Chapter 33: Missing 26th July 1940
Evenings were not quite the same anymore.
A usual Friday evening at the Quinn house could take on many different forms, but they would most likely be held with laughter and happiness. There could be arguments too, but there was never a set culture of fear within the house, the worse being Gerry's concerns over whether Joe would take his head off. Which Joe never did, of course.
It all changed when the threat of bombing heightened. The Anderson shelter might have been a wee terror to put up, but the comfort from knowing that it was there was one of the solitary comforts that could be found. Cities were not specifically being targeted, but there was always the threat that the Luftwaffe would stop attacking RAF airfields and start attacking the general public in their attempts to force a surrender. A surrender which they would not get despite the potential for aerial bombardment every night. The trouble with the threat, was that it left women like Mary Quinn in fear of what could happen if any of them step foot outside the house at night, putting pay to any hopes of Erin being able to go out dancing if she so wished. It simply wouldn't happen.
On that particular Friday evening, any plans that Erin did have would not be acted upon. From the moment that she walked in, it was clear that she was dead on her feet after another hectic week in the factory. Mary knew the feeling too, but Erin and the girls appeared to be the victims of most of the demands of management, largely due to Erin's efficiency falsely advertising that they could take on more. It meant that the girls were almost flogged to the bone by the supervisor, Meyler ensuring that the infernal tempo that they'd set, stayed in place. Her poor Erin could barely stay awake during dinner, having to be prodded by her sister to remind her that she was still at the table as the older daughter's eyes began to close. As soon as she was excused from the table, she headed to bed, where snores could be heard five or ten minutes later. She would not resurface until the following morning, leaving Mary and Gerry with only their youngest around. Though unlike her older sister, Anna did not enjoy the limelight so much, preferring to sit away in the corner of the room reading one of her books.
After clearing away from dinner, Mary and Gerry were quickly into a heated discussion about the state of the rest of the living room. The prior evening, Joe took it upon himself to criticise Gerry for the way that the room was laid out, wanting the bookshelf to be closer to where he would sit rather than at the other end of the room. As he would not back off, Gerry agreed to begin to move the bookshelf over, though there was not enough time to complete the job that evening. It meant that half the living room was left in a state of dishevelment, books everywhere. Gerry wanted to leave it until the following morning before he tidied up, but Mary was insistent that he do it that evening.
"Does it really matter, love?" He continued to argue his point.
"Does it… wise up Gerry! What if my Da comes round in the next hour! He'll take yer head off, so he will".
Joe absolutely would if he saw the state of the place. He prided the house next door on its cleanliness, having been the one to ruthlessly discipline Napoleon so that he did not attempt to relieve him inside the house. A well-behaved dog, the Labrador would obey Joe without hesitation most of the time. It spoke volumes to Gerry that the wee dog was respected more by Joe than he was.
"I'm sure Joe has better things to do of a Friday night".
"Are ye!?" An aggrieved Mary thundered back. "Because I'm not sure he has! And if he comes here… my god Gerry!"
"IF!" Gerry raised his voice to get the point across. "And that is if… if he comes here, then I'll explain to him that the house will look almost brand new in the mornin'…".
"Ye won't see the mornin' if ye comes here!"
As the arguments raged on between her parents, Anna was beginning to become more frustrated. All she wanted to do before bedtime was have a quiet read whilst they still had the light of a natural day. Erin might have been a factor that she did not have to deal with, but the noise that Mary and Gerry were creating from their tussle most certainly was. Concentrating as hard as she could, the youngest Quinn attempted to ignore the noise, despite its overbearing presence.
"That's not all!"
Here we go…
Gerry loved his wife dearly, but when the mist descended, she was fecking unbearable. If one problem reared its head to her annoyance, then all of the others that she could find would soon be bestowed upon the unfortunate victim. It was her way of dealing with her frustrations, and to some extent, fears, but it only caused further frustration for those on the receiving end. More often than not, he was the beneficiary of such verbal assaults, though Erin could also be on the end of it on a bad day. Even Joe wasn't spared her wrath on the very worst days, although picking a fight with him normally stopped her mood as he would ensure that his voice was the loudest. That evening, it was the Southerner who would face the lashing.
"There was a rat in the shelter earlier!"
Rats were not a problem at their house usually. The Mallon's once had an infestation at their house, Gerry remembering Michelle's screams very well. She would not go back there for almost a week, sleeping in Erin's room until the problem was dealt with. Personally, Gerry didn't mind the little creatures, but most of the family were petrified of them apart from Anna, who insisted that she wasn't. Although she was not the best barometer to measure against, having only seen rats illustrated in some of the books she owned. He wasn't completely surprised to hear that there might be one in the shelter seeing as it was outside, but the tight space made it less appealing to attempt to deal with it.
"A rat? Like a big rat?"
"Aye Gerry, a big rat! Christ, what does it matter anyway! A rat is a rat!"
"But a wee rat's not so scary is it?" He continued. "Ye should let Joe have a look…".
Joe didn't have many phobias, but rats was most certainly one. They scared the old man to death, as Martin tried to rope him into some amateur pest control those years earlier. He was flatly refused in Gerry's presence, an important fact about Joe being discovered that he kept for special moments. He would do anything to get Joe into the Anderson shelter, almost certainly accidentally shutting him in there with the rat. Well… not accidentally…
"Go out and look at it! Then ye can see for yerself!"
If Mary got any louder, then she would wake Erin. Wishing for his eldest to catch up on the sleep that she so desperately needed, he decided to agree to her demands. The evening air was warm as he stepped out of the back door, Gerry comfortable in a light shirt and trousers. He wished he could afford a decent pair of shorts for the summer months, but with the onset of war, he did not have the necessary resources to do so. Although James might have been open to him borrowing some of his clothes, he could not take the expensive shorts that the young Englishman wore. Sadly, James did not appear to own a pair that were older, his shorts all being high end and barely showing any signs of wear.
Reaching out, he opened the door of the shelter to find a small rat waiting behind the door, ready to be let free. As soon as there was the right gap, the rodent darted out, straight into the path of the unfortunate Mary. She screamed when she saw it charging towards her, running away to the other side of their garden in order to get away from it.
"GERRY! GERRY IT'S CHASIN' ME!"
The supportive husband that he was, nine times out of ten, Gerry would have come to his wife's aid to protect her from the wee rat that plagued their garden. But that evening was going to be one of the other times. As Mary tore about the garden attempting to evade the rat, which wasn't even chasing her, but he would not tell her that, Gerry watched on in amusement. He never liked to see his Mary cry although when it was about something so trivial as a rat that she imagined was chasing her, he could not help himself. Anyone watching on would wonder what on earth was going.
