Chapter 39: Paralysis 14th November 1940
It was little Marie's first birthday.
All week, the family made comments that they found it hard to believe that a year had passed since she was brought into the world. Memories of the day, a day tinged with panic when the little girl did not cry at first, were still etched into their minds. Orla was so very brave that November morning, they all reminded her, when she was so worried for her new-born baby yet remained as strong as ever. Her quiet strength was a regular source of inspiration for the family whenever there were dark days when one of them would become miserable. There was always the image of a defiant Orla conquering her duties as a mother to go back to. A strength that would be severely tested that morning, not that any of them knew what was coming.
The big clock in the living room struck six. Mary and Gerry were already downstairs ready, the former making everyone in the house something to eat. Orla and Marie were due round any minute, with the rest of the family gathering to fuss the little girl to celebrate her very first birthday. She was yet to utter her first word, but Sarah ensured that Orla would not worry about it. Any day they were expecting her to start speaking, hoping that she would speak without any issues. There was no history in the family with any of them having difficulties in speaking but it did not stop Orla's natural worry for her daughter. Spending all of her time with Marie, she'd grown more protective than most mothers. Some of them would get a break from their children but from the minute that she was born, almost every hour of the days that passed were spent with her. None of the days were important as the one they'd just began was going to be though.
Gerry was reading a book when the sound of the stairs creaking alerted him to the presence of one or both of his daughters. When he looked up, he found that Anna was the first to arrive downstairs. She was already dressed smartly for school, where she continued to impress. There was no such thing as a report card for a child of her age, but Sister Michael had written one regardless. Her progress was outstanding, far superior to anyone her age and in truth, anyone that any of the teachers had seen before. There was yet to be a challenge which she could not overcome, whether it be academic or physical. Her mathematical skills were the first to stand out, but it was her writing that especially caught the eye. While her older sister was convinced that she was the next great poet, Anna could actually back up any claim with quality work. A four year old was not expected to have any profound words to say but the Sister was genuinely moved to tears by some of her work. That was how good it was. Her behaviour was exemplary too, never becoming frustrated with any of her peers for falling behind. She was that smart she understood the impact of her intelligence on the other children and was respectful enough not to over inflate her image because of it. Anna Quinn was a teacher's dream.
"Mornin' Anna". Gerry spoke to her, putting his book down.
"Mornin' Daddy!". She excitedly replied, running over to jump onto his lap. "It's Marie's birthday!"
Placing a little kiss to her head, Gerry smiled warmly. There was always a risk that being the youngest before Marie, Anna would get angered by the lack of attention shown to her. However, that was where her magnificent mind came to their aid again. She would never even think that way, understanding that Marie would be the centre of attention because she was the baby and she needed it.
"It is love. Her first year with us is complete".
"Aye! She's a cracker wee cousin Daddy!"
"That she is love…". Gerry laughed. "… that she is".
Taking her seat at the table, the younger of the Quinn daughters wore a happy smile as she waited for her food. There was no bacon that week, with the rationing getting tougher. It left breakfast restricted to a slice of toast each and some fruit, though Anna knew better than to complain. She'd understood and appreciated the rationing as time went on, having been upset by it at first. Joe taught her what she needed to know about how food came to the country and the risks that the brave merchantmen were facing in transporting it. Once he'd done that, she'd soon appreciated that there would have to be mealtime changes and like the rest of Britain, she adapted. Mary handed her a plate with grapefruit on, which she began to tuck into. She'd come to like eating grapefruit since the start of the war, enjoying its taste during the opening hours of a morning.
As Anna began to eat her breakfast, the stairs started to creek again. Gerry hadn't picked his book back up yet, instead choosing to look apprehensively towards Mary before turning to face his other daughter who was about to arrive. Erin's moods were continually poor during the week. Every night that she'd returned home from work, the young Quinn would be almost unworthy of being spoken to. They'd always given her the space that she needed to cope with her mood, supportive of her even when she could be very rude in return. After going so long without seeing the man that she'd given her heart to, they knew how much it affected her not having him there with her. James wasn't just a fella that their daughter loved; he was a young man that changed her life, one that was destined for their Erin. He just had to return safely to her…
"Mornin' Erin!" Mary called out before her husband got the chance to. "Did ye sleep well love?"
Yawning, Erin did not have to vocalise the tale of her night's sleep. The bags under her eyes were massive, showing that it was not the first night she'd spent barely able to get any sleep at all. With work as busy as ever, she was finding little time to rest, which did not help alleviate the problems with her foul moods either. Her mother would not say it to her, but she looked absolutely dreadful. Albeit, the tiredness was only reflected in her face. She still dressed smartly, and with another long day of sweaty work ahead of her, in a surprisingly good dress to go to work in, which heightened Mary's motherly curiosity.
"Yer dressin' well…".
There was a flash of anger across Erin's face at first, which went away after a second, although it did not go unnoticed. Mary was not pleased by it, but before she could challenge her daughter on why she'd done it, Erin replied to her.
"Well it is Marie's birthday, is it not?" She snarled. "Am I not allowed to put some effort in?"
An answer full of an attitude that Mary did not like, Erin stood waiting for the angry response, almost spoiling for a fight. That was often the way that a lot of the arguments would go. Erin would give an answer that begged for someone to argue back with her, which was exactly what she wanted. She just wanted to be argumentative, even with her parents who were the most understanding out of anyone. Granted, they were closer to her than anyone else and therefore knew more about her feelings than most, but it made it tiring for Mary especially. She put time and effort into keeping her daughter happy, to then be faced with her horrific moods which would often see abuse thrown her way. Gerry was a talented peacemaker though. His services would be needed once more.
"I think ye look lovely Erin". Gerry smiled at her, a face full of fatherly love.
"T-Thanks Da…".
Hesitating where she stood, the armour came off for a moment. The steel that saw her antagonise her mother was broken by the sweetness of Gerry's affection. He was usually the one to break her from the moods when they became too much, offering his own method of calming her down. It was very much appreciated by his wife and also by Anna, who did not like to hear Erin being horrible to their Mammy. Another part of life that she understood, she knew how much her sister missed James as she did so too. James was such a massive part of their lives that his absence of over a year left a void that no one was able to fill, enhanced by not having David there either. They brought so much to the rest of the family. So much.
With her moment of hesitation at an end, Erin joined Anna at the table just as Mary placed her piece of toast onto her plate on the table. The sisters ate in unison, whilst Gerry returned to the book that he was reading. Peace and quiet was a rarity in the Quinn house, which would often be buzzing with activity. It had been the rest of the prior Sunday after the news of Eddie Walsh's death reached them via Sarah. When Gerry and Mary eventually re-joined the rest of them after making up, much to Joe's annoyance, they were just as shocked to hear that he'd killed himself. They knew Lyla and Eddie a little, though were hardly firm friends with them, and both thought it made for a sad tale. The woman who left her husband with no notice to a life away from him and their children, she'd seemingly decided not to return. The pressure on him to provide for their children and nurture them through their early years was clearly too much, despite the help of his parents. It left a sombre mood within the house for a little while until Joe lifted everyone's spirits by finding something that Gerry hadn't done and berating him for it. It brought the house back to normal, something which they were all grateful for.
