A time like no other

by Warks1999

It was an ever changing world, but a world that would soon be at War, with consequences that would devastate families forever... their family included. A new adventure, setting the characters back in time to World War II. Enjoy :)

51. Gentleman James

Chapter 51: Gentleman James 26th October 1941

The damage to the McCool house was commented on from street to street in Derry, the rumours starting to how it first spread. Orla had admitted without hesitation to the firemen that she was the cause, though by accident and not on purpose. They did not question her any further about it, not that it was within their right to do so anyway but equally the cops didn't say much more either. An unfortunate accident it was, but one which had ended up doing very little harm to any of the occupants. Sarah's quick thinking in getting Orla to escort Marie out of the house no doubt saved her life, as a panicked Orla began faulter under the pressure of the situation. It could have been a lot worse.

For the rest of the day the street were all around the house, people showing their presence to either legitimately help or just be nosey. Joe was not pleased at all about the attention that was drawn to them, repeatedly telling neighbours to remove themselves from his vicinity, the man seething and ready to take on anyone who argued with him. Gerry was the target for his initial anger, until Orla told him that it was her that started the fire. His immediate thoughts upon seeing his house burning was some sort of ill-thought of revenge by the southerner for all of the abuse he'd given him down the years. Abuse that was justified in Joe's mind, Gerry making his Mary's life a complete misery in his opinion. He was no firestarter, although that did not mean that Joe would apologise to him. He would have rather been executed than say sorry to Gerry. Mary didn't make much of his accusations, frustrated that yet again she was having to defend her poor innocent husband from his insults. She still didn't know what it would take for her father to ever like Gerry, having assumed long ago that it may not even happen at all.

Father Peter turned up with some of the congregation too that afternoon, Sean amongst them with Geraldine dragged along to. In truth, she wanted to be there to comfort Sarah and see if she could do anything for the family, but Sean was there to see if he could find any ulterior motives to the fire. His behaviour could be very odd at times, and that afternoon it was at its strangest. When his wife questioned him on it, risking her own cheek being struck for daring to, he told her that he was worried that Marie could be some form of devil child who set the house alight when Orla and Sarah weren't looking. Clare's father was known for his ridiculous statements at the best of times, and they didn't come much stranger. Geraldine simply shrugged it off as the stupidity that it was, her husband put in his place when Orla explained what happened to him.

It also meant another awkward meeting between Michelle and the Father. The two hadn't said a word to each other since the day she left him wriggling around in pain in the church store room, her knee fresh from smashing into his crotch. Deirdre and Martin were present by the time that he'd turned up with half of the church, but that didn't stop him from making compliments about her to them, Michelle having to hold back from punching him in front of them. Martin was confused by the man's sudden admiration for his daughter, especially when she was seen as a heathen by some members of the community. He was not a stupid man, he knew the sinful ways that his daughter kept, but he was not shocked or offended by them. If she wanted to spend her life rolling from one fella's bed to the next then it was her choice, Michelle in turn knowing that she would get little sympathy if left as a single mother. They would still help her as she was their daughter, but it didn't mean that it would be done without her facing some hard truths.

With the house in a state of disrepair following the fire, the night became an intriguing point of contention. The main offer from neighbours was that of a roof over their heads for the night, when it became clear thanks to the firemen's assessments, that they would not be safe to sleep in the home that night. Not only was the smell of smoke and fire filling the air, which would have been bad for their lungs, the beams between the upstairs and downstairs were not safe at all. A couple had been set on fire and collapsed into the living room during Sarah's escape with Shane, leaving the rest of them perilously close to being completely unstable. One of the firemen was able to walk around upstairs, but only just, determining that too much pressure on the boards for an extended amount of time would be fatal.

A couple of hours of negotiating, and for the most part, falling out, were needed to come to a final decision on the sleeping arrangements. Although there were only four of them to relocate, Derry was not a city that was blessed with spare houses or spare rooms within houses where they could all stay together. One of the neighbours suggested asking the Kavanagh's for help, Charlene's father proving many times before that he was not a rich snob who would not help others. The idea was shot down by Erin, who never wanted to hear from Charlene again when she'd cut her out of her life so easily. Erin would never know the reasons as to why she had, but it was best that she did not know, the world of espionage not being one that she would be suited to.

She was one of the first to wake that morning, except from her mother who was already downstairs making breakfast. Mary would often try to rise earlier on a Sunday, to get herself ready before rushing the rest of the house out to church. Some Sundays, when the rain lashed the windows and the wind whipped in the back garden, the enthusiasm to be bothered to go to the place of worship was incredibly low. Church was more a way of life than something that a lot of them actually enjoyed, though none of them would ever say it. Anna was the most unconvinced about God or religion, truly wondering why they all congregated at the church on a Sunday, to worship someone they'd never even seen. She secretly hoped to find someone with the same mindset as her, the closest to having so being Michelle, although the young Mallon did still believe in God. Anna really did not know.

Rolling out of bed, Erin sighed loudly, her frustrations getting the better of her within minutes of waking up. They all were wary of her still, the moods showing no sign of passing and if the first few seconds of that Sunday morning were to go by, they would not be going anytime soon. Heading straight to her mirror, she took a long look at herself in it. There were still bags around her eyes, showing the world that she hadn't had the best night's sleep again, which was a regular occurrence since the moods began. Sleep deprivation was something that she'd suffered in the bleak few months following James' death too, but it was also something that crept up on her during the Autumn, though not exclusively everyday. Her nightdress showed off her figure somewhat, not that there was anyone there to admire it, she reminded herself. Memories often led her back to better mornings, or dreams as they mostly were, where she would wake up in his arms, almost certainly after a long night of making love. They were not arms that she would ever find herself in again, another sigh escaping at the thought. James was gone forever.

Sighing was better than crying, the negativity remaining but being shown in a different light. It was nearly a year since she'd lost him, the love of her life, but the days of her crying about the loss felt longer than that. There was a solace in some ways, knowing that he would never return alive rather than him being captured and rotting away in a prison camp. One lad from a couple of streets down was reported as captured, his parents distraught from the news received on a telegram from London. He was a young man of similar age to James, though nowhere near as handsome as her fella. Months passed since the man was reported as being captured, and his parents would still be seen in public crying. They didn't know what to do, being helpless as mother and father, to a son who was locked away from them and the rest of the world. Erin at least knew her James was dead… which was thankful, as if she knew the truth, then she would never have stopped trying to find him.

The majority of her frustrations that morning were from the sleeping arrangements that were hastily drawn up the night before. Shocked by the fire spreading like it had, having the effect of bringing her out of her mood, which none of the rest of them had ever been successful at, she did not mind sharing her bed with her cousin if it was necessary. They'd shared plenty of times before in their lives, Orla always enjoying it and, when she took away the negativity from her mind, Erin remembered that she enjoyed it to. Those were in the days long before the war and even before James, who was the only person she truly wanted to a share a bed with, outside of necessity. If she was going to have to with Orla though, it meant having Marie, and that was where the trouble began for the older Quinn sister. That was why she was fuming.

Putting those thoughts to the side for a moment, no adequate vessels for her to vent her frustrations on, she began to get changed instead of doing so after breakfast. Rushing around to get to church of all places was not ideal, so for once she decided to be prepared rather than wait until the last minute. Most families would wear their absolute best for church, but Gerry was not so bothered about them doing so, which meant that she often turned up in some of her older garments. She was fairly certain that the cardigan that she put around herself was worn by her grandmother or even her great grandmother, but Erin did not mind at all. On a cold day, which it was forecasted to be, it would keep her warm.

Orla and Marie were still asleep behind her, Erin looking at them in the corner of the mirror. Marie's little body was tucked right up against Orla's side, the two cuddling up together as they slept. Natural instinct must have taken over in the night, Erin knowing that they hadn't gone to bed cuddling in the way that they were. Her moods may have prevented her from being a member of the family that was well liked or even wanted at some points, but it didn't stop her from knowing how cute the pair of them looked as they were snuggling. Marie must have been very warm from the combined heating of the duvet and her Mammy, although it would only make her sleep sweeter. It was not like the height of the summer, where the humidity levels would be so high that just one occupant of a room at night was too many.

