Chapter 65: Horizon 5th March 1942

She sat perched in the kitchen, looking at the cup of tea in front of her with a blank expression slapped across her face. In those moments alone it was the only time that Kathy allowed herself to look so solemn, to think about the horrors that were inflicted upon her son, of which she was culpable for one. She'd tried to forget that day, when Kurt made her burn her own son's skin to brand him a Nazi, but it was hard not to. The bond between mother and son had been so strong for so many years, but she'd burned it all the way to the ground when the steel rod pressed into her son's back. His screams stayed with her in her sleep most nights, more so than the night that Kurt had taken her dignity from her. Having taught herself to cope with the latter event, she was going to have to repeat the trick for the former, but it was not so easy.

She'd sent a message to London a few days later, when the coast was clear, and had been expecting one back ever since. Captain Smithers was not the sort of man to keep her waiting but given the delicate nature of the operation that would need to be conducted, she would have understood if it had taken longer. Amazingly it hadn't as a response coming back through the appropriate channels almost immediately it had seemed. It made sense given how important that James was to the country, but even she could not quite believe how well organised they appeared to be. The failed attempt to rescue him which she'd learned of through Kurt did not sound like the men that she knew back in London, making it quite clear that they were never comfortable with the plan anyway. With months to strategise a new one, in albeit more complicated circumstances, the same mistakes would not be repeated again. There was a very good reason why, too.

The task of rescuing him to begin with, fell with her.

Staking everything on the night in question, she would also find her assignment with Kurt to be over too, though how it would end would depend upon how smoothly that the operation went. The details from London were concise but understanding what was being implied, both her and her son would be escaping via a submarine just outside a small port to the south of Rome. Disguising themselves as part of a fishing crew to be able to escape on a private boat, she would no doubt have to take on the role of the Captain's wife should they encounter trouble. Trouble would be unlikely, not that she knew, as the diversionary attack that the British Mediterranean Fleet would make, would capture the intention of every Italian vessel that was anywhere near the Capital. Getting to the port would be the task that she was needed for, which would not be simple by any means.

Knowing that those in London could not plot an accurate route out from the compound to the port, she would have to plan the finer details of that part of the escape herself. Domenico would be required still if the escape was to be successful, the man having moved to Rome claiming that he was seeing work, which was a fabrication. His only purpose was to facilitate the extraction of the young Englishman from Doctor Van Der Heijden's control, which was why he was utilised by the Intelligence Services. He would take no active part in the operation but the means by which to escape would be up to him to provide. Kathy was well aware that he was within the city, a covert meeting arranged between the two for that afternoon. She already had an idea of what she wanted, a vehicle that James could drive, along with a route that they could take which would avoid any checkpoints or patrols. In a part of the country where no enemy activity was expected, there was an understandably light presence on the way to the port, which they would take complete advantage of.

Planning for such an event was still not an easy task, even though it was in aid of her son. The condition that James might be in by the time the fourteenth of the month came around was of concern to her, as if she could not move him out of the compound herself then they would be scuppered. The Italian soldiers certainly would be of no help, and though Domenico claimed to have found a loyal man who was willing to help them, the man could not get inside the compound without raising any suspicions. The other plan that was put across to the Prime Minister involved that man with Domenico not having to move out of Milan at all, but the plan was never going to be used when Kathy knew her son was the prisoner of vital importance that required rescuing.

It wasn't all a rescue mission though, as Smithers left one final piece of information for her, that was a far clearer order than the one to rescue her boy. Kurt's plans for that evening were not entirely clear to her for the night in question as she sat with the cup of tea in front of her, but if he was to be at the compound, there was another task for her to perform. They were going to extract her from the assignment far earlier than planned, which left the Nazi as a target when they could not get any more information out of him through her. If he caught wind of her betrayal then there was no point in trying to place another agent close to him, as he would see through their bluff immediately. Instead, she was ordered to kill him. A task that Kathy should have been readily wishing to perform. By nature she was no killer though, and though they'd once considered ordering her to eliminate Hitler himself, she rarely was left with blood on her hands. She was trained for it though even if it was not a skill that she readily used. Kurt would have to die.

