A time like no other Chapter 50: Burning Hope, a derry girls fanfic

Chapter 50: Burning Hope 25th October 1941

Everything changed.

Absolutely everything.

The news came through strangely at first, without a proper understanding of what it was being able to be gleamed for a good hour or more. Such was the importance of the message, it was hidden carefully within code, the only codebooks belonging to sender and receiver. Both guarded the books with their lives, aware of their importance when they had to communicate. One was at a far greater risk than the other of being discovered, but both would always have to keep their wits about them in order to ensure their concealment. When the message was decoded in full, it was not a message that was in anyway long, but it did not need to be. Straight to the point was exactly how it should have been and how it was, not that it made the news any less shocking to the receiver when they finally had it fully decoded.

When they'd given up not as only men and women, but as a country, there was little hope for the hero that was presumed dead. The newspapers were not allowed to print it at the time, the Government decreeing it so, ensuring that the tabloids were kept well out of it. There was even pressure on the local papers too, carefully manipulated by agents in the vicinity to keep them in line with the national goliaths of the press. The families still knew, as did the rest of the city of Derry, but very few beyond would know of what was lost. A man of his rank being reported dead in the papers would bring intrigue, people would want to know who he was. For the sake of the whole of the United Kingdom, it had to be kept from the public eye.

Captain Smithers read the message again, just to be sure that he wasn't asleep, imaging what was happening in the middle of the night. He was tired, far too tired to be working but the call of duty stopped him from seeking the warmth of his bed, and more importantly to him, his wife. She did not really understand what he did for the council, as he told her, but she did not question it either. He was a faithful man to his wife and to his country, his dedication never being questioned when he was the outgoing man that he was. He had dedication to the case in front of him on the note in particular, a large part of his recent times spent on what he knew was some form of scandalous secret. Menzies might not have thought too much about their Italian branch, but when all hope of having a certain countryman of his alive, though in custody, their Italian friends pulled through. Domenico didn't go into the details of how he'd discovered the truth, but it did not matter. He'd presented it.

Maguire, James. Alive. Taranto. Molinari Mansion. Underground. Confined.

There was little detail, but there was enough for the Captain to work with. James Maguire was a young man who'd cost the country a lot of money when it came to how his life was regulated and the efforts it took to try to find him the first time. He did not wish to think the amount of money that it added up to altogether, when the bribes were added up with other expenses, but the amount itself would be another scandal entirely. Whoever the young man was, he still did not know. What he did know though, was of the importance of him being alive. They'd made it through with their lives after reporting his passing, yet Menzies informed him that God must have decided to spare them. They should have died for the failure to keep him safe, the most costly failure any man in service of Britain could make. They were the unfortunate two left in charge when it came to James, one of the most difficult jobs in the world.

The Battle of Taranto was one which the people held in the highest regard, but the Intelligence service spoke of in angered terms. It was a battle which helped on the Mediterranean front, a fact that Smithers would not ignore, but one which very nearly crippled the Intelligence services back home. For a branch that were partly responsible for the breakthroughs at Bletchley Park, it could have been terminal. For all of the stellar work that went into cracking the Enigma code in July of that year, they were nearly not present for it after the prior November. Amazingly, the crippling of the majority of the Italian Fleet paled into insignificance when the leader of the attack did not return. Such was his importance, that the otherwise spectacular victory was ignored by the Captain and Menzies.

Walking over to the sleeping form of Mrs Smithers, the Captain sighed. He should have been by her side that morning, waking up together to look over the sprawling countryside that surrounded their home. He would have to travel to London immediately with the news, which was of national importance if truth were told, truth he was not privy too. The trips to London were still just as frequent when they thought James to be dead as they were when they knew him to be alive. Menzies had suggested that he moved his family to London to cope with the new demands of the war and his role, going as far as to offer support in finding the right home. It all changed when his wife revealed to him that after years of trying, she was finally pregnant. They'd almost given up hope due to the pressures he faced with what he did for the war effort, but joy was granted them a couple of months earlier. Any chance of going through the stress of moving to the capital was gone when she did. He preferred living in the Kent countryside anyway. The perfect setting for a family to be started from.

Placing a kiss on her forehead as his way of seeing goodbye, along with a note he'd hastily written that was left on their bedside table, she hummed with delight in her slumber. She must have been having happy dreams, the Captain liked to think to himself, hopefully about the future of their family. The struggle to conceive had weighed heavily on his mind from before the start of the war, frightened that the inability may lay with him. There was no one that he could talk to about it nor ask for advice on. It was not the thing for a man to do; his upper lip needed to be stiff and he had to carry on. There was more vigour about the man now that she was expecting their child, an additional boost of life that he did not know he truly required. He accepted it in a heartbeat though, thanking the Lord that a child could be bestowed upon them after all of their efforts.

By the time that he'd got everything together that he needed, it was nearly four thirty in the morning. The countryside was still except from the light breeze that nipped along the top of the grass. There was not another car on the road for miles around, no one being allowed to use them unless they required them desperately. Most vehicles on the road were either military or emergency service vehicles, and without a bombing raid that night, there was no need for them to be out. Across the whole of Britain, there were few who were up at that time of night. It was a not time where much could be achieved anyway, although some units in training would conduct night marches at such a time. None of them were present on his journey into London, which did not take him that long at all. By just after half past six, he was in the middle of city.

Out in the countryside, Smithers could put his foot down on the winding roads that led all the way to London. There hadn't been any rain for a few days, allowing the roads to dry from days of constant rain from before then. On days where it would rain and he would have to drive, the Captain would not drive as quickly, concerned that he may skid off the road. He'd seen it himself one day when he was behind a man in a military vehicle, clearly a young officer who must have either only just learnt how to drive or did not know the roads. In the pouring rain he'd been unable to break heavily enough in time, slamming into a bank on the other side of the road. Luckily for him, Smithers was coming back from the Capital rather than going to, stopping to give the young man aid when he stumbled from the car. The officer survived the crash, though the vehicle was completely written off. It would have been a difficult conversation between the young man and his commanding officer, he was sure.

When he arrived in the city, his speed was usually far more respectful. The people of London were waking and heading off to work by that time of the day, leaving far more hazards to a driver who traversed the streets at those times. That morning was different though, because on every other occasion that the Captain had arrived into Britain's Capital city, the information he was carrying was not about to cause a shift in strategy. He'd carried news with James about him before on his travels, but not the stratospheric news that the young pilot was still alive in the home of a Professor in Taranto. He was absolutely flying down the streets, swerving to avoid those crossing the road rather than stopping for them. The news really couldn't wait.

That was Captain Smithers' undoing. As much as he might have been concerned for his wife's life now that she was carrying their child, he was clearly not concerned about his own. He couldn't have been much more than a mile away from Menzies' office when he took a bend far too quickly. Unlike out in the countryside, London had received rain. The roads in the capital were far more dangerous than the country lanes for once and the back end of his car did not survive them. Smithers nearly shouted when he felt the back beginning to go, leaving the car to almost aquaplane across the rest of the road. He was not going to slow down enough in time to avoid any collisions at all, it soon becoming apparent to him where he was going to end up. There was a greengrocer's just beyond the turn. His car was about to become part of the window display.

The Greengrocer himself was outside in the dark of the early morning, lantern in his hand, when the screeching of the cars brakes alerted him to its presence. He barely had time to dive out of the way when it came towards him, launching himself face first into the road itself to avoid being hit. There was a thud from behind him, as the rear of Smithers' car smashed into the front of the building that he lived in, followed by the smashing of glass when the window decided that it would not be able to absorb the impact. His family were still inside the shop when the crash occurred, none of them in harms way as the car came to rest in his window display. An eagle-eyed customer would have spotted the strange sight of a car being displayed for the old price of an orange, having brought down a sign that the man hadn't used for a while.