Trudging off downstairs with a growl, she nearly fell down them. The morning light yet to fully illuminate all areas of the house, Orla's uncarefully left shoes at the top of the stairs could have made the start of her day much less satisfying. She cursed her cousin's name quietly, raging that it was Orla's carelessness yet again that had nearly caused harm. Erin still struggled to make sense of how she'd started the fire in the first place, unable to understand how pigeons could be so distracting. The fighting between the birds could often be entertaining, but for someone who was regularly being praised for her attentiveness as a mother, Erin really couldn't see how Orla had become enthralled with the avian brawl. Her attention span must have dropped to a new low to become distracted that much.

Approaching the kitchen, Erin spotted the expected sight of her mother, watching the breakfast. She was tending to the bacon properly as it fried, which was clearly what Orla hadn't done the day before. In the frame of mind to pull Orla out of bed to drag her down to watch, Erin found herself contemplating the idea for far longer than she really should. After the tense, almost traumatic events of the prior day, her cousin had every right to be able to enjoy a bit of extra sleep. A reprieve was granted.

"Morning Erin, love". Mary called out to her.

"Morning Mammy". She huffed back, taking her spot at the table.

There was already a cup of tea waiting for her when she sat down, the faintest glimmer of a smile appearing across her face at it. Mary was just as attentive to her as she was the breakfast, beaming with happiness that she'd at least managed to get a smile from her eldest, when she would normally get absolutely nothing. However, when she backed away from the counter for a moment to talk to her, she noticed the bags around Erin's eyes, that Erin had seen herself upstairs. She looked to be ever so tired.

"Yer lookin' rough, love. Bad night's sleep?"

"Aye…".

Erin snapped far too quickly for Mary to just leave it alone, the blonde realising the second that she did that the wrong decision was made. There were going to be more questions asked by her mother, exactly what she did not want.

"Erin…".

"It was bad, alright? Do ye really want to know more?"

"With that attitude, aye, I think I do!"

The challenge between the two was the usual one which led to a furious argument, similar to the tone of voice that both had deployed the day before. Mary's patience with her behaviour was dwindling by the second, livid that her daughter would not even give her a proper answer to what was a simple question. Erin's nostrils were almost flaring like a bull as she stared back at her mother, preparing to give the answer that she'd been trying to hold back from her mother. For once, the answer was held back to stop an argument, rather than start one… but Mary's persistence prevented it.

"Marie started kicking me in the night".

Sharing the bed with Orla and Marie might have ensured that she was warm, but there were plenty of discomforts for Erin too. If she had to put a time on it, then it was around half past two that she became Marie's kicking bag. The little girl could hardly muster the sort of power that would cause her an injury, but the kicks were disruptive and did still leave a mark. Roling her skirt up slightly, she revealed the set of bruises on her legs to her mother, who was frowning at the sight of them. When they'd decided that Erin was going to have to share with the two of them, she hadn't thought that Marie kicking off in the night would be a problem. The adults main concern was Marie being flattened between the pair of them, the exact concern Sarah had held when Orla first started sharing with her daughter, but it was instead a different issue entirely that was raised from the first night spent together.

"She can't help that, can she? She's a wain". Mary tried to defend Marie's actions, conveying the opinion gently.

"What!?" Erin, expectedly, reared up. "She can help it! Why wasn't she kickin' Orla, why me!?"

There were two answers swirling in Mary's head to the question that Erin asked, one being a lot more provoking than the other. Her eldest didn't need any more provocation that morning though, already angry enough. The second of the two answers would be the one that was deployed, the far more diplomatic one.

"How do ye know she hasn't kicked Orla?" Mary asked. "Yer cousin might wake up with bruises herself…".

"Orla would have woken up already and told her off… but because it's me, no one cares!"

Reading between the lines of her reply, Mary sensed the emotion in her daughter's voice when she thought no one cared about her. It wasn't true that they didn't care about her as she cared for her daughter a lot, even if she did make it hard to be loved when she went off on one of her moods. Understanding the reason for the moods, or at least one of them, was something that only she and Gerry truly knew, and they cared that she did not fall any further into the darkness. The practical answer to her statement was that Orla probably didn't hear the kicking, though whether it was a smart answer was still to be discovered.

"Erin, ye know that's not true…".

"Do I?" She asked, angered still. "Because sometimes, I'm not sure!"

Her natural motherly instincts told her to rush forward and hug her daughter, yet Mary's feet stayed planted when asked to move. Her conscience was battling back against her, telling her that Erin was making their lives miserable with her nastiness, undeserving of affection when she was causing such upset. Silence would only prove the point to Erin, but it was all that Mary could muster, unable to find a better answer.

"See, ye don't care! I should have kicked Marie back, little b-".

"Erin Josephine Quinn!" Mary roared back at her. "Don't you DARE threaten our little Marie like that! How could you!?"

Mary's conscience appeared to be omnipotent too, as Erin's angry axe fell on Orla's wain next. An innocent little girl, Marie couldn't help kicking Erin in her sleep and if it was deliberate, she most likely did not understand the repercussions of doing so. Marie was not even two years old, something which Erin appeared to have forgotten. Orla might have been a brilliant mother, but no mother could be expected to have taught their daughter the art of sharing a bed with Erin and not kicking her by that age. She was a well mannered little girl usually, which was enough for the family to be contented with her development. Sadly, the self-centred young blonde did not see it that way at all.

"Why not!? Why do I have to suffer because she can't behave!" Erin shouted back.

"She can behave!" Mary stood her ground, anger ablaze across her face. "Marie can't be expected to know how to act in bed when she's sharin' with you's. We have to adapt though, Erin, do ye think my night was any better!?"

Erin was able to retain the luxury of her own bed, a luxury that Mary did not have. She ended up in with Anna, whose double bed came in handy when it would often seem to be too big for her to have alone. Delighted by having her mother in with her, Anna gained an introduction to Mary's snoring habits that night, which had woken her up on more than one occasion. Mary too was woken by Anna talking in her sleep, a trait she did not know that her youngest daughter possessed. Trying to make sense of what was being said, it sounded as if Anna was narrating her own dream. At the end of the story, Mary knew that she was experiencing a pleasant dream, though in the cold light of reality, it was tinged with sadness. Anna was out playing somewhere with Erin and James, the three of them having fun in the dream, acting as if they were a wee family of their own. Mary had to avoid snorting when, during the narration, Anna's voice became hesitant while explaining that Erin and James were kissing. Her awkwardness around the topic amused Mary greatly.

"Ye well at least you had Anna. She doesn't kick!" Erin argued, knowing so from sharing with her sister on more than one occasion.

"For Christ's sake Erin! Can ye not put up with it, this is only temporary!" Mary raised her voice again.

"No Mammy, I don't want to put up with it! I want my bed back and I want to be left alone!"

"Aye right, because leavin' ye alone has worked in the past!"

"What's that supposed to mean!"

Mother and daughter were once again arguing ferociously, for the second day running. If the walls were not as thick as they knew them to be, then the whole of the street would have heard the latest argument from the Quinn house. They were brilliant entertainment on some days, the family that appeared to always have the most drama in their lives alongside the McCool house next door. There were plenty of other dramas that occurred on the street, ranging from the sad deaths of servicemen to the rampant affairs of housewives, but none played out as openly as the scenarios from their houses. The majority of the street felt sorry for Gerry, despite him being a Southerner, as he appeared to be the only calm head amongst a crowd of amateur dramatists, apart from Anna who was admired by all.

Erin had thought that the only member of the house awake other than her was Mary when she made her way downstairs before starting the argument. Consequently, she'd failed to realise that her sister had woken with her mother, sat quietly in the living room, reading one of her books where she was perched on the floor. The aggressive, argumentative Erin was not the sister she loved, and once again, Anna was scared by her. Amazingly, for a girl who was not terrified at all of Sister Michael, she was petrified by the angrier version of her sister. Erin's wrath was yet to be cast in her direction that morning, but she'd deliberately avoided adding any further fuel to the fire of their argument, so she would not be hurt by any harsh words that would be uttered. When Mary suggested that her night in with her was bad, she did not take it to heart; being the smart young girl that she was, she knew she'd only said to pacify Erin… or at least that is what she thought.

