal with it. I just don't want…".
"I don't want that either Michelle". He interrupted. "But I won't stop what I want just because you don't like it".
"She knows James". Clare interjected on her behalf.
"Aye, Clare… made me understand and accept it. But I have rules Dicko!"
James and Harriet both laughed at her sudden pitch change, Clare too enjoying a chuckle at Michelle's expense. Michelle was being serious.
"I don't wanna be seeing all…that…ye hear?". Her hand gestures told him enough to know exactly what she meant.
"I think I can manage that". He could barely keep a straight face in return. "Providing she…"
"What? I'm serious! I'm not being unreasonable, am I? Harriet?"
Harriet couldn't do as good a job as James at hiding her amusement and burst out into laughter, even setting a now relaxed Michelle off too. The tension evaporated.
"I think you'll just have to manage, won't you James?"
Another round of guffawing and chortling ensued, Michelle pulling James into a hug as a true means of apology, one that he accepted wholeheartedly. Starting off walking again, they were soon at the Quinn's, giving James just enough time to warn Harriet about some of the characters that lay in wait inside. Joe especially.
Ding-Dong
The sound of the doorbell made Mary jump to attention from her place in the kitchen. The party had not quite started yet, but the family were all milling around in the living room awaiting the arrival of Erin and Orla's friends. And a new face. She made her way to the front door, spotting the easily distinguishable figure of Michelle through the glass before she opened it.
"Evening wains".
"Aye evening Mary". Michelle responded as she waltzed on in like she owned the place.
"Hello Mrs Quinn". Clare beamed.
"Evening to ye Clare".
As the diminutive blonde followed Michelle through, Mary got her first look at the English girl she had heard so much about. The first thing that struck Mary was that none of them were bending the truth when it came to Harriet's beauty. She was ravishingly beautiful, the sort of girl that would make mouths hang open on the streets. Everything about her screamed true perfection. She certainly didn't belong in Derry with looks like that.
"Mary, this is Harriet". James introduced the two. "Harriet, this is Mary, Erin's mum".
The two women locked eyes. Mary kept her eyes narrowed for a brief second, completing one last suspicious scan of the young English girl but finding nothing but warmth for her, quickly dropped to a smile. Harriet grinned in appreciation, placing a bag into Mary's hands.
"It is a small present as a thank you for inviting me this evening. And a Christmas Card from myself and the Joyce's too".
A Christmas Card from the Joyce family… Christ we are going up in the world…
Mary lost her concentration for a brief second as she took in that news before ushering the two young Brits inside. The Christmas music got turned up as they made their way into the living room, a sure-fire sign that Michelle had arrived. Joe surveyed the scene of James walking in with Harriet and discreetly made his way around to them. He was not the only one eyeing their arrival. Erin stood with her Uncle Colm, who was into his fifth minute of explaining a story about what happened at the Chemists on Wednesday, when the slender figure of Harriet caught her eye across the room. Any hope of a last-minute cancellation was destroyed. Harriet soon made her way to the kitchen where Gerry and Orla were residing, leaving James by the door out of the living room.
"Good girl she is James". Joe came to rest his hand on the Englishman's shoulder.
James turned his head to see nothing but genuine affection from Joe.
"I know. I am lucky that she walked into my life".
"That ye are son. Everyone knows. Ye treat her well now, ye hear?".
"I will".
Harriet and Orla stood in the kitchen, Orla regaling some childhood tales to the English girl. Harriet found her highly entertaining, enjoying her free-spirited soul in much the same way that James admitted that he did. There was just something about Orla that she found liberating and exciting, the sort of friend that you could always rely on for a laugh and a good time. Harriet didn't really have those friends back home. She came to the conclusion just a couple of days after meeting Orla that they just did not exist back in England. Back in her circle.
"Ach Harriet, I need to give ye the Cromwell book back". Orla suddenly remembered.
"Oh it's ok Orla, you can keep it… as an early Christmas present".
"Really?"
Harriet nodded and received the full weight of Orla, who threw herself onto the English girl and wrapped herself around her. Harriet rested her hands gently on Orla's back and for a second, they stayed in their embrace.
"I have something to show ye". Orla said as she removed herself from Harriet's arms.
Giving her new friend a smile, Harriet proceeded to follow Orla to the other side of the kitchen, where a drawer was opened. Orla surprised her with the friendly hug just moments before, yet nothing in the world could have prepared her for the knives that found their way into Orla's hands the next. A bubble of uneasiness inflated in her stomach.
"These are my knives Harriet". Orla whispered
"Kni-Knives? You… collect knives?" Harriet, still stunned, attempted to clarify.
"Aye, I love a good knife, so I do".
When her mother warned her at the airport that Ireland was a savage place compared to the home that she grew up in, Harriet scarcely believed her. Mothers had a habit of being right, a saying she not only found to ring true during the week but was now viewing in practice.
