Chapter 11: Set Free 5th July 1939
Avoidance.
That was the key to survival for the pair of them. If they avoided each other, they wouldn't have to speak of what had happened.
James started the ball rolling by not showing up to Sunday morning mass the day after, citing the need to fix a problem with his car. It didn't escape his Aunt's curiosity that he rejected David's help in assisting with whatever the issue with his precious Morgan might have been. David, being a mechanic, would have surely held the right level of expertise to come to his aid with. But for his own cover, he knew that he would have been unable to hide the truth to his friend if he'd missed church with him. A truth that could not be set free.
Work at the bank was a thankfully brilliant distraction from his thoughts. The first two days of the week had been busier than usual, with Mr Feeney having a couple of days off, leaving James in charge of the place. He had the full support of his previously hostile colleagues, but there was still a relentless amount of work to be done. He was in and out of meetings on the Tuesday, all the while being able to see the others, bogged down by the general public, powerless to do anything about it. He was asleep straight after his dinner on both nights too, another blessing. He'd struggled to sleep on the two nights before then, constantly chastising himself in his head for the reckless actions of the Saturday afternoon just passed.
Come Wednesday however, Mr Feeney had returned, consequently James becoming nowhere near as busy as he had been the previous two days. The McLaughlin brother's joviality went someway in distracting him from thoughts of her, but whenever there was a lull in the day, his mind worked against him. He was used to not seeing her on weekdays up until Friday, an arrangement he could usually cope with. That week the parameters had changed though, and all he wanted to do was talk to her to try to save whatever friendship they might have left. A friendship that he so desperately needed to keep. Life in Derry would be far more bleak without having Erin to share a joke with or confide in about his fears.
Pulling up outside his Aunt's house after work, on the routine that he never failed to complete, James faced another night alone at the cottage with just his self-deprecating thoughts for company once the trip was over. His Aunt and Uncle were shining examples of where love had come together beautifully from a bond that he believed started in friendship. Martin was a very amicable man, and he could picture his Uncle in a similar position to himself years before, albeit handling it far better. He took note of the overgrown grass in their garden on his way up to the front door. It was in dire need of some attention, a favour he would willingly offer himself up for to them that evening.
Knocking on the door, he startled Deirdre, who happened to be walking past on her way upstairs.
"James, come in". She said to him, tilting her head.
"Thank you Aunt Deirdre". He responded.
Stepping inside, Deirdre beckoned him through to the kitchen, whilst she continued on her journey upstairs. Five minutes passed before she returned, James making them both a cup of tea in that time, for which he was thanked pleasantly for.
"How are ye then love?" She asked once they were sat at the Mallon's dining table.
"I am well. A quieter day at work today".
"Ach that's good so it is, ye've looked shattered the last couple of evenings".
"I have been!" He protested with a giggle. "But today, I feel fresher".
Nodding her head, Deirdre took another sip of her tea, studying her nephew. His tiredness wasn't the only change in behaviour she'd detected. Ever since the strange excuse to skip church on Sunday morning, she'd grown suspicious that something was amiss with the Englishman. He mostly kept himself to himself, and she did not wish to delve into the depths of his personal life, yet she found herself very concerned by the behavioural change. Not without initial scepticism to his presence in Derry, she'd become very fond of her gracious, gentlemanly nephew in the weeks that followed. He would always be available to assist her whenever she asked, dropping everything to assist his Aunt with even the most meagre of tasks. He was a good soldier to her; he followed orders without question.
"I have been meaning to ask you something Deirdre".
Led away from her thoughts by the sound of his voice, it appeared she did not need to ask any searching questions of him. In the absence of the person he would normally turn to, she became his unsuspecting confidante.
"Ask away". Smiling sweetly after her reply, she took another sip of her tea.
"How did you and Uncle Martin meet? Were you friends for a while before marriage?"
The question was not quite the one that she'd expected at all. A strange request to say the least, she thought about it for a brief moment before responding. It had been so long since she'd relived the memories of childhood and the perfect sensations of true love at such a young age.
"I'd known Martin for years before we were together like…". She began to explain. "… he was always a very handsome young man. We were friends throughout, but I wasn't the only girl after his affections…".
She remembered that very well. She wasn't his first, there were others who he'd dated before Deirdre, but it was only once he'd started dating her, he discovered the true happiness he wanted.
"But we settled together after a while and married young. I fell pregnant with Michelle not long after and well, ye know the rest".
"I do indeed". He confirmed. "Would you say love has to start with friendship?"
"Aye I would. If I hadn't been friends with my Martin, then I don't think we'd have kept such a healthy relationship for so long".
They both sipped at their tea, watching each other. James pleasantly nodding his head as she recounted the story of her friendship and then later, romantic relationship with his Uncle. If only he'd had the guile of his Uncle, he would have had the same future with Erin. Rushing from a young, though firm, friendship to become lovers in such a short space of time was not the right way forward.
"Why are ye askin' me all this anyway James?"
"I… I just am interested, that's all…".
"James….".
Sighing, he knew he would be unable to lie his way around his Aunt as he'd briefly hoped. Deirdre saw straight through his blustered response and bore her eyes upon his, her piercing stare demanding to know what troubled him.
"I have made a poor decision and I think I've lost the friendship of someone who I care for".
Honesty was the only policy, but he didn't dare reveal the identity of his friend. He was well aware of how upset she'd be if any word of what had happened between them leaked.
"Oh. I see".
Deirdre Mallon was not a daft woman. He might not have wanted to say, but the girl in question was no doubt Erin Quinn. She was not as oblivious as her nephew had been in the prior weeks, noticing how unstuck Mary's daughter became whenever she was around him. The looks that she sent him, and the looks he sent her in return. He might have believed them innocent. His Aunt knew better.