However, she was also quick to realise that the argument between the two would have to be broken up again as it raged out of control. Whilst she might have been the only other member of the house awake downstairs, she was not the only other person present. Fast asleep on the sofa, Gerry was yet to be woken by the shouting, a miracle that Anna could not quite get her head around. Should the argument have been in her room, she knew she would have woken up. Gerry would have been able to provide the answer to her before he went to bed though. He drifted off into slumber knowing it would be a deep one after running around so much, attempting to house everyone for the night and making sure that they were safe. He knew too that his back would be aching when he woke, the sofa being one of the most uncomfortable places in the house to sleep, a balancing act required to not fall onto the floor.

Shaking his arm, Anna tried to stir him.

"Daddy…". She whispered.

"Daddy…".

A quiet groan fell from Gerry's lips, which Joe would have berated him for had he been present, indicating that the last thing that he wanted was to be woken that early. The clock was yet to get anywhere near seven, with the only light in the room emanating from the small candle next to Anna, which only really illuminated her and the book. Gradually, his eyes began to flicker open, a new day commencing.

"W-Wh… What… is it… Anna?". He slowly asked, his words slurred slightly.

"Mammy and Erin are arguin' again…".

A new day, an old problem. The battles between Mary and Erin were becoming a thing of legend within the house, the family and, to a lesser extent, the community, and Gerry had just about had enough of them. Always the one to play peacemaker to avoid them getting out of hand any further, he did not know where to start. Disappointment was one feeling within him, towards Erin and not his wife, especially when they were very considerate towards her. Like Mary, he knew a lot more than the rest of the family when it came to the reason for her vicious moods, and he'd always tried to tolerate them, but the third year of them was beginning to be too much. The two prior Autumn's were tough, the previous very tough with the added in factor of James' untimely demise thanks to the Italians. The third was managing to blow that out of the water entirely, the house feeling more tense than it had ever been. He did not want that tension to continue any longer.

The sound of him raising himself up from the sofa, Anna having returned to where she was reading, stopped the war of words temporarily in the kitchen. Mary's internal thoughts told her that she was going to cop just as much of an earful from Gerry as Erin was, even if she was the dominant force in the house. Gerry might have been happy to play second fiddle to her on the whole, but he too could become angry when he wanted to be. Being woken by the sounds of their shouting, though from being told of it rather than the words themselves, would leave him in a bad mood. Sunday mornings could often be a lie in for him, Mary prepared to do the early graft of getting everyone ready for church to allow him a rest.

Moving through to the kitchen, the still dazed Gerry managed to flash smiles to both his wife and eldest daughter, though Erin only glared in response. She was spoiling for a fight with him too, he could tell immediately, Gerry knowing that he would have to be at his diplomatic best himself to not get dragged in. Sometimes he wished he could argue it out with Erin to put her back in her place, yet whenever any of the others did, they rarely succeeded. Joe couldn't even successfully win a proper argument against her, such was the level of Erin's rage. He knew better than to try when the Patriarch himself could not win.

"Mornin' love". He said to Mary, leaning in to give her a kiss.

"Mornin". Mary replied after, in a low voice that signalled her distress from the argument with Erin.

After her reply, he turned to Erin to speak, but she immediately looked away. As moody as she was, Erin wasn't stupid; her Da was about to remind of her place in the house. In her younger years, Mary would have gone straight for the wooden spoon to stop any further arguments, but a different deterrent was required. Erin's moods were not a simple act of mischief that a few lashes of the spoon could fix to ensure that they would not happen again. Besides, they knew that it would be unfair with the knowledge that they had. They couldn't hit her… for that.

"Erin… are ye well?" Gerry enquired softly.

"Aye, fine!" She snapped again, still refusing to make eye contact.

A hush descended upon the room after, Gerry exchanging a look with his wife, Mary confirming with her eyes that it was another one of those mornings. He didn't need the confirmation, Anna's word being enough, but he could at least see what another terrible morning with his eldest was doing to his wife. The end of Mary's tether was long passed by Erin.

"Is this mine, love?" He asked Mary, pointing to the fresh cup of tea on one of the counters to the side of her.

"Aye".

Another quiet reply was forcing him to wake quicker, readying himself for the talk that he would have to give Erin. A sip of tea helped him in his endeavour, the blistering heat from it helping to shock him into full consciousness. He was hardly dressed for such a talk, stood in the kitchen in just a thin shirt and striped bottoms, looking more like a sailor dressed for bed from a century or more before. It would have to do though, and as he looked around the plain wallpapered interior of the kitchen, a plan began to form in his head of how he would tackle the situation with wife and daughter.

Mary still feared him laying into her a little, shuffling uncomfortably on the spot next to him. She had every right to, as he was not entirely pleased with her for her role in the continued tension. Although Erin was always spoiling for an argument regardless of who the recipient of her ire was, every single time his wife appeared to be dragged into one. He was far better at stopping it from proceeding, Anna and Orla equally being adept at the technique too. Even though she would become incredibly frustrated with her friend, Gerry had seen firsthand that Michelle could put the brakes on words with Erin to stop them having a full blown argument. With her own ego telling her that she could not back down, Mary did not have the same ability. She almost seemed to want the arguments as much as Erin did, if only to attempt to remind her daughter of who ruled the house.

"Anna tells me that ye've been havin' words…".

Erin's head shot round into the living room, finally noticing her little sister. Anna's wide, puppy-like eyes were staring back at her in fear, to which she responded with a scowl to tell her sister that she would be having words with her later. The gulp that Anna produced at her sister's angered facial expressions could be heard by Gerry, the cue for him to turn on Erin, ready to sternly remind her of the respect that she should have had for her sister.

"Don't you look at Anna like that Erin!" He reprimanded her. "She's yer sister, show her some respect!"

"But she…". Erin tried to argue, though more in a cry than out of anger.

"She did the right thing, Erin. You'll apologise… now".

Closing her eyes, a mix of rage, frustration but also melancholy, Erin took a moment to consider whether she would agree to her father's instruction. The darkened side of her told her to say no, to remain in control of the situation where she would win the argument against her parents, the two of them leaving her alone. Within her conscience though were reminders of the times where Anna had been kind to her at her lowest, offering herself up as a warm wee body to be able to cuddle when she cried. When she could be at her worst, offending everyone from Joe to Michelle, her little sister would still offer her a hug if she wanted one. She couldn't let their relationship, which had been so strong when she was with James too, crumble because of her own issues. Anna was too young to be told, even if she would most likely understand… she couldn't fall out with her because she didn't know all the details.

Turning her head back out to where Anna was sat in the living room, peering out over the top of her book, Erin for once gave a sincere answer.

"I shouldn't have been mean to ye, Anna… I'm sorry".

Dropping the book completely, Anna gave her sister a big grin, indicating that there were no hard feelings remaining between them. She no longer feared her older sister, understanding the genuine sincerity of the apology that she was given. Longing to know the truth of why Erin was so moody, Anna put it to one side, for another day when she could ask properly and hopefully have the truth bestowed upon her. That day would never come though… Erin would make sure of it.

"That's alright, Erin. Do ye want a cuddle?"

She would have loved one at that moment, if only to escape from the telling off she was about to get from her father, but it would have been a childish manoeuvre. Erin was going to have to face up to him sooner or later, and it was better to get it out of the way early so that it did not make the rest of the day any more tense than it had to be.

"Later Anna, I'll come and see ye".

The flash of a curved lipped smile was a rare sight from the moodier Erin that prowled the house in the Autumnal month, Anna being the lucky recipient. There was no hint of mistruth in the answer that she gave her sister, Erin fully intending to hug her little sister to her heart's content. She would do so before they went out to church to, the offer too good to wait until she'd had to pray and sing the same hymns she'd been singing for years. If she could have gotten out of going to church completely then she would have spent a whole hour or so cuddling her sister, but that would not go down well with her parents, or Joe.

Gerry was pleased that she'd been able to break her mood for a moment to apologise to Anna. He'd worried that in the brief pause between him asking her to apologise and Erin actually doing so, that she would kick off about it. It certainly wouldn't have been a surprise considering how volatile that Erin was, but it would have been even more disappointing had she done so. He did not want to constantly think of his daughter as a disappointment when it came to her behaviour, but it was very difficult not to when her prerogative was to be ready for an argument at all hours of the day. When it came to arguments, the one between Mary and Erin was still unresolved, which was where his attention returned to.

"Now, what were the two of ye havin' words about this mornin'?"