"Ach don't be scared. I like to go camping ye know and it is always handy to have a knife with wolves about. Those boys… they don't care who ye are, they'll go for anyone so they will".
Harriet's nerves eased when Orla explained the situation more clearly. Just an innocent knife collection for camping, nothing more sinister. It was actually quite cute, Harriet thought to herself.
"I have never been camping before. My parents would not allow it".
"That's shockin!" Orla was taken aback. "Hang on, we should go campin tomorrow!"
A chuckle slipped from Harriet's mouth as she watched the sincerity in Orla's eyes.
"I wish that I could Orla, but my flight back is tomorrow".
The next minute or so confused Harriet. She could only think that Orla must have thought she'd spoken a foreign language, for her friend rubbed her temples and looked as if the carpet had been pulled from under her. Like a rabbit in the headlights, Orla stood blinded.
"I… don't… but what about James?"
Shuffling awkwardly and looking down at her feet, Harriet found herself in the position James had multiple times that week. An awkward conversation was in the offing.
"I think I need to explain something to you Orla".
Why does everyone keep looking at me?
Then look away again?
Why do I feel like a stranger in my own house!?
Erin sat on the sofa and watched the scene around her. Michelle seemed to have been dancing or singing since the moment she arrived, and Clare too was in a jovial mood, dancing along with her and Aunt Sarah. Every so often she looked around to see if she could get a moment with James, lead him away while everyone's backs were turned and confess her true feelings. The moment never seemed to come. James was only a few feet away from her but ensnared by Uncle Colm. Yet the Englishman led the conversation.
"… and that is how I managed to get kicked out of the football team back home".
Colm, expressionless as ever, cleared his throat and looked to the Englishman.
"You English fellas, ye don't half go on, don't ye". Colm complained at James's story
The bewildered look on James's face only made him look more cuter and Erin's heart beat just a little faster; she did not even realise she was staring at him.
"Erin".
"Erin!".
The second time Mary called her daughter's name, there was a response and Erin almost jumped off the sofa. Her cheeks lit up like a cherry bonfire.
"Back on planet earth, are we?" Mary asked, with a voice full of unhidden suspicion.
"Yes Mammy". She replied.
"Good. Now, Harriet has given us a lovely red wine as a gift. Be a good girl and get some poured out into glasses. But NOT for Michelle, ye hear me?"
Harriet gave Mammy a gift?
Psychological warfare this is… in my own house for feck's sake!
I won't stand for it! I will not be deceived by her feigned generosity!
"Erin? Erin are ye listening to me?"
Looking up to her mother, a face engraved with a biblical fury, laced with the poisonous bottled up hatred from nearly a week of torture, Erin snapped. Beyond the snap that occurred in her History lesson earlier in the week. Enough was enough.
"No… I won't".
The end result was a gravelly growl and Mary, completely caught off guard by her daughter's disgust, took an extra second to verbalise her reaction.
"I beg ye pardon?"
"I said no!"
"Do not test me Erin. Do it now or I swear on the almighty that ye will get the wooden spoon… tenfold". Mary whispered angrily, trying to avoid a scene.
Erin did not care for what her mother wanted though. Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes, but they were not tears of sadness. They were burning tears, tears of rage and destruction. Coursing through her veins, the same anger that had controlled her actions for the whole week, now decided to deliver the coup de grâce.
"No Mammy. I will NOT be a slave in this house ANY LONGER! I am SICK TO DEATH OF YOU ORDERING ME AROUND AND IGNORING WHAT I WANT! WELL I HAVE HAD IT!"
Screaming by then end of her outburst, with rivers of pain flooding from her canthi, Erin leapt from the sofa. Pushing past the frozen Mary, she stormed out of the room, avoiding pairs of hands trying to stop her as all the attention went to her retreating form. As soon as she reached the stairs, she bounded up them and the tears turned to natural ones when no one was around to look at her. Her worst-case scenario didn't even cover this.
"Erin… Erin".
She could hear her father's calls of her name but did not stop. The door handle was nearly in sight, the sanctuary of her room only a few feet away.
"Erin please, I just want to talk calmly".
Ignoring Gerry's further pleas, Erin practically broke down the door to get into her room, slamming it behind her. The slam could probably be heard from the White House it was that furious. Not that she was in any way concerned that it might disturb Chelsea Clinton.
At the bottom of the stairs, Gerry rested his head on the bottom of the banister, sighing loudly when the door slammed shut and his hope of stopping Erin went with it. Feeling a hand on his shoulder, expecting it to be Joe ready to admonish him for failing to stop her, Gerry instead saw James, coat in hand. The two men shared a look that sparked an understanding. He knew exactly what the Englishman had to do.
"Good luck son".
With Gerry's favour ringing in his ears, James took a long hard breath to calm his racing heart. Slowly ascending the stairs, he knew either heaven or hell would await him at the top.