Chapter 14: Bomb 21st March 1996
Nearly two weeks later and the same routines of the first week since James's attack remained in place. They all still alternated their duties by James's bedside and there was never really a moment during the day where he was alone. The doctors were encouraged by his progress and though they hadn't confirmed it themselves, the family were beginning to believe there was no lasting damage. Deirdre herself refused to speculate to them but when Erin privately confided in her for her opinion, she gave it and she too thought the likelihood was that James didn't have any brain damage.
Kathy stayed for a whole week in Derry, sleeping in James's room for her time in the city. She would join Deirdre in the mornings and be by his side, leaving part the way through the day to help to run her business remotely before retuning again in the evening. She had no problem sleeping at night knowing Erin was watching over her James like the angel that she was. Mary and Gerry took her to the airport the following Saturday, and they departed on the best terms they'd been on since childhood. Kathy's sincerity was appreciated by them all; she no longer turned her nose up at Deirdre or looked down on any of them. She even started talking to Martin, a miracle Deirdre considered to be in almost the same regards as James's. Sarah took a keen interest in Kathy's stay in Derry too and finally cornered here on the Thursday for tips on how to keep her eyebrows looking so well. Kathy always thought she was far too kind and reciprocated the kindness with some tips on the eyebrows, which Mary found herself rolling her eyes at when Sarah began to practice the following weekend.
Harriet returned to London on the Sunday, but not before going up to the Flanagan stables to see Orla in action along with Jenny and Aisling. Erin passed the address on during their chat at the Hospital and Orla was delighted to see the young English girl's return. Harriet herself was a keen horse rider and Paul allowed her to ride one of the horses and the two girls took them around the small track, Jenny and Aisling cheering them both on from the side. Harriet's father also owned a few horses, horses for the flat though and not the jumps, but before leaving to return to England, she promised to speak to her father about investing in some horses over the jumps and whether Orla could ride them. It would mean going to England a lot more, her father would most likely insist on the horses being trained there, but it would be a fabulous opportunity for Orla, and she was keen should it come to fruition. It wouldn't be long until she would be back though, promising to return to see Orla's next race with the 'The Wee English Fella' and that was coming up on the 23rd March at the Farmacaffley hunt.
With Erin almost always either at school or at the Hospital, home life became a lot different for Mary and Gerry, especially in the morning. It did mean that Anna got a lot more attention from her parents, but something never felt right about the gang of girls not sat around the table. Michelle not annoying Joe with her swearing, Clare not cacking it about something or other and the lovebirds not eating the faces off each other. There was only Orla at breakfast now… not that she didn't make it interesting…
"I'm tellin ye Granda, the film's about people watchin' trains".
"What sort of moron watches train!" Joe complained. "Gerry, do ye watch trains?"
"No".
"See love, even Gerry isn't sad enough to watch a locomotive steam by. How the hell they made a film out of it I don't know!"
Mary rolled her eyes at the comment. 'Trainspotting' had been released the month before and one night once Erin was dropped back at the hospital, her and Gerry went out to see it. She didn't want to ruin Orla's idea of what it would be about, but it would suffice to say that she wouldn't be allowed to see it and it really wasn't about trains.
"What are you boys up to then?" Mary addressed Joe and Gerry.
Gerry was taking a couple of days off work to be with the family, coinciding with a couple of jobs around the house that needed his attention. It also gave him time to have a bit of rest from the relentless work and hospital regime of the past few weeks.
"I'm gettin' that new wardrobe Mary". Joe replied. "Gerry's givin' me a hand with it, so he is".
"Aye right". She didn't hide the suspicion in her tone.
"What? I know that look, what is it?"
"Forgive me da, but the last time Gerry took time off work, look what happened with the wains. I've got my eyes on the pair of ye".
Though ultimately accepting of the Valentine's incident, Mary still cursed Gerry for engineering the scenario and any time the two of them had done anything together in the past it usually ended in an argument, leaving her suspicious of Joe too.
"This is yer fault ye tool". Joe rounded on Gerry.
Some things would never change at the breakfast table.