Inside the car, Smithers avoided smashing his head off of anything. Too many would not survive such incidents, but luck was on his side that morning. For a couple of moments he had to make sense of the world around him, his vision blurred from the spins that he'd endured before landing in the shop window. Having thought about the young officer he'd witnessed crash the car spectacularly in the countryside whilst he'd driven there, Smithers was embarrassed to say that he'd managed even worse than that young man. When he was so close to delivering the message to Smithers anyway, there was no need for such speed. The truth could have waited the couple of extra seconds it would have taken to slow down to approach the corner properly.

The shouts of the furious greengrocer brought him to his senses, Smithers remembering his purpose despite being sat in an almost destroyed car that he'd cared for so well in the past. A new one would be required after that morning though, which he confirmed to himself as he stepped out of it and onto the pavement. It was fortunate to the people of the local area that the majority of the shop's produce could still be consumed. A lot of the outside displays were yet to have been put out, the shop not opening until later that morning. The women of the house were still not best pleased as well as the green grocer himself, who was preparing to give the posh looking man who stepped out, a stern talking to. Although, with his papers in a briefcase in his right hand and his coat in the other, Smithers was not planning on stopping.

"Oi! You fuckin' moron!" The man growled, a gruff and gritty London accent to boot. "What the fuck have you done to my shop!?"

"I do beg your pardon, good Sir…". Smithers started, addressing him regally as if he were the King. "… but duty calls".

Fleeing the scene of the crime was a far from wise choice regardless of what crime had been committed or who had committed it. He was sure, however, that should the worse come to the worse then Menzies would see to it that they paid the Greengrocer for the repairs to the shop as well as the removal of the car. Smashing the shop of the poor man's business was unfortunate, but to delay telling Menzies the news about James was practically treasonous behaviour. Britain would never know the contributions of men like Smithers, whether they won the war or not, which allowed for certain privileges to be made. He would not face any action for crashing the car… he knew that before he'd even got to the offices.

He'd done the journey that many times that despite not living in the city on a full time basis, and never really visiting for any social calls, he knew exactly where he was going when he had to run. Dashing through the streets of London at any time of the morning could be viewed upon as hilarious by anyone who was watching . There was nothing hilarious about why he was doing it though, unknowingly of national interest to those who would laugh. His shoes were in good condition, which at least meant that he did not slip over on the way there. Turning up to his superior's office with cut trousers and bloody elbows was not the look of a gentleman.

Before long he was inside the building, being allowed straight down to the basement by the guard on the door. A regular face, all of the staff on duty in the building knew to let him go wherever he pleased, being the important handler that he was. Not many knew his real name or who really was at all, but they knew he was an important man and that was all there was to it. Rushing down the stairs, he was close to dropping his briefcase and he did drop his coat. Stopping momentarily to retrieve the fallen item of clothing, he allowed himself to get some breath back, his lungs burning. Sweat was pouring off of the Captain thanks to his morning rush to deliver the information of vital importance.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, the Captain spotted Menzies' secretary coming out of his office, shutting the door gently behind her. He frowned upon seeing her presence, as it was most unusual for her to be in at that time unless Menzies had specifically asked. Normally the times that he did ask were when the two of them were having meetings at that time, which was often the time that was most convenient for the pair of them. She smiled sweetly at him when she saw him approaching, before frowning herself when she remembered what time it was. In the same way that he did not expect her, she did not expect him. They were going to have to explain to each other why they were there though, both hoping that the others explanation was innocent. She could not have his full explanation though, for as loyal as she was to her superior, she could not be involved when it came to James.

"Lotty… I did not expect to see you". He addressed her first, still breathing.

"Captain Smithers". She replied, a warm smile on her face. "Neither did I expect you. I trust that you are well".

"Oh… you know… just a small… small incident with the car".

"Did you crash? Do you need medical attention?"

She rushed towards him, concerned for his welfare, but Smithers waved her away. He was grateful for her to show him such care, but when he was uninjured, his concerns about himself or the car were secondary. Menzies had to know about James.

"I am quite alright Lotty, honestly". He looked up at her, smiling himself. "I must see the Lieutenant Colonel immediately".

Uneasy where she stood, Smithers noticed the apprehension in her eyes. It was a look that told him that there was no danger in regards to Menzies, but that she could not answer truthfully. He'd deployed the look before to his own wife when she'd asked searching questions about his job and had watched it mirrored back at him when Menzies spoke about James from time to time. There were levels of secrecy that had to be maintained in all aspects of life and being the loyal woman that she was to Menzies, Lotty was not going to give up the reasons behind the answer she gave him a second later.

"You cannot go in I am afraid. He is otherwise engaged".

"Lotty this is a serious matter". Smithers tried to be firm with her. "It is of the highest importance that I am to meet with him".

A sixth sense about situations was not an entry level requirement to the field of work that he operated in, but it aided a man or woman massively if they were to have it. Smithers was blessed with it from time to time, and as he watched the facial expressions of the woman stood before him, he knew she was not going to be swayed by his argument. Shouting at her would do him no good either because Menzies held her in the highest regard and would not tolerate any aggression towards her. The Lieutenant Colonel knew her father who had once been an agent himself, from what Menzies told the Captain over lunch one day, although he knew too that his life was lost in the field thanks to a regrettable incident. Menzies did not go into detail about what happened back then but implied to his Captain that she was there because he'd promised her father that he would look after her. The honourable gentleman that he was, the promise he'd made was still being kept to that day.

"If you will not take me to him, then I will have to go myself".

His statement was not made in frustration, though he was admittedly somewhat aggravated by the delay, but it nonetheless came across as displeased. She pouted slightly at his words, before coming to her senses.

"Captain, you cannot just barge in there!" She admonished him.

"On this instance, I am going to have to, Lotty".

"Please, you will get me into trouble!"

Stopping where he stood for a moment, to be the cause of his own delay again, a loud sigh escaped the Captain. Her words were a cry, even a beg, to stop him from doing what he was going to do. Stepping out line was something she would not do lightly, and without the slightest idea of why Captain Smithers made such haste, she was upset that it might do harm to her standing. He did not want to see her upset by him for actions that he was taking though, and after a split second of contemplation he decided to reassure her.

"If any blame shall be assigned for this interruption, then I and I alone shall carry it Lotty…". He spoke softly, watching her calm in an instant. "… you are a fantastic and loyal secretary, and I will not have your honour besmirched by the breaking of mine".

"Th… Th-Thank y-you Captain".

Responding to him nervously, she quickly disappeared well out of sight of the door to the Lieutenant Colonel's office. Lotty did not want to be anywhere near the two when the war of words started for the interruption. It had taken a lot of personal strength not to question Menzies why there was no additional protection outside the room when he'd given her the orders upon her arrival. It would have made sense for there to be considering who was in the office with him, yet it appeared that in the secretive world of early morning meetings, the less present the better. Only one bodyguard was present at all, and he was in Menzies' office as well.

The very same bodyguard's own sixth sense nearly led him to pull his pistol on Captain Smithers when he came barrelling through the door, almost crashing down onto the floor as he overbalanced. He could have, and perhaps should have, knocked, but his mind told him not to wait for such distractions. He'd already lost enough time thanks to the car crash and the nervous stalling from Lotty, leaving him unwilling to lose anymore because of a wooden frame.

"Smithers!" Menzies shouted at him. "What is the meaning of this!"

When the Captain picked himself up and observed the room around him, he finally understood the reason for Lotty's hesitation. The bodyguard that nearly put a bullet in him was a man that he'd had the pleasure of meeting before, on only the one occasion, but it was enough not to forget him. The man seemed to recognise him to, as he lowered his weapon, though it was clear from Menzies shout of recognition that the Captain was not an intruder. Moving to shut the door while Smithers gathered his breath again, the bodyguard could only roll his eyes at the lack of thought that the Captain had displayed.