"GERRY!"
"Calm down, love it's not there anymore…".
Running over to him, her natural brakes were not applied. Gerry realised too late that she was not stopping, being hit with the full brunt of his wife's upper body which knocked him back into the shelter. She cannoned forward onto him, the two coming to rest on one of the beds that was set up ready for a night in there. Straight into quite the comprising position, one which they did not get to find themselves in often due to the lack of privacy that their married life was afforded.
"Well…". He started, blushing slightly.
"Well what!"
Clearly unadjusted to the scenario that they were in, Mary's anger still held control of her. She was raging that he'd not come to her aid when the rat darted out after her. He was her husband, the man meant to protect her from vermin such as the one that had escaped from the Anderson shelter. She was yet to realise that she was straddling him, with her hands on her hips. Trapped beneath her, Gerry wasn't going to complain though. It may have been somewhat childish, but his mind was creating very different thoughts to hers…
"Love…".
Pointing to where their bodies were making contact, it dawned on Mary what he was trying to say. Glancing back at his face, she could also very quickly understand what he was trying to ask too, an outrageous, cheek-reddening expression across it.
"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"
Her shout echoed around the tin shell of the Anderson, bursting his eardrums. They were given precious few opportunities like the one that they had in the shelter. With Anna concentrating on her reading and Erin fast asleep, the chance to make love even in the slightly dirty surroundings of the Anderson appealed to him at least. However, there was one tiger that crept into the perfect hen house equation in his mind, a tiger which he'd temporarily forgotten about. A law of common sense was that if one forgot about a tiger, one would often find themselves left to be ripped apart by it as by way of a reminder of its presence.
Joe was that tiger.
"And just what the hell is goin' on in here!"
Cursing, a furious Joe came across the scene of his daughter practically mounted upon her husband. He'd heard her scream from the rat's appearance and dashed straight round, his fatherly instincts taking over. He did not encounter the verminous little beast himself at least, as that would have sent him rushing back round via the fence if he had to. However, the wee rat was the small vermin in the back garden, the larger one laying underneath his daughter.
"Da…".
A burning face, Mary could not hide her embarrassment at being discovered with Gerry in the position that they were in. It may have been completely innocent in reality, but Joe could not see innocence from where he was standing. He could see his daughter enjoy a fumble in the air raid shelter with her slack Southern shite husband however, and that was the trigger for his blood to boil. As it did, he clenched his fist. He did not know which cheek he would go for or whether it would be a straight smack in the nose, but he was spoilt for choice when it came to decking his son in-law. He'd dreamt of a time where he could find a good enough excuse to deal some permanent damage to Gerry's face, the chance presenting itself on the finest of summer evenings.
"I have seen enough, so I have!" He growled.
"Da, it wasn't…".
"Enough Mary!" He shouted at her. "Now you get yerself off into the house now while I have a good chat to Gerry here…".
A good chat with Gerry meant Joe's fists introducing themselves to her fella's face. She would not allow that to happen when no untoward acts, or ones of love between a husband and wife as anyone else would have seen it, took place despite Joe seeing what he thought he saw. However, the stand did not need to be taken as a source of distraction and comic relief arrived in the form of Orla. With Marie soundly asleep back at home, she too wondered what had caused the scream from next door, following her Granda round after a delay of a couple of minutes. To her delight, it was another argument between her Uncle Gerry and her Granda. The very best arguments that the family had to offer.
"Hello Aunt Mary, Uncle Gerry…". She greeted them with style as she poked her head into the shelter. "… what are ye up to?"
Joe went to answer the question on their behalf, but the look that Mary gave him was enough to convince him otherwise. Instead, it was left to Gerry to answer, Mary's mortification seemingly taking over her vocal cords too.
"There was a wee spot of bother with a rat, Orla. But he's gone now, so he is and yer Granda was just lettin' me know what a good job I was doin' in gettin' rid of it".
The look that Mary gave her father a few seconds earlier might have been a menacing one, but the one he in turn shot at Gerry was one of complete murder. Using the lack of response from the other two to his advantage, the Southerner landed a rare snarky comment against Joe, that the patriarch of the family could not reply to. Albeit, Joe's lack of response came from the fact that the only thing that he could think about was ripping Gerry's head off, stamping on it and throwing it in the Foyle. As irritating as it was, he knew that the man he so often berated was not thick by any means. What was worse, was that after a few seconds of initial rage, he frighteningly held respect for the man for having the guts to speak up in the way he did.
"Ach I thought Aunt Mary was doin' an impression of Michelle".
All three of them held the good graces not to laugh or make a comment about what she'd said, not knowing whether to find it amusing or worrying. Michelle's reputation spoke for itself, Mary sometimes wondering whether she spent more time in her own bed for or some fella's. The latest fella from what she could gather from Erin's gossiping from the previous weekend, was the lad of the family that lived next to Colm. He was the just the latest in a string of young Derry men who fell prey to her unquenchable thirst of lust.
With nothing more to be said that didn't involve a furious row in the back garden, Joe and Orla stepped away to allow the married couple to extricate themselves from the shelter. Mary's face was glowing red again as she passed her father, though he was too busy staring out Gerry to notice. Orla jumped onto the two of them once they were out, the three sharing an unexpected embrace. Although she'd matured into a fantastic young mother, there was still the girl inside her that wanted to have a big hug with her Aunt and Uncle. Allowing himself to simmer down for half a second, Joe looked on with affection at his family coming together. A spot was offered for him to, and after half a second's hesitation, he joined in as well. Making a bold, rather rash decision, he decided to forget about what he'd seen with Mary and Gerry in the shelter. There would be plenty more chances to get the slack Southern shite, of that he was sure, so if the rest of the family could be as happy as they were in their tight hug, then he would let sleeping dogs lie.
Once they'd finished their hug, the four of them headed back inside the house to arrive upon the scene of a complete surprise. In their separate rushes to reach the back garden, Joe and Orla didn't bother to check on what Anna was doing in the living room. The previously untidy room was transformed, books returning to their correct place on the shelf. Whilst the rest of them spent their time arguing about rats and the position that Mary and Gerry found themselves in by mistake, she'd taken one for the team, re-arranging the living room all by herself. Quite how she'd plucked up the strength to move the armchair so that she could use it to stand on, they did not know. Ever the smart young girl though, Anna found a way.
"Anna?"
