Chapter 3: Turning Heads 22nd April 1939

The sunshine of the early morning nipped at James's skin as he drove to the Mallon house. Having bought a map the moment he reached Ireland, he was yet to find use for it, as everywhere so far had been easy to locate. The cottage was only a short distance away from the city, and being the only one around that area, it didn't take a genius to figure out that it was his. There were fields between the cottage and the city, with a little stream that ran through the vast rear garden. Having spent the entirety of his life in the often-dirty conditions of the city of London, the idealistic images of a country life that he pictured in his head were realised when he first arrived at the cottage the day before.

Finding his way back to the Mallon house was just as easy. However, there was a change that he'd noticed as he drove through the streets. The day before he'd barely seen a soul, and those who he had seen, didn't seem to be phased by his presence as he drove by. Yet the following morning, the citizens of Derry were out in their gardens staring at him in their droves. He wasn't used to such attention in the capital, with no one other than his immediate neighbours at the time ever glancing his way. It was the latest in a string of nuances that he was discovering in his new home. Barely twenty four hours had ticked by since his arrival, yet he was already aware of the significant cultural difference to London.

Pulling up outside the Mallon house, he could see eyes drawn to him from across the street. Sticking out like a sore thumb as he drove a car, no one else on that street doing so, he supposed it was natural that there would be some form of curiosity. Yet it wasn't him who they were staring at. It was over the car and into the front garden of the Mallon house where the attention was drawn to, owing to the ensuing argument between Deirdre and her daughter.

"Don't ye answer back to me, young Lady!" Deidre yelled at her.

"Ye can't do this to me Mammy!" Michelle shouted back.

"I can and I very much will!" Her mother was standing her ground. "He's yer cousin, yer goin' to be helpin' out in getting him settled. He's family Michelle!"

"He's English!"

"Aye. We can't change his accent, but we can make him feel at home and toughen him up a little". Deirdre was insistent.

"He might not want to feel at home!" Michelle continued to argue.

"Well seeing as he's here, ye can ask him that".

Michelle turned around to see James walking up the garden path towards them. He wasn't as smartly dressed as the day before, but retained a modicum degree of wealth to his look, with a fine jumper over his shirt and tie. His hair was just as slick as it was the day before, showing an effort on his part in keeping himself looking at his best. Even Michelle, who hated him being there, would have to admit that he was a handsome gentleman. Clearly he'd received the same genes as she had from the past generations of the family.

"Good morning Aunt Deirdre… Michelle".

"Ach morning to you James". Deirdre responded as cheerfully as she would let herself. "Did ye find the place alright last night?"

"Perfectly well thank you. It's lovely". He replied gratefully.

"That's grand, we'll have to come up one day". His aunt spoke softly, smiling at him.

"You're more than welcome to".

Annoyed by her mother's kindness towards James, Michelle grumbled quietly to herself by Deirdre's side. The last thing they should be doing was making him feel like one of the family. Because he wasn't. Even if he really was. He just couldn't be a part of their family, as that would mean that she would have to put up with the endless mocking from the other girls at the factory for having an English cousin, sniggers from the gossipers in the next section along that would be unending. At least if she showed open disdain towards him, he might think twice about staying in Derry, which would lead to him returning to England, the outcome that Michelle desired.

"Is there anything I can do to help now that I am here?". James asked his Aunt. "Does Uncle Martin require my help with anything?"

"Ach myself and Martin are alright, so we are love, but I need ye to do something for our Michelle here".

"Ma!" She launched a final protest at her mother.

"My word is final Michelle!"

"What can I do to assist?" James calmed the pair down with his soothing tone.

Michelle folded her arms in a childish strop, conceding defeat to her mother whilst sulking alongside her. Deirdre was far from impressed with her daughter. Mary Quinn wasn't the only woman in Derry to enforce household rules with a wooden spoon, an item which would refamiliarising itself with the back of Michelle's hand later that evening.

Deirdre bent down to pick up an item that was on the floor behind her, turning back around again to reveal a bowl in her hands.

"I have this big bowl that I want the Quinn's to have and I was going to send Michelle round with it, but seein' as ye have the car, there's less chance of Michelle droppin' it if ye could take her there".

"I'd be delighted to…". James beamed to his appreciative Aunt. "… providing Michelle could give me more of her excellent directions of course?"

"Don't ye worry James, she will. Won't ye Michelle?"

Deirdre ended with a firmer question to her daughter, who didn't put up a fight to her mother this time around, mumbling a 'Yes Mammy', looking down the road and away from her cousin. An act that would earn another strike on the back of her hand with the spoon later on.