It was not wise to cause undue fright to the Prime Minister before he'd finished his first cup of tea for the morning.

"Sir…". He saluted his superior officer before turning his head… "… Prime Minister".

The bodyguard didn't need to tell him how stupid he'd been. Smithers found himself feeling like quite the fool until he shook those thoughts from his mind to finally tell his commanding officer about the news he'd received from Italy. Two birds could be killed with one stone as well with Churchill's unexpected presence. Menzies would have had to have reported to him separately with the news later if he were not, making it an oddly beneficial arrangement for all those involved.

"James Maguire is alive".

The tea cup that the Prime Minister was holding was released from his grip at the declaration, smashing loudly on the hard floor surface of the office. It took a lot to truly shock Winston Churchill, but a ghost from the past such as the name James Maguire was enough to force it. He'd only been presumed dead for less than a year but such was the importance of the young man, it still felt like a lightning bolt from years gone by when the words rang in his ears. The young Pilot's case was considered close, Menzies having officially sealed it earlier that year. None of them truly expected to ever deal with the delicate situation again, though they'd never forget his name. Instead, he was alive.

No man being declared alive had ever sucked as much energy out of a room as the announcement about James had.

Menzies managed not to damage any of the fine china, but his mouth hung open. For a moment he stared in disbelief at the Captain, wondering whether he was lying or whether it was the first day of April and he hadn't realised it. It would have been a cruel joke to play, and the life of the young man in question was no laughing matter. Their minds would have to return to the very serious world of James' life and what they could do to preserve it, now that they'd found out that he was alive. There were so many thoughts rushing around in the Lieutenant Colonel's mind, that he had to take a seat again just to concentrate.

Just when the war was starting to calm for him, if running the Intelligence Services of the nation during wartime could ever be construed as calm, change was afoot. James staying dead would have been perfect for him. His thoughts were not out of callousness to the young man, but out of practically when it came to the time and resources that would need to be spent on him. Unlike Smithers, he did care to add up the financial costs of James' impact… and they were astronomical.

He did need to say something though, to take control once more.

"Take a seat Smithers. I think it best you tell us everything that you know".

The Prime Minister did not find anything else to say, having been stunned into silence by news of James's mortality being intact. Smithers did not hesitate to accept the order, needing a good sit down having legged it for more than a mile just to get there to tell them. He would have to tell Menzies about the car accident too, though it would wait until the end of their impromptu meeting, preferably to him after Churchill had departed.

Men of influence would know of James being alive and decisions would have to be made.

Britain's hero may have been alive, but the country would soon have to find out what cost it needed to pay to keep him that way…

The Anderson shelter at the Quinn household was beginning to feel redundant. Bombing raids had all but ceased, the Germans not seemingly interested in bombing Derry again, though they'd only done so before by mistake. It may have been a mistake too, given the strategic importance of its port, but they didn't appear to be keen on spreading their terror to the northwest of Ireland. Instead, it was left to cities like London to bear the brunt of the Luftwaffe, who still came at night to bomb after their challenge to rule the skies in the daytime was long over. They could not wrestle the grasp of aerial superiority away from the RAF, but they could still attempt to break British spirit by pummelling the homes of the innocent. The RAF were retaliating on German cities too, although their threat was not seemingly as great when they had far further to travel. It did not appear that France would be liberated from German influence very quickly at all, which meant more and more nights for London to put up with, disrupted by the sounds of death.

Joe had already voiced his opinion that they may as well dismantle the shelter, although Mary was not inclined to agree with him. He'd put up quite the fuss to get the thing up in the first place, leaving her frustrated with him that he wished to make equal fuss in getting it taken down. Joe was not a man who did the conventional though, and that meant Gerry was blamed for it still being there unused. The patriarch claimed to have told him to do something with it, a conversation which had never happened according to Gerry, rather than just have it sitting there. As a family though, they still required the shelter, despite Joe's protests. Anna made the very valid point that they could not predict what the Luftwaffe would do next and although he did not want to have to admit, Joe knew that she was right.

With the shelter being kept in place though, Mary decided that it required somewhat of a tidy up. Gerry had started to keep a few of the tools from the garden in there when it wasn't being used, the mud remaining on the corrugated panels. It was a task that did not bring any joy, but when there were men and women giving their lives for their countries in the time that they lived in, Mary was not so bothered by it. She'd contemplated asking one of the girls to help her to get it done quicker, but the lack of space in the shelter meant that there was only really Anna who could. Her youngest was unavailable though, tending to the vegetable patch after having begged her father to let her. Gerry didn't mind at all, staying in the warm of the house and watching on as all of the women of the house worked. Erin was outside assisting Anna too, and for first time he could remember, he was in effect the King of the Castle. He could get used to the feeling…

Mary had caught him looking out as if he ruled the place, which according to the deeds of the property he did, leaving herself mental notes to ensure that he was back in line later on. Gerry might have liked the feeling of being in charge for once, but she was the dominant figure in their marriage and would remind him of that once she'd finished. He didn't catch the glare that was sent his way from inside the shelter, but if he had, he'd have had advanced knowledge of the ear bashing that would be coming his way later on. Erin wasn't pleased with him not helping too much either, though they couldn't really tell as she was still moody about everything.

"How are ye gettin' on girls". Mary asked, calling out from the Anderson shelter.

"Ach, we're doin' well Mammy". Anna answered. "We work well as a team, don't we Erin?"

The lack of response from the older sister was to be expected, as she was still very much unapproachable. Erin's moods were also causing considerable anger to be vented by Michelle, who was very much unapologetic about her reaction to them. With her own disagreements with Clare out the way, which is how they'd been labelled to Erin and Orla to avoid either of them knowing the truth, she was free to target the blonde. In truth, they were all sick and tired of her being horrible to them when it was unjustified, but none more so than Michelle. A clash of personalities, the nastier side of Erin and the normal outlook of Michelle could not coexist peacefully. Neither were able to back down when they started arguing, and the words could become very aggressive at times. They never went more than a couple of days without bickering about one thing or another, though a full fallout was yet to be established.

"Erin, you answer yer sister, ye hear me?"

Mary certainly wasn't going to let her get away with it. Although they'd prepared for the Autumn's misery after two previously awful ones, nothing could really prepare them for the constant nastiness that they were faced with.

"Eugh… yeah. Whatever".

An answer full of attitude was always going to be the wrong answer for Mary Quinn. Erin was pushing her luck at best, and when it came to her family, Mary was never going to accept the attitude laden response she was presented with. Gerry couldn't hear what they were saying from inside, which meant he couldn't leave the house to become the peacemaker. There was almost certainly going to be a ferocious argument.

"Don't you whatever me Erin! You give Anna a proper answer or ye'll get the wooden spoon!"

"ALRIGHT!" Erin roared back at her. "We work well as a team Anna, we're the best, aye?"

There was far too much sarcasm in her words for Anna to be able to accept them properly, but she was smart enough to know that continuing the disagreement would only lead to further tension between them all. She gave her big sister a wide smile to tell her that she was pleased with the answer, even when she was far from it. Mary had walked up to the door of the shelter, her head poking out to make sure that there was nothing more said between her daughters. She grinned in Anna's direction when she gave the sensible smile to Erin, thankful that at least one of her children could see sense that Saturday.

They all returned back to their duties after a couple of minutes, nothing more to be said on the matter of teamwork. Anna's statement was factually correct though, as the job was getting done a lot quicker than usual. Gerry didn't mind getting stuck in on the vegetable patch usually, but with Anna so keen to get involved, he happily allowed himself to take a rest from his duties. The vigour and passion that was put into the job was admirable from Anna, a little girl that was wise beyond her young years. Sister Michael certainly agreed with that theory, as she'd been discovering on an almost daily basis.