The problem that it left her with was Hans. If Kurt visited the compound that night, whether she was with him or not, the young Lieutenant would almost certainly be by his side. To isolate Kurt from Hans, as well as then escape without the young man detecting them would almost be impossible, which left her with a very difficult choice to make. Killing Kurt would be easy enough for her emotionally, having never loved the man at all despite the numerous times they'd had sex or she'd told him so. The actions and words were all falsehoods that were acted out by her in order to maintain her cover, no emotions being truly attached to them. When it came to Hans though, it would not be so easy. Let alone her loyalty to Elsa being broken by killing him, she'd come to see Hans as another son in James' absence, and even when she knew where her son was, she cared for the young German too. Far too easily led, he'd done inexcusable acts upon Kurt's orders, but in her eyes he was not beyond some form of redemption. Turning him against his mentor would be a task that she would fail at, but she would rather try and fail than have to kill the young man herself. Detesting the thought of ever having to physically harm Hans, she tried not to think about it, but the problem would not go away even if she continued to do so. Against her heart's wishes, she would have to kill the Lieutenant too if it meant her actual son could be safe.

Looking up from the cup of tea for a moment she watched the trees blow in the wind outside, the late morning gusts howling. There'd been rain the night before which lashed onto the windows, keeping her awake for a time while she stared at the ceiling. Waiting for it to end she'd wondered whether or not she should have killed Kurt there and then, bringing the plan forward to rescue James herself. If she could surprise Hans and make him drive to the compound to release James, then they could have escaped, but a different route would have needed to be plotted. She shook her head at the memory of the night before, realising how ridiculous her plan was. It was a worse one than the one that saw the majority of the British agents within Italy lose their lives down in Taranto the year before. A disaster of that proportion could not be allowed to happen again.

Kurt had long departed that morning with Hans, the two going to the compound. Insisting that he was going to the laboratory in order to complete work on his other project, which was equally if not more disturbing than his torture of James, she hadn't completely believed him. After seeing her son brutalised so cruelly in front of her, then witnessing Kurt's gleeful reaction to every scream of pain that her boy made, she knew he took pleasure from the anguish that James was going through. Her only child frustrated the Nazi Doctor, not giving the answers that he wanted whilst defying him with his own mental willpower that often proved better than Kurt's. Kurt could never lose when he held the card of threatening Erin's life, a valueless threat not that James knew it, but he was still furious with the young man for trying his best not to give in. The look in the Nazi's eyes that morning told her that her boy was going to be on the end of another beating, but Kurt would not admit to it if it was his plan.

Behind her she could hear movement, and when Kathy relieved her focus on the trees outside, she was met with the sight of Elsa walking with Leo in her arms. The beautiful baby boy was another reason for why her conscience was so conflicted when it came to Hans. Having been the one to have encouraged the relationship between the now married young Germans, she was indirectly responsible for Leo's conception, without being present for the physical act. If she was to kill Hans, she would deprive the young man of a father as well as depriving Elsa of a husband, leaving her to look after Leo on her own. With no Hans to look after her as well no longer being in Kurt's sphere, she would leave them alone in the world with little help whatsoever, unable to return to Germany. She would receive assistance from her own family if she could get back, but it was getting there that was the issue when she would know no one who could help. If Kurt was to be killed, then Hans' military standing would at least give them a chance of finding transport back to their homeland but without him she would have nothing. The lives that her and her son would go onto lead would most likely be dreadful, possibly living in conditions that were far from ideal. To save her own son, Kathy was having to contemplate denying the happiness of another mother and son. Her heart and mind could barely take it.

"Good morning Lyla…". Elsa addressed her with the name that she now hated the sound of. "… that wind is not going away, is it?"

Elsa being the innocent young mother that she was, spoke so sweetly that Kathy would have cried on the spot if she were not the fantastic actress that she was. They'd not found too much time to speak to each other since she'd returned from seeing her son, but the very next day afterwards she'd told Elsa of what she'd seen. Livid that her husband would willingly torture the young man, Elsa was ready to tear strips off of him in what was an out of character reaction for her, at least was up until their time in Rome. Her innocence to the world was beginning to be lost to a degree, her eyes opened to see the man that Kurt really was, though she was not worldly wise enough to realise that Hans was not quite the same as him. Kathy stopped her from doing so though, insisting that when the time came, she would confront Kurt about what was going on rather than Hans. Recognising the conflict that the Lieutenant was having in completing every single order that Kurt gave him without failure, she knew he was not completely to blame even though he'd complied with the orders. So easily brainwashed as a young adult into believing in the Nazi way of life, he did not know any different other than to comply with the orders.