"Yes Daddy?" She replied to Gerry with a smile.
"Did ye… did ye do all of this yerself?"
He was completely stunned by what he could see. He knew that she was far too smart for her age, far smarter than Erin was at that age, but such ingenuity he did not expect from a girl of only four years.
"You's were all busy, so I thought it would help…". Her voice began to trail off. "… sorry Daddy if what I did was wrong".
All of a sudden, she looked as if she was going to cry. Misinterpreting the family's amazement for criticism, Anna wished she'd never thought to take it upon herself to try to help. Erin wouldn't have done in those circumstances, she knew, and it looked as if her big sister was right for once from what she could see. It was up to Gerry to make sure that she didn't feel that way.
"Ye've done a grand job Anna". He beamed to her, reaching his arms out to lift her into the air. "Yer Daddy is very proud of ye!"
As she was spun around in the air, the tears no longer threatened to drop down Anna's precious little face. She was glowing like the sun at the praise she'd received from her father, finding equally warm looks from her Ma, Granda and cousin Orla.
Anna Quinn was a very popular girl that evening.
The distant humming of a lone bird was the chorus that filled the ears of Orla Donnelly as she woke up the following morning. It was early, around six o'clock if she had to estimate it. The evening before around at the Quinn house was very special as she'd been allowed to read Anna a bedtime story. After her brilliant behaviour, Anna was treated like the wee Princess that she ought to have been and it was a privilege for her to be able to help out. It was a preview for when Marie would be coherent enough to listen to bedtime stories, of wild imaginary tales that would still entertain Orla as she reached her twenties.
Another sound joined the bird though, one which made her spring from her slumber immediately. Marie was awake too, and as babies would do, she started to cry. Since David returned to service, their daughter oddly began to sleep better at night, though she did not think the two were related. However, first thing every morning she would want to be fed, making sure that her cries were heard by her mother. Orla would never tire of the endless routine of feeding her baby, no matter how much effort it took on her behalf. Once she was out of bed, she headed straight to her baby's side, reaching in to pick her up. As she always did though, no matter whether Marie was crying or not, she paused for half a second to admire her beauty.
Marie was a gorgeous baby. She knew it anyway, but everyone told her so too. Even Michelle thought the wain was beautiful, a compliment that was most unexpected from the young Mallon. Her Aunt Mary would always refer to Marie as the beautiful little wain too. She was growing nicely after a few months of being out in the world, completely healthily too. Orla herself did not get ill too often, shaking off most illnesses without much detriment to her and it would appear that Marie was following suit. In fact, she couldn't think of a time when her daughter even showed the slightest sign of any illness. A child so young would be vulnerable to colds but Marie simply never managed to catch them. It certainly was not a trait inherited from her father, as David would pick up colds fairly easily if he wasn't careful.
Scooping Marie up into her arms, Orla clutched her daughter close to her chest. Although she was hungry, little Marie stopped crying as soon as she was tucked near to her mother, revelling in the protection that Orla offered.
"Good girl". She hummed to her. "Yer a good wee girl aren't ye?".
She gently pinched Marie's nose as her daughter's tiny hand reached up to be held. She still couldn't get over how small Marie's hands were, never thinking before that a set of hands could be so tiny. They would grow of course, probably to around the size of her own, but it was still always a shock to find such wee hands.
"Let's get you fed downstairs aye".
Mother gave instruction to daughter, who mewed happily with her hand enclosed within her mother's. Privacy was not something she particularly cared about when it came to feeding her daughter, Orla prepared to do so anywhere should her daughter require to be fed. It would raise eyebrows whenever they were out in the city, but she couldn't care less whether a few old men got offended at what they were doing. The maturing Orla was a young woman who retained the carefree attitude of the girl left behind a year or so earlier, with the awareness of what was going on around her now engrained in her mind. Breaking the norms of society became something of ease for her with the combination of attitudes, much in the same way that Michelle was willing to with her own adventures. The two of them were the trailblazers of their group, prepared to shatter the existing boundaries which they were supposed to operate within compared to Erin and Clare who stick more to the norm. The latter could have broken the norms, but sadly the norm she would break if she revealed the truth would have most likely seen her broken too.
Mother and daughter made the journey downstairs together, Orla holding Marie just ever so slightly tighter as they descended, always keeping a protective hold over her own flesh and blood. The sound of cupboards being opened and closed told them that someone else in the house was up even earlier than them. The most likely candidate of the two was Joe as Sarah would often need to stay in bed for a little bit longer on a Saturday to allow herself to recover from the excursions of working at the factory. It was indeed Joe that was up when she looked into the kitchen, busy making breakfast. Many men would not even contemplate making their own meals, but when his own Marie passed years earlier, Joe learned to adapt and survive. He too was going against the norm in a way, the only difference being he did not have a living wife that he could depend upon to make his meals for him. He did, however, have a great granddaughter that carried his deceased wife's name. A wain that he cared for immensely.
"Mornin' Orla love". Joe grinned at her when he turned to see them approaching. "And ye've brought me my favourite wee Marie, so ye have".
Grinning back at him, Orla handed over the now quiet Marie to her Great Granda for a second. She still needed to feed her daughter, but Marie could wait for a couple of minutes whilst Granda Joe held her just as tightly as she did. It was a guilty pleasure of his to spend time holding the little bundle of joy within his arms, propping her head up as he should. He'd gotten plenty of practice down the years, having overseen the development of three generations of McCool's. Mary, Sarah, Erin, Orla, Anna and now Marie. All of them at one point or another spent time being held by him on mornings such as the one they'd woken up to. When the only sound would be coming from his racing heart as love and warmth flowed around it.
"Mornin' Granda…". She replied as she walked over to the window. "… I do not like the look of those clouds, so I don't".
There were rainclouds adorning the sky that morning, the angry threatening type that did not sit well with them at all. The second good summer in a row, it was a rare appearance for the rainclouds, which had not been seen in their entirety since the early days of June. There was still rain at times of course, but it was light showers as opposed to the sustained downpours that would come out of the sky during the Autumn. The clouds were looking distinctly autumnal indeed.
"Neither do I love". Joe agreed, having viewed them earlier.
"I was thinkin' about goin' for a walk with Marie after breakfast, so I was, but I don't want us gettin' all wet". She sighed.
"It's sensible though, love. Ye don't want to be out there when it starts comin' down".