The educational authorities of Derry would have keeled over with chest pains should they have found out that a five year old was allowed to take classes, but that was the Sister's masterplan. Ever since the successful history class that even she'd found riveting, Sister Michael allowed Anna two hours a week to take over from the teacher and teach herself. She'd not yet been allowed to take a Maths class, but English and Geography were regular classes where the teacher would sit it out, as well as History, and Anna would take over. She was under strict orders not to tell her parents about the venture, a promise which she'd kept, though Mary knew anyway. Neither her nor Gerry were too bothered by it, though she did worry for the pressure that Anna must have been feeling from it, not that she showed it. For Gerry, it was just the latest stage in the incredible development of his little girl, that he was most pleased about.

Despite her incredible prowess in academics, Anna was still a regular pupil of the school, which meant that she had to take the tests just as the other children did. Five year olds had little pressure on them to succeed in any examinations that they faced, mostly owing to them having not covered that much of the topics they were studying. Sister Michael had been blessed with many things during her life, but a smart class of bright young minds was not one of them. She'd never really gotten close before, relying on individual exploits of brilliance to cement the schools place as amongst the best. With Anna Quinn, she had what she thought was one of the smartest young women in all of Ireland, securing the school's future, and her own, with her academic results.

Anna did not need to be concerned at all about performing well, which Sister Michael made clear to her at school, though by telling her that there was no way in which she could fail. As much as she enjoyed having people give her much needed confidence, she did doubt herself at times. So far ahead of her class mates, it would be an embarrassment to her if she did not score top marks in every subject. There may not have been any external pressure on her to succeed, but she felt the pressure from herself. An ambitious streak lived within the young Quinn, one which dreamt of a life of success and adventure, that would hopefully take her around the globe when there was peace again. Joe and, to an extent, Gerry had always taught her to be a realist, yet there was still a dreamer within her. A five year old was allowed to imagine their own world too, not yet exposed to the laborious rigours of the real one. The dreams were a nightmare in disguise though, forcing her to demand only the best of her ability. It was a constant battle that she fought, yet there was still determination in the young girl to be the best that she could be.

Her smarts may have been seen at best in the classroom, but in a social setting, Anna still required a lot of assistance. Instead of seeking out the comfort of her parents or her Granda, she instead decided to question Erin about the pressures of examinations. Erin who still said little to any of them.

"Erin, can I ask ye somethin'?"

Sighing, her sister stopped digging for a moment, turning her face of thunder towards her. There were not many faces in her life that terrified her, but Anna was scared of the one that Erin was pulling in her direction. She looked as if she were ready to kill her for the interruption at first, but surprisingly, she allowed the enquiry.

"Go on".

"Did you remember havin' exams at school?"

"Aye".

Another sigh was uttered before the response, as she remembered them all too well. Exams were the blight of every year at school, especially when Sister Michael personally oversaw every single one of them. The Sister loved the hall during an exam, where the children were all in absolute fear from a simple few questions that were placed before them. She thrived in such an environment when tears were shed, and the canes could come out. She didn't need one herself, but some of the male teachers resorted to the cane to teach manners to those who found it amusing to speak during an examination. None of them were given sympathy by her. Michelle was a regular recipient of the cane, though in her latter years, the Sister came across the disturbing news that she almost certainly enjoyed it… not that it really surprised her at all. The young Mallon was wired up differently to most…

"How do ye… ye know… get ready for them?" Anna tentatively asked.

"Ha!" Erin snorted. "Yer worried about exams!?"

"I… I am".

"Catch yourself on, Anna, what have you got to be worried about!? Yer five and yer the smartest girl in yer class, what's yer problem!?"

Mary found herself disturbed yet again by her older daughter's attitude towards the younger one. Erin's view was similar to that of nearly everyone else's, but Anna was not looking for someone who told her she had nothing to fear because she was smart. She was looking for a heart to open to, to tell of her fears of the examinations that the teachers were telling them about, which were on the horizon. Too many people told her how smart she was, which she did enjoy, but there were other perspectives required than just the positive ones. Exams were a step into the unknown for her, a terrifying prospect for the young girl who was yet to have an official test of her academic skills. Her main worry was her memory failing her, the pressure to succeed causing her to forget everything that she knew. She wasn't sure at all how to combat it, looking to her older sister to provide the voice of reason for her.

"I… I'm scared Erin. What if I don't do well?"

There were tears beginning to form in Anna's eyes. She truly was petrified of failure, even when there was no real pressure on her. She had a reputation to maintain and never before was it under as much as inspection as it was with the exams.

"Wise up, Anna". Erin gave her a very unthoughtful reply. "Ye could get them all wrong and it wouldn't matter. If ye haven't noticed, there's a war on ye know! People are dying and here ye are worryin' about pointless exams!"

"ERIN!"

Turning to see her mother's red face, Erin was not perturbed by it. She was fed up with Anna's trivial upset, which was clearly her trying to show off in the older sister's opinion. She knew how smart Anna was, having seen the school reports for herself when Mary showed her them. There was no conceivable way for her to make a mess of the exams, and even if she did, they counted towards nothing but personal pride. A five year old shouldn't have been concerned about their exam results; not even Clare fretted that much at that age, and she was the cack attack Queen.

"What!?" She barked back at her mother. "This is ridiculous!"

"That's yer Sister, Erin! She is worried about her exams and yer supposed to be there to comfort her. To give her advice!"

"She doesn't need advice! She has a brain!"

Stopping working with the shovel, Anna was becoming quite distressed. All she wanted was for her sister to see her for more than her academic brain, but Erin appeared to be unable to. The sister that once shared jokes with her two summers before, that cuddled her with James when they'd all spent the day together, was gone. The version of Erin in her place was not the sister that she wanted. Advice was all that she wanted, but instead, all she found from her sister was more pressure on herself to succeed.

"She needs her sister!" Luckily for Anna, an angry Mary was not backing down easily. "You know how frightening exams can be, ye sat them not that long ago!"

"Aye but you never helped me!"

Erin might have been moody, and downright horrible to her family, but she was not wrong. Mary hadn't given her any help at all when she'd had exams, Erin being left to fend for herself. Gerry did not help her at all during her years at school either, with examinations taking place a couple of times a year, every year. It wasn't until the latter years when they became important, to show future employers what they might have on their hands with their scores. Throughout her school life, Erin had always threatened to do very well in her tests, but she'd never quite reached the heights when it came to the final exams. Her Granda blamed Michelle for that, who wasn't interested in the exams at all, but Erin did herself few favours by misbehaving at home as well as at school. Nowhere near the level of effort required to take the top marks was put in by her, and consequently, she underachieved. She still passed her exams, but she'd always known she could have done better if she wanted to. Anna was always going to surpass her level of ability though, another reason why Erin found it odd that she was worried at age five.

"Ye never wanted my help, ye were always busy watching the boys or causin' trouble with Michelle!" Mary argued.

"I shouldn't have had to ask!" Erin countered.

"Would you have wanted my help? Or ye Da's!"

It hadn't occurred to either of them that in their anger, they'd forgotten that Anna was still there. Continuing their arguments about whether Erin would have wanted exam help if it were given, they'd drawn a crowd from some of the houses at the back. Gerry watched on from the window wondering whether to go out and stop them, but his eye was drawn to the retreating figure of Anna, who'd abandoned the vegetable patch completely. Tears were flooding down her face, having failed to locate the solace that she desperately wanted from Erin. Instead of being able to satisfy her own nerves, she'd started another argument in the house which would no doubt go on for hours. Saturday was completely ruined.