Mary looked straight to her eldest, hoping that she would have the guts to tell her father why she'd managed to get her mother so riled up. From the young woman that was ready to take on anyone who was unlucky enough to fall into her trap, a pensive look was returned. Already angry with herself for upsetting Anna, one of her true allies in the world, Erin was beginning to return to her normal self when she'd overextended herself. Changing her nature was impossible, she would often get into situations and disagreements where she was in over her head, but when she realised it, Erin would go quiet and start to become upset. The same thing was happening again, and although Gerry never liked to see her become upset, he was secretly glad. The real Erin was shining through the dark cracks of the moody one.

As Erin would not answer, Mary decided to fill her husband in.

"Erin didn't have the best nights of sleep…". She began calmly, before changing her tone to a sneer. "… it appears she isn't too fond of the sleeping arrangements."

Assuming that Gerry would take her side without hesitation, after having worked so tirelessly to ensure that they all had somewhere to sleep for the night, Mary was sorely mistaken. Internally, he was aggrieved to hear that his hard work was going unappreciated, especially when Erin hadn't complained the night before when she'd been told of them. He was no fool though, and even when there were no complaints, he knew that it would not be pleasant for Erin at least, as well as himself. Sharing with Orla and Marie was never going to be easy, expecting the problem to be with Orla throwing her arms out and catching Erin in the face. He was in for a bit of a surprise.

"And…". It was Mary who spoke again. "… she wasn't happy with Marie having a wee kick of her in the night. Are ye goin' to tell yer father about what ye were going to do, Erin?"

Glancing to his wife, Gerry noticed how angry she'd become from asking the question. He hadn't heard what was said earlier on in the kitchen, being fast asleep before Anna woke him, therefore he was not yet privy to what Erin had planned to do. Taking his focus away from his wife and placing it onto his daughter, he was drawn to her glowing red cheeks. Whatever it was that Erin had planned, it was clear to him that in her calmer state, she was embarrassed and possibly regretting her thoughts from the middle of the night.

"Erin…". He prodded, the reply still not having arrived.

"I… I… I w-… I was…". She stuttered. "I… I…".

"She was going to kick little Marie back, so she was".

Mary decided to answer her own question when Erin began to flail. The statement came as a shock to Gerry, the feelings of disappointment that he'd tried to put to the back of his mind, flying forward once again. His thought process was the same as his wife's; Marie was not even two years old, she couldn't help kicking out in her sleep whether it was deliberate or not. They didn't even need to know which way, as either way was still acceptable when her age was taken into account. Details of the whole night were not needed for Gerry too, as the thought that Erin admitted alone was enough for her to be spoken to about.

"Erin… is this true?"

With the combined glares of both of her parents, Erin could not lie her way out of the situation. Anna could have heard what was said to, now that she knew that her little sister was awake and downstairs with them, which left her outnumbered should she opt to lie. Lies usually had a way of being found out in their household, in no small part thanks to the detective-like instinct that Mary carried with her. Erin truly regretted her dark thoughts of the middle of the night, where her frustration from being interrupted in her sleep, combined with that of her already foul mood, to provide an answer that was despicable. As much as she might not have in the early hours of the morning, she truly loved little Marie and would never seriously consider harming her.

"A… Aye". She sighed.

In years gone by, she would have immediately followed the confirmation with some form of caveat, an attempt to not fully take all the blame on her shoulders. That side of her was lost though, deliberately that morning because she knew it would be childish not to face up to her words. She'd been stupid enough to utter them, and even more foolish to have told her mother about what she was going to do…she deserved any punishment that was to be given to her.

"Erin…". Gerry sighed again, a sigh which brought tears to his daughter's eyes. "… yer an adult. I know ye… ye struggle at this time of the year but this has to stop. Marie is a wain, a wain that doesn't understand why she shouldn't kick out at night. Ye can't kick her back just because she's annoyin' ye".

Gerry's words were painstakingly soft, upsetting Erin even more than she already was. There was a reason that he was doing it though. If Mary was the one to be telling her off, as she'd attempted to earlier on, it would be angry, harsh words, delivered with insults of her own most likely. That was the way in which Mary liked to take command of the house, whereas her father became more diplomatic in dealing with arguments that would flare up. For Gerry to properly lose his temper, like on the night of the bombing when Joe had been unable to prevent Erin from running off, it took a lot more than a meaningless comment made in frustration. He was not letting her get away with what she'd said at all, but equally he was drawing a line in the sand as such that morning so that the argument would not leave that room.

Waiting for a response from his daughter, Gerry looked at her with inviting eyes that only wished for her to say sorry. He needed the response rather quickly though, as Mary served up Erin's breakfast to her during the seconds of waiting. His would be along shortly after too and wishing to start it in peace, he added a warm smile to his stare to try to coax an answer out of her. A wise decision it was, as Erin replied almost immediately.

"I'm sorry Daddy…". Erin gave her second apology of the morning. "… I… I didn't mean it… I… I was just annoyed… b-b… because she interrupted me… I'm sorry!"

Reaching out, Gerry took her hand in his and squeezed it gently. Erin had broken out into tears during her reply to him, a novelty in the Autumn when the only tears were only usually uttered when she thought of James. When it came to arguments, there was only ever rage. Gerry wished that the Englishman was there to comfort her himself, which would have been the most ideal scenario for everyone involved, but the Italians had seen to it that he was the man left to comfort his daughter. A lot of her problems could have been solved by the love of another man, he'd already mused to himself many times, but it was a suggestion that he knew would be met with fury. There was absolutely no need to upset Erin anymore than she already was.

Mary offered her daughter a handkerchief, a tear-laden smile on her face indicating that her own annoyance was gone, and that she too was willing to accept her daughter's apology. Cooking breakfast while Gerry spoke to their daughter had allowed her to calm herself down somewhat as well, and she'd came to the conclusion that her initial reaction to Erin's comment was wrong too. She'd only enflamed the situation by angrily having a go back at her, when the more considered approach that Gerry decided upon taking was clearly the far superior option. She was not always a forgiving woman, but following her husband's example, Mary would not hold any grudge against Erin and therefore continue their disagreement.

"Gerry!"

Annoyance was to be found in other areas for Gerry, though it was only a brief annoyance that he would be interrupted before being able to start his breakfast. Sarah had spent the night in his and Mary's bed, the two of them having vacated it so that she could have the comfort that was needed with her still healing leg. Having to get her up the stairs the night before was an interesting challenge, albeit one Orla held plenty of knowledge of, having done so with Joe every night to get Sarah to bed in the McCool house. Joe's regimented way of doing it worked well, but the same strict discipline was not as easy to recreate when he was not there. The Quinn's stairs were a lot steeper despite the houses being of the same design, a point of contention that Joe made every time he had to walk up them. It was Orla's voice that could be heard, Gerry's name ringing out through the house, telling him that her mother was ready to make her way downstairs for something to eat.

"I'm comin' Orla!" He shouted up to her.

Natural light was finally starting to make its way into the house, which did at least stop him having to take Mary along to hold a candle too. It would have been quite the debacle to attempt to carry Sarah down the stairs with only the light of a candle for them to see where they were going. He did still need an assistant though, but with Mary cooking and Erin eating, Anna was going to have to be the one to accompany him.

"Anna, could you come with me, please?"

Nodding excitedly, not knowing what her Daddy wanted her for, Anna jumped up so quickly that she almost knocked the candle over. Mary happened to be watching at the time, her heart in her mouth for a couple of seconds. They'd already seen one of their homes set alight that weekend, they couldn't afford to have another fall to the flames as well.

The two of them rushed off upstairs to help Sarah on her way down them, leaving Mary and Erin alone in the kitchen. Erin ate her breakfast through choked tears, wiped away intermittently by the handkerchief that Mary had given her. From her position behind her daughter, Mary could have started crying herself at the strangled sobs of her eldest. She was a young woman that had been through so much hardship, and at not quite twenty one years old, it was almost unfair with what she'd had to go through. Some of the incidents were not spoken of in the house, but losing the love of her life in James was perhaps the hardest of all. For an Englishman to be liked in Derry, a miracle was needed, but the incredible miracle that James was, he was perhaps one of the most liked men in the city altogether, certainly by the women. When he had almost a whole city of suitors, willing to see past his nationality, they were incredibly lucky that he'd chosen their Erin to be the one that he gave his love to. That love turned to heartbreak when he was killed in action, the destructive news that nearly sent Erin over the edge. As much as she could be so incredibly horrible and moody, Mary knew that her daughter was still suffering from the horrible hand she'd been dealt. If it would have been Gerry that had died, she didn't know if she would have fared any better.