The weather which blighted their Sunday family meetup, continued to be poor throughout the week. The rain stayed throughout Monday, which made for a far from pleasant walk to work for them all, though it had stopped by the evening. From the moment it stopped however, it was devilishly cold. Mornings were icy, which was most unpleasant to wake to when the chilling sensations would roam their bodies before they'd even left their beds. That morning in particular was not very nice at all. Although they might have all been dressed smartly for Marie's wee celebration that would take place before they left for work, all of them were rueing their decisions to not put something warmer on. They certainly would when they would leave for work and school respectively, not wishing to spend the rest of the day freezing.
Morning serenity was disrupted in the Quinn house as the door opened. The sound of chatter meant that it could only be the rest of the family coming across from next door. They were correct, as Sarah was the first one spotted a second later, but there were more unexpected guests that were with them. Listening in closely to the chatter revealed Michelle's presence, her inappropriate banter being recognised very easily. Clare was also with her too, following in behind Sarah whilst Michelle stuck with Orla and Marie. For a brief second, Gerry thought he would be free from Joe's scathing tongue but he followed behind after a couple of seconds to break his hopes. Another day he might get away from his father in-law, but it would not be that one.
"Is that the little birthday girl!" Mary cooed.
"Aye it is Aunt Mary!" Orla called out. "My wee little angel's a year old!"
Holding Marie up to her face, Orla gave her the biggest kiss that she could muster, which brought a smile to their faces. Mary and Sarah's hearts were melting at the sight of love that she showed her little girl. It was not uncommon to see Orla kissing her precious girl, giving her an extra kiss that she knew that David would give her if he were there to do so. He had done when he'd been back before, spending time with his daughter whilst he had it. She hoped he would return again soon, to be able to kiss them both dearly as he liked to. Orla did not show it as much as Erin, but her heart ached for her husband as much as Erin's did for James. It was a heart that would soon be facing an ache that would not go away.
"Won't be long till she's linin' up the fella's, Orla…". Michelle chuckled.
"Oi!" Joe reprimanded her. "Don't you start! I don't want you givin' wee Marie ideas!"
"Wise up Joe, she won't know what I'm on about! Will ye chubby cheeks!"
Pinching little Marie's cheeks affectionately, Michelle took her from Orla's grasp to take a hold of her herself. Michelle showed maternal instincts of her own around Marie, often giving her a little cuddle when she could. An unprecedented addition to her life when Orla was still so young, a baby for her to adore gave her something to focus on away from her usual pursuit of the fellas. She was determined to be the best Aunt that she could be to the little girl that she would protect with her life if she ever needed to.
"Yer so cute aren't ye, birthday girl!"
They were all laughing and smiling at Michelle's affections, except from Erin who crunched her toast quietly in the background. She would show her own love to Marie at times but seemed to always steer clear of her when the rest of the family were there unless she found herself without a choice. It was an odd trait that only Gerry had noticed, but he was smart enough not to raise the subject with her as it would no doubt start another argument that Erin would wish to have. Acting cagily around her little cousin was not noticed by the others, to her relief, leaving the older Quinn sister to get on with her toast in peace. The odd smile would be thrown the rest of their way to show that she was still there, but her silence was almost certainly guaranteed.
Handing Marie back to Orla, Michelle walked into the kitchen with Clare to go over to see Erin. The rest of them were all out in the living room, where Joe took up his seat in his armchair to run his eye over the room. Unfortunately for Gerry, he picked that moment to walk into his father in-law's eyeline, straight into the line of fire.
"Ye thought about what I asked ye yet, boy". He addressed him disrespectfully.
"I am a man in case ye've forgotten, Joe". Gerry pointed out the obvious to him. "I thought you'd have noticed that…".
"You gettin' cheeky with me boy?"
Rolling his eyes, Gerry was already aware that he was venturing into unwise territory by continuing to argue with Joe. As usual, there was absolutely no way that he could win. He spared Joe the lecture of how long he'd been married to Mary for once; he'd been over that ground before and it was never a winning tactic.
"No Joe, not at all…". He sighed.
"Good… prick…".
Another round of love between the two, Gerry quickly got himself out of Joe's eyeline to avoid any further lashings on his part. There would be nothing for him to gain from receiving any more of Joe's ire that morning, focusing instead on celebrating Marie's big day. They did not have the funds as a family to buy her anything, though no doubt James would have gone to the trouble had have been there, but she did not need any sizeable presents. The young girl was only just getting to know the world and was not yet of the right age for presents to be gifted to her. Getting together as a family just for her was just as important.
After a couple more minutes, where Erin finished off her breakfast and chatted with Michelle and Clare, they all moved through to the living room. Orla was leading the ceremony as such for her daughter, hurrying Erin through when she appeared to be lagging behind. She missed the deathly glare that her cousin sent her, having turned her back to face her mother to ask her something. Clare and Michelle joined Erin on the sofa, leaving the rest of them to stand except Joe who remained comfortable in his armchair. Nobody moved Joe off of his armchair. Nobody.
"Thank ye for all comin'". Orla beamed to them. "I can't believe it's been a year, so it has! I just want to say thank ye to you's all for all yer help, like. I know David would want to say thank you too".
There were a lot of things that David wanted to say, but the laws of fate spoke louder. Without knowing his fate, she still spoke of him as if he would be coming home, unaware that any further trip home for him would be in a wooden box.
"Marie can't say anythin' like, but we can sing her happy birthday, can't we?"
Enthusiastic nodding spread throughout the room at the request, apart from Erin who rolled her eyes to give her own indication that she was ready to wish her cousin a happy birthday. By contrast, Clare was absolutely buzzing sat next to her, losing herself in the joviality of the day before it had even properly begun.
"Happy Birthday to you!
Happy Birthday to you!
Happy Birthday dear Marie!
Happy Birthday to you!"
A round of applause proceeded the rendition of the birthday song, with even Erin breaking her mood to join in with the clapping. Holding Marie up so that her little girl could see the rest of her family sing to her, Orla nestled herself into the back of Marie's neck. There were days when she could think of nothing else than cuddling her little baby. Her and David's creation that was bestowed upon the world was the cutest little girl that she could have possibly asked for, with her chubby cheeks and wide smile making her adorable. There was even a tear in Joe's eye as they cheered for the little girl. Having his great granddaughter named after his wife would often be something that he dwelt on, remembering the woman that captured his attention so effortlessly in a time that seemed to be from a different life. A lot had changed during those years, not least the quality of life that one could live but his love for his wife remained just as strong even years on from her death. His great granddaughter was testimony to the family that beauty was carried on throughout it.
"Now…". Orla began.
"Da… Da".
From a room that was full of atmosphere, in a split second it was in disbelief. As far as Orla or any of them were aware, Marie was yet to speak. She was never out of the sight of her mother for very long and Orla would have certainly noticed if she'd spoken before.
"DaDa!"
Seemingly finding the confidence to speak up again, Marie confirmed her first words to be directed to one member of the family who was not present. She was calling for her father, a man that she'd spent very little time with during her first year in the world. Orla spoke to her about him everyday though, even if she probably did not understand a lot of what was said. Her mother made sure that her father would always be talked about, deserving of such an honour when he was such a hero to them all. That technique would sadly have to be employed forever, as David would never again be able to speak to his daughter for himself.