"And this friend, I take it, is a she?"
"Yes". He quietly confirmed, clearing his throat afterwards.
"I'm not going to ask ye what happened or who it is, I don't need to know…". She carefully explained. "… but I do know that yer a good lad James and whatever happened, yer clearly feelin' guilty about it…".
James looked away in embarrassment. Guilty wasn't the half of it. He'd already sentenced himself to mental punishment and thrown away the key.
"I am". Muttering, he turned his head back to her.
"This girl is very special to ye no doubt. The only thing ye can do is talk to her honestly and openly about how ye feel. I would like to think that if I'd had a falling out with Martin at yer age, then we would have worked things out and talked to each other".
"I doubt she'll want to see me…". A deflated James spoke his mind.
"Nonsense!" She reprimanded him. "Even if she doesn't hold… certain feelings for ye, she surely knows yer a lovely young man and would treat ye with respect".
"But… but…".
Deirdre reached over and put her hand across his mouth to stop his blabbering. She could see how upset he was over whatever the mystery event that had occurred between him and Erin was, but wouldn't have him spill tears over it. He needed to be reminded he was a man.
"Dry yer eyes James. Think about it logically, the only way ye'll know anything is by talking to her. So for heaven's sake talk to her, even if it's not until the weekend… talk!"
Releasing her hand from his mouth, he chuckled at his own state of fluster. Being used to coast through a mostly carefree life, he was letting his guard down more and more since the move across the Irish Sea.
"Thank you Deirdre. I am sorry, I have acted foolishly then and now…".
"For the love of god…". She huffed out. "… ye've done nothing wrong James! Yer just a wee eejit still ye know, even if ye are a gentleman. When it comes to friendship and love, ye have to learn and sometimes ye have to learn the hard way".
"I am glad to have your council".
"That's what Auntie's are here for is it not?"
He wholeheartedly agreed with her on that notion. For the first time in a few days, his perception of the events of Saturday afternoon began to clear. Previously clouded in self-laceration, James finally realised, sat stoutly at the Mallon household dining table, that not all was lost. All he needed to do was hold an honest and frank conversation with Erin. If she didn't have feelings for him it would be crushing, but as long as they could remain firm friends, then he still had something. Her friendship had been enough for weeks beforehand, it could surely stand just as strongly for years to come. And, if the tiny hope that she did indeed feel the same way as he did came true, then they could work out exactly what they were going to be in the future.
He had a plan.
"I will talk to her at the weekend". He told his Aunt. "As you say, I will not know unless I strive to find out".
"Good lad". She beamed at him. "Now, ye best be getting' yerself off home, I reckon it'll be raining again in the next hour".
Heeding her latest batch of advice, he left five minutes later, a decision vindicated when a torrential downpour began less than a minute after shutting the front door of the cottage.
All night it rained.
A night which he spent at peace, Deirdre's advice guiding him to a comforting slumber.
He had hope.
She hadn't expected further contact to be made so soon. Smithers was never usually one to contradict his prior orders, always clear and concise the first time he relayed any information. Then again, never before in her time working in His Majesty's Service had the threat of war and destruction seemed so close. Lyla was on the front line of the finely poised political situation, having the most direct line to Germany's leader out of anyone in the allied nations. There was a great weight on her shoulders, with the responsibility to make decisions that may or may not plummet the continent into another war… and perhaps the whole world.
The second set of instructions from Smithers left her both reeling and determined. She couldn't countenance such disregard for human life on one hand but would not let Hitler win on the other. Pouring herself a glass of wine, the bottle given to her by her lover Kurt, she sat on her bed in the quiet surrounds of her home and read them back.
Do not ask any further questions on the exterminations or report back any further.
Smithers was not such a cruel man, only passing the message on as his duty, Lyla knowing that the orders must have come from higher, if not the very highest. The callous lack of care for the millions of lives that were at risk, set a devasting fire of rage within her heart. Finding out more information about them, to add to the miniscule yet vitally important knowledge she'd already found through Kurt was the logical thing to do in her mind. Britain thought differently though. No doubt the French would have had the information passed onto them too and they didn't seem to care either.
Kurt was untroubled by causing such destruction on a mass scale, but it didn't surprise her at all. He was devoted to pleasing Hitler with his research and ideas; he'd kill millions if only for a smile. She was the only one who appeared to have any morals. Orders were orders though… they had to be followed.
Continue as planned with Ireland and the Danzig crisis.
Of any of the prior instructions, it was German relations with Ireland that she would have expected to have been shelved rather than anything else. There was no guarantee that the Free State would want an alliance with Germany. The world had seen that Hitler had no qualms about annexing territory left, right and centre, or invading areas which he deemed to belong to his country, even if they did not. Vigilance could not be ceased; however, it did not have the same pressing urgency as the other matters from the original instructions, so did not need to be prioritised. The crisis in Danzig was one which she could do little with. Not being a regular soldier, Kurt did not always find out about matters such as the one occurring in that city. Her ear would always be to the ground though and if Kurt was to be involved, the outcome would look very bleak for the residents of Danzig judging by his research into the extermination project.
The final task from Smithers was the one anyone in her position held great fear over. She'd been trained to do that task without ever having to have previously performed it. Albeit this was the first time away from her home… from him… leaving him unaware of whether she would ever return home to live a family life again. She'd always came back before. The objectives of her mission this time did not guarantee that it would be the case. She might not even see England again, let alone Ireland. Those were the emotions stirred when she received the test.
