Chapter 59: Breakthrough 27th January 1942
The first night after the arrival of the Americans brought about a very quiet morning in Derry. Barely anyone appeared to be gracing the streets, soldiers, sailors or civilians, as what should have been a normal Tuesday commenced. Children were still making their way to school but none of them were getting there early, after what were late nights for some of them. It was almost a day of celebration in welcoming the troops from across the Atlantic into the city, which clearly felt the effects of such a long, exhausting day. Sister Michael didn't even get to school as early as usual, completely steaming from another night spent with the bottle.
However, she had at least turned up. Across the city, multiple business lay abandoned at just before eight o'clock, employers and employees alike not turning up as they should. Some of them held the same problem as the nun, finding far too much solace in the bottle, while some of the young women of the city were waking up where they shouldn't and sullying the reputations of their families in some cases. The factory that the girls worked at was no different, though a few of them did turn up on time when they should have that day. Clare would never have thought about not doing so, her parents not going to the same extremes as some the night before, making the decision easier for her. Sean would not allow her not to go to work, that was for certain. Erin was there with her too, along with Mary and Sarah but apart from the supervisor Meyler, not a single soul was there when they should have been. It was most peculiar when so many were clearly afflicted by having too much of a good time the night before, leaving the supervisor very angry.
Gerry faced a similar problem at his work when he turned up, which was actually a worse one. Only himself, one of the guards and one member of the office staff turned up, which was not enough to get the trains successfully running between warehouses. He'd normally be started well before eight, but instead was left to sit around, waiting to see if anyone else was going to turn up. If they didn't then he would have to return home due to being unable to complete any work because it was not safe to do so. Then again, it was hardly safe at home either as Joe would spot him coming back and assume he'd been dismissed, finding a reason to kick him out of the family picture for good. Already causing trouble, to those sensible families in the city, the Americans were starting to be cursed rather than accepted.
Back at the factory, the women all stood around talking about the night before whilst Meyler wondered what to do. He could get them all to start immediately, but there was almost no point when there was no one from quality control in to be able to go through what they produced. Nobody from management was in to make any decisions on workload too, he himself only being there to make sure that the work got done rather than strategising who did it and when they needed to do it by. Angered that the senior managers were complacent enough to get hammered and therefore be unable to get up in time, he was left wondering whether his decision to only have one drink was worth it. When those who earned a lot more than he did were clearly nowhere as sensible, he did have to wonder.
"How's yer Shane then, Sarah?" Mary asked her. "Did he enjoy the Americans coming?"
"Aye he's well Mary. He reckons they'll be gone again in a few months after their training… straight to the front he said".
"I wouldn't rule it out…".
Sarah's relationship with the fireman was going from strength to strength, the two firmly establishing their love for each which only grew every day. Her decision to remain with him at Ferguson Street may not have been popular with Joe, but even he had to concede that she seemed a lot happier there. She was never unhappy at the McCool household, far from it, but a smile that he hadn't seen for some years returned to his daughter's face from around the time she started seeing Shane. He was a happy man too after a year where he'd lost his wife and best friend of many years, finding himself fortunate to fill the void with her. There was no doubt in his mind that he'd made the right decision in entering a relationship with Sarah, after some initial concerns that he might have rushed himself into it. When they were as deeply in love as they showed to the family on a regular basis, how quickly they'd fallen was irrelevant.
"I hope Orla's alright…". Erin whispered to Clare. "I'm a bit worried, ye know".
"We shouldn't have let her get out of our sights Erin! I told you but ye didn't listen to me!" The smaller of the blonde's fretted.
"I did listen!" She seethed in a whisper. "I can't help it if she runs off with some American fella when I'm in the loo!"
Orla's lack of presence was the most disconcerting for all of them. Michelle could handle herself when it came to the fellas and getting home, but with Orla it was never a certainty. When they'd lost track of her the night before, Erin and Clare conducted a frantic search for her after a night that hadn't quite gone to plan. Michelle's plan for the evening was quite simple; wait for the soldiers where she said she would and take them somewhere quiet. Unfortunately, the American officers insisted on much more formal arrangements, marching their men into the city centre before allowing them to disperse. One of the dance halls arranged an impromptu dance for the evening, which the girls all attended, under the watchful eye of those organising the event. Although they'd managed to go undetected as the culprits for the night of violence months earlier, some were wary that they'd suspiciously disappeared just before the cops showed up. They were under close watch regardless of what they might have thought.
Whether they'd been to a party or not did not concern Meyler, who continued to pace around them, wondering what to do. He was lucky to have been trusted with a key to open up with, otherwise they'd have been waiting out in the freezing cold for a key holder to arrive, if they ever would. January's icy winds were still whipping onto the streets at a fierce pace, chilling those who were unlucky enough to be caught up in them. In the warm he could only continue to wrack his brains to make a decision, but more than anything he was curious as to where every single one of them had gotten to. He could understand the younger women being swept off their feet by the Americans but not those the wrong side of fifty. For whatever reason, they'd not turned in either and it truly perplexed him.
"I can't believe this!" He moaned to them.
"Aye well Mr Meyler, that's what the Americans are like…". Mary commented, showing her dislike for the Yanks once more. "… a couple of sweet words and heads are turned I tell ye".
Sarah nodded her agreement, as she'd seen a few heads turned herself whilst they were just mingling in the morning. Plenty of women flirted openly in front of the new arrivals to the city, some even with their husbands next to them, who suffered through. Women like Geraldine stuck to speaking pleasantly to the soldiers without being flirtatious, as any hint of such behaviour would have seen get the back of her husband's hand. Some husbands probably had done so once the crowds dispersed and they went home that afternoon, though some thought those women were deserving of the abuse thanks to their own behaviour. Fawning over the Americans was not something which they were supposed to be doing, yet so many found themselves unable to resist.
"What happened to Michelle and Orla, girls". Meyler addressed the two blondes.
"We did nothing, I swear Mr Meyler, please don't sack us!"
Cacking it, Clare immediately burst out into an impassioned plea to save her job, which was not under any threat whatsoever. Incorrectly, she'd assumed he must have known that they'd eventually gone home after not wanting to stay out any longer to try to find their friends. For whatever reason, her logic told her that they might lose their jobs for not arriving at work with the other two even when it would be Michelle and Orla who would have to answer for themselves. The other three women, even Sarah, shook their heads at how ridiculous she'd been and a look at Meyler told them how confused he was at the reaction.
"I… I don't have the authority to sack you Clare…". He told her, still confused as he spoke. "I just want to know where they might have gotten to".
"Oh… right… yeah…". She replied. "Well we don't know nothin', do we Erin?"