"She… she spoke!" Clare exclaimed.
"She did!" Orla triumphantly agreed. "Ach my wee angel ye can speak now! Say somethin' else!"
Having turned her little girl around to face her, Orla waited patiently to see if she would speak again. The rest of the family waited too, hoping that there would be more to come from the little girl. It would be some time before she would be stringing together proper sentences, but to just have her saying a few words was brilliant. She was stealing the show, very aptly doing so on her birthday, exactly how it should be. A day of great triumph and celebration, where the only tears shed were those of joy. At least that was the plan.
"Mama! Dada!"
There was even a tear in Michelle's eye as Marie called out for her parents. Tears of joy were trickling down Orla's immediately as Marie spoke her name, mother and daughter staring at each other. Marie very clearly recognised who she was, which was another box to tick off in her development. There was always a worry for the rest of the family that she would struggle with identifying people, Orla having had some troubles with doing so when she was a baby. Her daughter appeared to have developed a lot better than she had, no doubt due to the significantly fewer stresses she faced during her pregnancy unlike Sarah did with hers.
"Like I said, the fellas will be comin' soon enough…". Michelle reiterated her earlier point, smirking at Joe when he growled at her for it.
"It's cracker that she can talk!" Clare continued to be excitable. "What do ye think, Erin?"
The stare that was shot Clare's way in the seconds that followed would be one that she would remember forever. Erin certainly did not want to be brought into any conversation about Marie's development, which she made abundantly clear to Clare. Reeling from the mistake that she did not realise that she was making, Clare quickly let the question drop without looking in Erin's direction again. She would hear about her comment at work, she was sure of that, with her friend picking fights there if she could. Quite what Erin held against the world, especially during the Autumn, mystified one of her closest friends. The rest of the family were just as smart as well, none of them offering any comments about her lack of response to the question.
"I reckon she'll be dead clever, won't she Mary?" Sarah enquired with her sister.
"Aye well she's got good parents, so she has".
"That explains something!" Joe huffed from his armchair.
Turning to him, Mary demanded an explanation for his huffing. When the rest of them were all smiling, sans Erin, his huffing was not welcome. It was meant to be a joyous occasion, one which did not need spoiling with his attitude.
"And what would that be, Da?" She asked.
"Why Gerry's such an eejit, must have had eejit parents".
A more personal attack than the usual ones thrown his way, Gerry had to let the anger simmer inside of him. He'd lost his parents years before, his mother and father never being involved in the life of his daughters. Joe was normally tactful enough not to mention them, certainly not smiting their name, but it appeared that his usual tact was missing that morning. A worried glance from Mary stopped him from saying anything that he might regret, not that it stopped him thinking it.
"My parents were very smart thanks Joe. Nice of you to mention them".
For once, Joe did not bite back at Gerry's reply. He could hear the emotion within his son in-law's voice, that wavered as he finished off what he wanted to say. Realising that he'd crossed the line, Joe did not push his agenda any further, much to Mary's delight. The last thing that the family needed were the two of them having a full-blown argument whilst they were trying to celebrate Marie's birthday. Although it may have amused others in the room, that morning was not the correct morning for the argument to take place. Marie's day it was, to be spent lavishing her with as much affection as they all could. Orla was yet to decide what to do for the rest of the day, but she'd muted the idea of a walk at some point later on in the day if Joe felt up to it.
It might have been Marie's day, and it always should have been, but a knock on the door was about to change everything.
When it sounded, they all looked up to the clock to see that it was not quite half past six, wondering who else might turn up. Deirdre and Martin would be over in the evening along with Sean and Geraldine, not showing up with their children for the morning's celebrations. Nobody else was expected at their house around that time unless Jim from across the road needed something from Joe, but at that time of the morning it was highly unlikely that he would. None of them were prepared for who was actually outside knocking their door. They hadn't heard the vehicle pull up at the bottom of the pathway to the house, the car arriving at the exact moment they were all singing Marie a happy birthday. None of them were looking out of the window either. Completely caught off guard, they were going to be, with Mary being the unlucky victim who would answer the door.
"Someone else has come to wish Marie a happy birthday!" She chuckled.
Mary Quinn did not know how far from reality she actually was with the statement, but it would not be long before she found out. A world of devastation was lying just across the other side of the door, dressed in the uniform of a serviceman. There were a wide variety of crises that had found a way into their house over a number of years, but none of them could even get close to the one that was about to storm into their lives that morning. Marie's birthday would soon be an afterthought to the whole of the family, who would be left to deal with the aftermath of what was going to be said. Hideous heart-breaking hell blew in on the wind.
Opening the door, Mary was greeted by the sight of the officer who'd been stood patiently. He was the unlucky man that was given the task of having to go the family in person. Thanks to information long held by men that he did not know in London, he was advised that the next of kin for both James and David would most likely be at the house that morning. Two birds, one stone was the undignified way of looking at it. Most families would receive a telegram to inform them that their loved one had passed in the line of duty to the country, but for the two heroes of the Fleet Air Arm, a more personal confirmation was required. Staff officers would often inherit some of the worst tasks and there was nothing worse than being the man to break young women's hearts with news of their dead husband or lover.
"Can I help ye?" She asked, oblivious to why he was there.
"Is this the residence of a Miss Erin Quinn and a Mrs Orla Donnelly?" He asked, though he knew the answer already.
"Aye… well, sort of. What is it that ye want?"
Toning her voice to indicate that she was looking for his name, the man understood the request immediately.
"Captain Pearce, I am attached to…".
He was an Englishman, which made him out of place. Mary's suspicions were heightened, but she still did not put the pieces together to deduce why a man from the military was there to see Erin and Orla. He was not dressed in the uniform of the army, she noticed, instead wearing similar clothing to what James and David wore in the photos that they'd sent home. His accent indicated that he was from somewhere in the south of England, not carrying the dominate vocal attributes of a more northern accent. Crisp and refined, he sounded more like the gentlemanly James than anything. Although he was far less handsome, Mary noted very quickly.
"I don't need yer life story, what do ye want?" She became more aggressive with the unwanted presence, her hands on her hips.
"Forgive me, Madam. Are the two young women present in the house this morning?"
"Now listen here ye f…".
"Please". He held up his hand to stop her. "I must come inside and speak to them if they are here".
Distrusting of the man, he was English after all, Mary reluctantly opened the door to allow him inside. If he was some sort of creep, then he wouldn't be able to get far as Joe and Gerry would be on him in an instant if there was funny business to take place. Michelle would probably knock seven bells out of him too should she receive the chance. She did not allow him to walk through to the living room first though, taking her place in front of him so that she could introduce him to the rest of the family. There was light chatter amongst them all as she strode back into the living room. It dispensed the moment that the man in uniform appeared behind her, eyes drawn to the poor fella who was about to announce the worst possible news for the family.