The greatest test for an agent.
That one.
At your follow up meeting, eliminate Hitler by any means necessary.
Lyla rose from the bed, tucking the slip of paper into the safe box to be hidden once more. The box contained intelligence that would see her hailed as a hero by the Government of Britain but executed as a spy by the Government of Nazi Germany.
The Nazi Germany led by Adolf Hitler.
Who she was going to kill.
Taking a life came with little comfort. Taking his life… would be different. The shortest of short straws in the pool of world tasks to be done, Lyla Walsh was going to become a part of history one way or the other.
She just hoped she'd do him proud…
As the factory clock crept towards eight o'clock on Friday morning, Michelle and Clare were perplexed. They knew Orla had the day off, granted at a moment's notice by management, who had been surprisingly supportive since she'd revealed her pregnancy to them. Her not being there for the start of shift was understandable, but her cousin didn't have the day off with her. She was expected to be at work that morning and with one minute to go until the shift began, she wasn't at her machine. Mary and Sarah were in and ready to start work… so why wasn't she? The two of them couldn't ask the older adults either, as they worked at the other end of the sweaty shop floor. The shift supervisor had noticed too, throwing a few frowns their way that they could only shrug their shoulders to.
"Where the fuck is she?" Michelle said to Clare.
"I… I'm worried Michelle!" Clare fretted in return.
"Nothing fuckin' new there then! But aye, it is a bit worryin' to say the least, ye know what Erin's like for punctuality and the like".
Erin's constant quest for punctuality could infuriate the rest of them at times. Michelle was the usual recipient of the backlash from the bossy blonde, their clash of attitudes often coming to a head during worktime. Whilst Erin was efficient in everything she did, making sure the job was done and done properly, her dark-haired friend couldn't really care less. As long as the shirts were good enough to pass through quality control then she didn't really mind if it took longer to do them. If some English bastard didn't get his shirt order when he was promised because of Michelle's lethargy… she wouldn't lose sleep over it. Erin most certainly would.
"We've got all this work to do as well!" Clare screeched, holding the list up in front of her friend's face.
"Alright, don't feckin shite yer tights on me Clare! We'll do what we can… we can't do anymore that that".
"But we might get sacked…".
"Clare!"
"And… and Meyler would never trust us if…".
Before any further panicking could be verbalised, and as the clock finally ticked over to eight, Erin appeared in the main doorway of the factory. There were breaths of relief from her two friends, Clare letting out a significantly longer one that Michelle. Their worries about her whereabouts were over, but they were quickly transferred to her physical condition when they watched her begin moving over towards them.
She was limping.
Meyler's eyes were drawn to the limp too. Mary and Sarah neglected to mention any injury to Erin when he'd spoken to them ten minutes or so prior. Having known them well for some years, he did not need to be told twice that something was very much amiss with Mary's daughter. Quite what was shrouded in mystery.
"Christ, what's up with ye?" Michelle enquired the moment her friend was in earshot.
There was no reply from Erin, who looked as if she was in severe pain the closer that she got to them. Meyler had wheeled himself round to them too, making it three sets of eyes focused on her as she got to her machine. It was the supervisor who began.
"Erin… it's not like you to not be here on time. And yer limping… what's up?"
"M… Mr-Mr Meyler…". She stuttered. "I had a wee accident on the way here".
"A wee accident?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Aye I… I tripped and twisted my ankle a bit".
"Ye weren't walking with yer mother and Sarah?"
Meyler's tone indicated that he did not believe her. Michelle and Clare weren't exactly convinced by the story themselves, brows furrowed in Erin's direction.
"No… I left after them".
Mulling over a course of action in his head, the girls watched the cogs of Meyler's brain tick. He certainly wasn't impressed by what sounded like lies made up on the spot by the young Quinn girl, but she'd proven herself to be trustworthy through the weekly visits to do the banking. Any punishment, workload or financial, would have been unfair.
"Right. Well yer here now at least. The three of you's have a lot of work to do, especially without Orla to help ye. Best get to it".
"I'll be straight onto it". Erin confirmed with a faked smile, Meyler smiling in return. "But Mr Meyler?"
"Yes Erin?"
"I'm not sure I can go to the bank today with my ankle".
Huffing and rolling his eyes, he briefly considered telling her to grow up, still not completely believing that her injury was legitimate. She was Mary Quinn's daughter though and if daughter was anything like mother, he was wise enough to steer clear of starting trouble with her. It wasn't the end of the world either; he had another candidate in mind for the job anyway.
"Fine. Michelle, can ye go instead?"
"What!?" The young Mallon shouted. "Why should I go!?"
"Watch yer tone with me Miss Mallon!" He rebuked her. "I'm askin' ye nicely… and yer cousin works at the bank does he not?".
"That's the problem!"
"I don't care about yer family tensions Michelle. I need ye to do me a favour, now will ye?"
"Eughhh… alright". She finally conceded.
Satisfied that discipline had been maintained, and unwilling to distract the girls any longer, Meyler walked back to his office. Michelle and Clare both went to ask Erin about whatever had really happened that morning, but the normally punctual young woman returned to admonish them for not thinking about getting the work done. Falling back into a typically work centred morning, little was said between them in the four and half hours between their start and their lunch break. The whole factory was mostly silent bar the sound of the machines, every section being under intense pressure to complete their orders for the week. Orla wasn't the only woman on holiday that Friday, with three others missing across the shop floor putting a dent into the usual production speed. It ensured that morning break never happened, apart from Michelle who insisted on going for a smoke, Erin and Clare knuckling down to continue their progress. For once, Michelle did put the effort in when she got back though, making up for her smoke break by working at what must have double the speed she usually did. It was a real team effort from them all, noted favourably by the factory management.