Sitting on the bus that morning, Orla was absolutely buzzing. Frankie phoned Joe the night before and confirmed that 'The Wee English Fella' would indeed be ready to race that Saturday. It was a fairly quick turnaround for the horse, but Paul was convinced throughout the week that the horse was firing on all cylinders and would be ready to run. It would be the final run they would give it until the winter, where Frankie was already suggesting moving the horse away from the amateur events and moving under the National Hunt rules. It was still a long way off, but another win at the weekend and the horse would confirm that the ability was there for certain. A lot of owners would sell up and see their horse be purchased for a vast amount of money and go to one of the big stables around Ireland or the rest of Britain. But not this horse. He wouldn't be sold.
"We're going straight to Mr Flanagan to tell him!" Orla excitably told the others.
"Aye alright calm yerself though Orla". Michelle groaned. "My heads still poundin'"
Michelle would never learn her lesson when it came to alcohol. Not for the first time she was arriving at school nursing a sickening hangover.
"Drinkin again Michelle?" Erin sneered slightly.
"Too right! Me ma keeps leaving vodka in the house… what does she expect me not to drink it?"
"Aye she probably expects ye not to drink it Michelle…". Erin quipped. "… because… ye know … it's not yours?"
"Well why does she keep leavin' bottles about then Detective Quinn?"
"I don't think ye can class it as 'being left about', when I've seen ye go through every cupboard and dresser in ye house trying to find vodka". Clare remarked.
"Ye alright… ye makin' me sound like I've got a problem". Michelle huffed.
They all held their tongues, or rather Clare put her hand over Orla's mouth whilst holding her own, and they didn't tell Michelle what they really thought about the matter. The rest of the bus journey was peaceful, chatting away happily about the day ahead and Erin was in a particularly good mood as they had an English lesson that afternoon. Exiting the bus, Orla led the way to Mr Flanagan's classroom, the girls meeting Jenny and Aisling along the way who tagged along for the journey. They too would be in attendance at Orla's race at the weekend, going along with Harriet who was staying with Jenny once more.
"Mr Flanagan! Mr Flanagan!" Orla raced into his classroom, where he was marking some books before assembly.
"Orla… girls. What can I do for ye?"
He put his pen down and closed the book he was marking, finding the six girls stood in front of him smiling away.
"I'm riding again at the weekend sir!" She exclaimed.
"That's fantastic Orla". He grinned. "Will ye be winning again?"
"I reckon so".
"That's the spirit. Does Frankie think yer horse is ready then? He wasn't too sure the last time we spoke".
"Aye he's cracker according to Paul!"
"Well Paul's a good judge so he is. Will you be attending this time Michelle?"
Mr Flanagan smiled, addressing the young Mallon who had a hand on her head, and it didn't take a genius to work out why.
"Aye sir, nothing's stoppin' me Saturday".
"Good. Jenny, Aisling?"
The two girls both dipped their heads to confirm they would be going along with the others.
"Do you remember Harriet, Mr Flanagan?" Jenny asked him.
"The blonde girl from England who was with us before Christmas?"
"That's her! She's coming with us to watch sir".
"Excellent. A full house for ye all then".
Not quite. Erin wouldn't be attending the horse racing again like before. With the positivity about James's condition, she didn't want to spend too much time away from him and once school was finished on the Friday and she'd been home to get a few things, the rest of her weekend was planned around being in the Hospital. Orla understood and supported it, knowing that James's condition was everything to Erin and there would be other races to watch in the future. With James.
"Almost". Erin shyly pointed out.
"Of course". The teacher gave her a reassuring smile. "And how is he more importantly?"
"We're hopeful he might wake up soon". She replied.
"That's great! That makes me a lot happier, so it does. I've missed having the wee English fella about the classroom".
They all laughed at his statement and chatted away until the bell rang for assembly. He couldn't really give a damn about the books to mark when he had that group of girls to speak to. They were always a breath of fresh air, even on the most miserable mornings, and they were good to have a bit of craic with and brighten the day. He too was roped into attending the racing again, Orla pointing out the space left in her Uncle Gerry's car with Erin not going and he couldn't say no to Orla McCool.
Not many people could.
When Gerry set out with Joe that morning, he had an incredibly awful feeling that getting the new wardrobe would end up being a lot harder than it should. Most trips out the two of them had together ended in disaster. Their first time out as just the two of them was purchasing things for the incoming baby Erin and they ended up being banned from Dunelm for two years after bringing down a whole shelf and Joe then ending up in a dust up with the manager. Another time they went over into the free state to Sligo, Joe having a driving ban again at the time and Gerry pressured into taking him to see an old friend. Joe's poor directions got them lost and they ended up on a farm track in the arse end of nowhere, shouting at each other and incurring the wrath of a farmer and his trusty shotgun. It couldn't get much worse than that.