She began another cack attack when she looked towards her friend, who could not agree with her statement. They both knew where the other two managed to end up, or at least where they thought they'd be going to. It might have been Michelle and Orla's private business as to how they spent their evenings, but Erin was not prepared to defend their lifestyle choices to Meyler. All he wanted to know was where they might have gone which would make them so late for the morning's work, and she would happily oblige. Changing Michelle's perspective on love and life would be impossible but if it gave Orla a reminder of her obligations as a mother and an employee, she did not mind one bit.
"Well… that's not exactly true, is it Clare?"
Wanting to kill Erin for making her even more uncomfortable when they could have just kept their mouths shut, Clare began to shake uncontrollably until Mary put her hands on her shoulders. Her reassuring touch appeared to calm the young Devlin, who Meyler took his attention away from when it became clear it would be more hassle than it was worth to interrogate her any further.
"Erin…". Meyler probed.
"Right… well, we were at this party…".
Flashback, the night before…
The music was louder than ever at the dance hall, drowning out the sounds of chatter and laughter with consummate ease. The band was in the liveliest mood it had been since before the war, joviality running through the crowds that gathered in the large hall. They were packed in like sardines in the small venue, with barely room to sit down anywhere apart from at the tables that were dotted around, or at least those that were still upright. The American soldiers were under strict orders to not drink at all, which they'd adhered to, but that didn't stop the locals or the Brits in drinking the night away.
The Brits were becoming jealous of their American counterparts, who were hogging all the women for themselves, the women not minding at all. For once, there were not just those under twenty five at the dance hall; all ages were welcome and it showed. Some of the soldiers were taking their orders to ease themselves into the culture of their new home too literally, eighteen year old snipers dancing with fifty seven year old widows. It was quite the sight, that had to be seen to be believed, but one which was being experienced in every city across Britain where the Americans were making their new homes. That night was the gateway to a new age within Derry, the start of a new beginning in a war that desperately needed an ending.
Michelle Mallon couldn't care less whether it was the beginning or the ending, as she was only interested in one thing that night. Riding a Yank. She didn't really care who he was or what his story was, but she wanted to find herself the right one and ride the night away. From the moment that it was confirmed that they would be docking in Derry, she'd been looking forward to discovering the new arrivals and what she might be able to find from them. There were hundreds of potential fresh face rides entering the city, an avalanche of lust waiting for her to slide down, exactly how she wanted to.
The girls found themselves a table towards the middle of the room, not quite in the corner how they liked though. Instead of Michelle and Orla heading straight to the dancefloor, they all stayed together as pack for once to enjoy a first drink. The dance hall was surprisingly well stocked for the night, the four of them all with glasses of incredibly fine wine for such a mediocre venue. Erin suspected that same smuggler that her Granda was so intent on her Da getting the extra rations from might have been behind such luxuries, though could not prove it. Gerry didn't have to go out that night in the end after standing firm and having Mary's backing, but the rations still made their way to the house anyway after Joe managed to convince one of the young lads who used to work with David to go instead. That weekend they'd enjoyed additional rashers of bacon as well as more butter, and though Mary felt guilty handling the illegally imported goods, she was relieved that the pressure was off her somewhat when it came to meals.
"Christ, I've never seen this place so busy…". Erin commented, having to almost shout to do so.
"It's cracker, so it is! I do like loud music and noise…".
Orla appeared to be lost in her own little world, a throwback to the teenager that existed before the young mother and widowed wife took over the reins. There was no doubt that she'd changed immensely since the start of 1939, when she'd fallen pregnant with her and David's child, Marie born later that year. Losing David a year after gaining Marie changed her yet again, and for most of her days she acted as a responsible adult rather than the free spirited juvenile that would not pay much attention to the world. There were always cracks in the grown-up armour, but nights like that one where she'd fully let go and return to her old state were very rare. Her comments were as ridiculous as ever, and as annoying as they could sometimes be, the rest of the girls didn't want to see her in any other way.
"Did ye see Charlene earlier?" Michelle asked them. "She's one suspicious bitch, so she is".
"No, what was she up to?" Clare enquired.
"That's what I was trying to figure out. She was right weird talking to the Americans so she was, almost like talking to the soldiers was beneath her. Such a fuckin' posh bint…".
"Ach come on Michelle, she can't help it, she's been brought up that way". Erin tried to defend her former friend. "They have a butler and everything… it's all she's ever known".
Quite why she was defending Charlene, Erin didn't know, but she still held some gratitude for what she'd done for before brutally putting her aside when James died. She'd taken great risk, along with her father, for weeks on Erin's behalf and for that she would always be very grateful. Michelle could not understand that logic at all though, telling her as much.
"Don't defend her! She treated you like shite Erin!"
"I know!" She hissed. "But still, she can't help that her Ma and Da have made her that way! She doesn't know any different other than to be condescending to those poor fellas!"
"She doesn't know a massive ride when she sees one, blind tart!"
Deciding that any further conversation on the subject of Charlene Kavanagh would result in nothing positive, the two went back to sipping their drinks. A silence passed over the group while they watched over the proceedings, which were continuing to liven up. Some of the Brits, who did not have the money of their American colleagues, could only stand and watch as the women who were usually enticed by them, went over to the new arrivals from the sea. One or two Brits retained the eye of some of those who were not quite as intrigued by the Americans, but most were completely luckless. Michelle thought of suggesting to Erin that she might have a chance with one of them if she fancied it, but almost as if she was having her mind read by her friend, she chose not to when met with Erin's stare.
The band finished a song but before starting the next one, they announced to the crowd that a special rendition of the American National Anthem would be played. A couple of the American officers in attendance brought with them the correct sheet music for the band, one which they could all follow. With all the eyes on them, except from the barman who couldn't give a damn about what was being played, the band struck up the tune. Derry wasn't used to hearing the Star Spangled Banner, but all of the locals getting their first taste of it that night doubted it would be the only time they would ever hear it. The Americans were going to be around for some time, and their National Anthem would stay with them regardless of which regiment graced the streets of the city.
Lost in the new sound, Orla was in a trance like state while her friends were grinning at the least. Safety came along with the presence of the Americans, an additional blanket against the threat of Nazi Germany and also Japan, who were the new heavyweight on the opposition side. The country that brought America into the war posed little threat to them, but for the Americans, their families were always in danger if the Japanese attempted an invasion. Being such a large country, America would hardly be a straightforward invasion, but the Japanese were daring, as proven by their attack on Pearl Harbour. The soldiers might have stood in the dance hall that night wooing the local women, yet their thoughts were still very much of home.
A round of applause came at the end of the anthem, which even the Brits clapped to despite their disgust with the Yanks. The band were soon back in action with more lively music to set the dancing off again, and filled with drink and merriment, the locals were giving it there all. Michelle and Orla were itching to get out there to join them, but knowing Erin and Clare would stay back, they wanted to spend some quality time with their friends first. How much would depend on how long they could hold back their eager needs…
"That was nice…". Clare was the first to make comment on it.