As Orla hummed in agreement, she removed herself from where she was staring out, covering the short distance back to Joe in order to retrieve Marie from him. She'd already had to wait a good ten minutes or so to be fed, so it was pushing the limits of her not bursting out into tears again to demand nutrition. Carefully, he placed her back into Orla's arms where little Marie was rocked gently in order to ensure that she was settled.
"What do ye want for ye breakfast, love?"
"A wee bit of bacon and some bread would be cracker so it would Granda!" She exclaimed exuberantly. "I… I'm just goin' to feed her…".
The norms that she broke did not really bother Joe but having a front row seat did. He knew what it took for a mother to feed their baby. He'd seen it enough times to not be squeamish about it. Despite holding some views that could be considered modernistic, he still did not think it was a man's place to be around whilst a mother fed her baby. Making breakfast gave him the excuse to stay mostly out of the way, apart from when he'd bring Orla hers, which was exactly why she'd warned him. She knew that her Granda didn't like that sort of thing without ever pushing him for a true reason why. Her Granda was far too high in her estimation to receive an interrogation from her.
Sitting down on the sofa, Orla slipped her dress down her shoulder, allowing Marie to begin feeding. Her free hand that wasn't propping her daughter up went to the wain's side, gently stroking her as she suckled away. Glancing outside once more, the rainclouds looked even more threatening out the front than they did out the back. A change of plans would be in order, the washing that needed sorting looking the more likely prospect for the morning. She couldn't expect her Mammy to do it, knowing how hard Sarah was worked that week by the fact that she would come in at eight and be asleep by half past, only to be awake again at six to start the process over again. As far as Orla was concerned, she could stay in bed all day to rest if that was what was required. Between herself and Granda Joe, they could manage the house effectively in her absence.
Rain falling from the sky, the rain that was held in the clouds that they were wary of, should have been the source of the peace shattering before seven o'clock that Saturday. After all, the clouds were looking very threatening according to both Joe and Orla. However, a very different type of weather, a blitzing hurricane, waltzed right in through the front door without a care in the world. The two adults in the house both knew who the heavy footsteps belonged to. They were not the footsteps of anyone who lived next door, as only Erin could ever generate as much sound but only when she was in one of her abominable moods. They were not the footsteps of Clare Devlin either, who would always tiptoe into the house should she be coming over, which was not very often due to her being terrified of Joe. No, there was only one person who could stomp their way into the McCool home like that.
Michelle.
"Oh for feck's sake…".
From where he stood watching the bacon in the kitchen, Joe pre-emptied his almost guaranteed frustration that would come from her being in the house. He did not dislike Michelle at all, proving herself as a loyal friend to his granddaughters over many years, it was just her mouth that he had a problem with. He knew Martin and Deirdre tried to raise her to be better, yet always fought a losing battle against their rebellious daughter. There weren't many young women around willing to act in the way that she did, but there was something about her which gave her the edge to get away with it.
"Mornin' Motherfuckers!"
Feeling his fist clench into a ball, Joe took a deep breath which stopped him from marching into the living room to give her a piece of his mind. He would allow it for now, but there was no doubt in his mind that he would have to reprimand her about one thing or another at some point.
"Ach, mornin' Michelle!" Orla called out, looking up to her. "I'd give ye a hug but this little one's hungry, so she is".
Racing over to the sofa, Michelle took up a seat to the right of her friend in order to look down upon the wain that she cared for too. All of the girls were very protective over Marie from the very minute that she was born, all showing it in their own way. For Michelle, it was like everything else that she did. Loud and proud.
"So cute ye are Marie!" She almost shouted, looking down at the baby's face. "Yer big and strong though".
Like the baby's mother, Michelle also recognised how healthy Marie was. She fed well which helped, but she already looked like she was going to be a girl who did not lack for muscle either. Deirdre commented something similar too and medically, she knew what she was talking about. Medical considerations were soon thrown out of the window though. Orla caught the mischievous glint in her friend's eye after another couple of seconds, noting that her attention seemed to have shifted from the baby's beauty to what she was doing.
"Yer Daddy's goin' to be jealous, so he is Marie".
Unfortunately for Michelle, she picked the exact moment that Joe walked in with Orla's breakfast. In no alternative reality would the comment go unchallenged from the old man, who's exhaled breath blew a gale through his fading white stubble. Michelle was ready for the battle though, a prerequisite for her when visiting the McCool household. He didn't even wait to lay the plate down before starting.
"Oi!" His snarl began the rebuke. "Don't ye be sayin' things like that young lady!"
"Come on Joe, ye can't tell me ye've never sucked a tit before!"
Eyes widening at the comment, the plate was laid down very quickly as he changed his approach. Orla knew better than to speak up to thank her Granda, opting for a subtle nod. He couldn't afford to be distracted when he may have been about to start one of his legendary rants…
"Ye do not say things like that in this house, do ye hear me!?" He shouted at her.
Without giving her a chance to respond, Joe grabbed Michelle by the wrist, dragging her out of the room so that Marie could continue to feed without having to be frightened by his shouting. It took Joe by surprise that he'd lost his cool that quickly, but the dark-haired girl was already crossing lines that she shouldn't have. An initial yelp from her at the contact soon dissipated, becoming resistance to his firm grip after a couple of seconds, though by that time they were in the kitchen anyway.
"Ye know the rules in this house Michelle!" He seethed, the rant truly beginning. "I do not expect to hear that sort of talk around the wain!"
"She can't hear me!" Michelle argued, rolling her eyes.
"It doesn't matter. It's wrong so it is, yer meant to be an adult and yer makin' comments like yer still immature!"
Their faces were right up close to each other as they continued to argue, fingers being jabbed back and forth as they illustrated their opinions. Michelle did not appreciate being pulled up on a comment that was only meant to humour Orla. The Joe that she'd known for years was not unknown to make rude comments himself, the majority being about Gerry. Quite why he found her comment so offensive, she did not know.
"Look Joe, just because yer a grumpy old fecker, don't take it out on me!" She moaned.
"And just because ye like to get yer leg up more than an overworked jockey, don't ye be making those jokes under this roof!"
He may have been advanced in years, but Joe's tongue was as sharp as ever. Catching Michelle off guard, her face lit up like a bomber caught in the beams of one of the giant searchlights. She didn't know whether to be embarrassed or furious, opting for a curious mix of the two in the reaction that Joe saw in the proceeding seconds.
"Ye…".
Lost for words, she couldn't fathom a proper response to what he'd said. Joe took no satisfaction from having to stoop so low, but as he often showed, it was well within his repertoire should he need to do so. Michelle was the only one of his granddaughters' friends that he would dare go to those extremes with as the wee blonde would have cacked herself to death at the mere thought of strong words with him. The young Mallon was different though, a uniqueness that she proved a few seconds later by taking a stand with him.