"It has been incredibly rough…". The Irishwoman answered plainly. "… I was worried that the trees would blow down".

"That would be terrible!" Elsa giggled. "Nobody would be able to leave the street".

Laughing between themselves, Kathy was glad of the distraction from her otherwise mentally fragile state. Elsa didn't realise the important work that she was doing in lifting the older woman's mood, if only for a couple of minutes, going about her morning routine without so much as saying another word. Leo was placed into his chair at the table next to the Irishwoman, who immediately entered a game with him where she would hide her face with her hands, peeking out at him every so often. The game entertained the young German boy immensely, his precious smile warming her heart, which reminded her that she might have to kill his father. Her stomach gargled with the thought that she simply could not shift from her mind, confronted by it every time that she lay eyes on the child. Happier memories of James' childhood, at least those where it was just the two of them, swirled back into her mind though, and it was those memories that she attempted to focus on as she continued the game with the young boy.

"He likes you a lot, Lyla". Elsa smiled, pouring herself a cup of tea as she watched on. "You are like a grandmother to him".

Honoured by the title but dishonoured by what she was going to have to do, Kathy could scarcely force a smile at the otherwise glowing compliment. She'd seen herself playing that role anyway, using her own experience as a mother to be able to guide Elsa in looking after her son. At the time, she'd been younger than the blonde when she gave birth to James and had no man at her side to help her, but with Hans often away the lessons that she learnt were often relevant to Elsa too. They'd acted well as a family unit even when he was there, and still with Kurt involved as well, though his involvement was largely minimal. He remained respectful to the young boy that he could have seen as his grandson, but Kurt did think in such familial ways as the rest of them. His mind was often far too fixed on another young man, thinking up new ways to inflict pain upon him to try to discover the truth, which the young man in question did not have.

"I am barely over forty years old and you think of me as a Grandmother!". Kathy scoffed.

"You are a very beautiful Grandmother". Elsa again complimented her with a smile. "I wish I was as beautiful as you".

Elsa's sigh told Kathy that the young woman's confidence in her own good looks was clearly not as high as she thought, something which needed to be addressed immediately. She was in fact jealous of Elsa, believing that the blonde was far better looking than she was at her age, and that came from a woman who was the most sought after in Derry at one point. It was quite odd growing up, as Deirdre was the first of the two sisters to attract significant attention from the fellas but when Kathy began to bloom in her mid teens, male interest soon followed. She'd been unable to control her urges as a young adult, regularly having sex with just about anyone that she wanted to, with no shortage of men to take to bed at night. Contrary to the beliefs of those who'd spread rumours about her after her departure from the city, she'd never once charged a man for the act, like Orla, enjoying it rather than wishing to profit from it. Elsa, as far as she knew, had not given herself to any man before Hans, and likewise he'd never done so with another young woman. They were an almost perfect couple, especially by the Aryan standards that those in High Command spoke of, and any notion that she was anything but a glistening diamond in an otherwise rough country, could not be allowed to linger.

"Elsa do not belittle your beauty. Look at you…". Kathy told her. "I wish I held such a perfect body when I was your age. You are stunning".

Blushing at the compliment, Elsa didn't respond for a moment, deciding to make her way over to the table with her freshly made cup of tea in hand. Leo watched the conversation between the women with apparent interest, not that he would know what was going on. His attention was soon taken away by the swaying of the trees anyway, which he found made him laugh. Childish giggles quietly played out around the adults as Elsa took her seat opposite Lyla, her blonde hair brushed out of her eyes when it dangled in front of them. With her hair swept to the side she was even more beautiful, which Kathy made sure to tell her.

"How do you do it, Elsa?" She laughed. "How are you so pretty?"

"Stop it Lyla! You are embarrassing me… I… I am not beautiful at all".

"Hans is the luckiest man alive to have you. There must be so many men that are jealous of him for having a wife such as you".

"He is lucky yes". Elsa agreed. "Lucky that I continue to talk to him!"