As lunchtime began, Michelle made her getaway to the bank with a plan to torture James as much as possible from the moment she arrived. She looked forward to it, whilst Erin held mixed emotions. She was sad to not have her refreshing lunch break on Friday but very much glad that she wouldn't have to face him after the kiss of the previous Saturday. Lying her hole off about the twisted ankle that morning, Meyler thankfully accepted the final part of her elaborate plan to avoid the Englishman.
Forming the idea as she lay in bed the night before, unable to sleep not for the first time during the week, she'd panicked about Friday lunchtime. Unlike Michelle, who'd simply show a lot more flesh than usual to management to get whatever she wanted, Erin did not possess those assets. A complete lie counteracted by her own enthusiasm to make a manager believe it, was all that she had. The plan would start that morning with an excuse for arriving at work alone. Deliberately leaving her coat behind in her room, she ensured that five minutes into the walk when the rain started, there was an excuse to return home. Mary and Sarah had both commented on her being naïve to think it wouldn't rain that morning, seeing as it had done for most of the week, but that was as bad as it got. Their suspicions were never aroused to the true reason. Limping her way to work in the distance behind them, anyone who might have seen her could corroborate the story of the twisted ankle that Meyler had reluctantly taken as a legitimate injury.
Having gotten to lunchtime without any issues, contentment from making the correct decision washed over her. But not everyone bought the lie.
Clare hadn't at all. Sensing her chance as they sat out the back in the factory grounds, she uncharacteristically threw caution to the wind and tackled Erin about it.
"What's goin' on between you and James".
Erin nearly choked on her sandwich when the question came. After such careful planning and consideration, Clare had punched a gaping hole in the tangled strands of lies she'd constructed. Panic set in.
"Wh… What do ye mean?"
The reply was nervous and hesitant. It did nothing to stop the look of suspicion being wiped off of the diminutive blonde's face.
"You've been acting up all week…". Clare dropped to a more sensible, appropriate tone to continue. "… I figured it might have somethin' to do with James… ye know… after what happened with Jenny after the weddin'".
"Why would ye think that!?" Erin's tone was not sensible, rather more angered instead.
"I was there Erin…". Clare couldn't quite believe her ignorance. "… I watched ye throw Jenny on the floor. Ye know, I'd say if there was anything wrong then it must be because of Jenny ridin' James!"
"I don't care if she's ridin' James! I just didn't want her doin' it in front of all the guests… it was digustin'!"
"Fine, Christ! I'm the one who's meant to be the walking cack attack, not you… calm down Erin!"
Huffing in unison they turned away from each other for a second. Clare wasn't angry with her friend at all, merely concerned by her strange behaviour and the lies around the twisted ankle. There was more chance of Lyla Walsh secretly spying on the German government than there was of Erin's ankle being twisted.
Whilst Clare shook her head, Erin was quickly thinking of the next fabrication that would need to be erected to safeguard her true feelings. Clare's comment also raised fresh concerns that after she'd bolted from James, Jenny had since taken the opportunity to rekindle things with the English fella. No doubt hurt by her rejection, the stomach churning thought that he might accept a second advance by Jenny refused to leave her.
"She's…. she's not actually ridin' James, is she?"
Terrified in asking, she turned to meet Clare whilst her friend was in the process of turning back to meet her eye too.
"No… of course she's not!"
"Grand… Grand…". Erin replied incredibly unconvincingly. "… I'm only lookin' out for him ye know. We all should, despite what Michelle says".
"I'm not sayin' we shouldn't". Clare clarified. "But for heaven's sake Erin, if he wants to be with Jenny then let him".
"He doesn't want to be with Jenny… that's the point! He was quite clear about that at the dance". Erin continued to argue.
"Well what's yer problem then!?"
"I thought he might have changed his mind and you somehow knew Jenny was ridin' him! I was only askin'!"
There was another pause in what was fast becoming a heated argument that neither had bargained for. Clare was already having regrets over mentioning anything in the first place, as judging by Erin's reaction, she wasn't ready to talk about anything that involved the Englishman. A conclusion was forming in her mind, but to ask it would certainly risk severe trouble with Erin. Then again, not asking it would leave her constantly cacking it because the thought would never leave her mind whenever she would be with her. Which was every day at work.
"Do ye… like James?"
It was a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake that she recognised immediately.
"Catch yourself on!" Erin snorted at her. "He's a… dirty… feckin'… English bastard and he's a… feckin' arsehole…".
"Ach I've had enough of this!"
Clare began to gather her things to Erin's astoundment, upsetting her also.
"I'm not sittin' here all through my break listen to ye say that about him!" She protested. "Ye know, James is actually a really nice, genuine fella. I know Michelle might not see it that way, but I thought ye did. Clearly I was wrong…".
A minute later, having watched Clare storm off angrily, quiet tears drifted onto Erin's cheeks. She'd ran from James and ruined her friendship with him, and in lying about it to Clare, she'd probably lost one of the most long-standing friendships she held too. Thoughts about James were even cast ever so slightly to the side for a second, the desperate need to salvage her bond with Clare becoming the burning issue in her increasingly pained head.
Clare was a friend and she loved her as one.
James was none of the things she'd described him as to her.
She loved him as well.
With the lies mounting, it really was a tangled mess she'd gotten herself into…
"Where's that useless husband of yer's!"