Retreating all the way inside the house, Anna was not stopping, running straight past her father before he had a chance to stop her. All she wanted was to be in her room, away from the world where she could think about her exams on her own. The worries were eating her up, but it was easier to face them alone than to try to involve her family. Gerry would have helped her in a heartbeat, but she was fed up with having to go to him for everything. Erin was the one who should have been helping her, but yet again the foul Autumnal Erin had gone and ruined something else for the family. The lack of explanation for her behaviour annoyed Anna even more, as it always did, because she wanted to help her sister but couldn't if she didn't know what was wrong.

"Anna!" He called after her, to no avail.

She'd very nearly reached the bottom of the stairs when she was intercepted by a presence that Gerry had failed to register in the house. Michelle and Clare arrived as he was watching the argument between wife and daughter in the garden. For once, the former decided that she wouldn't shout the house down to announce her arrival, allowing her to sneak in almost undetected. Her motherly instincts, usually shown with Marie, kicked in automatically when she spotted the tears running down Anna's face. The connection between her and Erin's younger sister was not as great as it was with Orla's daughter, but Michelle still admired Anna. When she heard about her giving the troublesome lads a kicking weeks before, she was prouder than ever of her. She knew they were trouble too, one of them living down her street, a lad she would have happily booted in the groin if Anna hadn't beat her to it. Seeing her upset was not something she was going to let go.

Michelle was a very strong young woman, and as Anna practically ran into her arms, she lifted her up into the air. She weighed a lot more than she used to thanks to her natural growth, but she was still light enough for Michelle to hoist her up so that they were face to face.

"Now then what have we got here…". Michelle spoke incredibly softly, shocking Clare who'd never heard that tone from her before.

"M… Mi-Michelle… Erin's being mean to me…". She wailed.

The friends exchanged a glance over Anna's shoulder, neither surprised that their friend was the cause of the upset. It didn't seem to matter to Erin whether she upset her friends, her sister or her parents. Nobody was safe from her spite when she was in one of her despicable moods. It didn't sit well with either of them though that it was Anna who was upset, when she was so often the beacon of strength in the house alongside Gerry.

"She… She w-won't h-help m-m… me with my exams… a-a…and I'm scared Michelle!"

Stroking her back gently, she swayed her around as if she were a baby again and not a five year old. The motherly senses in Michelle were growing greater by the minute, almost forgetting that it was Erin's sister that she was holding and not her own child. Erin had absolutely ripped into her about caring for Marie, and though she'd promptly moved on from the incident, Michelle knew Erin would be ripping if she were to walk in and find her comforting Anna. Love for another human being appeared to have been lost on Erin, but it was not on Michelle. She cared for the younger Quinn sister deeply, Clare too, who offered her own hand on Anna's shoulder, squeezing it to give her strength.

"Well…". Michelle thought aloud. "… me and Clare know a few things about exams, don't we Clare?"

"Aye we do". Clare replied, not a hint of nerves in her voice for a change. "We've done lots of exams, Anna. We can help ye".

"Would you?" Anna lifted her head up, her wide, teary eyes searching Clare's soft ones. "And I… I don't want ye to tell me I'm too clever or not to worry… b… because I am worryin'".

"You tell us what ye want to know and we'll tell ye what we think is best… does that sound cracker?"

It didn't take long for Anna to respond to Michelle's idea. When she'd bolted from the garden, as Erin continued to stand her ground with Mary, though was gradually losing the battle to the delight of their adoring audience, Michelle and Clare were not among those she counted on to help her. Resigned to Gerry having to be the one to help again, she was secretly glad that she could talk about her stresses with other girls who would understand. Her da may have been a kind man with years of worldly experience about him, but hearing it from the two of them meant more when they were so fresh from feeling the pressure of an exam.

Leaning up next to Michelle's ear, she adorably whispered the answer.

"Cracker".

Michelle's heart could have burst as it normally would have done for Marie, Anna displaying affection towards her like never before. The three of them soon headed upstairs to Anna's room for her to ask all the questions that she wanted about exams, even if the exams for a five year old really were meaningless.

They did not get away without a thankful smile from Gerry, which Michelle and Clare nodded back to. Barely any brain cells were required to know that he was about to have his handful breaking up the dispute outside, them taking Anna off of his hands for a while being perfect.

It was another eventful Saturday afternoon at the Quinn house, ones which were rarely topped anywhere else.

Except the McCool household was about to break the myth…

Walking…

It was all that one of the lone British soldiers left in France could do, surviving the best that he could without any support from anyone else. No support… none at all.

John-Paul O'Reilly was fortunate that he'd found a calendar in the last town he'd passed through, finding refuge in the home of a young woman, clearly very loyal to the old France and not the one under German control. She'd taken pity on the Irishman, who'd been on his own for around seventeen months, doing what he could to survive. He had no money to pay her with for his kindness, being a soldier doing his best not to be captured by the Germans, so he'd paid her in another way entirely. To remain alive, he'd had to break his commitment to Ciara more than once, under the impression that she'd probably slept with another fella thinking he was dead anyway.

It was all that he could do. Stay alive in France and hope that he could reach Ireland one day.

That day he knew was far away, though Spain was not.

From the flatlands of Northern France to the mountainous border with Spain, there were many miles of hardship for the Irishman who'd bravely covered the retreat of his comrades. Some of them were back at home training, never too far away from their families, while he was always having to watch his back.

In the early afternoon sun, he stopped to sit on a rock, a little way to the side of the winding road that he'd trudged down alone. Below him, he saw the city of Pau sprawling out in the distance to his left. He hadn't been into the city, skirting around it to avoid alerting anyone to his presence in a more built up area. The sun was weak, the temperature no more than twelve degrees, but it was enough to warm him for a moment while he rested. The water he survived on had to be drank carefully, John-Paul never knowing when the next refill would be.

On he always went though.

Walking…

John-Paul O'Reilly was always walking.

The scene of daughter and granddaughter having a furious argument in the Quinn's back garden was not an uncommon sight for Joe. He'd witnessed the clash of personalities for years, two strongly minded women unwilling to back down when facing each other. Erin was quite the feisty young woman when she wanted to be, and like the rest of the family, Joe was fed up of how far she was taking it during the Autumn. She was almost unapproachable in his mind, because any time any of them made the slightest comment that was out of line, she was up and fighting for the argument within seconds. All she ever wanted to do was make horrible comments to the rest of the family, whether it was in an argument or not, and from what he could see, Mary was the victim that day.

After a while, Anna having ran off inside presumably upset from what he could gleam, Gerry came out to break the two up. It took him a couple of minutes, unknowingly under Joe's watchful eye, but Gerry managed to break it all up, stopping any lasting fallout between Mary and Erin. Mary headed back into the Anderson shelter to cool off, with Erin storming off into the house with Gerry in pursuit. He didn't know how it would end between them all, but he'd be round later that evening where he would make sure he found out all the details.

"Fun's over, Sarah!" He called out.

"Ach that's a shame, so it is. Sure it was entertainin' ye tellin' me all that".

To keep his other daughter entertained, Joe narrated the story of the argument from his perspective to her throughout. He'd swerved voicing Erin and Mary, knowing that it would be far too amusing to do so, but kept Sarah informed with the details enough to have her gripped with interest. She was one of the lucky ones, as Erin was aware that starting an argument with her Aunt was completely the wrong thing to do. Ever since she'd broken her leg in the accident with Shane, she'd been treated like a queen by her family. When the rest of the family were receiving verbal torrents from Erin, the blonde would hold her tongue around her Aunt, making her an object of jealousy for her sister. Mary couldn't say too much though, aware of just how frustrated her sister was at the predicament she was in.