The sound of the stairs creaking soon dominated the house. The slow procession of getting Sarah down the stairs, which was almost akin to a King or Queen being carried over muddy ground by servants, was not a quiet one. Gerry was on her right side and Orla was on her left, and between them, they had her hoisted up so that the weight was not on her legs. She would have to start getting used to putting weight on them again, but she was not at the stage of her recovery to have reached that point yet. Sarah McCool was not a particularly heavy woman, but regardless of how heavy she was, the way in which they were carrying her down the stairs was always going to be difficult.

"You alright Orla". Gerry asked, making sure she was comfortable.

"Aye I'm grand, Uncle Gerry. I'm used to it, so I am".

They continued at the same pace all the way down, never speeding up even though they probably could. If they were to drop Sarah, then the risk of injuring her leg further would have been very high, especially when she could have rolled down the stairs. Her recovery had been relatively stress free, and they were not prepared to change that.

Behind them, Anna was completing her task which Gerry had brought her up for. With Orla busy helping to support her mother, Marie was left alone. At the McCool house, she was told to stay in her room and wait until Sarah was downstairs, Orla always returning to retrieve her the second that she was. With more bodies in the Quinn house though, she could make her way down the stairs along with her mother. Anna was to escort her down, to make sure that Marie didn't trip up or struggle down them, still being so young. Taking little Marie's hand in hers, Anna held onto her tightly, acting as a support in the same way that Orla and Gerry were for Sarah. Another sign of her incredible maturity for a five year old, Gerry was ever so proud of her.

"I can smell breakfast, so I can". Sarah chirped delightedly.

"It'll be yours in a minute, Sarah, let's get ye on that sofa". Gerry responded with a chuckle.

Her destination was going to be the same one as it was in the McCool house, when it wasn't on fire, with the comfortable sofa of the Quinn's providing her the space to stretch her leg out. Looking out from the kitchen, where the sobs were beginning to stop, Erin smiled towards the group of them heading into the living room, earning a smile back from her father. They would no doubt talk again later on that day, most likely after church, time that he would give to her for her to either open up to him or just cuddle him. She might have been in her twenties, but she was still very much his little girl that used to give him cuddles when she was around Anna's age. He loved her too much to say no to her.

"Mornin' Mary!" Sarah shouted the greeting. "That bacon smells cracker, so it does!"

"Aye, mornin' Sarah! Don't you worry, it'll be with ye in a minute".

Gerry's breakfast was served up and waiting for him, with Sarah's being served up as Mary spoke. They'd been allowed some additional rations after the fire, the McCool household having lost nearly all of theirs thanks to it. Banding together, the rest of the community also shared some of their rations for the next couple of days, until the McCool's could be rehoused. The house was not going to be in any condition to live in for a while, and until it was, accommodation was required. They certainly couldn't keep the same sleeping arrangements as the night before, which were already annoying Erin and would most likely only annoy her more over a sustained period. Gerry hoped that the council would act quickly, though it could never be trusted that they actually would.

Sarah was carefully hoisted down onto the sofa where Gerry had spent the night, Anna and Marie working together to take his blanket away. Considering it was October, the night was luckily quite warm, warm enough for him to get away with just the one blanket rather than two or three. The girls dragged it away to the corner of the room, Anna being careful to avoid her candle whilst also keeping Marie well away from it. None of them knew whether Orla had given her daughter the talk about not putting her hand in the fire, and Anna certainly wasn't ready to risk it. Gerry couldn't help but grin whilst he lowered Sarah, pleased by their work as a team. His family so often made him proud, but he could rarely say it, Joe always waiting for him with a comment if he did. That morning was a rare chance, but so caught up in just how beautiful it was, he forgot to say anything to them.

"Yer bed's so comfy, so it is". Sarah said, her eyes focused on Gerry.

"It's been a good servant to us, hasn't it love?" He said sweetly, looking for Mary's agreement.

"Sure it has been fantastic, so it has". She did indeed agree, with more to add. "Plenty of cold nights have been survived in it".

"I bet". Sarah scoffed. "I can see why you chose it, I bet sex is cracker in it".

With Sarah forgetting herself momentarily, Mary almost dropped the plate she was holding when she heard what her sister had said. Gerry was just as shocked too, a stunned silence descending upon the whole household as Erin and Orla's mouths hung open. There were certain topics that were not to be discussed around the wains, and sex was one of them. The smart and resourceful Anna already had a fair idea of what it was, without knowing all of the details, but Marie was not aware at all. She was also quite a curious little girl, a fact which alluded her grandmother when she made the comment.

"What's sex?"

Gerry's hands immediately went over his face. He might have been the best peacemaker in the house, and the best person to stop any ridiculous situations arising, but he couldn't begin to fathom an answer to little Marie's question. She was far too young to know of anything of that ilk, a distant bridge that wouldn't need to be crossed for at least another ten years. Yet Sarah's mouth put them in a position where they were going to have to come up with some kind of answer to satisfy Marie's curiosity. Anna certainly wasn't going to answer either, her parents unaware of her prior knowledge on the matter, though it was more deduction than something she'd actually learnt. As well as Sister Bernadette's terrible habit of keeping salacious material hidden at the back of the classroom, which was nowhere near as well hidden as she thought.

Everyone turned to Mary to provide an answer, apart from Sarah who looked the other way, realising what she'd done, sporting a red face. She certainly wasn't going to be atoning for her mistaken slip of the tongue, so it would be up to her sister to do so on her behalf.

"Marie… ye don't need to know what that is…". Mary told her, kneeling down to meet her face to face.

"But I want to know". Marie stated, pulling a funny face at Mary. "What's sex?"

The question stung the ears out of everyone in the room when it was put across again, Marie failing to accept Mary's attempt to avoid having to provide an answer. If she told her that she was too young, Mary was well aware that Marie would keep asking until she was old enough, which would be incredibly mortifying if the question was asked out in public, especially church. An answer was going to have to be given, but the right one for the occasion was non-existent. There was no pre-defined way of explaining sex to a two year old girl, nobody ever having thought of needing to have to. Their family was defying logic, not for the first time in its history.

"Marie… sex… is… it…".

Mary's cheeks were glowing vibrantly redder the further she got into the explanation, pausing after every word to try to gain composure.

"It… it's a special… act… between two people when… when they love each other a lot. Like… me and Gerry…".

"Oh…". Marie responded wondrously, the information burning into her head. "… I see".

"But ye mustn't tell anyone outside the house that you know". Mary quickly added a crucial point. "Some people would be very angry if you knew".

"I understand".

Nodding her head vigorously, Marie was delighted to have gained access to a secret which not many other people appeared to know. She knew to respect Mary, so she would not repeat the definition nor her knowledge of it to anyone, knowing the repercussions if she did. The wooden spoon had only made a couple of appearances around Marie in her short time span of life, though tales of it from Orla and Erin made her fear it enough to behave almost always. As well as no one ever being old enough to face the spoon, no one was young enough to either. A weapon for all the ages.

Turning towards Anna to tell her the same, she raised up her hand to tell her Mammy that she was wasting her breath, and that she wouldn't repeat the knowledge either. Her mother's answer to Marie was only a further confirmation to what she knew anyway.

With new and exciting knowledge in her mind though, Marie was going to repeat it inside the house even if she couldn't outside. The rest of them did not know how her mind worked, her still developing brain that was adapting to every new sight and sound of the world that she lived in. Making a beeline for her mother, Orla spotted her coming and bent down, swooping her up in her arms to lift her up so that the two were next to each other. Holding her daughter out in front of her chest, she gazed adoringly over the soon to be two year old, finding a similar warmth in her eyes to what she saw in David's when they were together. Their daughter being so much like the pair of them, in some many ways, was a testament to their undying love which could even extend beyond the grave in his case.

What David would never have predicted, nor wanted, was the scenario that came about courtesy of his daughter's mouth in the following minute. Fresh from finding out the definition of sex from Mary, she was ready to explore the meaning even further.

"Mammy, do you love me a lot?" She enquired honestly.

Gerry had a horrible feeling he knew what was going to happen as soon as the words left little Marie's mouth. This time he had to stop anything further being said, before it properly got out of control.

"N…".