"Aye it was soooo cracker! All those wee Yanks must be dead happy marchin' up and down to that. Sure it's right better than the Brits one". Orla gave her thoughts too.
"Too fucking right!" Michelle shouted, not caring who might hear. "I tell ye what girls, I'm starting to get a tingle ye know…".
"A tingle?" Clare frowned.
"Ye know… a tingle…".
Erin watched as Clare suddenly came to the realisation of what Michelle was going on about, blushing furiously when it dawned. Michelle couldn't help but smirk at her friend's predicament, glancing at Erin who still shook her head but did so with her own smirk. It was so very Michelle… she wouldn't stop her. She didn't have to wait too long in releasing the dark-haired girl to the night either, as soon enough a couple of Americans came by with drinks in their hands, smiles on their faces and clear ideas of what they wanted to their minds.
"Ma'am…". The same tall man from earlier that day was one of them. "Is that offer of the tour of your ship still available?"
"Aye but where are the rest of ye?" She flirted again, getting up from her seat. "Scared some of yer friends did I?"
Waving over the rest of them, and at least two or three more, there was soon a huddle around their small table, the girls outnumbered by two to one and more. Clare began to sweat away nervously at all of the soldiers crowding around them, disgusted by the thought of having such testosterone fuelled fellas looking at her. Her worst fears were realised when they weren't just going to be doing any looking as one of them put a hand on her shoulder. Without thinking, she did something incredibly stupid, without the fella even opening his mouth.
Her drink was launched right at him, ruining his uniform.
"Hey! You crazy gal, what was that for!" The man growled. "I'm gonna get my ass kicked now because of that!"
"Don't put yer hands on me ye Yank bastard!"
"Ma'am, there's no need for unpleasantries…". One of the others tried to intervene. "We're all friends here…".
Unable to stay where she was so because she was so uncomfortable, Clare shot out of her seat and ran off towards the exit, needing to get out of there. Erin excused herself too, though it was because she was desperate for the loo rather than being offended like Clare. Smiling sweetly to the Yanks, she was allowed out without much fuss, leaving Michelle and Orla to deal with the group. Mary made it clear to Erin that she needed to keep a close eye on Orla to make sure there were no incidents nor was she led astray by the young Mallon, but she was only going to be gone for a few minutes and Clare would be back almost immediately to apologise anyway. She was not one who would be able to hold her nerve for very long.
Left with the eleven yanks all to themselves, Michelle and Orla's luck was almost certainly in. The latter was the first to speak, turning to the closest one to her. He was one of the blondes of the group, his hair short but still swept over nicely, blue eyes like the Atlantic they'd crossed for days beforehand.
"Do ye want to go somewhere else?"
Her question, or request, was forward, stunning the group of men. The blonde was more than willing though when Orla put it to him, nodding whilst still trying to find the correct words to be able to respond to her. They'd all been told that the welcome from the local women would be warm, but none of them were expecting it to be that warm…
"Y… Yes Ma'am".
"Orla. Orla D… Orla McCool".
Michelle's jaw nearly dropped when she left out her married name, reverting to the surname she'd known her friend by for years. Orla had slept with other men since David's death, she knew, but she'd never introduced herself like that to any of them as far as she knew. Her jaw remained in a state of shock when the brunette wasted no time whatsoever, grabbing the young soldier by the hand to lead him away. He was almost certainly younger than her, baby faced whilst still being muscular. His friends and compatriots watched on too with equal shock, before turning their heads back to Michelle who suddenly found herself alone with ten of them. A bit more than she bargained for.
"So… which one of you is buying me, a drink!?"
….
"You picked a terrible time to go to the loo Erin.". Sarah mused. "Sure you know how my Orla gets. I hope you haven't got her into trouble".
"Don't worry Sarah…". Mary reassured her sister whilst her angered stare was kept on her daughter. "If she has then Erin will be getting the spoon… and more!"
"Mammy!"
"Ach no! No protests Erin!"
A terrified Clare could only imagine the punishment that she might face from her Da if the story of the night was passed onto him, especially if he knew she'd thrown wine over the poor Yank. A reaction that gave away her disgust at a man's touch, it was a good job that Erin was too distracted in needing the loo, Orla by the men and Michelle already knowing the truth, otherwise they might have guessed there and then. If her Da started to think that way, then it would not stay buried with her web for very long at all…
On a normal day, Meyler would have chuckled at the family argument brewing in front of him, but it was no normal day. Still, no other women had turned up, and the clock long ticked by eight when Erin finished the story of the night before. None of the rest of the management appeared to be turning in anytime soon, and he was starting to think that no work would be done at all that day. Missing such a night of revelry annoyed him too, as he could so easily have gone drinking with the Yanks rather than getting up at the freezing crack of dawn to trudge into work. The Americans were pissing him off royally after less than twenty four hours.
"What a waste of a morning!" He moaned. "I'm not surprised by some of the no shows but we have three sixty year old women who work here. Ye can't tell me they were all entertaining the Americans like Michelle was".
"I hope not…". Erin mumbled.
"I… I'm sure someone will turn up in a minute".
Clare's optimism was not shared by the rest of them, who were all starting to wonder whether there was any point in them staying. Apart from Sarah who was wondering what she would cook for dinner that night and whether she should move her hair appointment with her new hairdresser from Friday night to Saturday morning. The diminutive blonde was proven right to be optimistic a few seconds later though, as the sound of footsteps rang out behind them, two more employees turning up for a day's work, albeit far later than they should have been. To both their surprise and relief, it was Michelle and Orla that were dragging themselves towards the five who'd made it in.
"Michelle! Orla! Good of ye to join us!" Meyler bellowed.
"Jesus, Meyler, would ye knock it off?! My feckin' head is killin' me". Michelle answered groggily, forgetting herself.
"That's no way to talk to yer supervisor, Michelle…". He warned, firmly but without shouting again.
"I don't care if yer the King of England, please just don't shout again or I think I might boke".
Snorting in amusement, Meyler left her alone, starting a conversation with Mary and Sarah while the girls all got together in a group. Erin was thankful for Orla's safe return, anxiously thinking about the consequences of her not turning up with Michelle. She would have raced over to hug her straight away, but by the washed out look on Orla's face, it would have probably knocked her over. She looked as if she were in a different world, her eyes with dark bags carried beneath to show how little sleep she'd gotten.
"You two look like shit". Erin said to them, with no reaction from either coming quickly.
"Did you sleep at all, Orla". Clare asked, when neither said anything still. "You look like you haven't at all…".
"That fella kept me up most of the night he did. He said he'll be in right bother when he goes back to his barracks, so he will…". She sighed. "… but aye I don't care, I had a cracker time with him and his funny accent…".