Gerry looked at the man and then glanced to Joe, who'd done the exact same thing to find them both looking at each other. Their look was a knowing one, as there was only one reason why a man in military uniform would be at the house that morning. They did not even need to hear that he was there to see Orla and Erin to know that it was exactly what he was there for. Gerry's heart sank as the reality of what was about to happen hit him. The devastation that their deaths would cause, the pain that would rip through the family would never be parallel anything that they'd faced before. Even for Joe, who'd suffered from more than enough heartbreak and misery throughout his life, it was stomach churning. Both of his granddaughters were about to have the foundations of their lives shattered.
"Ach who are you?" Orla enquired before any of the others had a chance to speak.
"My name is Captain Pearce, I am attach-".
"Ach Erin, he's one of those fellas that James and David must know! Aye, has my David sent ye to wish Marie a happy birthday?"
The look of hope in Orla's eyes was soul destroying for the officer, but he was made of far sterner stuff than to cry at it. He would break her heart and would not think twice about doing it. Erin did not react to her cousin's thoughts about who he was but stared at him intently as her curiosity outweighed her poor mood.
"Yer not much of a ride…". Michelle analysed the man. "… so yer not here for me…".
The Captain did not understand what she was talking about, though as she was not one of the girls that he needed to speak to, he paid little attention to her. Orla's announcement confirmed who the two of them were when she'd spoken and looked over to her cousin.
"Mrs Donnelly?" He looked to Orla.
"Aye". She smiled at him, rocking Marie.
"Miss Quinn".
Turning his attention to Erin, it was when she saw the look in the man's eyes that she realised that all was not well. He certainly wasn't there to wish Marie a happy birthday, although she'd already discounted that anyway. There was a look of fear in the man's eyes despite how stiff his upper lip remained when he spoke her name. Her response to him was not verbal, instead nodding her head to confirm who she was.
"A couple of nights ago, James and David were involved in an attack on the Italian port of Taranto…".
They'd heard about Taranto on the radio the night before. Erin held hope in her mind when she went to sleep that James was responsible for what was being reported as a monumental success for Britain. If the two of them were there then there was no doubt why it was such a success, as they were both brilliant at what they did. However, Erin was not as naïve about life as some thought her to be. She would not ignore the look of fear that was still held in the man's eyes as he spoke. Not that she was in any feasible way prepared for what he was going to say…
"I regret to inform you that their aircraft was shot down during the raid and they are believed to be lost".
The air in the room was sucked out in an instant. Faces that were full of the joy from wishing Marie a happy birthday were left as ones of shock, sorrow and disbelief. For Gerry and Joe, the shock was not felt as heavily as they already knew that it was coming. The boys were never coming back home again, more men that were lost fighting a war that was taking away so much, giving absolutely nothing in return. Clare was the first to burst, watery streaks appearing out of her eyes to dribble down her cheeks before anything else was said in the room. The silence was absolutely deafening. If a pin were to drop then it would have been akin to a bomb dropping, although a verbal bomb louder than any pin or actual explosive was doing far more damage in the Quinn's living room.
Because James and David were dead.
"Oh my god…".
Mary choked out the first words as her emotional dam began to burst. It would have been bad enough, she thought, if one of them were to be lost but for them to both be lost at the same time was harrowing. The lives of the cousins were being ripped apart that morning, losing the loves of their lives in the most horrific way possible. They both wanted to survive the war to come back to the women that they loved, but instead they'd been sent into the Italian turf, their hearts beating their final beats instead of being held in statis ready to be fulfilled upon their return to Derry.
"I… I don't understand…".
Any hearts that were not yet broken, were when the unfortunate Orla could not understand what she was being told by the Captain. David was going to come home to her and Marie… he'd told her so. David Donnelly was not a liar, she knew, meaning that the Captain must have made some sort of mistake. It was a terrible error to make, she thought, but with so many men fighting then it would be easy to misidentify her husband and James too. The Captain was going to have to devastate her by once again confirming that there was no mistake.
"My condolences Mrs Donnelly, but from the reports that we received from the other pilots, it appears that their aircraft was lost upon impact. I am so sorry".
Orla understood the second time.
Orla did not want to understand though. The truth hurt a lot more than her remaining unaware of it. She was never going to be held by her husband again, his touch… his essence, never gracing itself in her presence ever again. He would never get to see their daughter grow up through her life, to experience the joy of parenthood alongside her or perhaps even have further children. She'd lost the one person who truly understood and loved her quirks, loving her for her personality over her appearance. It did not take long at all for the elastic of her emotions to snap, spilling out in front of them all.
"No… David… NO!"
Sarah rushed over to her side to take Marie from her, as in her panicked state Orla had forgotten that she was still holding her baby. Her hands were over her eyes, burying her face into her palms as she began to cry. Still stood up, her knees threatened to buckle, surrendering to the feelings inside of her that practically ate her alive where she stood. Her wails brought further heartache to them all, nearly all of them crying. Joe and Gerry were not, the pair of them coming to comfort the rest of the family who were all unable to process what they'd learned from the Captain. Gerry smothered Mary in an embrace, with Anna clinging to her parents as she came to terms with never seeing either two men who she considered to be her friends, ever again. Even at four years old, she was fully attuned to the significance. As Sarah held Marie, crying with the little girl who'd also began to cry to match the behaviour of everyone else, Joe comforted Michelle and Clare. He might have come to blows with the former on many an occasion, but it paled into obscurity when the news of her cousin's passing was delivered to her.
Erin was the outlier of them all. Throwing her arms around Orla, she buried her head into her cousin's back without saying a word to any of them. There was not a single tear rolling down her face, a reaction that confused Gerry when he caught of glimpse of it behind Orla. The reaction that he expected from his daughter did not materialise when he looked to her, a lack of any tangible reaction on her being what he discovered. She'd just been told that the fella that she loved dearly was dead yet did not burst out into tears or collapse to the floor like her cousin was threatening to do. He could not see inside her head, which prompted him to verbalise his confusion after he'd extracted himself from Mary's grasp.
Placing his hand onto her shoulder, he successfully got her to lift her head up for a moment so that he could look at her properly. The calm, level-headed Erin might have been making a rare appearance on the exterior, but her Da was not a daft man. In the same way that she'd seen through the Captain moments earlier, he could tell there was a torrential downpour of emotion that was waiting to be released. Erin was somehow holding it all back, an incredible act of strength and bravery that he did not think her capable of.
"Erin…".
"No…". She whispered quickly and quietly. "… Orla needs me".
Orla did need the love of her cousin, but Erin needed a hell of a lot more. She pushed away the thought that she would never see James again, pretending to herself that she'd heard it wrong. Even convincing herself that she'd heard it wrong. David was dead though, shot down after bravely fighting the Italians like he'd signed back up to do. Her heart, or what was actually left of it, went out to her cousin as she squeezed her tightly. Continuing to sob, Orla refused to take her hands away from her face, unwilling to lower the shields to her private world of pain and anguish. She could not find any more words regardless, as they were taken from her like her husband was.
Captain Pearce found himself out of place, awkwardly hovering where he was as the scene of devastation played out before him. Noticing him out of the corner of his eye, Joe left Michelle and Clare to console each other whilst he spoke to the man.
"I… I think ye best be on yer way son".