"I'll leave ye to it then, just get her back for dinner this evening ye hear?"

"Of course Aunt Deirdre".

Walking back into the house, Deirdre was already looking forward to utilising James for her needs. After all, Kathy told her she could, so it was a privilege that could be abused. The young man would see it as helping his aunt, and being the gentleman that he was, he followed the orders without question. She could get used to that.

"Come on then Michelle". James said to her, tilting his head in the direction of the car.

The big bowl in her hands, she reluctantly trudged off behind her cousin to his Morgan, which gleamed in the sunlight. A fancy car like that turning up outside the Quinn's would probably give Mary a seizure, though in doing so would turn them all against James, which would be beneficial in the long run.

"I've never been in a car before". She stated to him, prompting James to look back over his shoulder at her. "Don't get me killed or anythin'!"

"I'll try my best".

James bravely mocked her in the face of her snarling, putting Michelle into her place. Not many people had the audacity to even question her word outside of her parents and friends, and even some of them wouldn't dare risk open opposition to her. He was different however, deftly accepting her resentment whilst he built his response, finely crafted and well-timed once it was issued. She was going to have her work cut out to obtain dominion over him.

She took her spot in the passenger seat, amazed by the luxury of the vehicle. The seats were incredibly comfortable, far more so than the furniture back at home, her back instantly sinking into them. The lack of a roof was noted too at first, but James explained how it worked with pulling the cover up from behind them if it were to rain. It still seemed stupid to her not to have a permanent roof on the car… then again, he was English, and they were a bunch of thick bastards.

"Ready?" He asked.

"Not… quite…".

She stopped to clear her throat, in order to make herself clear to him for what she was about to say.

"Don't go embarrassin' me ye hear? The Quinn's are good friends of the family, I won't have ye fuckin' up our friendship with them because ye can't keep yer stupid English gob shut".

He was slightly disheartened by her automatic assumption that he would act in a way that would disrupt the friendship between families. It was yet another note for his growing list, with Michelle being the main contributor so far.

"You have my word dear cousin".

"Now listen here, ye honey wording English f-".

Revving up the engine of the Morgan, James laughed to himself, pulling off the edge of the road at pace to Michelle's horror. She screamed for the first few seconds, the new sensation of being in a moving vehicle casting terror into her conscience.

It did shut her up though.

And for that, James was grateful.

"It's that house there with… oh for fuck's sake, why are those two outside?!"

James rolled his eyes at the latest poor language on his cousin's behalf. Erin and Clare were stood outside the Quinn house, in the little front garden, playing with what looked like a Labrador. He'd never owned a pet himself, but one of his friends back in London had a lovely black Labrador called Dylan.

"Is there a problem?" A mystified James enquired with her.

"Not very smart are ye?!" She huffed in return, making him regret ever opening his mouth. "Ye best have this whilst I go and find out the craic".

She thrusted the big bowl onto his lap, exiting the vehicle and heading straight towards her friends who were waiting. Chuckling to himself, James sat for a few seconds, wondering how he was going to put up with Michelle for the rest of the day. And also, what on earth 'craic' meant...

"Michelle!" Clare called her name delightedly as the dark-haired girl acrobatically vaulted the garden wall.

"Christ, yer not frettin', that's somethin".

"I'm so happy!"

"Me too!" Erin shouted. "Ach ye won't believe it Michelle!"

"This better be good girls…". She huffed.

"Orla and David are getting married!"

Clare's shout properly stunned Michelle into silence, which was a mean feat given that her mouth often took a lot of stopping.

"And she's pregnant!"

If the first announcement stunned the young Mallon, the second one from Erin nearly swept her off her feet like the poor woman in one of Colm's stories. Orla hadn't even been seeing David for a year and suddenly they were engaged, expecting a child. She was barely eighteen, having only reached the milestone in February, aptly on Valentine's Day. And she'd spent the night at David's that night…

"Stall the ball!"

As Michelle entered a minor disbelief crisis, James appeared from behind her, smiling away in his dapper outfit. Erin could feel her cheeks burning again as the handsome Englishman strode up the garden path to her house, handing the big bowl back to his cousin as he drew alongside her. She was lucky that Michelle and Clare were too busy arguing about the morality of such a young marriage for Orla, to notice her reaction to James. That busy in fact that they began to walk off in the direction of the house due to Michelle's wish to confront the newly engaged couple. Napoleon the dog followed them in too, leaving Erin suddenly alone with the Englishman and suddenly very much aware that she was going to have to try to make conversation with him, without doing any rash.