With her voice weak, giving away further signs of tiredness, it was becoming a question of when and not if Orla would fall asleep stood up. Zoning out of a conversation was a speciality of hers but there was a chance she wouldn't do so deliberately that morning, instead succumbing to sleep she desperately required. Michelle eventually found her voice, though hers too was not as strong as it usually was. She had one hand on her head, brushing against her hair which still showed signs of wildness despite an obvious attempt having been made to smarten it up. Still bullish when it came to the night before though, holding no regrets as she never did when it came to the fellas and sex, the story from her perspective soon came out.
"I took a whole platoon last night... it's some fuckin' miracle of the Lord's makin' I can still walk… Jesus I need to lie down…".
"Michelle! Yer not serious!" Clare shrieked, as quietly as she could.
"When am I not serious when it comes to fellas?"
Back in her earlier teen years, when they weren't convinced her stories of running off with lads were true, they would have argued differently, but neither Clare nor Erin could think of a counter to her supposedly rhetorical question. Erin didn't find herself disgusted like Clare, though she did think it was somewhat obsessive. Michelle's talents appeared to know no bounds…
"Even that one who Clare threw the drink over?" The young Quinn asked, brow raised.
"Oh aye, he got his frustration out alright…". She groaned quietly. "… thanks Clare…".
Clare went to plead her innocence, but Erin shook her head in her direction to tell her that it was a terrible idea. A barely awake, hanging Michelle was not a variant of their friend that was worth an argument with, certainly if they wanted to remain as a group for the day. Slightly more coherent than Orla, Michelle could at least continue a conversation though, doing so immediately to continue the story of her night.
"I had to get out of there though. One of the lads said B Company were down the road and ready to march on in but Jesus, if I'd have stayed, it would have looked like the last days of the Roman Empire down there this morning…".
Erin's snort filled the air, but she was soon relegated to a background noise when Clare's screams rang out around the building. The scream was not from Michelle's rather lurid description but from Orla's decision to open her mouth, to let out a flood of boke that drenched the smallest of the group. Mary and Sarah were startled by the scream along with Meyler, yet all three of the older adults found themselves unsurprised by what had happened.
The poor shift supervisor summed up what was a rather ruined morning for him, the business and many businesses in the city following the arrival of the Yanks.
"For feck's sake…".
Rome…
Days in January in Rome were a lot like days in January in Derry, just a few degrees warmer. Not immune to receiving the icy blasts of winter, the Italian capital basked in sunshine on a regular basis even if the day was not that warm. Across the country there were days when the snow would become somewhat worse, leading to roads becoming blocks and movement becoming much harder. It would delay some, but the soldiers became adept at clearing the roads quickly to allow life to return to normal. By the back end of the month there was no snow at all, having melted in the weeks that proceeded it.
A regular traveller into and out of the city was Doctor Kurt Van Der Heijden. The Nazi's most influential figure in the city, whose presence was only known to a select few, he divided his time between the compound on the outskirts of the city and his main residence within it. Hans joined him on most of the journeys out to the compound, some days to complete work on his project at finding new ways of mass extermination and other days to torture the English prisoner that was under their care. James was proving to be a very tough nut to crack and although Kurt admired his resilience, it got under his skin immensely. The young man almost certainly knew who he was and why he was so important, the Nazi doctor believed, and would get the truth out of him in time. There were still snippets of information about the young man's life that he held up his sleeve, waiting to spring upon him at the ideal moment, but even he still wasn't quite sure he'd break him. Foolhardy resistance was becoming the symbol of Britain's involvement in the entire war.
James' mother was the latest tactic to attempt to get the young man to talk, but he still would not. The spy in Derry had provided so much quality information that he did not know where to begin to thank them, however they'd not been able to find out enough about the pilot's mother. The lack of a name was the most important detail missing, one which prevented them from tracing her. Maguire might not have been their true family name but with a forename to work with, he could have begun work on locating anyone who might use the alias. It also didn't appear to terrify James at all when he started asking questions, almost as if he didn't feel there was a threat from the Nazi. It needed to be rectified, but the spy could only find out so much without having suspicions drawn to them. He was unaware that they were being monitored by British agents either, who were already suspicious before too many questions were asked.
That morning, Kurt was stood in the living room of the home in Rome, buttoning up his jacket. He'd risen early that morning, sometime around six o'clock, with the intention of getting himself out for seven. Hans woke up with him too, to be able to drive him to the compound, the doctor wanting to be there in good time so that he could start a particularly lengthy part of testing. He still did not have the human subjects that he needed, but the Führer had written to him a couple of weeks earlier, promising that he would make sure that his favoured confidante would have what he requested. The most obvious target to send to Italy would be Jews, though within the country itself there were enclaves of those who were considered undesirable, that could be chosen. The Italians were somewhat more reluctant to commit such atrocities against those people, but they would not stop the Nazi taking what he needed if he were to order them to hand the Jews to him. He still could perfect his work beforehand though, which was what his additionally lengthy testing was about that day. Making sure for certain that the method worked before the application to live human test subjects.
With Hans outside getting the car ready, being loaded with important papers that he needed as well as being refuelled, Kurt was alone. In a rare moment of reflection, he stood still looking out of the window of the ground floor, across to some of the buildings further down the road that they were billeted on. His life was becoming a somewhat tedious affair day in, day out, holding multiple frustrations about both projects that he was involved in. He could never share his frustrations with anyone else, not even Lyla who he confided in about almost everything else, but it did not mean that they were not there. His project to find the latest method of mass extermination was one that he did enjoy but the lack of progress with no test subjects angered him immensely, knowing that he could have completed his research and have been starting to write up his findings for Hitler by that point. Yet those frustrations paled in comparison to the ones with James. The Englishman was such a smug bastard at times that he wanted to kill him, yet could not, only thinking that torturing him further could be the best way to wipe the smile off of his face. For some reason though, the worse the torture got, the more James defied him to rise above it.
Soon, he was no longer alone though, as the other occupants of the house began to wake. He could hear Elsa stirring with young Leo, who was growing into a fine young man even at such an early age. Maternal instincts were never really present in the doctor, but he felt somewhat protective of the baby just as he did Hans. He'd taken the Lieutenant under his wing at such a young age, becoming a second father to a man whose birth parents were not interested in him at all. They'd acted so callously towards their son that Kurt could not help but feel he'd done more in a couple of years to mature Hans than they'd done in their entire lives. He was not a wet behind the ears teenager anymore, but a fully-fledged man with a wife and son, as well as a list of responsibilities that would make other young men within their Nazi Empire jealous. Lyla was the first of the other three that he saw though, strolling out towards him in her nightgown, which brought a smile to his face.
"Good morning, my darling". He addressed her. "You look beautiful this morning.
"Thank you, Kurt. You do too".