Granda Joe's voice boomed around the docks railyard, in search of the son in-law that he so loved…
Gerry didn't work Saturdays, the family all being there on a day out instead. Little Anna had shown fascination with her daddy's work with the engines and wanted to see one for herself. It was a rite of passage in the family that both Orla and Erin had passed, though the former always arrived with eyes of wonder like her little cousin had that morning, in subsequent visits.
"Give him time da". Mary answered for the group.
"Time? How much time does he need! It's a train, it doesn't take a genius to drive one!"
"Da! Yer ruining it for Anna!"
Joe grumbled on about Gerry, but did so quietly in order to appease his daughter and not upset his granddaughter. Erin would have never gone under any other circumstances, only joining her parents, Granda and sister to have an excuse not to see James.
James
Friday evening ended up being quite miserable. Finding no enthusiasm to do any writing, she was in bed by half past eight. Despite going to bed so ridiculously early for a night at the weekend, sleep was hard to come by. Her heart felt like it was under constant attack with a knife, a stabbing pain that would not go away as she laid there in her nightclothes. Her foolish heart that kept her awake, the heart that had attached itself to an Englishman from the moment her eyes gave the signal, never letting go. Talking to him would be the sensible thing to do… but Erin Quinn could never grasp the idea of taking up the sensible option. She just didn't operate that way.
"Oh for…".
Only just holding back with the swearing, Joe's anger rose as the heavens opened. Rain poured down onto them, sending the group running inside to wait for Gerry to arrive with the train from the other end of the railway. Anna's hand was held tightly by Erin as they scrambled for the safety of the nearby offices, where one of the guards held the door open for them. There was barely anyone out and about around the warehouses on a Saturday, but with the value of some of the items held, guards were placed all around the site.
"Please Mary… please leave him love". Not for the first time, Joe begged her.
"Ach Da not this again…".
Mary huffed her annoyance at her father's continued dismissal of her absent husband. In twenty years, he'd never ceased in his mission to let her know how poor her choice to marry Gerry was, even though he'd agreed to it.
"Where's Daddy?" Anna enquired with them.
"See!" Joe immediately raised his displeasure again. "He's lettin' Anna down. What sort of a man can't even get a train on time for his daughter!"
"I don't remember ye ever showin' me a train da!" Mary slightly sneered in Joe's direction.
"That's because I was a labourer not a train driver. I did show ye round my work when ye were a wain!"
"Aye I remember…". Mary held firm as the memory came back to her. "… ye took me the night ye were fightin' in a boxing match there! Hardly a tour of the railway".
Anna certainly had the better of it in getting to see Gerry driving the train. Mary's visit your father's workplace day was a mixture of swearing and bloodied, shirtless men, trading blows for a shilling.
"It taught ye a lot!" Joe argued.
"Aye, but I've never needed to use a left hook, right hook combo working the machine at the factory, have I?"
Shaking his head, Joe got up from where they'd perched just inside the office door, walking over to the window to track the rain as it lashed away at the panes of glass on the outer. His eyes remained fixed on the railway track, where they waited for Gerry to appear.
"Are you okay Erin?"
Finding herself under sudden questioning from her little sister, Erin had to shake off the thoughts that she'd fixated on in her head. Thoughts which were all of course about a certain English fella…
"Aye". She shifted to look Anna in the eye. "Are ye excited?"
"Yes! But…".
"But?"
"I'm scared Erin". Anna admitted.
"Ach that's natural so it is Anna". She explained. "Sure, I was terrified the first time I went on the train with Daddy".
"No…". Anna's voice dropped to a whisper. "… I'm scared about you".
Caught completely by surprise, Erin's eyes shot open to their widest at her fear of what Anna told her. A three year old carrying worry for her older sister was a concern in itself. Why was she even worried?"
"What?" Erin replied in a hushed voice.
"I heard ye cryin' last night… it woke me up".
Startled, Erin's face went red. When sleep wouldn't come to her, a deluge of tears had done so instead. When it hadn't been mentioned by her parents over breakfast that morning, she'd assumed nobody heard the wee breakdown in the darkness. An assumption that was proving to be incorrect.
"Why are ye sad Erin? I don't like to see ye sad…".
Hugging her sister adorably, Anna held onto Erin as tightly as she could. Sniffling slightly, Erin accepted the gesture, which Mary watched with fondness, blissfully unaware of what caused the sisters to embrace.
"Sometimes…". Erin explained in a whisper. "… sometimes things in yer life happen that… that ye don't like and ye need to let a few wee tears go".
"Oh…". Anna's voice was wonderous as the penny dropped. "… but what happened to you?"
That knowledge did not need to be imparted on her sister. Especially when Mary was beginning to tune herself into the conversation. Fate gifted her something for once though; the sound of an approaching train which soon derailed Anna's thoughts of concern and put on track the excitement that she'd built all week.
"Daddy's train!"
"That's right love!" Mary beamed, dashing over to her youngest daughter. "Now you need to stay very close to me and Erin, understood?"
"Yes Mammy!"
"Good girl. Now hold onto Erin's hand and follow me and yer Granda".
As one of her daughter's giggled in complete glee, Mary's other could only sigh painfully as she trapsed her way out to the train.
It wasn't getting any easier.
Everything was ticking along nicely.
Clean shaven.
An appropriate choice of clothes for the occasion, casual but not too informal, hair styled as it always was.
And a rush of confidence that he was proud of.
The trip to the Quinn house was only a few minutes away.
Sat on the sofa in his living room, James scrolled down the headlines. His interest was drawn to the continued coverage of battles that raged between Japan and Russia in the east, where fierce combat ensued around the Khalkhin Gol area. He often took interest in foreign events, particularly when they resulted in conflict such as the one in the newspaper, an interest that was first driven by his mother. She always seemed to know the ins and outs of every diplomatic or hostile engagement that found its way into the newspaper, a trait he put down to her being so intuitive. She was sorely missed in the battles he fought with his own emotions… she'd have known what to do there too.