He was firm with the man but not overly officious. From fighting in the great war, he knew what it was like to see people's reaction to the loss of a close relative and the reactions of those who had to deliver the news. It was perhaps the worst job that any man could receive, certainly not a job that any man with an ounce of love in his heart would ask for.
"I have these…".
He reached into his pocket for the letters, the very same ones that the two wrote in case of the eventuality that had tragically occurred. The precautions in place for the worst case scenario were having to be acted on, the letters the latest in a string that were released to be read by the relatives of the deceased man who'd authored one. There was a third letter too, an official letter from the Admiralty that confirmed that their Swordfish had been shot down during the raid, the two men presumed deceased upon testimony from their fellow pilots.
Joe took them from him, curving his lips up into a pained smile that told the man that he was thankful but that the Captain really had overstayed his time with them. The process of grief was starting for the family, a process which he did not need to play any further part in.
"It is imperative that Mrs Donnelly and Miss Quinn read these two letters".
"They will son". Joe confirmed to him. "I can promise ye that they will".
Showing Captain Pearce to the door, Joe watched him all of the way down the path on his way back to the vehicle that brought him there. An Englishman far away from the comforts of his office in London, the patriarch of the family assumed, it was probably for the best that he did not stay around Derry for too long. A quick exit would be ideal for the staff officer asked with handling such a heart-breaking set of events for one family to experience.
Orla's glowing red eyes were the first sight that he was greeted with when he returned to the living room. She was still embracing the emotionally unmoved Erin, whose strange reaction began to mystify more than just Gerry. The girls pulled apart when Joe cleared his throat, handing them the letters addressed to them whilst he kept the letter from the Admiralty for himself to read as they read their own.
Continuing with her belief that Orla's needs were greater, Erin did not open hers. Her mind was solely focused on the barely holding it together young woman, who'd just discovered she was a widow at twenty.
Orla's letter was open though, and through her stinging eyes, she began to read David's final thoughts and instructions to her.
Dear Orla…
London, the early hours of the 12th November 1940
Smithers spent the best part of the evening stood up in the galleries waiting for Menzies to complete what he'd started. The man that they were to blackmail was done so diligently, his silence assured when the images of him enjoying his pleasures were threatened to become public knowledge. The Fleet Air Arm officer would never again question why James Maguire kept on being promoted up the ranks whilst men like him were not. Watching on from the rafters, Smithers watched an artist at work. The Lieutenant Colonel was used to the murkier arts of bribery and espionage, perfectly backing the naïve officer into a corner which all the money in the world could not get him out of. He took mental notes whilst he watched on, knowing that he would likely find himself in a similar scenario in the future. They were in that line of work.
Once the guests began to disappear into the dark night, Smithers did so too. Thankfully, the German bombers were not out in force that night, with no troubles for him when he began the journey home. In the dark night, driving was often quite a risk on some of the poorly surfaced roads that lead back to his home, but he was becoming familiar with having to drive down them. The war was disrupting the natural flow of his life in that regard, his appearances at home becoming more sporadic due to the demands that required him to visit London more often. It was not the most ideal situation, but he'd known that when he started off in the line of work that he was in, so it did not come as a surprise.
Unfortunately for him, he would have to return to London the next day too. It was not until the late afternoon that he would make the journey, leaving him a few hours to get himself together. The house was quiet when he woke from sleeping around eleven o'clock the next morning. There were no pressing messages for him to deal with when he went to sleep and there were none once he'd woken up either. The world appeared to have been letting him off having to make significant effort that morning, which was not a statement that could be said about the rest of the day. He required all of the rest that he could get in order to be ready for an evening where he would have to be awake and alert right through the small hours of the following morning. There were no messages passed on by any of the Irish agents under his guidance, which was quite a blessing too. Lyla's next schedule contact was not until the day after, which would mean any additional contact would not be good news at all.
By the time that it came to journey to London once more, he waved goodbye to his home life to re-enter the murky world of the intelligence services. The trip back to the capital was quite a pleasant one despite the fading light making visibility in certain areas incredibly poor. They were not quite as treacherous as they were at night though, the worries for him in traversing them a lot less when it was not completely pitch black. The streets were deserted once he entered the heart of the city, with only the odd vehicle out on the road as the night began to set in. There was no reason for anyone to be out at that time other than military or medical personnel who would have to be out of necessity.
His destination was Lieutenant Colonel Menzies' office, as it often was when he would make his way to the capital. Menzies decided the night before that they would spend the evening at his office, though it was not a social call. It was the night that the two dreaded, where fate would take control of Captain James Maguire's life rather than the two of them. The reality of the young man that was on his hands was unknown to the Captain, but Smithers knew just how much that evening meant. For all that they'd done for James, they could not predict what would happen as he flew into the hailstorm of fire that the Italian defenders would throw against him. There were variables outside of their control that were never before as dangerous as they were that night. Menzies believed that they should both be in the same room as the news came through, so that they could deal with any problems that arose.
With nobody else even in the same building as them, it became an evening of complete isolation away from the rest of the world. Smithers took plenty of paperwork with him to keep him occupied during the early hours of evening, with a plan to catch some sleep before the very early hours where he would need to be alert to assess any messages that would be transferred to them.
Asleep he was when a nudge prompted him to slowly open his eyes. Lieutenant Colonel Menzies was stood over his officer, a stern expression on his face.
"Wake up Smithers, we should expect a report anytime now".
Grumbling under his breath, the Captain began to open his eyes to the office around him. After a couple of moments his vision was back to normal, shaking away the initial haze that accompanied him opening his eyes properly. There were lamps lit around it to keep the light, though they were not visible from the air as the Captain's office was technically underground. It seemed like a cliché when he'd first visited headquarters, but the Lieutenant-Colonel was insistent that his office was to be located under the ground. It left him close to a proper bunker should the need to use it arise, as well as certain alternative exits from the building that did not require him to leave via a visible route.
Glancing at the clock, Smithers noted that the time was just before four o'clock. He was not one to be up at those hours usually, his body naturally being confused at the change in his sleeping pattern. Regardless of the outcome of Taranto, he knew that he would be an extremely tired man once it was time for him to return home once again.
"Yes… it would appear that it is….".
Stopping to yawn, he attempted to stifle it with a hand over his mouth but was largely unsuccessful. Menzies understood though, choosing not to comment on the normally rude gesture. He'd been asleep for some of the evening too, although his worries about what was to come kept him awake. Smithers being unaware of who James really was made it easier, not much easier when the Lieutenant Colonel made him aware of their fate should anything go wrong, but the Captain did not hold responsibility for the young man's safety. He would not be the one reporting the news higher up the chain if anything went wrong, not having to look into the eyes of certain people to tell them that James had either been killed or captured. That was the worst scenario though; there was always the chance that the young man would return unscathed.
"We must pray that the news is good, Smithers". Menzies engaged him in conversation. "I do not wish to spend the rest of the day tomorrow having to speak of a young man that has passed".
"I concur, Sir". Smithers spoke softly, letting out another yawn before continuing. "We must hope that all of our efforts in recent weeks will not end up coming to nothing".
"Quite Smithers, quite".