"Come on then Gerry, let's go". Joe said as they walked away from the counter having purchased the wardrobe, Gerry pushing it on the trolley out to the car.
Joe insisted upon parking in the first space they saw available, despite Gerry noting the spaces nearer to the row of shops. It meant a long walk back across the car park, longer than it should have been, which Gerry wasn't pleased with.
"You see Joe…". Gerry seethed out whilst pushing the trolley. "…I said we should have parked closer".
"Are ye still moaning about that ye eejit?"
"Not moaning Joe… presenting the logical argument".
"Don't you start with me boy. Ye just focus on pushin' that trolley and keep ye mouth shut".
Gerry soon realised it was already going famously well. Reaching the car, the two of them managed to withstand any want to argue with the other and succeeded in getting the flatpack item onto the roof rack without too much hassle. They set off on the relatively short trip back home and Joe decided to make conversation to try to make the time spent with Gerry seem shorter.
"So yer coming Saturday then?"
"Aye that's right Joe".
"Don't ye go scarin' the horses now. I won't have my family shown up by you being a dose!"
"Oh no! My plan to take over the world by scaring a few geldings has been discovered… what will I do!"
"OI!" Joe reprimanded his sarcasm. "I'm being serious. I won't have you making this family look stupid".
"And why does it have to be me Joe. It could be one of the wains…".
"Ye coward! Leave the wains out of it! Ye-… hold up is that our Colm over there?"
The other part of the day Gerry was dreading was when they got back home and Colm arrived, Joe insisting they needed a third pair of hands to put the wardrobe together. Gerry didn't think they did, but he lost the argument to Joe and went along with it in order to not cause any more trouble. Pulling over to the side of the road, it was indeed Colm and Joe beckoned him over to give him a lift the rest of the way to the house. Yeah… it was getting worse… Gerry thought to himself.
"Alright there Colm". Gerry spoke to him as he got into the back.
"Morning to ye Gerry. Ye know, I felt a twinge in my elbow this morning, and I said to myself, Colm…".
What felt like the longest two minutes of Gerry's life ensued before he finally had the parking spot outside the house in sight. Colm continued to go on about his elbow and then remembered a prior incident with it about thirty years earlier, which was a story Gerry first heard himself about eighteen years earlier.
Approaching his spot, Gerry began to slow up to pull in and all was going well until the fatal snapping sound came from above. Leaving Joe to secure it down suddenly proved to be a terrible idea as the wardrobe shot forward in its packaging and went crashing through the back window of one of the neighbour's cars that was parked in front.
Joe simply stared at Gerry with a look of pure disapproval and Gerry stared back, ready for the incoming shouting match and realistically taking the blame. Mary would kill the pair of them too. From the back seat, Colm had something to say about it.
"Ye know, I remember the time Tommy Campbell and his brother, ye know Davey with the one eye, well they dropped a chair and the leg fell off…".
The children of his revolution were progressing nicely. They would spend every evening learning the techniques and tactics that would eventually drive the soldiers back over the Irish Sea. The three of them started with guns under his tutelage, pistols being the first port of call. All three of them proved competent, though he suspected at least one of them already had experience when it came to firearms. They moved onto rifles then, which proved to be a bit of a struggle but with a couple of weeks training they were all hitting the targets out on the range, buried within the forest. There would be no cops or soldiers to disturb them out there and only a fool would venture into the forests to confront them. The lessons since Monday were about bombs and how to make them. He was an experienced bombmaker, his skills already leaving a kill count in double figures when it came to Brits. They were still young though, and after the first lesson on the Monday, he was concerned they would be unable to deliver but two rigorous sessions later and they appeared to be ready to at least handle one, if not fully make one.
"You've done well young Scanlon. Yer two absent associates too".
"Aye. But what's our next move".
He enjoyed the enthusiasm that three of them showed to remove the British threat from Ireland. It was refreshing to hear it from young voices.
"Come with me and I'll show ye".
The two of them walked inside from the range where they'd done further practice shooting and into a small room at the back of the cabin. An office in many ways, plans scattered about it. Maps and flags adorned the walls and there were boxes full of bullets on tables to the side.