"Good morning there Erin".

Jesus Christ!

He'd remembered her name!

There was the brief candle of hope on her behalf that he wouldn't have, making it awkward for him and easier for her to laugh and brush him off… but no he'd gone and remembered her name, which was only endearing the handsome bastard to her even more.

"Ach…erm… hel-hello there… erm… John".

The Englishman giggled at her getting his name wrong, again fate throwing her the outcome that she did not want. She would have hoped he would have been offended by it and stopped speaking to her, but once more her cheeks burned at him. His giggle was alluring… very alluring…

"Hello. It's erm…". He coughed to hide his amusement. "… James not… John".

"Of course… sorry".

She scratched at the back of her neck anxiously as he continued to smile at her. If the two were truly alone, in a place far from Derry or anyone that they knew, she'd be honest with him and tell him just what one glance from him did to her. The problem was that they weren't, a problem which was demonstrated aptly when her Granda Joe marched out the house a second later.

As they exited the house, Joe, Sarah, Mary and Gerry received their first viewing of Kathy Maguire's secret son. The slick haired Englishman was stood taking to their Erin, the sun shining onto him to radiate him across the horizon.

"He's Kathy's boy alright…". Mary spoke first.

"Look at the eyebrows on him…". Sarah's mouth was hanging open as she alluded to the Maguire family trait.

Kathy Maguire was a beautiful woman, and her son was just as beautiful. Mary and Sarah were almost staring in wonder at the handsome young man who was chatting away to Erin. Everything about him screamed sophistication too, immaculately presented as if he were visiting King George at the Palace rather than their humble abode. He wasn't asked, but Gerry thought to himself at just how well-groomed the young Maguire was, smart shoes and slick hair, as well as a fancy car in the distance. Joe was not so easily convinced, however. After having mistakenly let Gerry into the family, he was always on his guard whenever a new fella connected to one of the others appeared. He would be judging the English fella on a different criteria entirely, unphased on whether he looked like the best thing in town.

Erin promptly began to panic as the adults in her family sidled on over to her and James, cursing Michelle and Clare in her head for wandering off inside with Napoleon. The first time Orla introduced David to the family, she remembered the awkwardly tense air in the living room, with poor David looking ready to cut and run after an initial bombardment of questions from Joe. Not that it was that sort of introduction though. After all, it wasn't as if she was in a relationship with James. God no! Not yet anyway…

The errant thoughts had to be quickly spirited away, along with the pink cheeks, hoping that none of the family had seen any of her turmoil when it came to James.

"Ye didn't mention ye had a fella Erin".

Feck's sake!

Her Aunt Sarah started with what she believed to be the worst possible assumption, mainly due to how close to the truth it grazed. The pink cheeks returned with a vengeance, a detail quickly noted by the hawk-eyed Mary, as well as her equally observant husband. James's own cheeks reddened slightly with Sarah's implication, a reaction he didn't expect from himself.

"We're not together Aunt Sarah!" Erin snarled more viciously than intended, receding to a far calmer voice in order to continue. "This is Michelle's cousin we were tellin' ye about".

"Aye right". Mary's eyes narrowed as she inspected James more closely.

"Congratulations, Erin was just telling me the happy news about Orla and David, I imagine you must all be delighted".

Hearing him for the first time confirmed Mary's belief that Kathy had raised him well, despite everything. She always did have a taste for the good life, the unexpected pregnancy and scroll length list of who the father could have been acting as proof, but that lavish mindset had been transferred for good use when it came to bringing up the boy. He wasn't posh like they thought all the English to be, though could definitely be considered to be well-spoken, every word falling from his lips in glorious perfection.

"I'm buzzin' so I am…". Sarah replied to him… "… I'm Orla's mammy, Sarah".

Repeating his manoeuvre from the day before, James took her hand, placing a gentle kiss onto the back of her knuckles. Sarah's own cheeks began to show a significant change in colour; it had been some time since a man had shown open affection towards her, and the memories of Orla's father flooded back as the Englishman's lips touched her skin. To her left, the other three adults were mesmerised by his performance, Joe considering the possibility of launching the fella over the garden fence, but ultimately deciding not to do so.

"You must be Mrs Quinn". He correctly assumed as he moved forward to take Mary's hand too.

"I am, but please, call me Mary…".