The blackmailing and spying required to keep the life of James Maguire exactly the way that was needed, took a lot of effort on their part. Their fellow countryman's death would render the lengths that they went to as nothing more than despicable isolated acts without his life in consideration.
"Should I go and make us a cup of tea each, Sir?"
Tea was always going to be an overwhelming positive for the both of them. Having woken from a heavy sleep, Smithers was in need of its nourishing qualities and Menzies would never say no to a cup either. Smiling, the Lieutenant-Colonel chuckled at the question as if to ask why he'd asked something which held a very obvious answer.
"Of course Smithers, of course".
Walking out of the office, Smithers made his way around to the kitchen area that was in the basement of the building. Two cups of tea were soon on the go whilst Smithers used the time to place himself in front of the mirror in the kitchen to properly wake himself. Splashing cold water over his face, he was very quickly woken to the state of alert that he needed to hold in the early hours of the twelfth day of November. As the chilling droplets trickled off of his chin, he took a long stare into the mirror, lost in the thoughts that were slowly making themselves known in his head. It was the most seismic event in his entire life, he quickly deduced. He'd had enough times in his life that he considered to be defining to the path he was on, but none were even close to the outcome of the Battle of Taranto. His own life was very much dictated by what happened in the pilot's. His service to his country was more of a service to James than it was to anyone else. Whatever would happen to James would plot the course of his own life, and according to Menzies, there wouldn't be much of one left should they lose James.
Those thoughts were soon going to become a reality to the Captain.
Because just a few hours earlier, the very worst possible scenario occurred over the skies of the Italian port. James Maguire did not return with the rest of his men, who'd triumphantly swung the balance of power in the Mediterranean, firmly into British hands. Britain's greatest win was about to become one of the country's worst ever losses, though the majority of the country would not be aware of the damage that one young man's loss could cause. It could have been any of the pilots, there was at least half of them not expected to make it home, but not him. A mission that should have been deemed too dangerous for him to carry out, a sentiment shared by Smithers and Menzies alike, proved why it was so dangerous in the first place. So much rested on the attack for the war effort, too much for the Admiral of the Mediterranean Fleet to organise the raid with a commander who could not equal or better James' skillset. The fact that no man could get near his standards was disastrous for those in control of his destiny in London. With their hold over his life taken away, the consequences could not be stopped.
As they were about to discover, no amount of espionage possible could ever stop the bullets of an Italian submachine gun.
Walking back into the office with the cups of tea, Smithers was drawn to the way that Menzies was slumped down into his seat, staring at the ceiling. He did not even register the door opening to signal that his Captain returned, simply focusing on a spot on the ceiling and not removing himself from it. Placing the cup in front of his commanding officer, Smithers began to shiver when there was still no reaction from the Lieutenant Colonel.
He didn't want to think that the worst really had come true.
But he knew as he sat down opposite Menzies, when there was still no reaction, that it was indeed the case. They'd lost James Maguire.
It was the unthinkable.
"How did it happen?"
Whether the message contained sufficient detail to answer that question, Smithers did not know, but the question was at least worth asking. He'd only left the room for a few minutes, therefore a full report would not have been possible.
"Shot down shortly after arriving in the harbour". Menzies confirmed with a sigh. "The last seen of the aircraft was it on fire before it exploded".
"Christ…".
"I know Smithers. I know…".
There was silence in the Lieutenant Colonel's office. Neither man knew what to say to the other as the true impact of James' death sank in. The most important young man that the country did not know it held, his death outweighed the significance of even Dunkirk. So many lost their lives trying to make it back to British shores after the campaign in France ended poorly, yet they were meaningless losses compared to losing James. Words could not describe the significance to either man, even though Smithers was not aware of just how significant it was. What he did know, was that the young man being shot down by the Italians was the absolute nightmare that they both feared. Fear of it happening was terrifying enough, but now that it actually had, reacting to it was a step which would have to be crossed.
Instead of talking to each other, the two men sipped at their tea. Tea could fix a lot of problems when it came to stress, but the warming sensations of a good brew could do nothing to solve the problem that flared up in the Med. A cup of tea could not bring James Maguire back from the dead. A cup of tea could not explain to those in higher office how they'd allowed it to happen. A cup of tea was completely useless for them. Yet it was also the only thing that either man allowed themselves to focus on as the cogs chugged away in their brains to try to come up with some course of action. Smithers had every right to look to Menzies for guidance on what they should do, but he knew his superior well enough to know that he would want his thoughts too.
The first one to find something to say was Menzies, who finished his tea whilst it was still boiling hot, burning his insides. Strangely, he never felt the burn one bit.
"We will have to confirm that he is dead".
Although the report came from Admiral Cunningham himself, it did not confirm that the Captain of the Fleet Air Arm was actually deceased. It implied as much, the plane shot down and last seen in flames before it exploded was almost damning evidence. The proof would be a body though, a body which would be on Italian soil and out of reach of the Mediterranean Fleet. If Menzies asked those in higher office if they could invade Italy just to fetch the young man's corpse, the request would probably be granted, but he was not foolish enough to do so. As long as James' body remained unidentified to them, there was always some hope that he might have survived, even though it was almost certain that he did not.
"I shall contact our friend in Italy".
"That would be wise Smithers. Though how he can help us from Milan, I do not know".
"Should we start walking to the Tower now, Sir?"
Reminded of what he'd said to his Captain previously, Menzies smiled. It was only a jest, which Smithers knew in reality. They would not be dead men as such, but there would have to be sacrifices made to account for losing James. Menzies was far too involved in the Enigma project to be removed from his post, therefore it would be Smithers' career that would suffer. His commanding officer did not need to tell him that his days would be numbered if James truly was dead. It would only be a matter of time for the Captain.
"No Smithers…". Menzies ran a hand through his receding hair. "… but we must do what we agreed to do if this happened".
They'd planned in advance, of course, for what would happen if James were to be killed in action. There would be people who would need to know the correct way, not the way in which they would need to usually operate. Their protection of Erin Quinn would come to an end, no longer watching over the young woman as she became an irrelevance.
So much had changed.
So much….
It was suffice to say that work did not happen that day. Joe broke away from the rest of the family to go to the factory, with only him or Gerry being in the right condition to do so. Meyler understood the need for the girls to take the rest of the day, as they would be utterly useless when experiencing total bereavement. They would have to go in the following day, but that was a new day after a night's sleep where they would have calmed down. Life went on despite the losses that many young women were experiencing and for them it would be no different. They would be allowed a short time to grieve, but it would only be just that. The war did not wait for those left broken to re-join the carousel that was the daily life of the world, livelihoods requiring intense effort to maintain their existence. Heartbreak was not accounted for.
Throughout the morning, the Quinn house gradually emptied until those who actually resided in it remained. Michelle and Clare were the first two to leave, the devasted pair wishing to return home to await their families who would have heard the news. Martin and Deirdre hadn't even left for work, Joe having called in to see them on the way to the factory. Deirdre Mallon was a tough woman, but even her eyes could not remain dry when she learned of her nephew's passing. She cried for David too, respecting the young man immensely, though understandably she was more upset about James. A young man who could have been anything when arrived in a city where he should never have been allowed to breathe, brought extra life and vibrancy to lives that sorely missed them. It hurt Martin just as much too. Wary of the Englishman on first judgement, he'd immediately grown to understand that James was not the typical man from across the sea. There was a lot more to him than the average man. Above all though, he was a rare kind of gentleman that would be very hard to replace. The Devlin's were upset at the young men's passing as well. Although they did not weep like the Mallon's, there were tears in Geraldine's eyes as she saw how much both of them meant to Clare. She enjoyed the company of James and David, having known the latter well for some time but holding the former in equally high regard despite his short time in the city. It truly was devasting, so much so that even Sean could feel the tears starting to well up.