All morning he'd rehearsed his pitch to Erin, his honest outlook on what he wanted them to be. He'd not known her that long but through a combination of experience and David's wisdom, James was wise enough to know how unpredictable the response could be. Looking back on the after-wedding dance when he'd been placed into a most comprising position by Jenny, he'd witnessed the angered side of the young blonde. Yet when he'd sat with her at the Quinn residence to listen to her poetry, he'd seen the soft, caring side that she held. Especially when it came to her little sister Anna, whom Erin appeared to adore. Although it was hard not to adore the cute wee wain of Mary Quinn's, who was evidently more of her father's daughter than her mother's.
Despite the depth of his planning, the one element that he'd not expected to have to deal with was the one stunting his progress whilst he sat and stared out the side window: the weather. A summer's week was supposed to be warm and bright, one which would lend itself to allowing families and friends to take walks out in the fields together or play in their respective gardens. The opening week of July had delivered an unanswered salvo of rainfall that drowned the previously dry earth remaining from the week before. He'd hoped for a pleasant Saturday afternoon, wishing to be able to remove Erin from the surrounds of her home to talk to her more privately. Their differences did not require any external observers to fix their own attentions on whilst they were addressed. The plan did not include an audience to comment on his wishes for them in the future.
But it came to pass, that after all the careful planning and diligent rehearsing of his lines like a theatre actor would ahead of their next play, the mountain came to Muhammad rather than the other way around.
The change on the wind was masked by the rain that lashed onto the windows. It was only when it impacted on the front door, that he realised it was even there. A frown on his face, he rose from his position on the sofa, to walk over to the door and answer it.
When he did, he was stunned.
She was stood there waiting.
Eyes wide.
Scanning his irises over her briefly before opening his mouth, he noted the lack of coat and the utter soaking she'd received for not wearing it. She'd deliberately left her coat behind as part of her own plan the day before, but a day later when she'd accidentally done so, fate bit back. Looking like a drowned rat was an understatement.
"Erin…". He began, stopping when he found himself fixed on her knees. "… you're bleeding?"
She glanced down at her kneecaps, noting the blood that was dripping down her legs from where they'd been cut. The cuts were not deep but the red rivers that flowed from them were concerning… massively concerning for the young man who cared deeply for her.
"I… I jumped off a train". She explained in a mumble.
"What!" He loudly exclaimed.
"J… oh Christ I've been so stupid!"
The rain that poured from the sky was topped up with reserves of watery tears that fiercely wriggled clear from the corners of Erin's eyes. She broke out into a full sob upon finally stopping, noticing the state that she'd gotten herself into that afternoon. The romantic dreams that invaded her mind for weeks never included the part where she made herself uglier than she already believed herself to be by scraping up her knees and getting soaked to the bone. The world was truly against her.
"You need to come inside". James firmly stated, snapping her out of her cries. "We need to get your knees cleaned up and well… get you dry".
Knowing that her cheeks were burning, but wanting to be rid of the constant sensation of aerial battering via the droplets, Erin accepted his offer without any hesitation. Opening the door wide, James shuffled back to allow her inside. She rushed forward, forgetting that her body having settled after the rush of adrenalin from the train experience subsided, subsequently yelping in pain from the bloodied knees that screamed back at her. For once around James her knees were failing, and he wasn't the cause. This time he was the solution. A sixth sense activating, he caught her as she stumbled forward. Blood rushed around his body at the sudden close proximity to her, an awareness that he could no longer ignore like he'd done previously. But her wellbeing triumphed over any notions of romance.
That was why a second later, he bent down slightly to scoop her up into his arms, using his right foot to close the front door behind him. The circuit that controlled Erin's emotions went into a heated overdrive of total collapse, preventing her from doing anything other than draw breath… which she only just about managed. She was a bundle of soaking mess, but cooped up in James's arms made her feel comfortable, almost as if she were at home.
"I'll put you in front of the fire to get warm". He told her… or commanded her in her head.
Unable to reply verbally due to the complete abdication of any control of the sounds that she emitted, a tame nod was mustered. He carried her on through to the living room, throwing her a blanket whilst he set about stoking the fire up for her. At no point was she ever more than a metre or so away from him, her body tensing the further he was away, as familiar thoughts ran through her mind.
Hello old friend…
"There…". He spoke again a few minutes later when the fire was fully lit. "… keep yourself close to it".
He began to walk off, prompting her to suddenly blurt out the first thought that came into her head as he did.
"Where are ye goin?"
"I need to get something to clean those knees with". He calmly replied, hiding his own nerves over the situation they found themselves in together.
The heat of the fire began to work away at drying her in unison with the warmth from the blanket he'd provided. Her eyes did not once flicker away from the kitchen where he'd disappeared into, even though she could not see him around the corner. Just training her attentions on where he'd gone… was comfort enough.
She didn't have to wait too long for him to re-appear either and when he did so, he was carrying a wee bowl with him. Placing it down next to her, he went away again, but only as far as a cupboard at the opposite end of the sitting room to get out some little balls of cotton that he'd stored away to treat injuries such as the one she'd suffered.
Kneeling down once he was back by her side, he dipped the first ball of cotton into the warm water, wetting it before the intended application onto her left knee where he decided to start first. Her knees might have been in pain, but Erin's more worrying issue was her heart beating at an unbearably relenting pace. James was going to be touching her a lot and even though a cotton barrier existed between his skin and hers, it was not enough.