The mood of the conversation suddenly shifted from an exchange of compliments, back to the some of the thoughts that were on the Irishwoman's mind. Still angered by Hans' reluctance to tell her what happened when James planted the seed in her head as well as her husband's willingness to torture the Englishman, she was having to hold back from taking more decisive action. She listened to Kathy, or Lyla as she knew her, believing that the more experienced woman's plan of action was better than her own, but some days she wanted to go against her and lay into him. She'd not married a murderer of innocents, she'd married the man she fell in love with in Germany, and if he was to be proven to the first, the second's image would be dead to her. Kathy worried for the young couple, and though she didn't know the truth of what had happened that day, she could think for herself as to what might have occurred. It was almost better if Elsa never found out for the sake of her marriage, but the inquisitive young woman wanted to know.

"Elsa…". She cautioned. "Trust me. I do not think Hans is to blame for whatever it is that has happened. He is a good man".

"I want to believe you Lyla, I do!" She insisted. "But… but I cannot. The Englishman was so sincere in his words… I… I just want to know what Hans has done".

Kathy should have told her that the Englishman might still have been lying, that he could not be completely trusted as he was the enemy. Previously, before the day she'd visited the compound herself, she would have been able to without question but now that she knew that it was her boy that was the man in question, her outlook was very different. Knowing that the James she'd brought up would not lie about such things, she approached her reply to Elsa differently, entertaining the younger woman's view that something had happened.

"I know Elsa. I cannot say that I do not believe the Englishman myself, but we must not jump to conclusions. Kurt is responsible for him and is responsible for Hans too. We must not condemn your husband when he is not in charge".

"Will you talk to Kurt? Please?" Elsa begged her. "I know that you need to wait for the right time, but I cannot wait much longer".

"Please Elsa, just hold on… for me?"

Fighting against her own wishes, Elsa wanted to know sooner than Kathy was prepared to tell her, but the Irishwoman stayed resolute despite acknowledging that she might be right. Sharing a bed with her husband became a more difficult prospect by the day when she did not know if he was a murderer or not, whether or not the father of her child could even be trusted around their son. His vows at their wedding ceremony were faithful and pure, yet she could not help but begin to feel as if she'd been lied to. The young man that she fell in love with, carried the child of and married, was not supposed to be one who treated the lives of others so lightly. Kurt might have been able to but not her Hans. That was not who she married.

"I… I will". She conceded.

"Thank you". Kathy replied, placing a hand on the younger woman's cheek so that their eyes met. "I promise, I will get you the answers for you to see that Hans is a good man".

Nodding, Elsa fought back the tears from flowing, trying to convince herself that the Irishwoman was correct in her belief. Opposite her, Kathy looked upon the young woman with fondness, while at the back of her mind the thoughts of what she might have to do still festered. In one act she could destroy the other woman's family, but it would be one to save her own son as well as the war for Britain, if it came down to it. She didn't want to have to do it, even when Elsa was so annoyed with Hans, as her determination to find out exactly what he'd done showed her how much she still truly loved him despite everything.

"I wish we'd never came here…". Elsa whispered in a sigh.

"Me too…".

The words escaped Kathy before she had chance to reel them back in, as they were lies that she was telling Elsa, to a point. Although she wished she'd never had to have gone to Italy at all, to watch Kurt's demonic streak only continue to worsen, she would have never been able to see her son again if she hadn't, though when she did, she only caused him yet more pain. No matter how much she cared for Hans, Elsa and Leo, James was her son, the most important person in the world to her, who had to come first no matter what. His rescue was of paramount of importance to her as well as the country that she served, the Nazi's having held onto the boy for far too long. Kurt's death would come about during it, an incredible positive for the innocent lives of many throughout the continent. However, his legacy lived on through the camps in the East where many were heading to their deaths without any crime committed other than being born with their ethnicity. He would forever be known as a killer no matter what happened.

To remove him from the world, Kathy was going to have to become one too.

Saturday mornings were normally the best day of the week for a bit of wee rest for Clare Devlin, when five of the other six days she would be up for work and Sundays for church. Her Da would often leave her alone on a Saturday, recognising her need for a rest, which was a surprisingly grand gesture from a man who was hardly known for such generosity. She would still have chores to do around the house, like most young women did during wartime, but those chose could wait until later in the day when she was properly awake and ready to face them. Snugly tucked under her covers, she was snoring soundly around eight o'clock, unlikely to surface at any point before nine if she could help it.