The factory were understanding of the injury that she'd received, not wanting her back in the workplace until it had at least healed sufficiently so she could sit without pain. Travelling to work was the main issue that she faced without a vehicle, especially when no one in the family drove one. Joe had suggested that Gerry learn to do so properly, arguing that a man who could drive a train could drive a car, but the controls were somewhat different. Affording a car was a whole different dilemma in itself, especially when James' Morgan was no longer available to use following the settlement of his estate. Charlene Kavanagh was a lucky young woman; she could drive a car and drive a beautiful one such as James'. Quite why she'd been given the car was a mystery to most, although both Gerry and Joe assumed that her father's connections allowed them to make a generous offer for the vehicle, knowing that it was no longer used.

"No blood then?" Sarah enquired.

"No…". Joe replied, walking back into the living room. "… a shame, so it is. I would have liked to have seen Gerry bleeding but God in his wisdom is making me wait for the day".

"Ach Da, Gerry's not that bad really".

"Aye I know… he's awful!".

Sarah rarely interjected herself into the arguments between the two, but she'd found herself feeling sorry for Gerry on more than one occasion. Her Da might have been a very wise man, that she would not question, but she did believe that he could sometimes be an unfair man. Supporting Gerry during the arguments was never a good idea, keeping her thoughts to herself in order to stay out of the way of a battle that wasn't hers to fight. She could do that quite easily with a broken leg as well, which limited her being moved anywhere. On weekdays, Joe and Orla would carry her downstairs in the morning before the latter left for work, the former then keeping her company throughout the day until Orla's return.

Orla herself was due back any minute. She'd spent the majority of the morning getting the washing sorted, receiving begrudging assistance from Joe when it came to the physical elements of the job. Sarah still sorted through the piles of the washing from where she was propped up in the living room, but the other two were left to fetch and carry while she watched Marie play quietly in the corner. The little girl was content enough to do so though, doing some colouring and drawing while the menial tasks of the house were conducted around her. They'd decided not to replace Napoleon after his untimely death earlier in the year, glad for a rest with one less mouth to feed in the house. Another wee dog would have been a lovely addition, but none of them really wanted the hassle of looking after one anymore.

Towards late morning, once the bulk of the washing was done and ready to dry, she headed out for a walk with Marie. It may not have been that warm, but they were fortunate to escape the rain that usually blighted the city, leaving conditions ideal for a Saturday stroll. She wouldn't get one on the Sunday, she knew, having agreed to go to the Mallon's to spend some time with Michelle and Clare, without Erin. Due to her moods, they'd decided not to invite her at all, which went down fantastically at work when she was informed of the decisions. Her feral rage was mostly directed at Orla for betraying her when they were cousins, but she didn't want to be around Erin if she was going to be horrible to her the whole time. However, the other two ended up having a change of heart when she came across them during her walk with Marie. They were heading to the Quinn house to apologise to Erin, without knowing what they were walking into…

Right on cue, the front door of the McCool household opened, mother and daughter appearing in the doorway.

"Alright Orla, love". Joe called out.

"Aye we're grand, aren't we Marie?"

"Yes Granda!"

The little girl, nearly two years old, trotted into the living room, right into the arms of her great grandfather. She affectionately called him Granda like Orla did, finding it unnecessary to add the great to the title when she told him regularly that she thought he was. It didn't bother Joe in the slightest because he never thought he'd live to see the day that he became a great grandparent. There were not many people who did, which made him one of the luckiest men alive in the position that he was in. His only hope left when it came to the family was seeing whether he would be around to see Erin's children too, if she were destined to have any. It looked likely for a short time when she was happy with James, but with the Englishman dead, doubt was cast by him over whether he would live to see it.

Orla walked through to the living room behind her daughter, with a spring in her step. Unlike her cousin, who'd taken months to shake off the depression of James' passing, Orla was as confident as ever not that long after David's death. Joe was glad to see that she was honouring her fella's wishes, understanding that David would have been so proud of her for doing so. Although she hadn't admitted it to either of them, both himself and Sarah were fairly certain that she was seeing a fella occasionally, on the nights that she would go out with Michelle and Clare, Erin no longer accompanying them, though it was voluntarily absence not because she wasn't invited. There was no need for them to ask anymore though; as long as Orla was happy, they were.

"Did ye have a good walk, Marie?" Joe asked her, as she scratched his shoulder.

"I saw a cow!" She answered triumphantly.

"Really!?" He exclaimed in over exaggeration. "Didn't think Maureen Malarkey would be out on a Saturday lunchtime…".

Marie was far too young to understand the slight that was thrown Maureen Malarkey's way, but Orla and Sarah were and neither of them laughed. He would have at least got something out of Mary with his comment, if not Anna, who already had an incredible grasp of humour at her young age. Instead, he was left with a room of silence, the joke falling flat when it should have sparked merriment. It simply was not to be.

"Tough crowd…".

Left to stew with his own thoughts, Joe handed Marie back to Orla, who carried her precious wee angel through to the kitchen. It was time for them to eat something, Joe and Sarah having already eaten whilst she was out on her walk. Marie had complained some of the way home that she was hungry, leaving Orla to promise her repeatedly that she would be fed when they got home. It was difficult to make such promises with rationing being what it was, but Orla always made sure that her daughter got something, even if it meant missing out herself. Marie was her number one priority no matter what, and if it meant missing a meal or two, she would gladly do so to see that her daughter could eat. David would have done the same, so she followed the mantra that she knew would have existed had he have been there to implement it.

"Right well, if yer back now, Orla, I'll be gettin' goin' myself".

The announcement took the other two adults by surprise. Joe hadn't declared earlier that morning that he would be going out anywhere. Sometimes on a Saturday he would make a visit to Colm's, but because of his lack of enthusiasm to go, they would usually know well advance as he would moan about it. Sarah drew her conclusions immediately.

"Off to visit Maeve then are ye, Da?" Sarah asked.

Having partially made his way out of the room, Joe only just about heard her comment, but sighed loudly at it anyway. He couldn't go anywhere alone without them assuming that he was off to visit her, which he categorically was not doing. There were other friends of his within the city that he visited from time to time, and as far as the rest of the family were concerned, that was where he was going. He only occasionally saw Maeve anyway, most of the time at church where they would exchange friendly smiles, though no more winks. Despite being a believer in the friendly wink himself, his daughters did not agree that it existed. No winks could be friendly, they always had to mean something.

"I'll be back before tea, love!" He called out to Sarah, ignoring her prior barb.

"Aye give Maeve my best!"

"Me too!" Orla added without really understanding the situation.

Another round of sighs followed before Joe made his way out of the front of the house, his mind set on what he would be doing for the afternoon. The weather appeared to be holding for him too, though he wore his jacket just in case it did decide to start pouring. Getting soaked on a late October's afternoon was hardly the height of entertainment for him.

As soon as Joe had shut the front door behind him, Orla skipped back into the kitchen to get herself and Marie something for lunch. Sarah smiled as she watched mother and daughter interact, Orla giving her daughter a huge cuddle the second they were in the kitchen. She loved that girl ever so much, adapting to the role of being a single mother just as seamlessly as she had to the role of mother in the first place. In many ways, David being away on service in Marie's early months was more of a help than a hindrance, giving her the experience of being able to cope without him. Unlike Erin who was a teary mess without James by her side, she thrived with her vibrant personality being translated into a doting parent. Quite how she did it was a mystery to every single one of them, a shining example of hope in a time where it was sapped from even those with the most optimism about them.

"Do ye want a cup of tea, Mammy?"

"I'd love one Orla". Sarah replied, smiling at her. "It won't be long before I'm making you one again".

"You make a good cup, so you do, Mammy".

"Thanks love. It's all in the technique though, ye'll get there with practice".