He held her in an embrace, kissing her on each cheek in an act that showed the love he was capable of. There were times, one time in particular, where he'd shown far less care towards her, but that night was not thought or spoken of for him. It was certainly thought about by her though, the Irishwoman unable to shake the humiliating shame of what happened to her, from her mind. She was a strong woman in every other sense but not that one. She needed to be strong though, a spy so deeply entrenched within the heart of one of the enemy's most feared men, she could afford no weakness, risking capture.
"Are you well?" She asked the question of him, a hand on his cheek. "You look as if you have something on your mind".
He might have found her questions irritating at times, but Kurt could not deny how well Lyla could read into his mood and lighten it. She was very perceptive when it came to most areas of life, only occasionally failing to understand certain ways in a military sense. A woman of great perception was an incredible asset to have on his side, and although she did not take part in either of his projects, she was just as important to have as a distraction when he returned to the city. Able to speak freely to her about his work without having to worry about her betraying his trust, or so he thought, she was one of the great victories he'd attained during the war. Without her there were times when he would have struggled to function, though he'd managed well enough when he was assigned to the camp in Poland. He'd thrive there though because of the attentions of another woman, who was now dead in a shallow grave a few hundred yards from where the camp stood. His first cold-blooded victim…
"I have been quietly reflecting this morning, Lyla. I do not have these moments very often". He chuckled.
"That is because you work too hard, Kurt". She chuckled in return. "Why not have a day away from the compound to clear your mind?"
The thought of a day away from his responsibilities was tempting, but Kurt would ultimately have to decline. When he wanted to speed the process up, having a day off where he did nothing was not an option at all. Lyla's idea was a sensible one though, one which he smiled at her for making. To able to clear his head would have almost certainly been the most sensible thing to do, especially when he had so much on his mind with both the extermination project and James' torture. He'd told her very little about the latter of the two projects, amazingly James being the more secretive project of the two, though both could not be discovered. He allowed her to know a lot more about the exterminations project, mostly to try to understand her reaction to it. Lyla was not a violent woman at all, and he found it intriguing how she would never commit to a reaction of either contentment or disgust. She would always nod along and listen no matter how brutal the details became, an act he was always thankful for. Her suggestions could sometimes annoy him, but knowing they came out of what appeared on the surface to be genuine interest, he allowed her to continue with them. If he knew what was beneath the surface, he certainly would not have done…
"I wish that I could, Lyla, but I fear it is not possible. I cannot allow my work to fall behind". He sighed.
"Not one day? Does The Führer require answers so soon?"
"No, he does not but I want to have them ready in full when he does. I have seen what failing him can do to a man and I do not wish to be the next".
"I would not worry, Kurt. You are friends with him, and he respects you". She offered a light analysis.
"Adolf can very quickly change his mind about people".
For Lyla, Kurt's comment was one which sent a warning message, chillingly delivered down her spine. She was someone that The Führer admired, but like Kurt, had no idea that she was in fact a British agent rather than having her loyalty held with them. Hitler's temperamental state was well known by those who were a part of Das Reich and those who were not, but to hear it from Kurt was almost worse. He was one of those closest to Hitler, advising him on multiple aspects during the war as well as listening to the man's ideas and ideals. To lose Hitler's trust would have been detrimental to his career, which meant Kurt would always do exactly what was asked of him. Shunned by the medical community who thought him to be a madman with some of his research, especially the research into extermination, he would have been looking at a spell as a soldier because no one would accept him anywhere else. An adaptable man, life on the front was not something he thought he could adapt to.
"I am sure he would not judge you harshly for allowing yourself a day of rest to become more productive the day after".
"No… no you are right, he would not". Kurt replied, taking Lyla's hand in his. "But my dear, today I would still like to advance my project. Tomorrow though… tomorrow I think I will stay here to do as you say. If you would stay with me, of course?"
Hating herself for making such a stupid comment, Lyla could not back out of it after putting across her thought to him. She was a fine actress at the best of times, but if Kurt were to be with her for the whole day, then she would have to take her skills to the next level. A day with him to clear his head would mean only one thing for at least part of it; sex. The two did not engage in sexual activity as much as they once did, a seismic change occurring after the night he'd assaulted her. They'd had sex since, but even with her skills as an actress, the Irishwoman could not hide her displeasure during the act. Kurt appeared to have taken note of it, but rather than berate for not being the woman that he wanted, he simply did not come to her for pleasure that often. However, a day of just the two of them together would almost certainly change that.
"I would love to". She answered, feeling sick as a dog as she did.
"Excellent. Until tomorrow then, my dear".
Grinning, Kurt leaned in for a tender kiss which she could not escape from. He was not as rough as he could be with her at least, which was a surprise when he still so often exhibited signs of the dark man that returned from Poland. A detective of the highest ability was not required to know that whatever occurred out in the East changed Kurt, for the worse, but she was not foolish enough to enquire too closely what it was. War did strange things to people, from turning good men into savage killers and bad men into redeemed heroes. He was a law unto himself though, a bad man that was not redeemed but moulded into something far worse. A veritable monster to inflict great suffering upon others, James being a victim of the vicious streak he'd returned from the camp with.
As they pulled apart, Elsa and Leopold exited the bedroom that she shared with her husband. Finding the two pulling away from a kiss, she was embarrassed, stopping quickly whilst holding Leo in her arms.
"I am sorry, am I interrupting you?" She asked nervously.
"No, not at all Elsa". Kurt replied softly. "How are you this morning? Did you sleep well?"
Relieved, she visibly relaxed in front of the two. She knew she wouldn't have offended Lyla by walking in on them, but in the short time she'd gotten to know Kurt, she still wasn't exactly sure how to judge him. Unaware of what he'd done to her friend and matriarchal figure, Elsa also noticed the same darkness that bubbled away beneath the exterior of the normally calm doctor. Kurt's temper could be set off quite easily, having watched him berating a couple of Italian soldiers that were outside their home in Rome one morning. Whether they understood his ranting in German, she did not know, but it did not take a linguist to work out that he was furious with them for something. Her eye was always kept closely upon him because of it.
"I did. My little Leo is starting to sleep much better at night… aren't you my little one".
Cooing at her son, Elsa's love for her boy melted Lyla's heart. She remembered the feeling of adoring a baby, though her circumstances at the time were dramatically different and not for the better. Regardless of what was happening around a mother and child though, the sense of wonder never left a bond which could be so incredibly strong.
"He will become a strong boy, just like his father". Kurt addressed her. "You are the most worthy mother I can think of Elsa, don't you agree my dear?"
"I do, Kurt". Lyla responded when she was asked to comment. "I could not think of better parents than the two of you".
"We are only excellent parents because of the role models that we look to".