The week at work was tough again, tougher than she could have done with but ultimately understandable to the young blonde. Unable to complain when there were men dying around the continent, her own gripes about being worked to the bone were silent ones that were not uttered at all around any of her friends nor her family. Sean wouldn't have taken too kindly to her moaning anyway and she knew better than to argue with her father with his temper being what it could be if the right buttons were pushed. Garments were having to be made at an incredibly quick rate, one which she hadn't seen for some months, but with the factory taking private orders again it was hardly surprising. She'd been given a bonus the week before which was at least morally uplifting, but it was still difficult to keep up with the almost constant demand. Erin appeared to have thrived under the conditions by contrast, though Clare was working far better than Michelle who detested working at such pace again. The dark-haired girl was not so silent with her thoughts on the matter, not that it would have changed anything from a workplace perspective.

The enigma of the group was Orla. She always was in her own way, but at the back end of the week she certainly proved to be even more so than usual. On the Thursday she almost hadn't turned up at all, Marie being unwell the night before and up most of the night being sick. Blaming something she must have eaten for the bout of sickness, Orla only just managed to convince her Granda to take care of Marie for the whole day, the two having fallen out immensely. The story of Orla's trip out was recounted to Michelle and Clare that morning by Erin, though she spared the exact details of what her cousin actually did, instead opting to tell them that they caught her outside the pub. Michelle would have more than likely sounded off about Orla riding one of the Yanks, which would lead to rumours and sneers that the young mother did not need. Recognising that it was the case, Erin changed the story to save her from such an outcome. It didn't change her own anger with Orla, not least for the hurtful comment she'd made to Erin on the way out, but the young Quinn had to let it go when Marie was ill.

From a working perspective, the young mother was the one letting the team down. It was not the first time that she'd done so but it was the first time that she'd ever shouted back at her friends when they tried to cajole her. Michelle nearly fell of her stool when she was answered back to by the usually mild-mannered Orla, who was still upset from the confrontation the night before. Not wanting her family to get involved in her life, even though she was aware that they were only doing so in her best interests, she'd remained quite angry. Erin thought it best not to speak to her, believing that it was her alone that she was angry with, which left Michelle and Clare to tread carefully around the normally passive brunette. It didn't make the last two days of the week any fun at all. Clare herself had asked after Marie, only to be shut down by Orla who said she was fine and told the blonde to stop asking questions. A suspicious Michelle only just about held her tongue but would not continue to do so if Orla's behaviour didn't improve.

For Clare though, the glorious early hours of a Saturday morning were ruined when she heard her parents shouting, waking her up from the slumber she'd found herself in. Arguments between Sean and Geraldine were not rare occurrences, at least not any more, with her Da seeming to be on edge a lot more the further they went into the war. He wasn't even playing an active part in it, but something about the time that they were living in was making him jumpier and more aggressive. Bearing the brunt of her husband's anger most of the time, Geraldine was often struck by her husband. Sometimes Clare was present for him doing so, though he usually tried to shield her from seeing the violence he inflicted upon his wife. Sean ruled the house with an iron fist, and the two women of the property knew better than to anger him too much.

Groaning, the barely awake Clare decided to listen to find out what the two were shouting about. It would normally be about something incredibly trivial, Geraldine leaving something out or putting something away in the wrong cupboard. Such a small mistake could often lead Sean to turn to violence, unable to deal with his wife in any other way. Clare soon found that she was mistaken though, much to her horror…

"No, Sean! This isn't right!" Geraldine's shout was the one Clare heard first.

"You know it is love! I didn't want to have to do this either, but Clare has left me with no choice!"

Waking quickly when she was mentioned, Clare felt her heart begin to race, concluding straight away what the conversation was about even before she'd gotten to the finer details. Her Da's lack of patience with her when it came to one element of life in particular was even known to her friends, and whilst Michelle was supportive as she knew the truth, Erin and Orla were more likely to side with him. She couldn't completely blame them when neither of them knew that her preferences were different to theirs, but when they made comments about how she was never seen with a fella it would hurt her. If her Da knew that her friends held concerns, his would only increase along with the chance of him turning to violence to achieve the means. He'd never once struck his daughter, but as she aged into her twenties, she was no longer a child. Risking his wrath was something she tried to avoid.