His hand shaking from his own emotional control problems, he softly placed the ball of cotton onto the epicentre of the cut on the left knee.
"AHHH!" Her wince came out as a shout, the pain unbearable.
"Sorry… sorry". Sincerely, he apologised, placing his left hand onto her right arm to calm her. "… it will hurt Erin, but I'll try to be as gentle as I can".
"I… I know".
A tearful grunt crept out of her mouth at his words. The hand on her arm was causing no end of problems to her already short-circuited emotions, emotions that had given in trying to fight the pain in her knees. He carefully cleaned up both of her knees, no words passing between them. She wept throughout as he did so. Despite how tentatively James applied each ball of cotton to her skin, it did not stop the aching from the exposed cuts. She'd hit the ground hard after the moronic decision to leap from the back of the engine, straight onto the unrelenting tarmac of the accompanying pathway, that was slightly gravel covered from where workers had kicked the little stones onto it.
"Hold my hand". He suddenly said to her after a couple of minutes.
Blindsided by the request, her cheeks were straight to their pinkest, breath catching at the back of her throat where it had so often done before.
"Wh…". …was all she could manage to force out.
"I need to remove the stones". He stated in a reassuring tone. "I am so sorry, but this is going to hurt a lot. I thought if you squeezed my other hand then you would have an outlet for the pain".
"Oh… Th-Thank you".
Fighting against her nature, she hummed her reply, reaching a hand out to grasp his once it was offered a half-second later. She didn't miss the little smile on his face when she did.
For another ten minutes they stayed on the floor in front of the fire. Their hands were locked together, improbably in her opinion as she was sure she must have broken his fingers a couple of minutes into the stone removal. Even once the stones were all cleaned from the wound, she didn't release the hold on his hand, nor did he ask her to either. Independently, they were both caught up in their own dreams about the others unwillingness to release their hands from each other. Dreams that were threatening to overrun the pair of them; he was trying everything in his power not to snog her without a care in the world and she was having to convince herself not to eat the face off of him.
He applied the first plaster, again choosing the left side to start on, without a word to her. It was gently done so again to minimise her suffering from the cuts, a courtesy that she was most grateful for. But as he applied the second one, the elastic of his own thoughts that were so delicately poised, snapped.
"I have to ask". He spoke up as the plaster covered the wound. "Why on earth did you jump from a train?"
She took her hand out of his immediately.
Lie after lie would have been the usual strategy. In the past she might have claimed she did so because she'd seen one of the others and wanted to talk to them or even spotted John-Paul O'Reilly in the distance. Those lies wouldn't work on James, who knew that the other girls were all unavailable and that Erin was no longer fond of the other fella. Truth would have to be admitted, no matter how scared she might have been of the outcome or how difficult it was to actually speak it.
"I… I n-n… I…". She stammered and blubbered, a brutal grapple ensuing with herself. "…I… I wanted to… I needed to… see you".
The answer that he expected came, not that it made it any less shocking for the Englishman when it was confirmed to him. Of course she had… you would have done the same…
"There is no need for such extreme action on my account…". His lips curved slightly up. "… I'm hardly worth it".
Hearing him put himself down proved to be the final nail in the emotional coffin of Erin Quinn. It was strange, she thought to herself within a millisecond, that after weeks of turmoil from being anywhere near him, hearing his kind voice and receiving compliments that made her blush, that it would be his own self-deprecation that forced her hand on their relationship.
"I LOVE YOU!"
James nearly jumped out of his skin at the lion-like roar that she produced.
"Christ James, I've never felt this way before!" She began her passioned ramble. "I can't stop thinkin' about ye, whether it's day or night, and… and whenever ye talk to me I feel like I'm goin' to collapse because yer voice is just so dreamy! And yer so handsome and muscular and…".
Stopping dead in her tracks, she saw the look on his face. One which she found very hard to read in the few seconds she gave herself to do so. It could have been confusion, befuddlement from her announcement of the barrage of locked away truths that were hidden within. It could have been acceptance, acceptance that he too was in love with her and, she hoped, was seconds away from leaning in again.
No.
No. It couldn't be that easy.
Obviously, he'd changed his mind in the week since the kiss… probably thanks to Jenny.
Feckin' Jenny!
Clare was to blame for the idea that refused to stop niggling away in the dark recesses of her brain, setting the foundations for its stubbornness by her daring to bring up the wedding shenanigans during lunch the day before. He'd probably told Jenny in his disappointment with her running away, the crafty rich Joyce bitch taking advantage and giving him what he wanted. He was lonely… that was it. Jenny wouldn't love him like she would, but she'd use him like how he must have wanted after being let down. Feck's sake!
"Then why did you run?"
It was none of the three.
Instead, a very simple question was asked in an attempt to clear up the very complex problem that existed between them. Honesty would again have to rule the roost.
"We… we c… James yer English!"
He didn't need to answer with a smart comment to express his sarcasm at the statement, raising his brows comically instead.
"We… can't…. this between us, ye know I can't be seen to be ridin' an English fella. Derry girls aren't supposed to ride English boys… we're not allowed to…".
Taking a deep breath, James delivered a measured response after a few moment's deliberation with himself.
"Nobody needs to know, if that is how you want it to be".
"I…".
He shook his head, his message to tell her to stop talking and let him say what he needed to. Feelings that he'd concealed from her for a long time. He'd known from the moment they'd first met outside his Aunt's house, that there was something different about her. The time came to tell her why.
"Erin… I'm prepared to do whatever I must for us to be together". His gentlemanly nature came to fore, her eyes wide with hope from it. "I have always known you were special, but it has taken me far too long to realise why. There is a sun up there in the sky, millions of miles away… it will never shine as brightly as you do to me".