But he was too slow.

"That's silly, so it is Marie… ye know that I love ye".

"Then can we do sex".

An already diabolical situation got far worse when the wain spoke up again. Orla couldn't quite believe what she'd heard when the question came, never expecting to be propositioned by her two year old daughter. They were straying into territory that would have them arrested if anyone outside of the family found out about what was going on, even though nothing had, out of the sheer fear of them being strange types. A family of questionable decisions, but unquestionable morality, they would never have their reputations smeared because of a misunderstanding. Gerry desperately needed to take a grasp of the situation, to steer the conversation elsewhere. It was possible for him to do so and for Marie not to think of it any longer, if he acted swiftly enough to prevent any further escalation.

Fate took the decision out of the southern man's hands though.

It did indeed get worse.

"What the hell is going in here!?"

Caught up in the delicate scenario of trying not to expose Marie completely to words and actions that her brain did not require knowledge of for some years to come, all of their ears had seemingly gone to sleep. Creeping in through the front door, and by creeping it was more that he hadn't called out to say morning to them rather than him tiptoeing, Joe walked in and was greeted with the question that Marie posed to Orla, that left the rest of the adults in the room wishing they were somewhere else. Sarah tried not to even open her eyes, such was her mortification about starting the whole issue off accidentally in the first place. Her big mouth was about to land them all in a lot of trouble.

"Oh feck…".

Mary and Erin whispered in unison from their positions on one side of the room, both very much anticipating what was to come. Erin dared a glance over to the person in the room who would face Joe's abuse, their identity going without saying for the rest of the room.

"You!" He shouted, pointing at Gerry. "What sort of… disgusting… harem are ye tryin' to run in this house!"

"Joe, there's been a wee misunder-".

"Misunderstanding!?" Joe reared up, cutting Gerry off. "I tell ye Gerry, there's goin' to have to have been one hell of a misunderstanding for me to have heard what I've just heard. The standards in this place!"

Thrashing his arms around wildly, Joe was completely livid, and Gerry was to blame. Gerry was the only reason he ever regretted grieving over his wife for so long, the southern shite slipping into the family when he was distracted, unchallenged as far as he was concerned. It was the greatest mistake of his life in many ways, outside of his service in the Great War, and one he would never forgive himself for. Across the border they might have involved their families in… that … from a young age, but he was not about to let it happen in his family. Although they may not have held the financial power of the Kavanagh's, the Quinn's and McCool's were respected as integral parts of the community. He would not lower their standing because of Gerry's heinous Free State ways.

"Sarah had a slip of the tongue and we've had to… explain it… in a way that Marie would understand". Gerry tried to explain, knowing it was more than likely in vain.

"Big Man! Blaming my daughter for yer shortcomings!"

"Joe I haven't…".

"I won't have this Free State behaviour infiltratin' my family!" Joe continued to shout at him. "What are ye tryin' to do to poor Marie, ye lousy shitebag!"

"Swearing in front of her isn't helping, Joe".

His point might have been an incredibly valid one, but Gerry wasn't making it any easier for himself by talking back to Joe. If Marie started swearing in front of other members of the community, then it would do their standing harm as well, albeit less so than her asking the local knitting group for sex. Mary locked eyes with her fella and shook her head. It appeared Joe was correct after all; she'd married an eejit.

"You talkin' back to me, boy!?"

Joe took a step closer to Gerry, a silent challenge to combat that the other man recognised. He might have been some years older than his son in-law, but Gerry hadn't been in the military like Joe had. The techniques of his younger years that had helped him to survive, never left him, practice and practical use having left them in his muscle memory for the rest of his life.

"No Joe, I was merely tryi-".

"Ach, erm, hello there, is there anyone about?"

Gerry was interrupted again, beginning to tire of the interruptions if he was honest, although Joe was not the culprit for once. The voice belonged to the saviour of the prior day, who was a knight in shining armour to Sarah.

Looking over at the last of the breakfast rations that were cooking, for Orla and Marie, Mary was less than pleased with Shane's arrival at the house. As she did when anyone entered her house, she automatically assumed that he would want breakfast too. Michelle and Clare would almost always have something whenever they arrived that early in the morning, and it wouldn't change with rationing or not.

"What do people think this is, a feckin' tearoom!?" She angrily whispered to herself.

Jumping to conclusions in her head, it proved to be a good idea that Mary hadn't orated her thoughts, as he hadn't come round for breakfast. Shane had already eaten before he left for the Quinn house, up early as he always was. His job called for him to be used to being both awake and asleep at all times of the day, which left him having to be domesticated in the same way that Gerry was. He could certainly rustle up a rationed meal in the early hours of the morning without any assistance whatsoever.

"Come through Shane!" Sarah called out to him, already overjoyed from hearing his voice.

Gerry could have hugged him when he walked through, because Joe's focus on him was completely interrupted by the fireman's arrival. Joe was very suspicious of Shane, as he was of any man who tried to position himself at the hand of one of his daughters. Proof of what happened when he took his eye of the ball came in the living kind, the slack southern shite stood in the living room. He wasn't about to let the Belfast man walk into Sarah's life without a stern examination first. They'd already been past the stage of the handshake test, which Shane hadn't passed on the first occasion, James retaining his crown as the only man to have ever done so.

"Hello there, are ye alright?"

Shane was a polite man if anything, Joe could never deny him that. Although there was mistrust of the outsider on the patriarch's part, he already liked him more than Gerry because he wasn't Gerry. There was no one in the country he could dislike more than the gobshite that married his daughter, other than Maureen Malarkey. She was the spawn of the devil in his eyes. He could make Shane uncomfortable if he wanted to, but he, like the rest of them, was far more interested in what he was actually there for.

"We're grand, so we are, Shane". Orla answered for them all, still holding Marie.

"Glad to hear it". He smiled at her, before tilting his head slightly to look to where Sarah was sat. "Are you alright now, Sarah?"

With an instinctive flick of her wrist, she beckoned him over. He moved over without too much thought either, not missing the look of disdain he received from Joe. While Gerry was always kept in his place by Joe's stare, Shane wasn't scared by him at all. He hadn't been exposed to it in his younger years like Gerry had though, which left him far more resolute when he caught it for the first time. Shane certainly wasn't going to be perturbed by Joe watching him the whole time, especially when he and Sarah were barely even friends, let alone anything else going on between them.

"I prefer ye on this sofa than the one yesterday…". Shane joked when he locked eyes with Sarah, stopping just in front of her. "… no beams to avoid, aye".

"Aye that's right". She giggled in reply, poorly trying to hide her growing feelings for the man.

"Did ye sleep well then? I imagine it's been tough tryin' to fit everyone in?"

Comments on her own night's sleep had been the source of the eventual flare up between Joe and Gerry, and the sensible adults of the room were praying it would not happen again. Erin was already eying up the back door out to the garden, to escape to if tensions were to rise again. Orla was having a good look in that direction too for her own escape. Both were very glad that Michelle hadn't turned up, as she would have made merry hell of the situation that played out in the Quinn household that morning.

"I had a cracker night's sleep in Mary and Gerry's bed, so I did… but I don't know where I'll be sleepin' tonight".

"Well we have to give the council time…". Gerry piped up.

"I wouldn't trust those eejits as far as I could throw them!" Joe spoke up too, though rather more angrily. "We'll have to sort somethin' out ourselves, so we will".

"If yer strugglin', I have room at my place".

Shane's decision to make the offer was just as foolish as any Gerry had ever made in his life when he shared a room with Joe. Offering the space at his own home was done so out of kindness, rather than any other motive, not that Joe saw it that way. He'd seen the way that his daughter looked at the fella, and though he hadn't seen similar looks back, he was already of the opinion that Shane's intentions were more to get Sarah into his bed than to have them sheltered for the night. A man who'd experienced the tense silence before the storm that Joe would follow with, Gerry shot Shane a comforting smile. He was going to need it.

"You makin' moves on my daughter!?" Joe spat the accusation. "Now you listen here son, I thank ye for savin' her from my burnin' house yesterday, but if ye think that means yer owed, then ye can think again ye crafty f-".

"Da!" Mary warned. "Not in front of the children!"

"Sorry love, I can't help it when a chancer like him! …". His finger was thrown out in Shane's direction like a knife. "Tries to make merry with yer sister!"