"Yeah well, ye are a grumpy old fecker, Joe! I can't remember a time when ye aren't moanin' or talkin' shite to Gerry!"
It was his turn to be lost for the adequate words to respond. The feisty raven-haired girl was one who would give as good as she get when it came to arguments with her elders, Joe re-discovering it the hard way.
"Sarah would agree with me!" Michelle continued her outburst. "Come to think of it, where is she?"
Michelle might have been able to summon up the energy to dart around early on a Saturday morning after a long week at work, but she had a considerable few less years on the clock than the woman that she sought the opinion of. Frowning, her facial expressions pressed Joe into giving her an answer.
"She's sleepin'". He huffed. "At least she was until you and yer mouth turned up!"
Ignoring the barb, Michelle immediately found herself sticking to her guns. She didn't care if Sarah was sleeping or not, she was going to get her agreement on Joe being a grumpy old man regardless. It was not the most telegraphed of moves, Joe instantly realising what she was going to do. His opinion on what she was going to do did not matter though, as she could not be stopped by him or by anyone else. Charging past Orla, who still held Marie tight into her chest as the child finished feeding, she made a beeline for the stairs. Growling like a wounded beast, Joe charged up after her, determined to let his daughter get the sleep that she needed rather than be hounded by the defiant Mallon girl.
"Michelle!" He angrily whispered from behind her.
"MICHELLE!"
"Scared I'll be proven right now?"
The cheek on the girl was astounding, surprising him by reaching levels that he did not know were possible. Sarah would be the unfortunate victim of her incessant need to be proven right about everything. She managed to evade his attempt to drag her back from the door, shimmying away from his grasp far too quickly for the old man to counter.
"WAKEY WAKEY!" Michelle roared as the door opened. "So Sarah, don't ye th…"
Michelle was stopped in her tracks when the room was in her full view, the light of the early morning piercing through the window to illuminate the bed.
Sarah would not be the unfortunate victim at all.
The bed was empty.
When Joe filed in behind her a second later, he too spotted the empty bed in front of them. Sarah wasn't in bed, and she wasn't up and around in the house either. She couldn't have been in the bathroom and with the threatening clouds, she would have never risked her hairdo out in the garden if there was a chance of a shower. She was not there at all.
Sarah McCool was missing.
Upstaging a war was not something that was easily done.
Especially when that war was raging through the mainland of Europe and beyond, threatening the lives of millions of innocents who would be caught in its path. There were already hundreds of thousands of people who'd lost their lives to the fighting, with many more displaced by being forced to flee from the unending war machine that the Nazi's wielded in their conquest. Trying to upstage a conflict that was changing the whole face of a continent was such an utterly preposterous idea, that anyone who admitted to thinking it would be committed to the local asylum.
Of all people, Sarah McCool managed to be the one to do it. At least in Derry, those who knew that she was missing, suddenly seemed to forget that there was a war on.
As soon as she was discovered to be, Joe and Michelle's arguments paled into the background. She looked to him out of her own concern immediately, even cowering slightly when she saw the worry reflected in his eyes. Taking charge of the situation, he asked her to stay with Orla to ensure that she didn't become too distressed, also leaving the task of telling her that she was missing to Michelle. The gravity of the situation was not lost on her, accepting the task without any hesitation whatsoever. As she comforted her quickly worried friend, Joe made his way around to the house next door to inform Mary and Gerry of her disappearance. Secretly, he hoped to find her there, not noticing that she'd managed to get up even earlier than he had that morning. The sensible voice inside his head told him that it was merely a dream, validated when Mary confirmed that she was not there with them after opening the door. As soon as she was aware of her sister having vanished, there was panic and pandemonium in the Quinn house until Gerry managed to get hold of the situation. Joe wouldn't thank him for it, glaring at him rather rudely instead, but deep down he was grateful for his son in-law's intervention.
Michelle was sent back to her own home not long after, to help raise a search party from her house as well as the Devlin's. They were reluctant to get the cops or the Home Guard to help out, not wanting the whole of Derry to be gossiping about why she might be missing. If the families were all out together it might look a little suspicious, but in groups walking in different areas it wouldn't raise too many people's suspicions. Uncle Colm was also brought into help, though Michelle was spared that task, Gerry going to fetch him instead. Expecting Orla to be a nervous wreck with her Mammy missing, after an initial few tears with Michelle, she'd transformed into a beacon of strength for them all. If anyone was shaken up, then it was Mary. Sarah was not the sort to just take off without saying anything to anyone, which made her a very concerned sister indeed. When it came to Sister's, Sister Michael was also out to help them, intrigued having spotted Gerry and Colm rushing down the street.
Joe co-ordinated the plan that they were all beginning to execute in order to try and locate her. They would split up into three main search parties that would cover three different areas where he thought she might go. Having volunteered to look after Marie so that Orla could search for her mother, Deirdre stayed at the McCool house. She couldn't feed Marie if she got hungry, but out of any of them, she was the next best qualified behind Orla when it came to looking after a baby. It left Joe to lead a party that consisted of himself, Mary, Anna, Colm and Martin to search one area. One of the other areas would be covered by Gerry, Sean, Geraldine and Sister Michael, the latter of whom took charge with an almost military precision to her. It left the girls and Napoleon as the last search party, also being the last group to leave the McCool house to try to find her.
The girls were heading straight out into the country but sticking close to the Foyle. Unlike Erin's, Sarah's walks would often take her quite close to the river that the city was set on and they were given the task of trying to track her down. In truth, they weren't completely sure where they were going, but a determined Orla led the way, Napoleon loyally alongside her. The other three matched strides behind her, all of them showing their own worry for Sarah. Even Michelle and Clare, who did not spend that much time around her, knew that it wasn't in her character to just disappear. There was clearly something more to it and in the back of the ever-worrying Clare's head was a horrible thought that she kept repressed. She wouldn't dare voice the terrifying prospect that she might be gone forever…
"Christ where could she be!?" Michelle exclaimed loudly as they walked along.
"I… I don't know… I'm really worried for her, ye know!"
Michelle and Erin both stared back at Clare in amazement. She didn't really need to tell them that she was worried about something because she was already worried about almost everything on a daily basis. The two of them didn't have a lie such as the one Clare had to hide within her conscience every day though…
"Orla, she ever done this before?"