Mary didn't mean to sound so breathy, but the English fella was a damn fine charmer in his own right. He was confident and smooth as he took her hand like he had done Sarah's, with all the airs and graces of a nobleman within the body of a teenager.

It did nothing for Erin's internal panic though. It was bad enough the day before when he'd kissed her hand and the hands of Clare and Orla. He was taking it a step further moving onto her mother and aunt. She saw just how flushed the two of them had become at his touch, and whilst it proved to her that she wasn't insane to find him attractive, it worried her deeply that they'd figure out just how much affection she was already holding for the Englishman.

"I'm glad we've be introduced this way…". James smirked ever so slightly as he addressed Mary. "… if we'd met on the street, I wouldn't have put either of you a day older than Erin".

His flattery infuriated Gerry, who was becoming self-conscious as the Englishman harmonised over his wife's beauty. He didn't think himself to be too bad looking, but the smart and confident young James was causing him to re-evaluate those beliefs. The strings to the Englishman's bow were seemingly endless though, as he detected the mild disgust at his actions by the man that he took to be Mary's husband, quickly moving to dispel any potential quarrel.

"Forgive me Mr Quinn, you are a very lucky man to have a charming wife in Mary and a beautiful daughter in Erin".

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHITTTTTTTTTTT!

James thinks I'm beautiful, James thinks I'm beautiful!

Erin's knees did their best impression of the Hindenburg, with only the tiniest slither of control stopping her from collapsing forward into the path of her Aunt Sarah. James uttered the statement with such nonchalance and confidence, it was equally taking the rest of her energy not to grab hold of him and kiss the life out of him. It left her cheeks unguarded as they heated beyond boiling point, glowing like the core of the sun in front of her family.

"Gerry…". He held out his hand for James to shake. "… and thank ye son, I thank the Lord every day for them".

James dipped his head at the notion of Gerry's prayers to God and was about to follow up his comment when the final person he'd yet to be introduced to, spoke his mind.

"Are ye finished being conned by the snake oil salesman yet Gerry, ye massive eejit".

The other three might have been easily tricked by James's charm and flattery, but Joe was not going to fall the same way. His emotions were mountains to their molehills.

"Please Sir, I meant no offence".

James held his hand out in an attempt to appease Joe. An attempt which proved to be a total failure.

"Don't ye call me Sir boy, do I look like the Lord of the Manor?"

"I… well…". James' previously unflappable confidence finally broke, but he was quick to recover. "Please accept my apologies then…".

Joe moved to place his hand into James's, a firm handshake being exchanged between the young Englishman and the older Irishman. Their hands stayed in a shaking motion for a few seconds, the two locking eyes, both trying to read the other without the slightest hint of discretion.

"Joe… Joe McCool, Erin and Orla's grandfather".

"It's a pleasure Joe". James confirmed, continuing their handshake.

The others around them were shellshocked. The handshake test was Joe's way to measure any man that came to reside within the sphere of his family, and in all of the years of the test being in use, no man had ever been allowed to call him Joe after the first shake. It had taken David weeks to be allowed to refer to him as Joe, instead referring to him as Mr McCool until he gained access to the higher level of the man's trust. Mouths were agape.

The door to the house opened again, with Napoleon the dog bounding out towards the Englishman. Michelle and Clare were out behind him, along with Orla and a young man that James presumed to be David. Not that he had chance to ask though, as Napoleon the dog was demanding fuss from him. Fuss that the dog would receive.

"Who's a good boy then". James crouched down to pat the dog, before looking up to Erin. "Does he have a name?"

"Erm… y-yes… Napoleon". She stumbled over her own words in reply.

"Napoleon?" James snorted in surprise. "Who would have thought Napoleon would be so keen on an Englishman after Waterloo…".

His attempt at a joke did not go down well, with silence from all of them. Clare offered him a hopeful smile that at least confirmed she understood the joke, perhaps even appreciating it to a degree, but from everyone else… nothing.

"Right… forget that".

They all promptly did.

David used everyone's disapproval at James' rather poor joke to step forward, the Englishman taking note of his movement as Napoleon scampered over to Michelle. Sarah started up a conversation with Erin behind him, and there was soon an adequate amount of background noise that stopped the conversation being awkwardly tense.

"Yer James then?" David asked him. "Orla's been tellin' me all about ye".

"I am…". The Englishman confirmed, holding his hand out for David to shake. "… and I must bring you my congratulations".

"Ach… yer too kind there". David grinned as he complied with the shake.

"Not at all. Although I must say, I've been here for a day and in that time a lot has happened! Is it always like that here?"