Glancing at each other, even Lyla who despised Kurt, couldn't help but smile at him. She hated him and everything that he stood for but would not take away the excellent mentorship of Hans that he'd conducted. Equally, whilst he was not present to see what she'd done during the early days of the young married couple's relationship, Kurt was impressed by the influence she'd had over Elsa. Hans required a young woman who could be strong when she knew he would be absent from their lives a lot of the time, and in Elsa that woman was found. Thanks to Lyla's life advice she'd built up thicker skin than most and was not a crying wreck every time that Hans went out in the car like some women were across Germany.
"I am sure you would have been excellent parents without us Elsa, but I would say that we both appreciate your comment". Lyla smiled at her as she spoke.
Before they could discuss the impact of being role models on Hans and Elsa, and how much the young couple did for themselves without them needing to be role models, Hans returned, bashing his way through the front door. An ungainly entrance, there was no real reason for it, puzzling Kurt, who'd only asked him to load the car with some papers. The Lieutenant did have his occasional moments of stupidity though, and it appeared that it might be one of them.
"Hans?" Kurt raised an eyebrow.
"I tripped over the edge…". He replied, red faced to confirm his mortification. "I thought I would fall through the door for a moment".
"You would need to put some weight on before you did that". Kurt jested. "Is the car ready?"
"Yes. I am ready to depart when you are".
Nodding, the two men turned to the women in their lives to say goodbye for the day. It would be a long day of working and travelling ahead for Kurt, while for Hans there would a day of casting his eye over Kurt's work whilst catching up with the latest news. The news, or propaganda as it realistically was, was only overwhelmingly positive, especially since Japan entered the war. Though Kurt was a sceptic of their importance, as well as holding significant concerns when it came to bringing the Americans into the war, he enjoyed hearing of them conducting the surprise attack at Pearl Harbour. Caught off guard by the Nazi's Eastern ally, America was taught a lesson that he hoped would stay with them. Cut off from the rumours of Berlin though, he was blissfully unaware that the Americans were transporting troops into Britain. Assuming the Americans would only concentrate on Japan and perhaps go as far as some naval action in the Atlantic, he would have viewed things a lot differently if he knew they were suddenly on the Nazi Empire's doorstep.
"Do not overwork yourself, Kurt". Lyla warned him, though she didn't know why she did, the words just falling out.
"I promise you, Lyla, tomorrow I will stay here all day". He replied. "Allow me to get through today and you will see so much more of me tomorrow".
After a couple of minutes of saying farewell and wishing their men well, Lyla and Elsa were soon left with only Leo for company. That was their normal routine in Italy, especially when they did not go out anywhere in Rome without accompaniment from one of the two men. The only time that they saw anyone else was when food was delivered to the house, Lyla almost always being the one to accept the food from the Italian man who delivered it. What Elsa did not know was that while she was ordered not to, Lyla established a loyal contact in the man who delivered the food. He was able to bring her news of the war, but more importantly he often had to go to Milan, which meant he could deliver messages to Domenico. The two interacting was vital if they were going to have to work together in the future, which she suspected they would when it came to the English prisoner that London would not give her the full picture of. A man so important that even a spy of her stature was not trusted with knowing the identity of by London, it was clear that no expense would be spared in keeping a track on his welfare.
"There they go again…". Elsa sighed. "… I do wish Kurt would hurry along and finish his work so that we can return to Berlin".
"I know. As much as I like it here in Rome, I would love to return to Berlin. I'd found such happiness there".
Lyla's statement was both truth and lies in some respects. She didn't want to return to the offices, where she'd experienced the darkest, lowest moment of her life, but to be able to return to the spy ring she'd diligently created would have been ideal. So much time and effort went into making sure that it functioned properly, that the agents did not get themselves killed or captured, that it felt wasted by her being in Italy. The scenery may have been much better, and there was not the constant sound of soldiers marching up and down the road outside, but it was unnecessary and aggravating when she could have been doing much better work in Berlin.
"I can at least return as a married woman". Elsa spoke up, her voice etched with glee. "I still thank myself everyday for finding Hans".
"You have every right to be proud. Hans is a brave young man who loves you and Leo very dearly. You cannot ask much more from a man". The Irishwoman told her.
"I'll never be able to ask for anything more than what Hans has given me. Although, I wish he would be a little more considerate of those in other countries".
Their attempts at making him more respectful when it came to Britain in particular, always appeared to amount to nothing. Occasionally, he would show cracks in his otherwise impenetrable armour, but they were only on the odd occasions where it was not possible to make anything more tangible of them. He could show compassion, the pair of them having seen it at different times, but when it came to Britain, that compassion did not translate. The English prisoner that he visited with Kurt certainly did not help matters, only appearing to aggrieve Hans more. When the pair returned on New Year's morning, Lyla had never seen Hans as furious as he was that day. Her attempts to find out what fuelled the aggression did not get very far, but a couple of days later Kurt let slip that he'd had to stop Hans from killing the prisoner in a fit of rage. The Englishman's inability to speak the truth to them was what caused it, Kurt told her, and though he could contain his anger, Hans was not as able. Unsurprised, she'd fed the information back to Elsa, the two of them from that moment beginning to lose hope at ever being able to change his mindset.
"We can only keep trying Elsa, but I fear until this prisoner is no longer around then we stand little chance".
"I do not understand why they have kept this man so long Lyla…". Elsa spoke her mind on James. "He must be important but Kurt will not tell us why…".
"There could be any number of reasons…". Lyla replied to her. "Perhaps Kurt does not even know himself why the prisoner is important. It could be why Hans is so angry with the Englishman if he will not tell them who he is".
"I suppose that might be why…".
Leo's wriggling stopped Elsa's next comment, which was to inform Lyla on her thoughts of how long the prisoner might be alive for. As much as she did not wish death upon anyone, she hoped they'd put the poor man out of his misery soon to quicken their return to the German capital. Her son's needs were far important though, and by just the look on his face, she could tell that he was hungry. A happy, healthy boy, he was oblivious to the wartime conditions around him, and his father's anger that could seep out against all things British. He was lucky to have a mother such as Elsa, who could counteract the undesirable parts of Hans' personality.
"Someone is hungry…". She laughed. "… and I am too. Do you want me to make you something, Lyla?"
"No, I will have something after". The Irishwoman replied with a grin at the sight of mother and son. "Get little Leo sorted first".
Saying her thanks, Elsa headed off into the kitchen to be able to sort herself and Leo some breakfast, leaving Lyla in the same position Kurt was earlier in the morning. Looking out over the barely lit street, she relaxed at the sight of the emptiness and, almost, desolation that surrounded them. At that time of the morning, nothing much moved, leaving her with her thoughts. Another round of acting had been required that morning to be able to kiss Kurt and have him hold her, when inside she shivered at his touch. The cold man might not have been on show that morning, but beneath the mask he wore, the despicable man that raped her still existed. However, she still had a job to do as an agent of Britain, a job that that she continued to do.