Calling out in front of them, Michelle got her attention easily. Stopping as they came right up to the edge of the Foyle, the young married woman turned around to answer her friend's question. A strong woman, Orla did not show the inner emotions that rippled through her body. A part of the maturing process included inheriting feelings like the ones she was having internally as they stalked the banks of the river. It was going to take a lot of getting used to, to say the very least. However, she was above all determined to find her Mammy and address what was wrong with her when they did.
"No. Never". She replied quietly.
"What could have set her off? Did she seem off last night?"
At Michelle's latest round of questioning, Orla's mind considered something different. She'd never thought to assess whether her Mammy's tiredness the night before was actually her hiding upset. Sarah didn't cry when she told her daughter and father of how knackered she was after work, but thinking back to it, she was quieter than usual. The war took its toll on her as much as it did anyone else, but a woman of her usual mindset could not adapt as easily as others. Sarah was not a woman who coped particularly well with change, although the path of her life told a story of many changes, her mind was unable to process new methods of living like others could. Some thought her to be stupid, Orla too, but that plainly was not true. They were not women who necessarily carried the same smarts as most, instead wielding different talents that allowed them to add value to the world around them. In her head, Orla began to entertain the thought that her Mammy couldn't cope any more.
"N… not r-really…". She hesitated. "I… I just thought maybe she was a little quiet, but I guessed it was because of work".
The three girls all sighed in unison, remembering the week at work. Of the three, only Michelle was still awake at nine o'clock the night before and she was well into her reserves of energy by then too. Sarah would have every right to feel absolutely spent, the pace that kicked Monday into life being the same pace that closed Friday off.
"I take it ye were both asleep straight away like I was?"
Erin posed the question to Michelle and Clare, having not had the chance to properly during the time they'd spent together that morning. It didn't really matter what their evenings before were like when Sarah was missing.
"Aye I was absolutely out on my feet, so I was". Clare began to explain as they started walking again. "Mammy and Daddy were real worried for me ye know, but they know we're all workin' hard so they understood that I wanted to go to bed, like".
"Aye mine were the same". Erin commented. "I missed the fun apparently because Anna was saying she tidied up downstairs and Daddy treated her like a princess, so he did".
"She is a little Princess, so she is!"
Despite the severity of what they were doing, the four of them found a moment to enjoy a giggle at Orla's comment. They did not get to spend so much time with each other as a full group anymore, the strains of motherhood understandably taking all of Orla's time. A mystery other than where Sarah was, did still need solving, however. Whether Michelle went straight to sleep or not… with at least Erin and Clare needing to solve it.
"What about you Michelle?" Clare was the one to enquire. "Did ye go straight to sleep?"
A raised eyebrow from her in return told Clare enough, not to mention the familiar look of devilment that was hidden in her eyes. That was the look that told the diminutive blonde that there was a fella somewhere in Derry waking up a whole lot happier than most that morning, but almost certainly to an empty bed. Barring one or two, Colm's neighbour's boy being one such exception, she never usually stayed for breakfast. After all, the purpose was to ride the fella not dwindle his rations.
"Alright, let me make it easier…". Erin huffed, stopping to put her hands on her hips, tilting her head to show her disbelief. "What was his name?"
Erin might have thought she could pry for an answer, but Michelle would not let her fish for the truth that easily. Her blonde friend was good. Not good enough.
"The lady could not possibly tell".
Michelle didn't often illicit behaviour that could be considered ladylike. In the poshest voice that she could conjure, she sounded like a right eejit. It was worse than David's around the senior officers in the Fleet Air Arm, which was saying something. The only more horrifying sound than her trying to be posh was the vocalisation of the literary works of Miss Erin Quinn. German bombers were arguably a more comforting sound than that.
Shaking her head, Erin decided to leave that element of their conversation behind for another day. Ironically, it was another element that they were forgetting, but not one of conversation. The threatening rainclouds that Orla and Joe viewed with caution that morning were yet to materialise after a couple of hours. That was until that very second when, as Clare went to open her mouth to ask Michelle whether she'd really found the energy to go out and ride a fella, the heavens well and truly opened. The girls shot out of the house without thinking about covering themselves. As it was still a warm day, quite muggy and humid in the heat of the mid-summer, none of them were wearing anything that could offer much protection. Light dresses were their choice of clothing, with Michelle's particularly revealing to show off more than enough of her chest, deliberately to attract the fella's. And usually, trouble.
"FUCK!"
There were no prizes on offer to guess which one of them bellowed around the empty pathway by the riverside. In less than thirty seconds, Michelle was dripping wet thanks to the sudden downpour, the cover of the trees just a little too far away for them to reach. It looked more likely that the four of them, as well as the dog, had gone for a swim in the Foyle. When it came to Clare, the rest of them couldn't work out whether the droplets falling from her face were from the rain or where she'd started crying because one of her better dresses was getting ruined.
"I knew those clouds were nasty…". Orla spoke her mind.
"Ach well ye could have said!" Erin moaned. "For Christ's sake Orla, do ye ever think to switch on that head of yer's!"
"Oi!" Michelle leapt to her defence. "Are ye forgettin' somethin', Erin. No yer not, because if it's not anythin' to do with you, it's not important! SARAH IS MISSING YE DOSE!"
Knowing better than to either flash Michelle an appreciative smile or have a go at Erin for being so selfish, Orla was saved by the strange sound that Napoleon was making. A dog that was often docile and relaxed, it was rare for him to become agitated unless it was on the command of someone else, like when he'd helped track down Johnny Kells for Martin. Drawn to the almost mewing sound of the dog, her heart began to ache terribly out of fear for what the wee Labrador might be trying to tell her. When she twisted around to look at him, he was bent over sniffing the ground to pick up a trail. A talent for finding people, the tension around the young woman's heart lifted a little when she realised that the dog was trying to track Sarah and not point out a discovery.
Woof! Woof!
Napoleon, to his credit, found something. There was no way of telling whether they were Sarah's tracks that he was following, but the wagging of his tail suggested to Orla that it was. He would often wag his tail in the company of her Mammy, the dog being at his warmest and friendliest around her. The Labrador was well behaved around most though, so the reality was that it could have been just about anyone's scent that he was picking up on.
"Ach, he's got somethin'!" Orla announced to them.
There was no standing around waiting on ceremony when it came to the dog. He bounded off to where the smell was taking him no less than a second or so after her announcement. They couldn't afford not to follow the very alert Labrador. Orla was the first off in pursuit of him, with Erin following suit behind. Neither of them cared about the rain, Erin having swallowed her pride upon being berated by Michelle for not caring enough about the missing Sarah. She would be devastated if anything happened to her Aunt, hoping that they or the others could find her quickly. However, the other two were a little more hesitant. Napoleon charged off out into the open, right into the lashing rain that was still coming down. Already ringing wet with nothing else to cover them, Michelle and Clare were more than happy to stay under the trees.