Orla did not stay for too long. Completely heartbroken, she wished to shut herself away from the world to begin the process of mourning her husband. Widowed far too early, she was faced with having to raise their daughter without her father. He'd not been there that often since Marie's birth because of his service to the country, but she always knew that one day he would be. With that knowledge proven to be outdated and utterly false, there was little hope to be found for her. Her room offered some solace, though knowing that she would never share a bed with David again broke her even more. A morning where they would wake together to watch over their daughter whilst she snored away would no longer be possible, a particular favourite activity of hers. Her cries could be heard for hours from within her bedroom, muffled by the covers and the sound of Marie's cries too. She was far too young to have lost her daddy. Far too young.
Sarah and Joe went back not long after her, though gave her the space to let her emotion out. One of the two was never far from her door, listening out in case she called for them so that they could be by her side at a moment's notice. Sarah herself was quite the emotional wreck. James was a handsome young fella taken far too young, but her cries were mostly for David. Living under the same roof as the man who'd married her daughter and given her a beautiful granddaughter, he would never brighten the day with his humour again. Orla did call for her after a while, when she realised that she would need the support of her mother to get through the trauma. Mother and daughter simply held each other, soon drifting off to sleep on her bed, leaving Joe to come in and see to Marie like the caring great grandfather that he was. His heart was heavy on learning of the deaths of both of the men, but he ignored how he felt because the pain that his granddaughters were experiencing was far more traumatic.
How Erin held herself together, none of them knew. Gerry may have seen beneath the armour for a moment, but that is all that it was. Throughout the time that the rest of the family were in the house, she stayed cuddling Orla as her cousin cried. In her eyes, the tears receded as her brain continued to act in her favour, telling her that there was a mistake when it came to James. It was clear that David was dead, and would not be coming home, but James had promised her that he would come back to her. That they would live happy lives together. Her English fella was not a liar and she would never be convinced otherwise. Gerry's eye was never far away from his daughter from the moment he first spotted her grief, but she showed absolutely no upset at all for reasons that he could not understand. Mary was suspicious of her daughter's reaction too but upset herself that the young men would not return home, she'd almost glossed over it in her mind. None of them saw fit to ask why at all, until Sarah and Joe left.
Because Gerry knew his daughter.
The façade was valiant but ultimately it would not work.
At the very second that the door closed behind Sarah and Joe, Erin quietly crept up the stairs behind her parents who'd watched the two leave. Anna watched her go without saying a word, the younger sister equally upset though bravely offering her comforting hugs to whoever needed them. She was quite the remarkable four year old, with an academic and emotional sense that was far beyond her young years. Sensing that the performance that Erin was putting in would soon be at an end, Gerry followed his older daughter up the stairs a minute later, whilst Mary held Anna back from joining him. They would go to Erin, but it was a father's touch that was required in what was the darkest hour of her life.
He did not knock to enter, nor did he open the door cautiously. Gerry walked in as if nothing had happened, exactly how Erin appeared to be treating the situation. It was wrong, he knew, but for Erin to let go of the emotions stirring inside her, then he had to adapt a similar approach when talking to her. Finding her sat on her bed staring off out of the window, the hairs on his chest shivered from seeing her distressed, without acting it. There was not a world where she would be anything other than a grief-stricken young woman, even if she did not show to the rest of the family that she was. Most of Derry knew what James meant to her; she could not escape the truth forever, no matter how hard she tried.
Sitting down on the edge of her bed, Gerry kept his eyes on her as she shuffled into the middle slowly. As she did so, a more sustained look under the mask she wore was revealed. Like her bereaved cousin, a twenty year old should not have had to face such a gripping loss at such a young age. In a world that was at war, where millions of lives would be lost and millions more changed forever, they were emotional casualties that did not feature on any report. The following day they were expected to put on a brave face and return to the world of work, where the losses would not be discussed as not to dampen the morale. It was cruel… but it was a time like no other, where emotion was deafened by the sound of the guns.
"Erin…".
"No Daddy, there… there's been a mistake…".
There hadn't and it was going to kill him to have to tell her that. But she had to be told. She had to know the reality of the situation, no matter how hard it was to take.
"Love, ther-".
"No No, Daddy". She looked at him, grinning wildly but not happily. "He's comin' home, he'll be here any minute, ye'll see".
The grief was pummelling his daughter so hard that it controlled the element of her brain that kept her mentally sane. James was not coming back home, James was dead, but the always right Erin Quinn thought differently. She'd convinced herself of it so much, that the cold hard truth was long forgotten by the time that Gerry finally confronted her. Sadly for her Da, he was going to have to stop her from living in the utopia that she'd created. It was for her own good.
"Erin…". He spoke softly, swallowing hard as the emotion took a hold of him too. "… James is dead love. He's not coming home… he's never coming home".
Eyes locked closely with hers, it took only seconds for the dream to be smashed in front of her. Providing her with the truth, the blonde knew that her father was not lying to her. He would not lie to her, as it would have only hurt her more in the future. Gerry Quinn was a man who would say it how it was when it came to such emotional grief, rather than hide hope that was unrealistic.
That approach finally broke her.
In a split second she plummeted forward, eyes glazed over with tears. With her head buried into the covers of her bed, she began to scream.
Erin Josephine Quinn may just about have been the most heartbroken young woman in the entire world in the seconds that followed.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO JAMESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Thrashing her arms and legs like a toddler throwing a fit, they smashed into her bed to create a sound of devastation that could be heard three streets away. Her whole world was stripped bare from her, her heart stolen from her chest and stamped on before being tossed asunder into the icy depths of pain. The love that she possessed for her English fella flooded out of her in unending tears of emotional excruciation. Gerry did not intervene at first, as if he'd have done so, she would have kicked him away. As her screams continued though, he could not stand by to watch his older daughter suffer so greatly. He was crying himself at the sheer effect that the loss was having over his precious little girl, who might have been twenty, but would always be that to him. In a way the baton was passed back over, James having been the one to protect her when he was alive. In death, the duty returned to Gerry.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! MY JAMES! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! ARGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Curling into a ball, Erin found herself nestled within her Da's grasp as he sobbed quietly next to her. The screams would certainly stay with him for a long time, trying to stop them proving to be most difficult as Erin's heart cracked. More arms suddenly came around them, as Mary and Anna slipped into the room to make them a family that cried together. A family that would find strength together, would also experience their moments of weakness as a collective. In truth, all of them were crying individually anyway. Arguably the strongest of all was Anna, who despite her own grief for the loss of her two protectors, focused on comforting Erin, mirroring how her older sister had comforted Orla earlier in the day. She stroked Erin's hair gently, making her sister aware that she was there to care for her in her hour of need. An hour which would most likely be months, as the long process of accepting the continuation of life began for Erin.