A sigh, which Gerry thought would be the first of many, was uttered by Shane. He really wasn't the man Joe assumed he was, offended by the suggestion that he was trying to be anything other than friendly. His original offer had extended to Joe too, though he was strongly considering withdrawing him from it due to how he spoke to him.

"Mr McCool, I'm not doing anything of the sort. I was only suggesting that perhaps, if we can get Sarah safely over to my place, that she can have my room and Orla and little Marie here can share the spare".

"What about Granda?" Orla asked Shane directly.

"He could have taken the sofa and I'd have taken the floor but…".

"Don't ye worry about me love…". Joe softened his tone for Orla, though quickly reverted back to his suspicious state with Shane. "… I'm sorted for the night, so I am. I wouldn't want to share a room with this eejit anyway".

Shane could only utter a laugh at the description, a complete inaccuracy when it came to his character, but one that had to be expected from Joe, not that he knew. An education in how to behave around Joe McCool was being handed to him unexpectedly that morning, when all he really wanted to do was make sure that Sarah was alright before he went home. He wasn't due to start back at work until the next day, and his last day of freedom before it was not proceeding as peacefully as he would have liked.

"I think I might be able to walk a little, if I'm supported". Sarah spoke up before Joe could say any more. "It's really kind of ye to offer Shane, ye shouldn't have".

"It's grand, so it is". Orla came to her mother's aid, again stopping Joe from interceding. "Me and Marie won't cause ye any trouble Shane, I promise!"

Laughing at the statement, he dipped his head slightly to acknowledge his thanks to Orla, who was showing the level of respect that her Granda could not. On the other side of the room, Erin was already beginning to celebrate in her head, looking likely to have her room all to herself again that night. She wouldn't have to worry about Marie bruising her legs with her kicks again, which was a most welcome thought.

"That's settled then…". Mary spoke up to draw the conversation to a conclusion. "… after church we'll get yer stuff together, Sarah, and we can get ye over to Shane's this afternoon".

"I can go with that". Shane smiled at her too, lips curved up sharply. "I look forward to seein' ye then".

Sarah suddenly found herself under his intense stare, cursing her broken leg. If it wasn't strapped up, she'd have pulled him down and kissed the life out him for both his kindness and his handsomeness. In only a short time of knowing him, she'd already accepted the truth; she quite fancied the fella, stirring thoughts of her school days when she would be so enamoured with a lad. It had been some time since she'd been as smitten as she was with him, but Shane made her feel youthful, which was incredible for her when she was laid out on the sofa, leg broken. She should have felt anything but.

Making his way out, Shane was passing by Joe, when the older man leant in towards him. He wasn't going to be getting away with it that easy.

"I've got my eye on you, boy".

Despite being unable to hear what was said from where he was stood, Gerry had a fair idea of what was being spoken about between the two. Shane might not have been put in his place by Joe as he was on a regular basis, but he wasn't going to be left alone either. Joe might have been out of line at times, yet he was never anything but consistent in his questioning. He was a tough man to know, tougher to love, though still a very good man to have as a family member.

Gerry was well down the path with him; Shane's journey had just begun.

As soon as the fireman left, Sarah being dismayed by his departure having thoroughly enjoyed every moment of his company, Mary decided to do something for the good of them all. There was a danger that Joe's distraction would disappear to leave him free to lay into Gerry again following what he'd heard Marie asking Orla.

"So, where were you sleepin' last night, Da… was it Pump Street by any chance?"

Joe couldn't always have it his way.

---

Six…

Seven…

Eight…

Alone in the room that housed him away from the world, Captain James Maguire completed another session of pull ups. He was quite the muscular gentleman now, thanks to the bar above his bedroom in the isolated chamber, a gentleman that was dreaming of a day when he could return home, which looked ever so remote. The feeling of generally good health was a surprising one when he was a prisoner of war, but the Italians had always kept him well fed and ensured he was clean, preventing him from wasting away like many prisoners would. He'd washed earlier that morning, the assistants bringing along a spare bucket full of water that he could clean himself with. There were days that they would not, the Englishman going to bed unclean, but those days were rare. More often than not, they allowed him to remain hygienic.

Throughout that day his mind turned to what was to come, or at least what Professor Molinari had told him. Time elapsed so strangely in the room, that it felt as if it was a year since the Professor told him that he would be interrogated by another man, the Italians believing him to be a spy. After being as honest and truthful with the Professor as he could have been, it was a kick in the teeth to find himself suspected of espionage. He would serve his country in whatever way it wished him to, but to serve as a spy required specific training and skills that he hadn't developed at all. A pilot through and through, it was in the air where James was deadly, not spying on the ground as the Italians thought.

The supposed torturer, Molinari insinuating that they would be, was yet to arrive, the main frustration for him. If he was going to be put through excruciating pain before being killed when they realised he was of little use, then he wished for it sooner rather than later. The hope of ever getting back home was almost vanquished by the announcement of the torturer, yet it still remained agonisingly diminutive whilst the man was yet to turn up. He'd also considered whether Molinari was lying to him too, to present even more false hope that there could be a way out of his predicament through death. The spectacle-wearing Professor had gone from being one of his only sources of companionship in the world to his enemy, James holding genuine hatred for the man. He hadn't ever wanted to kill a man as much as he did the Italian, for what he perceived as a betrayal when they'd previously held a good working relationship. Molinari barely ever showed his face, not that he would be spoken to anyway, only making the Englishman wonder whether he would ever escape his imprisonment.

Fifteen…

Sixteen…

Before his seventeenth pull up out of a schedule twenty five, James stopped, hearing footsteps coming down the corridor. The footsteps were too light for it to be Molinari or the assistants, which meant that they could only belong to Giovanna, who was due for her daily visit. The nurse's daily visit to him was, surprisingly, the strangest part of his occupation in Molinari's basement. Ever since her very strange introduction to him the week before, she had fallen into a routine that he understood but found… odd. She never knew when Molinari and the assistants might follow her, to check that she was conducting herself accordingly. James told her on that very first occasion that he no longer needed any medical supervision, leaving her with nothing to do when she got there. Instead, she would simply go into the room and stand in the corner, in complete silence, for ten minutes. At first he'd asked what she was doing, but when she didn't respond, he worked it out for himself. When the ten minutes were up, she would leave as if it was a job well done. The tension was incredibly high during those ten minutes, tenser than Molinari's now fleeting visits.

It didn't bother James too much though, as she was never rude to him in those visits, just silent. The last words that she'd uttered to him were in telling him that he was beautiful. Although he did not need the words to be followed up on, having Erin at home waiting for him if he could escape, he would have liked to have at least spoken to the Italian nurse a little more. He couldn't deny her beauty, ranking only second to his Erin in the most beautiful women that he'd ever seen. The image of her tanned legs before him was still annoyingly close the front of his mind, the Englishman telling himself that it was only because of his lack of physical contact with anyone else that he had her image in his mind. There were certainly no feelings for the woman on his part, his heart belonging to another, even if they were miles and miles away.

The big iron door creaked open to reveal the nurse, dressed in her uniform, with an assistant accompanying her. James could not see the man's face, obscured by her, but he could hear him giving her some instructions, not that he could understand what they were. She replied to the man too, with James still failing to understand a word that was being said. If Molinari were not the enemy he now knew him to truly be, he would have asked for help in understanding the language, though whether he'd have got it was another matter entirely. A prisoner asking to learn their captor's language was hardly a request that would be granted in most circumstances, but he was not in most prisoner's circumstances. Just as he unknowingly had been for the whole of his life, James was a special case.

As the door shut behind her, Giovanna walked over to her usual spot in the corner of the room, where James could barely see her. It was still naturally light outside, but the light was beginning to fade in the early evening, darkness almost certainly less than an hour or so away. Another routine visit from the nurse appeared to be about to take place, where the only noise would come from him finishing off his pull ups, which he'd completely stopped until he found out exactly who was coming to visit him. If it was Molinari, he would have stopped completely, because he couldn't afford to be anything but focused around him.

Except this time there was something different about the visit. A controllable that he'd unknowingly shifted compared to when she came to see him the day before or the day before that. It was completely unintentional, as he had no way of knowing exactly when she would be there each day. In the process of completing his exercises, James had removed his shirt, and all Giovanna could do was stare at his chest. The second she was in place in the corner of the room, her eyes never left him, watching the muscles when they strained whilst he went for the next pull up. She'd called him beautiful before, and somehow, he'd become even more so in her eyes. James did not notice her staring though, transfixed on his own routine.