"She's old enough to make her own choices, Sean! Ye shouldn't be doin' this!" Her mother continued to argue.

"I have to!" He growled. "She might be old enough, I agree, but she doesn't make any choices. She just goes on… ignorin' it!"

"If she's not ready…".

"OF COURSE SHE'S READY!"

Becoming angrier and angrier, Sean's voice rang out throughout the house, the walls vibrating at the sound of his uncontained rage. Scared by him without even laying her eyes upon his, crystalised tears began to form for Clare as it was confirmed to her that he was talking about the one thing she hoped he would never bring up. Her mother was correct, she was not ready to be with a fella, nor would she ever be when there was no attraction from her towards men. She couldn't help that it was the case, but Sean was not the sort of man who would understand her plight. A man of God, and of the church, it was his job to stamp out homosexuality within the community rather than promote it. So many young men and women had been ran out of the city throughout the years by his group, as well as though who'd stayed, receiving Father Peter's 'treatment'. Those women were never quite the same again, playing the roles of wives and breeding as they should, without ever properly feeling love in the way that they wished to. Determined not to end up in either position, she'd hidden her homosexuality to all but Michelle, who would never see her friend harmed despite her big mouth. A realistic young woman though, Michelle knew that her friend would have to find a fella and marry eventually, the world not being open to those with the preferences of Clare.

How quickly that fella needed to come along was not known to her, up until that very morning. Sean hadn't pestered her for some time, given the problems that they'd faced with some of their friends including Erin's grief for James, when he understood the need for her to be with them more. Michelle made attempts to make it seem as if Clare was out trying to find a fella to be with by some of her comments to Clare's Da, who never appeared to seem as if he was losing patience. A smarter man than some took him for though, he knew that Michelle was lying to him constantly, as she was a proven liar in his book. He didn't trust the young Mallon at all but chose not to say anything whenever she spoke to him. That morning was the day that his patience finally ran out, or the morning where he at least informed his wife that it had.

"She has to be ready love…". Sean dropped his tone to a calmer one for a moment. "… she needs to find herself a husband to take care of her and have our grandchildren. It's her duty, just like it is for the soldiers out in the battlefields!"

"I'm not sayin' that it isn't, Sean". Geraldine argued back. "But ye can't force her into a relationship with someone. What happens if she doesn't love him?"

"It doesn't have to be this lad, love. It could be any fella… but she at least needs the practice of talking to a man. Christ, I think that James fella or David were the only two men she ever spoke to, and they're both dead!"

Reminded of two of the best men that she'd ever had the pleasure of knowing, without feeling any romantic interest in, Clare wiped away the tears that were now falling from the corners of her eyes. Her Da, probably still thinking that she was asleep, wasn't aware of the pain that he was causing his daughter by bringing them up as well as discussing her future. It was exactly that, her future, a future in which she should have controlled the outcome, but a young woman in Derry did not have the luxury to be in control of her own fate. When there was such pressure from the prominent male figures in her life for her to lead the lifestyle that the church told her to, there was little solace for Clare other than Michelle's kindness and acceptance of the person that she truly was. Bringing up the past only made it worse where James and David were concerned, as she would have given anything for them to be back in her life to make Erin and Orla contented again. And to have James back would give her another confidante, the role he would have played if he hadn't gotten himself killed.

"I… I don't like it! It's not our place to get involved in who she loves, Sean! I wouldn't have liked my Ma telling me who I was supposed to be with!"

"But we were sensible, love!" Sean continued to spit feathers at his wife. "People at church are… asking questions about our Clare now".

The nosiness of those within the church community knew no bounds, and at any hint of potential scandal the old ladies and the housewives would have their tongues wagging. There were plenty of men within the church who gossiped too, and a young woman such as Clare not seemingly entertaining any male company was a fact that would be picked upon eventually. She'd hoped that there would have been some change to the world before that happened, where she could be accepted for who she was, but that was nothing more than a pretty dream. Confronting the problem that lay on the horizon was always going to happen, but now stood up against her bedroom door listening into her parents conversation, Clare was dismayed to find that the time was coming quicker than she'd hoped.