Sarah was the best tea maker in the whole family, though there were many usurpers to the crown who would argue their own case. The technique was taught carefully to her by her own mother, which Mary hadn't picked up nearly as well. She could make a palatable cup, but if Sarah was in the kitchen, she would be the one manning the tea making station for the family. It was a task cruelly stolen from her during her enforced break lying around doing very little. She was ready to be able to do what she wanted again, fed up of sitting around doing nothing.

In the kitchen, Orla began to make lunch along with the tea. Marie was sat at the table in her chair, already fighting off the sleep that was drifting over her. Giving her a long walk out in the middle of the day also helped to keep her energy levels manageable, so that she wasn't tearing around the house the whole of the afternoon. A subdued start to the second half of the day was enough to ensure that the rest of it could at least be peaceful, with her bed time being set at half past seven once her dinner had settled in her stomach. There were few nights when she could not sleep, mostly due to having her mother's warm presence next to her. The double bed that Orla shared with David now housed Marie too, having outgrown the cot that she used to sleep in. Sarah was hesitant to allow them to share at first, worried that Orla might roll over and crush her wee angel, but her daughter was insistent she would not. After months of the arrangement, she was yet to do so.

Looking out into the garden, she came across a scene that amused her very quickly. There were two pigeons in the midst's of a tussle in the middle of the garden, locked in intense combat that she'd never seen the likes of before. One pigeon was particularly fat and was being beaten quite thoroughly by the thinner pigeon from what she could deduce. Birds fascinated her at times with their behaviour, which could vary from fighting to mating. Michelle once gave her an incredibly in-depth description of what happened in the latter scenario, which she did not need nor ask for, though soaked up the knowledge anyway. It certainly wasn't a mating ritual out in the garden… it was a proper scrap.

"Go on Frank…". She cheered for one pigeon, who she'd decided to name Frank.

The two pigeons were backing away from each other a minute later, Orla transfixed on their confrontation. Neither appeared to be willing to strike the killing blow, an eruption of feathers yet to occur from their clash. She didn't want to miss any of it though, hoping that one would at least come out as a clear winner, wishing for it to be the one she named Frank. Frank was the thinner of the two pigeons, circling his opponent with the wish to do harm from what she could tell. In her head, she liked to think that the other pigeon was a German one, the enemy of Frank the gallant Irish pigeon. Suddenly they stopped circling and slowly advanced towards each other, Frank ready to…

"Mammy!"

Marie's cry snapped her out of the trance she was in watching the fight.

"Yes love". She turned around to address her daughter.

"FIRE!"

Following the finger that Marie extended to point behind her, Orla turned her head the other way to see exactly what Marie went. Becoming so absorbed into the world of the battling pigeons outside, Orla had forgotten about their lunch. When her head was fully turned, she saw the price for her forgetfulness as there was a fire breaking out over the stove and across the counter next to it. Shifting back away from it, she found herself grateful for Marie's intervention, as another few seconds of standing where she had been would have seen her set alight too. The fire was suddenly spreading across the kitchen, the smell of smoke filling the air after a couple of moments where she stood frozen on the spot. Orla was prepared for many situations, multiple ways of protecting her daughter as well as getting on in the world for herself, but a house fire was not one of them. People weren't supposed to burn down houses.

"Orla… have ye burnt somethin'!" Sarah called out from the living room.

Nervously, Orla looked to Marie, eyes wide from witnessing the flames beginning to spread across the kitchen. There was no way that she could stay quiet about it, her protective instincts as a mother kicking in. She had to get her daughter to safety.

"Ach… no Mammy but… aye well the kitchen's on fire, so it is".

Sarah forgot about her broken leg for a moment, which was nearly a very costly mistake, shooting up from where she was lying on the sofa. Close to falling off, she'd gone into panic mode, thinking of the safety of Orla and Marie from the fire. Her own broken leg quickly crossed her mind too before she responded to her daughter, wondering how she was going to escape the flames, if it was necessary to.

"Can ye put it out!?" Sarah shouted.

"Erm… no!" Orla called back.

"Oh god… oh god…". Sarah began to panic. "… Orla get out of the kitchen now!"

Orla didn't need to be told twice, cooperating with her mother in a split second. Her first priority was Marie, rushing over to scoop her daughter up into her arms as Marie began to cry, frightened by the fire. Rushing through to the living room with Marie clutched to her chest, she presented herself in front of her mother, glancing back to the kitchen to see that the flames were spreading towards the table that Marie had just been sat at. They were living dangerously with the fire spreading, and getting out of the house before too much smoke could be inhaled was the next task on their hands. To get herself and Marie out of the house was easy, but without Granda Joe to help her, Orla didn't know how she was going to get her mother out.

"Get Marie outside, love, quickly!" Sarah ordered her daughter around. "Go and get Mary and Gerry!"

"But what about you, Mammy?" Orla asked, her voice cracking slightly, the severity of the situation dawning.

"I'll be fine love".

"What about yer leg!?"

"Ye'll be back for me in a minute, so ye will. Just go!"

There was a reluctance from Orla, despite having her concern for Marie at the front of her mind. The fire was starting to get out of control in the kitchen, especially when there had yet been an effort to try to stop it. It was well beyond fanning with a tea towel now though. It would require specialist work to put it out and neither of them could put out a fire. Fear gripped the young woman, stuck between her responsibilities of parenthood and the love for her mother. Although she might have been a very distracted woman at times, who could be lost in reality, Sarah was still a mother too and with her experience, she took control. Orla and Marie were the younger ones of the family; it was the two of them that needed to get out first, not her useless old body, as she saw it for the first time in her life.

"Orla, love, go!"

Pouting, she didn't want to, but Orla was left with no choice. Her Mammy was right, Marie needed to be saved and handed over to Mary and Gerry, who could help her rescue her Mammy once Marie was safe. Wiser than she first realised her mother to be, Orla nodded to her, tears at the corners of her eyes beginning to dribble onto her cheeks. Sprinting out of the house, Sarah heard the front door slam behind her, as her own heart began to sink. She'd dared to take a look over at the kitchen as Orla faulted, her heart having sank already from seeing just how out of control it was. Their house was not a large one like the Kavanagh mansion; she didn't have much time.

Realising how little time they had herself, Orla almost broke the front door of the Quinn house down to get help. When she came flying through the front door, Erin was being hugged tightly by Gerry, crying into his shoulder. On another day where her Mammy was not in mortal danger, she would have stopped to find out what was wrong with her cousin, but it wasn't the time for it.

"Orla, love". Mary addressed her, immediately noticing her distress. "What's up? Is it somethin' with Marie?"

"No Aunt Mary, the house is on fire!"

Erin shot out of Gerry's arms in a second at the news, she herself still composed enough to know that there were bigger problems to deal with. Her own problems were not as immediate and life threatening as her Aunt's, which is where their attention needed to go to. Mary and Gerry exchanged glances of horror at her words, looking back to the teary Orla who clutched Marie tightly to her. Almost immediately, Gerry took control of the situation in the same way Sarah had next door. He was going to be giving the orders and they were going to listen to him.

"Right everyone outside now, we need to see what we can do".

Orla handed Marie over to Mary, the two understanding exactly what each other's minds were thinking. The younger of the two needed to have her hands free to go back to carry her Mammy, with Mary taking charge of little Marie, who'd gone silent in fear. Luckily, she hadn't inhaled any smoke, which could have done a lot of damage to her wee developing lungs. She didn't look as if she'd been in a burning building at all, which was a positive, not that it stopped Mary giving her a quick check over to be sure. Erin headed straight out of the front door, the first one to see that the fire was no longer confined to the kitchen. From what she could see through the windows, the fire was in the living room, encroaching on Sarah's position on the sofa. Her cousin was soon at her side, whimpering at the sight for a moment, then quickly coming to her senses and moving forward to return to the house to rescue her.