Her cousin Domenico was very clear in his instructions to her about her behaviour around the Englishman. He was waiting for orders from those in higher office than he, and until then he would dictate exactly what they could do for James. An escape was a dangerous solution to the situation, though it was the most likely order that would be given, but until then, he told her only to ensure his safety was maintained. Those orders went out of the window when she watched his muscles work in unison to pull him up on the bar and down again, her eyes almost glazing over from his incredible handsomeness. Giovanna was not supposed to want to have the Englishman for herself, but she was a human being with natural desires that could not be ignored. There was no question about it; he was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen in her life, far superior than any of her prior boyfriends.

Biting her lip, she could not contain her fiery emotions. The nurse also knew that nobody would come down to check on them at all for at least half an hour… which gave her time…

Her objectives were vastly being forgotten.

James finally noticed her looking towards him, but only after she'd started moving. Giovanna was yet to utter a single word to him still during her advance, which was made without her shoes, the nurse having kicked them off where she stood. He heard the clang as they struck the floor on the other side of the room, the noise that alerted him to her movement. By then her mind was made up, and there was nothing he was going to be able to do to make her stop moving towards him. Focused on finishing his pull ups, with only a few more to go, he tried to forget that she was approaching him rapidly, thinking desperately of what he might be able to say to her in return.

With the bar above his bed directly above where slept, there was space at the other end of the bed for someone to stand. Giovanna had already thought of it on her previous trips down to Professor Molinari's basements, as well as in her rogue dreams at night that James would pop up in. She would always whisk him away from the room, where the two would make love to each other in a peaceful world, free of the war. She wanted those dreams to become a reality. With his shirt off and the Pilot distracted, her chance was never going to be any better. She was only a couple of centimetres shorter than he was, and with the two of them both without any footwear, they were nearly able to make eye contact when she stood on the bed. As much as he tried to focus, her divine smile greeted him on the other side of the bar. He didn't love her like he loved Erin… but he too, was only human after all. Giovanna was a beautiful brunette with a stunning body, and was probably a lovely woman too, not that he'd spoken to her enough to know.

Twenty-One…

Twenty-two…

He was very closed to being finished, but James's focus was rapidly dwindling. With Giovanna in touching distance of him, her radiant smile filing his eyeline, he couldn't help but stare at her when his focus should have been on his pull ups. Tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, she was biting her lip again at the sight of his incredible physique, the contracting muscles that bore the brunt of his physical exertions. Self-control long gone, her hands slowly came forward to touch his chest as he worked away. James could not stop her, his hands gripping onto the bar, but did not vocalise his wish for her not to either. The Italian woman's hands were all over his chest as he worked, exploring every fibre of muscle that they could find. She'd truly let go of her desires, and in her own head thanks to him not stopping her, she could only see one ending.

Twenty-three…

Twenty-four…

Her hands came away from his chest as he neared the end of his routine. Ready to give herself to him, to become lost in the love of the handsome, romantic, English Pilot, she wanted to show him what was awaiting him before he'd finished. Her uniform was laced at the front, the laces just under her throat, exposing the slightest bit of the skin from right at the top of her heaving chest. Her fingers unpicked the laces one by one, her eyes never leaving his as she did so, lip close to drawing blood it was being bitten that hard. As the last lace was unpicked, she paused, holding her uniform to her body with her hands in an effort to tease him while he worked away. James was on his final pull up as she did so, and as he began to make his back down from it, she removed her hands a little, so that her uniform began to drop down from her shoulders, exposing her naked chest to him before she held it in place again, crumpled just above her waist.

More than two years had passed since a woman had offered up her body in such a manner to James, Erin being the only one he cared to picture from all of those he'd been with. Looking down upon Giovanna's body, he could not help but be drawn to it. Every inch of his control was having to be utilised to ignore the carnal desires in his mind, the powerful pull of lust fighting his love for Erin. He loved the young Quinn with all of his heart, their summer together being the greatest time of his life, a summer that was sadly long ago. Yet against his feelings, his mind told him that the chances of him ever being with Erin again were remote and Giovanna was stood in front of him, half naked and ready to give him her love. It may be his final chance of every laying with a woman again, his brain telling him not to miss the opportunity, his thoughts reminding him that he was not a man who missed them lightly.

His conscience was a battlefield that even the muddy, disease-filled swamp pits of the Somme from the Great War could not match. Erin was his… his wife he'd even dared to dream of calling her, but Giovanna was the woman stood before him, who was lowering her uniform even further, threatening to expose more than just her breasts to him. A decision was going to have to be made and one way or another, his morality would have to be broken.

James' hands slowly reached forward, Giovanna's eyes lighting up as she finally was getting what she wanted. She was going to make love to the Englishman in that room, her dreams coming true when she did not expect them to.

But James was a gentleman.

That was never, ever, going to change, prisoner of war or not.

The light was beginning to fade even further when his hands took hold of the lace of her uniform, carefully dragging it back up her chest. James positioned his hands away from her skin, no contact being made as he did so. Glancing up towards her, he could see her ecstasy turn to gradual disappointment, the Italian woman mistaken in her belief that she was getting what she wanted. She was not at all. With incredible precision, his hands worked away at the lace, tying her uniform back up for her so that it came to rest snuggly around her shoulders where it started. His soft eyes sort hers, which were starting to become teary. She'd made herself look completely stupid in front of the Englishman, the complete opposite of what she was told to do.

"Giovanna…". A word was finally spoken in the room, from James. "… you are a stunningly attractive woman, but… let me show you".

Frozen to the spot, she did not move when she should have done. The brunette's head told her to run away, but her legs did not comply with the order. Reaching down to the small table that now rested by his bed, James pulled out the photograph that he so often stared at, one of the final two reminders of his past life in Ireland. Handing it over to her, she nervously took the picture into her own hands. She did not know why, but she'd started shaking. Gazing at the picture, she recognised James as the man stood behind the blonde at the front, the pair of them grinning wildly. It did not take her long to realise why James had tied her dress back up for her when he saw them together. If she were truly honest to herself, she only wanted James for his body. The woman in the photograph was quite clearly in love with him.

"Your wife?" She asked in her fairly thick accent.

"No". James replied, sadness etched in his voice. "Not until I return home. I am sorry Giovanna, but I am faithful to her. I could not…".

"I… I… understand".

Her legs may not have been compliant on the first time of asking, but on the second, the nurse almost leapt off of the bed. The photograph fell from her hands as she did, James reaching out to grab it before it dropped onto the cold floor. Giovanna decided she would not be staying for much longer at all, not even to put her shoes on. They'd given her a spare key to lock the room with if there was ever a day where none of the assistants were available to wait outside, which there was not that evening. James made no attempt to escape the room, even though it would have been an almost perfect chance, albeit the lack of a shirt wouldn't have done him any good against the cold night air when it descended. He did not call after her to try to explain his decision to her further, to tell her that he did not reject her advances because she was in any way ugly to him. She just wasn't Erin Quinn, that was her only flaw.

The door was quickly locked behind her when she'd used all of her strength to close it, the nurse fleeing down the corridor with tears streaming down her face. She'd been stupid to think that a beautiful man like James would give himself up so freely, being an English gentleman and not a starved madman. He'd made it very clear to her that his love could only be received by another and seeing how happy that they were together, she could not find fault in him for not accepting what she wanted.

Giovanna still had a job to do though, and although he could not be hers, she could still save James from his fate. She would never abandon her duty, regardless of how dismayed she was.

James walked over to the window of the room, shaking his head as he did. He'd remained faithful to Erin, his primary objective when Giovanna offered him everything, but in doing so, he'd upset one of the only people left in his life that remained friendly to him. The only other friend that he could count on every day was Frank the Pigeon, who was outside waiting for him when he got to the window. It was rare for Frank to be perched on the grass at that time of the day, although after the events of the minutes that proceeded spotting the pigeon, he could hardly question it. It was not the day he'd been expecting.

"Well Frank…". He sighed loudly and deeply. "… you just cannot keep everyone happy".

He remained a gentleman but at the same time he'd disappointed someone, which he hated to do even if there was nothing between him and Giovanna.

More than ever, he wanted Erin.

James needed her love again… but Derry was a long, long way away.