"The target is here". He pointed down at the map of Derry on the main table.
"The Ebrington Barracks?" The Scanlon replied.
"We are going to blow it up… not just a grenade over a fence or a bomb under a car. The whole thing".
"Killing all the soldiers. Forcing them out of Derry".
"Correct Mr Scanlon. One of you will go into the barracks, slipping in undetected and being the last person anyone would suspect of carrying a bomb. The other two will wait out of sight of the soldiers and hold your position until the one from the inside has returned. Then the bomb goes off and the three of ye deal with any soldiers outside before making ye getaway. I'll be waitin' with a car a few streets away to get ye out".
"Are ye not comin' then?"
"Don't seem surprised Mr Scanlon, I'm not the spring chicken I once was ye know. Ye need me alive to have any relevance in the wider revolution".
The two stared for a moment, a silent challenge between them holding in the atmosphere for a few further seconds before the Scanlon broke contact.
"What if anything goes wrong?"
"Ye get the fuck out of there. The person going in takes the biggest risk, if they get caught, they say fuckin' nothin. And ye don't try and rescue them".
"Why not?" The Scanlon asked.
"Ha!" The man mocked. "If ye think two of ye can take on the British Army on their own turf and live to tell the tale then ye must be on fuckin' speed. Ye'll get shot to pieces and then you'll mean nothin' to anyone".
"We'd be martyrs to the cause".
"I need soldiers… warriors. Not martyrs".
"And when are we doin' it".
"We're going to make a real statement. Fifth of April, Good Friday". The man smiled.
That was the plan. Blow the Ebrington Barracks to kingdom come and force the Brits out of Derry, ready for the people to rise and take the city. Derry would just be the start; it wouldn't be long before Belfast threw out the Brits and Ireland would be just that, no longer with the shroud of the bastards from across the sea hanging over them.
"But how does the person get inside?" The Scanlon quizzed him. "And which one of us?"
"I think ye know that very well".
The Scanlon listened to the rest of the plan, concerned for the safety of their associates… the one going into the barracks in particular. The cause was everything and the three of them would willingly die for it.
But that wasn't there only cause. Their mentor may have warned them off, but they weren't done with a certain English fella yet. They knew how to make bombs now too.
That was their real aim.
That night, Erin was stood in her usual spot by his bed, stroking away at his hair and talking to him. She'd already been through the horse racing results, adding her usual amusing twist to each race result to humour both herself, and hopefully him. She'd also watched the Police statement about James's attack earlier that night, an update to the rest of the world with what any of them could have told the same audience on the night of his attack.
Nobody saw anything. There was no tangible evidence at the scene. The investigation was as such closed until they could speak to James.
She wasn't offended by the Cops decision to close the case, because there was very little that could be said or done unless the wee English fella had any information. Even then, there would be no guarantee of James remembering anything about the incident and there was no guarantee of him remembering anything at all. If that were the case, Erin believed she would never recover.
The door opened and it was around the time the last check from the nurses usually occurred, so Erin looked up expecting to find a nurse but instead finding the main doctor and Deirdre.
"Erin love". Deirdre addressed.
"Deirdre… what… what's going on?"
"Take a seat love". Deirdre gestured to the chair behind Erin.
She sat down, a mix of fear and nervousness combining to make a sickening pit of worry in the depths of her stomach.
"Doctor Kennedy has an update for us". Deirdre explained.
"Thank you Deirdre". The doctor smiled.
He was a young doctor, no older than thirty, with strawberry blonde hair swept over to the right. His hair was thin, already showing early signs of receding, clean shaven barring the lightest of pencil moustache's.
"We've analysed the scans of James's brain and we believe that there is no lasting brain damage going forward…".
Erin let out a huge sigh of relief and a few early tears of joy fell, quickly smothered by Deirdre's loving arms and the doctor waited for a moment whilst she let out the emotion. Deirdre herself let the tears fall, having already done so when the doctor spoke to her before going to see Erin. But he wasn't out of the woods either…
"But…". With one word Erin tightened up again. "… we cannot be certain what his memory will be like. He may come around and begin to remember everything, but we must be prepared for that not being the case also".
"Aye". Erin sniffled a reply. "My da has already said about that".