"Are ye…". Clare asked her.
"No way!" Michelle shouted. "Look, I am all for findin' Sarah, so I am, but I am not goin' back into that until it calms the fuck down!"
"N… no… me… neither".
"Feck's sake Clare, can ye not shite the tights. It doesn't need all four of us to follow the dog anyway!"
Shaking, Clare nodded her tentative agreement. For the proceeding couple of minutes, they stood under the cover of the trees, still receiving some of the rain onto them, but nowhere near as much as they would have done were they to follow Orla and Erin after Napoleon. The sound of a bird taking off from a tree sent the cack attack queen into a frenzy however, which was the key to Michelle breaking the silence in order to remind her friend for the umpteenth time that there was absolutely nothing to worry about.
"CLARE! Christ, ye'd be useless if the Germans turned up, ye'd surrender in a second!"
"Aye I would!" She shouted back, looking up into her friend's eyes. "It's better than, ye know, gettin' shot, Michelle!"
"They would just shoot ye afterwards, ye do realise that?"
The thought of being shot dead by the Germans was never a thought that would appetise the most headstrong of people, sending Clare into a state of cacking that she'd never reached before. It was a surprise to Michelle, who didn't think that a divine tier of cacking lay beyond the normal nervous breakdowns that her small friend would experience regularly. Frantic with the sudden notion that she might be killed, despite there being no Germans anywhere near them that morning, Clare began to pace backwards and forwards.
"They… They wouldn't would they!"
She asked the question, but whether she was truly looking for an answer to it was debatable. An answer she would get though, as Michelle stood with her arms folded, surveying the scene of the most legendary cack attack yet.
"They would…". She mumbled.
"But they can't! We're human beings, we have rights!"
"We have rights?" Michelle questioned her, a voice thick with disbelief. "Which fuckin' planet have ye woke up on this mornin' Clare?! The feckin' Germans don't give a shite whether ye have rights or not! They're right savages, so they are!"
Only serving to panic Clare further, Michelle silently admonished herself for not masking the truth to her friend. Sometimes though, it was the only way with Clare. She needed to be aware of what would probably happen in case it did, to prepare for such a scenario that she previously would not have considered to be a possibility at all. The pacing backwards and forwards under the trees continued, with the added complexity of her changing direction. At no point did Clare stop at all, lost in a world of panic and worry. Inside, her mind was frying on the thought of being murdered by German soldiers even when she would surrender to them.
Until her pacing put her on course for Michelle.
The dark-haired girl noticed too late that the little blonde was going to charge straight into her, and clouded by her fears, neither did Clare herself. The resulting collision should have just brought one of the two back to their senses, but what Michelle had forgotten, was that she was standing at the edge of a small drop down back towards the Foyle. Though she may have been small, at the pace she'd managed to gather, there was enough momentum from Clare to force Michelle over the edge of the bank. With a stunned cry she dropped, flailing with her arms in a desperate attempt to break the fall. Luckily, the drop was not big enough to cause any lasting damage. Landing on her back with a thud, she went to cry out again until another source of pain diverted her attention. The force was in fact that great that Clare couldn't stop herself either, dropping directly down onto Michelle's prone body.
If she'd been fearful about the Germans, Clare managed to progress to another level of fear when she landed. She'd never thought of Michelle in that way, she was a friend, but being who she was, she couldn't ignore the feelings created by being pressed closely into her. They'd shared a bed before, sleeping at her house, but they were always strictly far apart. Her cheeks caught fire upon being much, much closer to Michelle than normal. Her secret, a secret that would be dark to everyone other than her, was in immediate danger of being discovered by one of the worst people possible when it came to keeping them. Frozen, she did not dare move despite it being the logical thing to do.
"What… what the fuck…". Michelle, slightly dazed, uttered.
"I… I…"
"Get yer hands off my baps!"
Her hands were not something she'd paid any attention to whatsoever. In the mess of landing, the young Devlin's hands were not flailing around like Michelle's in order to break the fall. They were, as her friend said, resting over her breasts. If Clare's face was on fire before, it was burning like the sun when she looked down to seek the confirmation for herself. Very quickly, she rolled off of her friend, making her dress just as muddy as Michelle's in the process. All she could hope was that nothing more would be said about what happened. Already in a state of distress before the fall, she did not want to find out how close the truth about her sexuality was from coming out.
"Well… this is going fuckin' great, isn't it?".
As Michelle and Clare began to entangle themselves, further down the riverside, Napoleon continued to race on with Orla and Erin close behind. The soaking that the pair of them were receiving in the process was almost biblical, visibility for them being limited. Their light dresses were almost stuck to their skin from the soaking, water dripping off them with no respite whatsoever. Nonetheless, they kept pushing on behind the dog, until he came to a small clearing right next to the side of the Foyle. Erin vaguely remembered the place, having walked to it once before many years prior with Gerry, on a day when they'd properly stretched their legs. The spot was a quiet one, well out of the way of anyone who might be passing by. There was a bench there, she knew, on a ledge which overlooked the fast-flowing river on its journey out into the Atlantic.
They were right to trust the dog. Napoleon's nose led them right to Sarah, who was sat on the bench fully exposed to the driving rain, her back to the girls. Orla went to rush over to her, but a hand on her wrist stopped the sudden movement. Erin halted her because, through the sound of the raindrops smashing into the ground and river, there was also the sound of sobbing. Sarah's sobbing.
"Quiet Orla…". Erin whispered. "… we don't want to frighten her".
For once in her life, Erin approached a situation unselfishly and with caution. Startling a clearly upset Sarah would do them no good. She could control Orla with those thoughts, her cousin slowly realising that rushing up to her Mammy was not the wisest thing to do. Control of Napoleon however, she did not have. The dog, who had paused with the girls, decided to charge over to Sarah, who nearly jumped off the bench in shock when he appeared before her.
"Napoleon… what are ye doin' here boy?". She said as she stroked the dog's wet fur.
Shifting around, she was presented by the sight of Orla and Erin advancing slowly towards her. A sigh escaped her, knowing that an explanation for her behaviour was needed. She hoped there would have been more time, time for just her, the rain and the rushing water of the Foyle. Her family were who they were though, and the realistic prospect of them setting out to find her was realised as the girls stood in front of her. They wore sympathetic smiles, which only forced further tears from the corners of her eyes. For a few hours she'd cried, yet still more tears were able to fall.