"NO!" Erin yanked her back, almost pulling Orla over. "Ye can't go back in there Orla, ye not strong enough on yer own and that fire… it's too much!"

"But Mammy's in there!" Orla shouted back at her.

"I know but it's not safe. We need to wait for the firemen!"

Violent feelings were new ones to Orla, but as they stood outside whilst the McCool house burned, she wanted to kill Erin. Her moody cousin was preventing her from saving her Mammy, who might die if she didn't go back in for her. There wasn't enough time to wait for the firemen in her mind; she had to go back inside to save her mother. The practical thinking Erin was worried sick for her Aunt too, but she wasn't prepared to lose her cousin as well. She couldn't deal with another loss at all.

Whilst the cousins exchanged views on what they should do, Gerry was shepherding the rest of the girls out of the house. He'd called up for Anna, Michelle and Clare, and they quickly came downstairs at his request, learning of what was going on. Anna and Michelle immediately went into a similar state of mind as Gerry, trying to think of what they could do to save Sarah. Clare, frozen in fear, had to be cajoled to leave the house, although when she calmed down briefly afterwards, she too became a useful asset to the rescue that they were going to have to perform. The first part of Gerry's hastily thought up plan was concluded, the whole of the family ready on standby outside to help retrieve Sarah, apart from the absent Joe. A crowd was gathering from the other houses in the street, some of the neighbours beginning to move into the street to see if they could lend a hand. What they needed to do the most was summon the fire brigade, though Gerry had thought of that already. No one on the street had a phone they could use, and the easiest way was on foot… so he turned to the fastest of them all.

"Michelle, love, go to the fire station, get them out here!" He commanded.

"On it, Gerry!"

The usual side to Michelle, the girl that would have made a snarky comment about the house fire or told Orla not to burn the toast next time, was not allowed out when Sarah's life was in danger. Gerry didn't have to say anything more than that Sarah was still inside for her to forget her normal self. Her friends needed her and as always, she was there for them. In seconds she was almost out of sight, charging off towards the city centre where the fire station was located. On her way she also passed a unit of soldiers on exercises, alerting their commanding officer to the fire and telling them to help. They were smart enough to listen to Michelle Mallon when she asked.

None of them could go inside, Erin being proven correct when her father agreed, helping her stop Orla from charging back in. The fire was almost out of control, certainly no place for any of them even when Sarah's life was on the line. Michelle wouldn't be that long, being the quick runner that she was, and until then, all they could do was try to support each other. Without a broken leg, Sarah would have been able to put the fire out herself, not allowing Orla to become so distracted with the pigeons that were fighting in the back garden.

"Uncle Gerry, we have to save her!" Orla bellowed at him. "Mammy's going to burn in there!"

"She'll be fine love, the firemen will be on their way". He tried to reassure her, holding her tightly on one side, Erin on the other.

"But! But the fire!"

"Orla! Yer Mammy's a tough woman, she'll be alright".

Had she been able to hear them, Sarah would have thoroughly enjoyed the positive comments that she was receiving. Anyone paying her a compliment always made her smile, and depending on who made it, her heart jump. Her heart was jumping in the early afternoon that day, albeit for very different reasons entirely. The thought of death was not one that she enjoyed thinking of, having fallen into those thoughts many times during her darkest days. The deaths she experienced on those days were always self-inflicted though, whereas the one she was facing on that October afternoon was anything but. Poor Orla was going to have killed her mother with her inattentiveness, which hurt her as much as it did her daughter.

Alone in the centre of the living room, the fire was spreading on the walls around her. It was yet to reach the carpet properly, though a burning ornament had started a small fire on the floor in the corner of the room. Tears were streaming down from the middle-aged woman's eyes, as the world burned around her. It was not the way she wanted to go, burning alive because she couldn't move from the sofa, her leg broken. A scene from a horror novel, she was going to succumb in the most agonising way due to her own helplessness, a fiery death for an otherwise calm woman. Ruminating on the life that she'd lived, she'd done herself proud in raising Orla, who in turn was doing a similar job with little Marie. Her life was enriched through her family, who'd always been there for her as she had been there for them. It was too early for her to die in many ways, with so much more that she wanted to achieve in her mind, locked away for days where it was possible. Those days would seemingly never come to fruition, the smoke and fire consuming before having the chance.

Coughing as the smoke began to creep inside her body, Sarah McCool was taking her final looks out over the living room, which would be where the final moments of her life took place. Her family couldn't help, risking too much to save her with the fire. She could hear no sirens in the area, the emergency services not on hand to preserve her life from the burning house. She was going to die in the living room, the scene of many a joyous family celebration but a scene of sheer desperation that afternoon…

Until she heard a sound.

Footsteps could be heard as the front door was opened. Someone was venturing into the burning wreck of the McCool household, risking their life to get her. In a way, she desperately hoped that it wasn't one of her family, hoping they would not endanger themselves just to help her. There wasn't anyone else she could think of that would, doubting that any of the girls from the factory would make their lives secondary just to save hers. Whoever it was, they were a hero to her before she could even see their face. It wasn't long until she did see their face though, and when Sarah did, her heart practically exploded with delight.

"You again? Yer quite the troublemaker".

Shane.

Of all of the people it could have been, a fireman it was. Still recovering from the broken collarbone he'd suffered thanks to her, he happened to be passing when he saw the commotion in the street. Recognising her family members from the day of the incident, he didn't hesitate to run straight into the burning building when he heard that she was trapped inside. He knew the risks involved in the venture, but when her life was in danger, it didn't matter to him. The safety of the woman who he'd had such a pleasant conversation with weeks prior, came before his own.

"Come on, we're gettin' ye out of here".

Sarah couldn't respond, choked up from a combination of the tears that were already spilling and her shock of seeing him before her. A part of her thought she may have been dreaming for a moment, especially when he scooped her up into his arms a second later. It wasn't the time for feelings of that nature, but she was only human after all. Finding comfort in his arms was not something she'd ever thought she would find herself doing, not that she minded it when she was in place. The conventional lift that a fireman would use to escort someone out of a burning building was far more difficult when her broken leg needed to be supported, Shane opting to carry her out like a princess instead.

Ducking under a falling beam, he narrowly avoided them falling at the first hurdle, quickly shuffling through to the front of the house to avoid anymore. The sound of the fire brigade was ringing up the street, Michelle in the fire truck with the fireman as they shot up from the bottom of it. Smoke and fire ripped through the previously well-kept McCool household, but it would not claim Sarah that day. Bursting back through the front door, not having to dodge anymore falling beams or fan the flames off of them, Shane rushed out to the family with Sarah wrapped up in his arms. Along with the firemen, an ambulance arrived, nurses rushing out to treat her for any injuries that she may have received in the building. They were not required though, the amount of smoke she'd ingested being minimal.

Laying on the grass outside the Quinn house, where she was carried to, she looked up to see Shane smiling at her, a reassuring smile in a time of great worry. She really quite liked the fella, who seemed to have a knack of popping up in her life unexpectedly at times of peril, though this time he was her saviour. Another time, she'd have to thank him properly, but being contented enough to be safe and well, Sarah finally let out the tense emotions she'd be holding in since the fire started.

Having followed the sirens, Joe came across the scene of the devastation. The firemen quickly got the fire back under control, Shane joining in with them once he'd made sure that Sarah was not anymore injured than she appeared. It fizzled out rather quickly once they'd treated it, but it had still damaged the house, the structural integrity compromised. He'd only been gone for a few minutes and complete and utter pandemonium descended on the house. Eyes wide, it took him a few minutes to process exactly what he saw before him, his home an ashy wasteland on the lower floor, despite the upstairs mostly being intact bar one or two beams that had fallen.

When he'd finished processing the situation, there was only ever one person who would face his anger.

"Gerry! What the hell have ye done ye stupid Southern prick!"