A job that was suddenly thrust into the forefront of her mind when she took note of something Kurt left on the side.
Walking over towards the object, she quickly identified what it was. Although she'd not seen that one in particular, it was clear to her that it was a map of some kind by the terrain that was clearly shown on it. Taking a brief look over her shoulder, in case Elsa was about to reveal that she was not as honest as Lyla first thought, the Irishwoman quickly picked up the map and rushed off to her bedroom. Once inside, with the door shut behind her, she opened the map out fully on the bed she shared with the man she was forced to love. Recognising some of the surrounding area, mostly because of the massive writing in the middle that said Rome, her eyes were drawn to a small cross in the bottom right corner. Three letters next to it confirmed exactly what x was marking the spot of, a treasure of a different kind to the gold that a pirate would so crave.
The three letters were 'ENG'.
England… English… it was almost certainly the location of the prisoner that Kurt was entrusted with getting an answer from. When Smithers' reached out to ask her to identify where the prisoner was being held, clearly one of vital importance when he was asking, she didn't quite know how she would complete the task. Inadvertently, Kurt handed the means of doing so… but it was all too simple in her mind. As far as she was aware, he did not have any indication of who she really was or where her loyalties did in fact lie. Unwilling to take the risk of adamantly believing that he did not though, Lyla quickly returned the map to where she'd found it, in the exact state she'd found it in.
She would get the information to London, but not for a few days or more, ensuring that she was clear to do so without any hint from Kurt that he was suspicious. The task was at least on her mind though, where it had been sitting for days.
Once again, Britain's great secret held hope.
Smithers and Menzies would soon learn of his location from her, and from there they could plan a more calculated escape for the young Pilot, rather than the rushed one that saw Giovanna and multiple other agents killed.
They would have to hurry though, for if they were not careful, they'd soon be burning through borrowed time…
Back in Derry…
A day that should have been like any other was turning out to be far different. A Tuesday in January should not have been given any special treatment by anyone, no matter who they were, but it turned out that day was not going to follow suit. The arrival of the Americans into Derry put pay to anything being done at all the day before and suddenly it was a two day event because of the state it left the ordinary people in. Michelle and Orla might have trudged in eventually, but few found themselves in the position to. Businesses might have begun to open across the city, yet they were not able to stay open because of the lack of workers. Some did not bother opening at all when employers realised that their employees would not be fit for work, consigning the day as one lost with no other choice on the matter.
The factory was no different. One member of management did eventually turn up around fifteen minutes after Orla boked everywhere. Hanging themselves from what must have been an incredibly heavy nights drinking, they'd told Meyler that there was little point in him and the girls staying, telling them all to go home. At first the decision was challenged by the supervisor, but he was firmly put in his place before the member of management left to return to bed. In all of his years of work he'd never seen such an event, but in a time of war, adapting to the daily changes of life was fast becoming a normality. Each day appeared to bring something new, in one way or another. Immediately once the man from management was gone, he dismissed the girls. They did stick around for a few minutes to clear up the boke that Orla produced, except from her and Michelle who needed to remain outside for fresh air to stop any further boking taking place.
Orla did not throw up again but wanted to go straight home, an opinion which was shared by her mother. Walking all the way back there with her, Sarah and Erin had to hold her up, alternating with Mary on the journey back to keep her held in place. At some point on the journey, Orla fell asleep and became almost a dead weight, which only made things worse. Her head was absolutely spinning before she succumbed to the tiredness, though her stomach was thankfully cleansed after relieving the contents all over Clare. The diminutive blonde needed to get home to have a wash and clear herself up too, but her primary concern was to make sure that Michelle returned home safely. Although the young Mallon was in nowhere near as poor shape as Orla was, she was still fairly unsteady on her feet, to the point where Clare remained vigilant with her all of the way. Deirdre was doing the washing at home when they arrived and expecting her daughter to need to have returned far earlier than normal, she took over her care. Thanking Clare, the Mallon matriarch allowed her to get home quickly to avoid having to stay in boke soaked clothes for too long.
With a tired Orla put to bed by her Mammy, who elected to stay with her for a while, Erin was left to her own devices. A raging Granda Joe required cooling down, sounding off about how stupidly Orla, Michelle and most of the city had acted the night before, but Erin was spared the task when Mary took it upon herself to put him in his place. The only members of the local community that were not quite as poorly affected where the children, who all stayed the whole day in school. Anna was treated like a hero by the rest of her class, having impressed the locals and the Americans alike with her speech to the later. The Yanks were travelling into the unknown, but with friendly faces like hers, they were not quite so worried about it. Sister Michael spent most of the school day trying to avoid involvement in anything to strenuous, trying to rid herself of the same headache that over half of the city were holding onto that Tuesday.
Being left with little to do during the day and no friends available to do anything with because of their various states of incapacitation, Erin decided to take a long walk into the city, down to the docks to see some of the American warships. Her knowledge on the sea and anything nautical in general was far from good, but they were truly special sights in her mind. The giant guns of the ships were spine chillingly beautiful, giant weapons of protection that were fantastic if you were on the side with them and killer if you were the enemy. She was one of the only people around the docks other than the sailors themselves, along with a handful of soldiers who were guarding their ships. Although there was hardly any need to given that they were all on the same side, she thought. The night before, soldiers and sailors did not drink as they were ordered not to, yet still provided the catalyst for trouble anyway. Fights sprang up, young women found themselves enjoying the arrivals a lot more and whole regiments full of officers were left shaking their heads. They would not be allowed such freedom a second night in a row, that was for certain…
Finding a spot on the railing, Erin was able to stop to think about whatever she wished to, even in the cold air of midday. A day which promised little when it came to the weather, delivered little more in reality. Although it began to warm up from the freezing temperatures the day began at, the warming process was not one which lasted long. The highest temperature of the day couldn't have gotten up much further than five or six degrees, and anyone heading out into the cold would need a good few layers on. There was certainly no chance of an air raid that night, those with working minds thought to themselves, as not even the Germans were savage enough to travel thousands of feet up in the air in those conditions.
In her mind, the young blonde's thoughts turned towards James in a way, but not the usual way that would leave her a teary mess… or at least she hoped it wouldn't. Having come to the painful acceptance that James was dead and would never return, she'd began to turn the corner in moving on with her life. It was that life that was the basis of her thoughts though, contemplating exactly where it was going to go and what she wanted to do with it. For the first time since losing James, she replaced the image of him in her mind with a nondescript fella, with no particular specifications in mind as to what he needed to look like. Looks were almost not important, almost, when all she wanted was the fella to be a good man with a cracker personality. A couple of minutes later, Erin discovered that trying to imagine a life with any man, with or without children, was impossible. A lone tear did escape the corner of her eye when the realisation hit her, but further watery droplets were stopped. With time on her side when it came to starting a family, all hope was not lost, but a sad thought nagged away at her from the back of her mind.