Clearly their conversation wasn't as disguised as they first thought, as everyone answered James' question in unison.

"Aye".

"Right…". James laughed softly as they all reconvened their chats.

"That yer's?"

David pointed to the red Morgan sat at the bottom of the Quinn's garden path, which had also drawn the attention of a couple of men in the houses across the road too.

"Yes that's my car".

"Ye own a Morgan Roadster? An incredulous David questioned him.

"Want to have a look?" James jolted his head backward in the direction of the vehicle.

There was no answer needed, the two laughing away as they walked out to the roadside to inspect the Morgan. David's eyes were wide, and his lips curved up so highly the corners felt as if they could tickle the bags under those wide eyes. He saw cars everyday being a mechanic, but a car of the quality that James owned only came along every so often.

"My God… it's a cracker motor ye have here mate".

"Thank you". James replied, inwardly beaming over being referred to as a friend by David. "It's the first car I've owned".

"I've seen a picture of one and I thought it was class like, but in person… Christ what a machine".

"It's served me well, although trying to drive it in London was a challenge at times".

"How come?" An interested David asked.

"Too many people. It isn't quite as fun when you end up arrested for running a lady over".

David sniggered at James's joke as his hands ran along the crisp sides of the Morgan, his eyes drawn to the comfortable interior that Michelle had sank into earlier on.

"I bet she handles well…". He mused.

"Here…". James threw him the keys.

"Now James, I didn't mean…". David didn't want to be seen to force his arm.

"I have a feeling that the girls will be fussing around Orla you know". James chuckled. "I think you could do with the drive for your own sanity".

"Fair point". David snorted humorously.

David got behind the wheel, almost frozen with joy before he could put his hands on it to truly get a feel for the vehicle. He'd only known James for a matter of minutes, but like nearly everyone else, he was taking an immediate liking to the well-mannered young Englishman. He wasn't condescending despite his evident wealth, instead offering a warm and friendly exterior to everyone. Summing it up in his head, he came to a conclusion. James was just a good man.

"MICHELLE!" James shouted out. "WE ARE GOING FOR A DRIVE!"

"GOOD!" She shouted back. "YE CAN BRING DAVID BACK, BUT FEEL FREE TO DRIVE BACK TO ENGLAND AFTERWARDS YE PRICK!"

"I'm gettin' the spoon…". Joe mumbled, turning on his heel to re-enter the house.

Sarah, Mary and Gerry were left staring out onto the road, watching as David revved up the engine once James was in the passenger seat, setting off with the wheels spinning.

"If that James was five years older… and I was five years younger…" Sarah whispered her dreams to the other two.

"Aye me too…". Her sister agreed.

"Mary!"

Gerry became aggrieved that they were having fantasies over the young Englishman, especially his happily married wife. He might have been a handsome lad, but the two women should have known better than to get all dreamy eyed about him.

Still, they at least carried stable heartrates.

Erin's was absolutely all over the place because of the dashing Englishman. David might have been appealing… but James… wow!

James was in a different league.

The drive ran to a full hour for the boys, the two enjoying themselves far too much to make a quick return to the Quinn house. They conversed away merrily, with much of the discussion going on David's impending marriage and his child that Orla was carrying. David had never been happier, though that feeling started earlier that week. Confirming that she was indeed pregnant as she'd suspected, David had gone to Joe on the Monday to ask for permission to marry her. Some people would have bypassed the traditional method of obtaining the father's consent, especially with Orla's father being deceased, but he wanted to do it properly. Knowing of Joe's fondness for him and that Orla would never say no, he didn't need to do it out of a worry of not being accepted either.

Breaking the news to the rest of the family had been a daunting prospect, not that it should have been whatsoever. Sarah was more than approving of him too, Mary being the only one who he truly feared falling foul of. He'd told James of those fears as they drove out into the countryside. He could tell immediately that the Englishman was going to be a good friend in the future, as the two quickly found plenty in common. They were both practical thinking young men, even if James didn't outwardly show it and they were honourable too.

That was why David invited him to the pub that night. He really did like the fella.

"James!" He called out to his fellow young man as he walked into the pub.

There were stares from some of the regulars at The River. Word of a young Englishman related to the Mallon's staying in the city was beginning to get round, the locals on the lookout for a stranger called James. David unwittingly wasn't doing him any favours, albeit the women in the pub weren't staring at him out of suspicion or disgrace. People didn't bite their lips and pour their drinks down their fronts if they were looking at a man in total anger. It was clear that James was a head turner amongst the ladies.