Life without James Maguire.
The very nightmare she was most afraid of, was now tormenting her in reality.
She was experiencing an emotional paralysis. The screams began to die down, but the heartbreak only increased. She'd lost him, lost him at a time when she could have done with him the most. There was so much that they needed to discuss, a storm that would have to be navigated but one she'd been confident of doing so. He needed to be told in the flesh how much he was loved by her, how that she wanted to truly spend the rest of her life with him by her side. The same love now tore her apart, acting as love always did.
Love could either make a heart or break one.
To Erin, love did the latter.
Ten minutes passed until one of them finally broke away from the pile of emotionally drained bodies that were clumped together on her bed. It was Gerry who moved, shifting over towards her bedside table to retrieve an object that he knew would only break his daughter even more. The letter that Captain Pearce brought with him that was written by James, remained unopened. His final thoughts needed to be aired and although it would only add to his Erin's agony, it was better for her to read it sooner rather than later.
She might have thought herself to be the next great poet, but Erin could not muster a single word as the letter was placed into her hands. Gerry took the liberty of removing it from the envelope for her, so that she would not rip it with her trembling hands. He'd seen her look pale before when she was ill, but the gaunt look on her face when she stared at him a second later was another image that he knew would haunt him for the rest of his life.
Not a single word was required as he took her into his arms, cradling his soul destroyed daughter as tears streamed out of her unhindered. Anna stayed snuggled into her side, her head coming to rest next to Gerry's midriff as Mary held her daughter's legs, stroking her exposed knees to offer her some form of additional comfort. None of them would look at the letter, a private one which was only meant for her eyes only, but they would still be there for her even if they would not know of James' final words for her.
Slowly but surely, Erin unfolded the letter.
Her beloved, her English Fella… her James Maguire… she would read what he wanted to say to her, one final time.
Dear Erin,
I have been sat at my desk for the last fifteen minutes wondering how I should begin this letter, but I have settled on my own thoughts as I could not come up with anything better. Actually, having more than two minutes to myself is a rarity whilst we are completing our service to Britain. That comes with the territory of my new promotion to Captain, you see. A promotion that I still do not understand, despite having had weeks to think about it. My responsibility for my men has only increased and will only increase the longer this war goes on without our victory.
However, those words will be meaningless to you, I know, for if you are reading this letter, then I have been killed.
I am sorry.
So sorry.
I made a promise to you that I would be with you for as long as you wanted me to be, one which I have clearly failed to keep. Throughout my life I have always tried to honour any promise that I make, therefore it is with the deepest regret that I have been unable to do so for you. My life has been sacrificed so others may continue the fight, but I know that it will not be enough to ail what this will do to you. If I were to guess, I would imagine that you are in your bedroom with your parents and Anna reading this, your chest heaving because I have committed the most shocking betrayal by dying. There are tears in my eyes as I write this because I know there will be tears in yours, and that thought hurts me more than anything. Loving me is destroying your life, an act that I feel I will never forgive myself for but then how could I? I will never try to regret the two us falling in love.
If I have passed on, then I strongly suspect that David will have done too. I know I rarely ask a lot of you Erin, but I need you to take care of Orla. We both know how strong that she is, but she will have her moments when the world will become too much and she will need your comforting arm around her. I know that you will carry your own pain, but do not let it distract you from soothing hers. You will become closer to her, I am sure of it. Between the two of you, you will be able to make it through the darkest times of your life without either me or David there with you. I need you to look after little Marie as well. She is most likely going to be growing up without a father in her early life, like I did in mine. That little girl is going to need plenty of strong women around her to settle her and you will have to be one of those figures. Inspire her like you have always inspired me.
The chance to write a separate letter to my mother or to my Aunt is not available, so I have to ask that you would pass on my love to them. I do not expect for one moment that my mother will return from Switzerland, but if she ever does, please introduce yourself to her. Tell her the depths of our love where I have been unable to and please tell her that I have never stopped loving her. She might not have been in my life since I moved to Derry, but like you, she has always occupied a spot in my heart. The same goes for my Aunt Deirdre and Uncle Martin. Please show them this letter. Deirdre and Martin, your kindness and acceptance of me was above and beyond anything that I could have ever asked for. I hope you lead the happiest of lives together. The same goes for you Michelle, I know that you will most likely see this at some point too. Do not be afraid of settling down with someone that you love. You are a beautiful young woman with a heart of gold, even if your mouth occasionally lets you down. The man who you settle with, will be a very lucky man. Make sure that he knows it!
If you could please pass on my regards to Clare too then I would be grateful. She is such a gentle and caring soul who will be affected deeply by both my passing and David's, should he have perished with me. Encourage her to be herself and show the true Clare Devlin to the world. You may not understand what I mean, but if you tell Clare then I think she will know exactly what I mean. A new dawn will come with the end of this war, hopefully a time of peace and prosperity, where fear dissolves and forms into unity. Clare will need that unity and she will need you all as her friends to be there for her.
I do not have enough time or paper to be able to write everyone a message and I fear I am already asking you to do so much for me when I have done so little for you, but I would like you to show Anna what I have to say to her.
Anna, you are one of the brightest people that I have ever met. You are the proof that age is just a number; it does not define the person that it is chalked up against. The brain that you possess is far superior to any I have seen, wielded by a beautiful girl such as yourself. Utilise that brain for good, not only for your family and friends, but for the world too. I will not be there to hold your hand through the triumphs that I know that you will accomplish like I wish I could be, although I know that it will not stop you. A new world after this war needs a strong mind like yours to be at the forefront of developing a safer society for everyone to live in. You will always have my love though, whatever may happen.
Erin
There is too much I have to say to you, yet so much of it needs to be said while you are in my arms, with your lips never too far away for me to kiss. My death means that we will not have seen each other for over a year, yet you have occupied my mind everyday as if you'd been there for every second of my journey in service to Britain.
We did not have an opportunity before I left to talk properly about the future but with that future now gone, I feel it is only fair that I inform you of what I had planned for us. Upon my return to Derry, I was going to ask for your hand in marriage before I would have to leave again. From the very moment that you came to my door, with bleeding knees and frazzled hair, I have wanted to place a ring on your finger, to tell the world that you are mine. I am not a possessive man but the thought of anyone else being with you after that day, hurt me immensely. I could not have asked for a more beautiful, intelligent woman to love. With you, I found what the true meaning of perfection was. I also hoped that in time, we would start a family together, when you would have been ready. My mind one day gave me an image of the two us sat together at the cottage, with children playing at our feet as we kissed in the fading sunlight of a July evening. That would have been a life that would have been brilliant for the two of us, but it would appear that we were not destined to live it.
Loving you has been an honour that a lesser man like me should have never been allowed to have. I would urge you not to mourn me for long, for there will be a far better man than I out there ready to show you the world. Allow that privileged man to make you the happiest woman alive, exactly how you should be.
Please, I beg, do not let my betrayal of our love cloud the rest of your days in darkness.
I will love you forever, Erin.
My Princess
My Angel
Your James.