"Mammy…".
"Orla, love… I… I am not likin' this weather".
Trying to say something funny to humour the girls in an incredibly tame attempt to convince them that she was alright, the two young women stood unmoved. She was not as drowned as they were by the rain though, as she'd been smart enough to put on a jacket that at least protected her upper body.
"I'm… I'm sorry if I scared ye girls".
An apology was not needed in the slightest. The ringing wet pair practically jumped on her, squeezing her tightly to convey how glad they were to find that she was safe. There were tears trickling from their eyes too, Orla sniffling the joy of finding her into her Mammy's coat. Remaining in their bundled mess of crying, Napoleon stood protectively around them as the rain started to ease in its ferocity.
"Mammy, why did ye leave?" Orla got the ball rolling. "Was it because of me… or Marie?"
A minute would be needed for Sarah to gain her composure. She needed the time to process her thoughts, to produce the right words to explain just what was wrong with her. Orla could be quite delicate at times, despite her usual fortitude and Erin flipped at a second's notice on a bad day. It would never be an easy job to tell one's daughter and niece, that the pair of them were the reason why the family were all out searching for her.
"I… I had to go b-because of the two of you's…".
The only relief for her was that the girls came together rather than with anyone else. With another presence there, not counting Napoleon, there would have been the chance of distraction, another source to pull her away from telling the truth. When it was just the two of them though, the distractions went out of the window. Erin's eyes were wide on hearing that she was part of the reason for Aunt's disappearance, immediately jumping to the conclusion in her own mind that she'd done nothing wrong, Sarah surely making an almighty mistake. The urge to shout at her that she was talking rubbish still came, but the young Quinn managed to resist her nature temporarily. Orla was mightily confused alongside her, searching her Mammy for more of an explanation. One which would be given.
"The truth is…". She sniffled, having to stop. "… the t-truth is that I'm jealous of both of you's".
Wallowing alone out in the rain, Sarah's problem with the girls was jealousy. Pure, raw jealousy that she viewed them both with.
"B-but why are ye jealous of us?" Erin asked, thoroughly baffled.
Sarah sighed. The rain came to an abrupt halt, as if the whole world was listening in ready for her answer, an answer she was oddly petrified of giving. Her confidence low, she struggled to find the words until Napoleon's tail came to stroke her exposed left leg. Looking down at the Labrador, he looked back at her with loving, caring eyes. She would tell them for him, if not for their own benefit.
"Ye… ye have yer fella's who love ye and they care for ye. I… I told Anna this too, but ye know… I… I don't have anyone, so I don't…".
"Ach Mammy, ye'll find someone…". Orla stroked her arm reassuringly. "… yer a cracker Mammy, sure a fella would be lucky to have ye, so he would".
Erin nodded her head in agreement with her cousin, which brought the briefest of smiles back to Sarah's face. Compliments were always lovely to receive, of course, but feeling completely wretched, the usual effect of lifting her spirits was only a flicker rather than a flame.
"I know we have our fella's, Aunt Sarah…". Erin took over. "… but they aren't here with us all the time…".
"They care for ye though, Erin. When they've finished all this fightin', they're comin' home for ye. No one is comin' home for m-me".
The rain may have stopped, but water still cascaded down Sarah's cheeks. Broken apart by her own words, she burst into another round of sobs that prompted the girls to hug her tightly for the second time. Hearts that were crying out themselves, both of them hated to be the reason why Sarah was upset, especially when it was an upset that they did not mean to cause at all. She'd left out just how frequently the jealous feelings came, knowing that if they knew that then they would be distraught. It wasn't quite every time that she saw Orla and David together or every time that she caught Erin eulogising about James… but it wasn't far off either.
"I… I just c-c… couldn't stay at home anymore after last night".
Napoleon once again brushed his tail against her leg, the dog showing affection for her in her state of distress. He'd always been a loyal dog and the Labrador was proving himself to be so yet again.
"When I came home from work…". She started again, though this time more composed. "… I needed a fella there to sweep me up in his arms, tell me that everythin' was alright… and I didn't have one. When I went to bed, all I could think about was how lonely I was just bein' in my room an-and I had to get out".
The cousins by now were pulled away from her, the two of them staring at her with sorrowful sympathy distinctly glimmering in their eyes. Setting out to receive their sympathy was not on her agenda but received it would have to be. Orla didn't understand why she felt so guilty, yet it was the prevailing emotion that ran through her veins. With the constant reminder of what having someone to look after you felt like, through the adorable girl that was Marie, every morning Sarah would be confronted by the love shared between her daughter and David. Erin did not feel as guilty as her cousin, she would never allow herself to feel guilty about loving James, but once again she was always giving Sarah painful reminders of how magical love was when she would speak of him or read out one of his letters.
"Aunt Sarah, if I may…".
Choosing to be the one to break the silence, Erin asked for permission to speak frankly to her Aunt. Having recovered somewhat from her tearful outbursts, Sarah nodded to allow her niece to speak her mind though with the fear that she might work some of her own poetry into it. That would certainly make her cry again.
"I understand that yer down. I get down when I come home sometimes and James isn't there, and I'm sure Orla misses David too. The thing is, we have each other so we do. We're a family Aunt Sarah, if yer feelin' upset then ye can talk to us, you know. Together, we can get through this and who knows, we might find ye a nice fella".
With a positive outlook expressed to her, Sarah finally began to see the light. It helped too that, as almost as if God was listening in, the clouds parted in the sky to reveal the presence of the sun out over them. The scene of the Foyle rushing in front of them was far prettier basked in the sunlight than it was in the torrential rain. Two smiling faces made a final attempt to bring the old Sarah McCool back to life to rid the world of the depressed one that spent a couple of hours that morning crying on a bench in the middle of nowhere. Erin was right; she might not have had a fella to come home to, but she would always have her family.
"I think we best get back". Sarah said to the girls. "Sure yer clothes are ruined, so they are. Mary will not be happy…".
On another day, Erin might have argued the case that the clothes were perfectly fine. But upon hearing the calm, easy-going voice that truly belonged to her Aunt, she decided to keep her mouth shut.
That was the real Sarah McCool.
"Where's Michelle and Clare?" Orla suddenly thought of their two friends.
"Christ knows!"
Erin huffed, herself focusing on their absence for the first time.
"I hope they haven't got themselves into any bother".