"I appear to be popular".

"Ye best be careful, some of those women…". He gestured towards a particular group in one corner. "… they'll rip ye apart".

The two young men broke out into hearty laughter at David's warning. James insisted upon paying for their drinks, though David had to insist himself that he get them in, as he was well aware of the barman's hatred of the English. One night a few young Englishman had come into the bar and two of them left with black eyes and bloody noses after a disagreement over the price of the beer. He was keen to avoid having to explain to Deirdre Mallon why her nephew came back from a night out in the city looking like he'd lost a boxing match with a lion.

"Seriously though James…". David said to him as they found somewhere to sit in the far corner. "… are ye tryin' to get yerself killed? An Englishman… wanting a water… in a pub… in Derry?"

"One to add to the list of do not do's I suspect?" James jested in return.

"Aye I'd say so. Why don't ye drink?"

"I do!" James clarified. "But I find that my driving is far worse after having a drink, so I only drink when I'm at home".

"Ach that's sensible so it is".

The two of them sipped at their drinks, ceasing any further conversations for a couple of minutes. James used the time to have a quick scan around the pub, where he found a couple of the patrons still unwilling to take their narrowed eyes off of him. Two girls, who James determined to be around their age, began to make their way over to the two lads. David sighed quietly when he realised which two, not having the time to explain his reaction to James before the darker haired girl engaged them in conversation.

"Congratulations David, we heard about the engagement and the wee baby on the way".

"How do ye know about that?" David's brows were furrowed as he challenged the girl.

"Michelle's been tellin' everyone".

It came as no surprise to James that his cousin's mouth was the source of the spread. In the hour that they'd been away from the girls, Michelle could have told half of Ireland all of David's business, without a care for whether it was her right to do so or not. That was Michelle Mallon.

"Well thank ye anyway Jenny". David eventually smiled at her. "Oh and… this is James, Michelle's cousin".

"Good evening ladies".

Jenny and her friend's cheeks rapidly turned to a shade of pink that could have rivalled Erin's. They were shying at his silky words, fidgeting with their hands whilst they were in the path of his glorious stare.

"Jenny". The dark haired one replied. "And this is Aisling".

"It's lovely to meet you".

The two nodded, sharing a look between them as if to try to decide which one would dare to speak to the handsome English newcomer to their shores. Aisling couldn't form the words, so it fell to Jenny once again.

"We… erm… we… we need to be off. See ye around James".

"Goodbye ladies".

They scuttled off together, giggling to James' confusion, a confusion that increased when he glanced across to find David grinning rather smugly at him.

"What?"

"Nothin'… ye seem to have half the girls here wrapped around yer finger, so ye do".

"I doubt that". James scoffed.

"Don't do yerself down there James. But ye'll want to keep ye distance from those two. I went to school with them and they both come from money like… but… ye know, ye wouldn't want to get into anythin' with either".

"Thank you for the advice my friend". James put a hand on David's shoulder.

"No problem. Jenny can be a right head melter…".

"A what?"

James had set out with every intention to learn the local dialect when he arrived. Already he was struggling to understand some of the phrases that they would come out with from time to time, only really getting the comment of cracker being a positive one when David uttered it earlier in the day.

"Ye know, ye should get Erin to write ye a list of all the words we use that yer English lot don't".

"What do you mean?" A curious James asked.

"Erin's love writin' like. Orla's always tellin' me about the poetry and stuff that she finds in Erin's bedroom, borin' stuff to my Orla, but Erin seems to enjoy it".

"I used to love reading poetry back home".

"She'd probably appreciate someone takin' an interest to be honest with ye James. I don't think anyone in the family does".

"I see".

"But erm…". David squeezed out a noise that was a cross between a cough and a chuckle. "… be careful with her. She can get a wee bit too… what's the word… attached at times… if ye know what I mean".

Fully understanding of what David meant, James grinned a response. One of the girls he'd had a relationship with back in London was the same, believing they had something far more serious between them than they did. It took some careful wordsmithery on his part to let her down easily back then, and he was keen to avoid a repeat with Erin if she was cut from the same cloth.

Yet something niggled away at him when it came to her. There really was something different about the Quinn's daughter, a quality that he was yet to put his finger on. She was a mystery to him, a mystery that he was keen to solve.

He would quite like to hear the poetry too.

As they continued to talk and drink into the evening, James couldn't shake the thought at the back of his head that told him that he would be seeing a lot of Erin Quinn in the coming months.