"You have a good family Miss Quinn. Do not resign yourself to that fate either though. James… James is a special case. I've never seen someone fight injuries so severe as his, so quickly. I've dedicated myself to science for many years, but I have to admit that his source of survival cannot be from the body's usual reaction. I think it's his heart that's fighting for him and I can see with my own eyes why he's battling on so hard".
Erin blushed at the compliment. It was not the first time that she was being told that he was fighting because of her, fighting to be able to see his Erin again.
"We still have tests to do". He continued. "But providing all of our criteria is fulfilled, there is no reason why we shouldn't see him wake in the next few days".
"When are ye doing the tests?" Erin asked the doctor.
"Tomorrow morning. I will lead the tests myself and by the time you are back from school, I should have the answers for you".
"Thank ye doctor".
It would be an agonising slog through school the next day, but it would be worth it if Erin could get back to the Hospital and find her wee English fella to be waking up. Her mind had been telling her for almost three weeks now not to get her hopes up, not to dream and then let her dreams be stolen by reality. But she could truly dare to dream that James would pull through. She could cling to something more tangible than just thoughts now, there was scientific expectation to back up the hope, even if the doctor couldn't understand the speed at which it was happening.
"I'll be here all day too so he's in good hands". Deirdre smiled at her.
"The best". Erin grinned.
"On a different note, is there anything I can do for you while I'm here Miss Quinn?" Dr Kennedy posed the question to her.
"I… I have a question".
Erin stuttered slightly but his expression was warm and inviting, giving her the courage to put what was on her mind over to him.
"How likely is it that he'll forget everything?"
It was a difficult question for the doctor but one of the more usual ones to face in the situation James was in. It was heart breaking when a patient would wake up and not remember their loved ones, though sometimes the memory would come back. Then there were the times it wouldn't, and families shattered with the grief they would have from the patient's memory loss.
"It is hard to put a number on it Miss Quinn. But he's already survived where most do not, I wouldn't put it past him to defy the odds again".
"Can I ask ye another?" She grinned at him.
"Of course".
"Can I have a hug?"
That was usually the other question he'd be asked, and Dr Kennedy immediately nodded his permission and soon found himself being squeezed to death by Erin Quinn. Not the worst way to go…
"Not too much now, if James wakes up, he might get the wrong idea".
They all laughed at the doctor's comment and Erin smiled brighter than she had done for weeks. After the doctor and Deirdre left, and she said goodnight to James, she sat in her makeshift bed on the floor of the room thinking about the light at the end of the tunnel they were in and how it seemed so close. She would have her best night's sleep at the Hospital that night.
Mrs Scanlon looked at the clock and it was eleven thirty. Danny and Brian were already asleep, but she was waiting up as her Antony was yet to arrive home. Since he'd come out of prison the month before, there weren't many nights where he would stay out too late, and if he did, he'd always phoned her to tell her. He'd finally got a job, taking work at a different dealership in the city as a mechanic, knuckling down with his life and moving away from the criminality. The Scanlon name was finally being put to good use and no longer just seen as the shower of shit it had been in the past.
The door opened a few minutes later and she stood bolt upright, her arms crossed and huffing as he walked into the living room.
"And where have ye been Ant?" She immediately demanded an explanation.
"Why do ye ask?" He replied, taking his coat off.
"I've been worried for ye son. I don't like when ye start goin out late… ye might be causin trouble for all I know!"
Antony rolled his eyes at his mother, understanding of her concerns but disappointed that she still hadn't quite learned to fully trust him yet.
"I've just been with a friend that's all".
"Yer Maria again?" She continued to question, but in a much friendlier tone.
"No. I'm seein' Maria again tomorrow if ye must know".
"Then who?" The tone reverted back to suspicious.
He sighed. He was in his late twenties, not twelve…
"I've just been going over some plans with a friend alright. No one ye know".
"No one I know… well that makes it worse!"
"Ma! Please, I'm not that person now… I've got a new perspective as I've said. I know the cause I need to dedicate myself to now. I'm not just aimlessly causing trouble…".
"And what cause might that be? Hmm?".
He really didn't want the argument with his mother, but she was making it very difficult not to. It wasn't her busy to know what he was up to and who he was up to it with. Not yet anyway…
"I'm going to bed ma. Love ye".
She didn't reply, instead just looking and listening as he walked out of the room, whistling and humming the song Children of the Revolution as he trudged up the stairs.
She would be keeping a very close eye on him, that was for sure.