The chance had gone…
Switching the focus of her imagination to what she wished to do with her life, there were dreams which she could have along those lines of thought. The factory paid well enough for her to contribute at home and contribute to the war effort, but it was not a place of work that she wished to remain in forever. Her poetic work might have been criticised by as many people she could think of, but it could not be denied that her assistance made her little sister's speech far better. The adult touches she added were thought-provoking to her in many ways, with the hope that others who'd lost during the war would be able to reflect on those losses. Such a talent for writing and affecting the emotions of her audience, the young Quinn wished to able to work at the Derry Journal, to get her foot in the door of the world of journalism. A woman's job would not necessarily be a tag that was added to the role, but she was smart enough to know that after the war a lot would change when it came to employment. Women across Britain were redefining what a woman's work should be, for the better.
As much as she'd hoped to find peace in the reflections she was making whilst staring out across the Foyle, it soon became clear to Erin that she would only upset herself if she dwelt on an impossible future for too long. Reality told her that she would work in the factory until she either no longer needed to or no longer could. For the rest of the war, she was more than happy to continue working, but after it was another matter, though without a fella and any wains, she'd be consigned to the need to work until she created those circumstances. The ideal fella for it was gone though, the Englishman that she loved so dearly not coming back as she knew. Whether it would be possible to start a family with anyone other than James was a stark thought that did not allow itself to be removed from her mind, though Erin pushed it away to avoid the pain that it would cause.
So wrapped up in her world of dreams, she almost ignored the rest of the city when she pulled herself away from the railings to make her way home. A slow walk would be ideal despite the weather, with little to rush back to other than her Mammy telling her that she was proud that she hadn't gotten into the same state as her friends, whilst at the same time giving her a stern telling off for losing Orla the night before. Mary's concerns were justified when it came to her niece, who was becoming far too loose with her affections for her liking. How Orla conducted herself around men was entirely up to her, but it did not set the example that a young parent should. Marie did not know what her mother was up to on what was becoming a more regular basis at least, yet if she looked to her loving Mammy as a role model, the image being created in front of her was not one that she should follow. A special eye would have to be kept upon her…
Eyes being kept on where they should be, was something that escaped Erin though that day, and she soon knew about it. Walking away from the waterfront with the thoughts still burning away in her mind, she'd forgotten about how the kerb dropped away sharply at one point before she needed to cross the road. She remembered but far too late, her ankle having already made the decision to not hold the rest of her body weight, awkwardly twisting her to the side. Knowing she was about to have an unsavoury clash with the cold ground of the wintery day, she closed her eyes ready to brace for an impact that ultimately never came. Instead of the chilly feel of the Derry tarmac, the warm touch of a strong hand kept her from falling. An arm came up to grasp her by the side too, holding her in place and preventing any injuries.
"Easy Ma'am, you nearly got yourself hurt".
An American voice accompanied the hand. Steadying herself back to her feet, the blonde turned around to find, and thank, her saviour. When she did, she was caught off guard by the man, the first one she'd seen for some time that her mind immediately jumped to a positive conclusion about. He was handsome. Dressed in a full uniform, he was perhaps the smartest dressed of all of the Yanks she'd seen since their arrival the day before. Every inch of the man screamed sophistication, with even the most charming of smiles to add to it to. Rare to see any man as anything but just another human being since James passed, unfamiliar unsettlement festered inside her, heating up her cheeks.
"A… Aye, thank you…". She replied, a tone of incredible nervousness that was alien to her. "I… I wasn't lookin' where I was goin'".
"That you wasn't ma'am, that you wasn't". He laughed softly. "No harm done Miss, but I would advise you to watch these kerbs. A fine young lady like you doesn't belong in the gutter".
When her Mammy told her that the Americans where smooth moving, shite talking men, she waited on making a judgement until meeting one, but after just over twenty fours, Erin could agree with her Mammy on the first part of her description. The shite talking was yet to properly happen, though the soldiers Michelle ended up with probably were guilty of some, but every single one of the Yanks' voices were soft and silky. Far smoother than any of the Brits or the local lads, they were capturing the hearts and minds of many women across the city. The man in front of her was an incredibly smooth talker, Erin only knowing one man who'd ever been able to better it… but he was gone…
"I don't think ye know me well enough to call me a fine lady…". She chuckled slightly, cheeks still heated.
"Well Ma'am, unlike some of my countrymen, I'm willing to use the time we have here to find out". He explained. "I have to apologise, some of the men did not conduct themselves how they were told to. I hope we haven't lost the trust of good women like yourself?"
"Ach, we've seen worse…". She sniggered. "… I don't think I'd ye should be too harsh on them. It's been a long journey, hasn't it? Sure the poor fellas were dying for a wee bit of freedom, so they were".
The man in front of her appeared to be considerate, listening to her every word and taking it all in. Most men would not listen at all to what she had to say, not wanting her opinion nor the opinion of any woman for that matter. The Yanks were bringing with them enough charm to sink a fleet, yet also some of them were true gentleman. The one who'd saved her from slipping off the kerb almost certainly was one.
"I shall take that advice, Ma'am". He nodded, smiling, before reaching out his hand for her to shake. "Lieutenant Lance Hamilton, that's my ship behind me".
A sailor, Lieutenant Hamilton was a man with responsibility, being an officer. Although not one of the senior officers on the ship, he still held responsibility over a group of men that were at his command. He must have been around her age, not completely baby faced like some of them, but still looking young and untroubled by the world. That would soon change when faced with the heat of battle and the ravages of war, but away from the front it retained his image of handsomeness. She couldn't help but think it, even though it felt wrong to.
"Erin… Erin Quinn…". She confirmed her name to him.
"It's nice to make your acquaintance, Erin Quinn. Although I have to apologise to you Miss, I need to get back to my ship for a meeting with my commanding officer… it was lovely meeting you".
Telling him as much in return, she turned away after bidding him farewell, a smile creeping across her face for a change. Internally her conscience reared up in flames, inner thoughts battling between telling her it was wrong to speak to another man so jovially, others saying it was another step in the right direction of moving on. Her family would certainly agree with the latter, Erin choosing that to be her stance. After all, she'd just spoken to the fella after he'd very kindly stopped her from falling off the kerb and into the road. There was nothing wrong with thanking a fella for committing a kind act after all, especially when it made her feel better about herself.
Behind her, Lieutenant Hamilton stood for a moment to watch the figure of the blonde disappearing into the distance. There was a wide smile on his face too as he leant on the very same railings she'd been leaning on minutes earlier.
"She might just be the one Lance… she might just be the one…".