She'd been undone by him before but never to the extent she was in front of his fireplace.
But then was he lying? Could he be cruel enough to conspire with Jenny to break her heart so thoroughly?
"Ach, ye d-".
"I love you Erin".
Second time around, she didn't run. She would have been unable to anyway with her cut knees that were still sore to the touch. It didn't matter though, because the thoughts to flee never materialised as cupped her cheeks and leaned in towards her. The kiss wasn't rushed and enflamed, he held her hands away to prevent it being so, instead passionate and slow. He kissed her like there was no one else in the world that was good enough to be attached to him by the lips. She was in a sorry state of dampness, her hair messy from where she'd bolted away from her family at the dock's railway, make-up smudged from the pained tears when he'd tended to her wounds. He couldn't care less. She was even more beautiful to him when she looked like that.
Their relationship was beginning on the floor of his living room, but it would soon face its first test that loomed directly on the horizon.
The door to his bedroom.
Taking her into his arms again, he broke the kiss only for a moment to ensure he could raise them from the floor, resuming it once he was up and onto his feet. Erin was gone beyond recall when it came to objecting to his actions, lost in the world that up until a few minutes earlier, existed beyond a door that seemed as if it would forever be locked. The door was a sturdy wooden opponent, though he was no wooden spoon that was for sure, but James's back was more of a match for it. Backing into it delicately as to not spoil their blissful snogging, the door slowly opened behind him to reveal his room. The sun, which unbeknownst to them from where they'd been sat on the floor, had replaced the torrential rain, shone brightly through the windows onto his bed. A guiding light to their destination.
By the time they finally allowed each other air, their lips were bruised, tongues recovering from a tussle that would rival a high-level fencing match but with the ferocity of a duel fought between swordsman on the battlefield. They were giggling as they came apart. Giggling because they were exploring the uncharted territories of each other's bodies and enjoying every single fecking second of it.
James was very much in control however, and he set her down onto his bed gently, coming to lie almost on top of her. They resumed kissing seconds later, but he did not solely focus on her lips like he'd done since they'd started. He'd moved onto her neck, where he pressed his almost aching lips onto her skin with the same feathery touch as he had when he'd removed the gravel stones from the cuts around her knees. His hands were deployed for a second time to combat her actions, with Erin wriggling around beneath him, overcome with the joyous pleasure that he was giving to her.
"James…". She moaned breathily. "James… please…".
"Please…". His voice dropped to the one she'd heard in her dreams when they'd got to this position. "Please what…".
"S-stop… ye… I can't…".
The English fella was not for stopping though and if anything, increased the tantalising vigour of the kisses he placed upon her. The neck soon became the spot behind her ear, quite how he knew about it when she didn't escaped her, but any questions were erased by the arousal it sparked within her body. The spot behind the ear was then abandoned as James worked his way downwards, slipping her dress off of one shoulder slightly to work around her collarbone. She couldn't describe what he was doing to her at that moment but whatever it was, she never ever wanted him to stop. Little noises crept out of her mouth that she couldn't halt, control being a distant memory from the past once he set about placing her into a paradise of pleasure. It was at those noises that he stopped himself, moving so that he was staring down directly at her, their noses coming to touch.
"May I make love you to?".
Ever the gentleman, he made sure to ask before they went any further. She realised from studying his face as he did, that unlike her, he'd been in the position he was in at least once… a realisation that terrified her. She had no idea what she was doing when it came to sex, even with Michelle's regular crash courses in its finer points. James was not Johnny Kells though… he was worth one hundred Johnny Kells, and he sensed the fear from her reaction. A fear he despised seeing in the young woman he loved.
"It is your first time?"
Embarrassed, she couldn't bear to continue looking him in the eye. A voice in her head, which sounded oddly similar to the voice her mother deployed when wielding the wooden spoon, told her it was wrong to do it… that she should wait until she's married to consummate any relationship with another man. That was the way… the conventions of society.
In an ever-modernising world though, society was going to have to concede defeat. James-resembling gift horses were not to be looked in the mouth. The Englishman carefully using his left hand to push her face back in front of his was the icing on the cake.
"If you do not want to, we can stop right now". His voice was honest and sincere. "There is no shame in it".
Be brave Erin…
Be brave…
"No… I want to".
Internally relieved, but externally grateful, he leant down to kiss her again, allowing her hands to do what they wished for once. They were hands that soon removed the top half of his clothing to have a free run at his body like in the wildest of the dreams. The same hands were soon quivering from feeling the firmness of his chest and stomach, whilst his hands were busy finishing the job they'd started of removing her dress. Still unnerved by his evident sexual experience, she slid her hand down his stomach in a vague gesture to ask what she was meant to be doing, but he held onto her wrist firmly to stop it continuing on its journey.
"Another time…". He whispered breathily. "… this time is your first, it should be special. Allow me to make it so…".
With that, she surrendered.
He'd set her free.
In hundreds of years, Derry's walls had never been breached. It only took one lone Englishman just under three months to breach hers.
He made love to her that afternoon whilst the sun shone onto their passion oozing bodies, birds tweeting an accompanying melody from outside the window.
A beautiful, seemingly unbreakable bond was consummated.
Confidence began to flow once again. She could think of an excuse to her parents to explain her escape from the train…they'd buy it if she dressed it up enough. And she would reconcile properly with Clare too after their argument that centred around James.
James who was hers.
Nothing could prevent them from being with each other now, even if it was in secret.
Only a catastrophe on the scale of another World War could break them apart…