"Ach, so this is what it is all about!" Geraldine shouted. "Those nosy old bags in church making comments! I thought you were a bit tougher than that to let them effect ye!"

"The Flaherty's have been talking, Geraldine!" He replied sternly but with fear in his voice. "The O'Neill's too… and they'll have told the Scanlon's and the O'Driscoll's before long!"

"To hell with the Flaherty's!" She roared.

"GERALDINE!"

"No! I mean it Sean, I couldn't care less what those… pretentious… pompous… eejits… think about our daughter! I won't let them ruin our Clare's happiness with their… draconian thinkin'!"

Proud of her mother for making such a stand on her behalf, Clare wiped more tears away as she forced a smile to etch out across her lips. The families that her Da mentioned were amongst some of the harshest within the church, with an influence from them on Father Peter too. He was having relations with the women in at least two of the families which did not help matters, though anyone who would have tried to blackmail him would have found themselves foolish to do so. If those people were beginning to realise that she wasn't in the company of fellas that often nor had she found herself a husband to start a family with, they might start to ask more difficult questions to her directly. Already bothering her Father about her situation, he only knew how to appease them rather than side with his daughter. He would not disappoint them nor the Lord himself.

"They are important people Geraldine! If they convince Father Peter that our Clare isn't… I…".

"Grow a backbone Sean!" Geraldine almost screamed at him. "What sort of a man let's….".

Smack!

Wincing, Clare heard the familiar crack of the back of her father's hand striking her mother's cheek, a common one in the Devlin house. They were in the living room downstairs and she heard the strike, that immediately reddened her mother's cheek when it was given. Stumbling over, Geraldine fell onto their sofa, whilst her husband stood over her, seething in his fury. Finding himself having to resort to striking her more often to keep her in line, he was fuming that she did not take the situation so seriously. Those families could ruin theirs with rumours, despite his generally upstanding reputation within the community, able to influence Father Peter more than him. All of his close friends would turn against him too, which would leave him without anyone to turn to when false accusations were thrown towards his family. He wasn't aware that those allegations would not be false at all but was not going to fight for his reputation regardless. Clare was going to find herself a fella and if it meant he found her one to firmly secure her future, he was prepared to have to. First though, his wife needed to know the error of her ways.

"Get up love!" He snarled at her, as she slowly raised herself to her feet, rubbing her cheek. "Now I didn't want to have to do that! Look what you made me do!"

Blaming her for the act of violence which he'd enacted himself, Sean was quite the coward. He would have been told as much by men like Gerry and Martin, who did not strike their wives to keep order. Sean himself couldn't understand how the two lived the way that they did, Gerry especially when Mary was more than man of the house than him from what he'd seen. However, the two of them deeply cared for the women in their lives whereas Sean saw Geraldine as his dutiful wife and mother to his daughter, not an equal or anyone near in his eyes. She'd done her primary job in giving birth to and raising Clare, the rest of their marriage not being one that contained much love compared to the other two men. That was his way though, and no one would ever convince him otherwise.

"I will not have people destroy our reputation by their lies!" He shouted at her. "Clare is going to find herself a husband soon and we will see her married, even if it kills me! Do you understand!?"

When he received no immediate response, Sean's rage only grew.

"I SAID DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?"

Smack!

Struck again, Geraldine remained on her feet but was sobbing loudly. Her cheeks stung from the two slaps that she'd received to them, one on either side from her husband who treated her so poorly. Many men thought it was wise to treat their wives that way, which left her jealous of women such as Mary and Deirdre who were never on the receiving end of the back of their men's hands. Sean needed to be opposed, but whenever she did so it was always at the detriment of herself whilst protecting Clare's interests. She didn't know the truth about her daughter any more than her husband did, not suspecting it at all, safely believing in her own mind that Clare was simply not ready until the right fella came along. When there was a war going on, the right fella was hard to come by when there were so many that were drawn away from their homes. She was willing to give her daughter time to find a husband; Sean was not and her cheeks showed what he thought of anyone who was willing to tell him that he was wrong.

"Y… Yes…". She eventually replied, terrified of him as he stood in front of her.

Suddenly, his feral rage ceased, Sean returning to the calm man that he was just twenty minutes or so before when they were eating breakfast together and laughing. Quickly changing back to the version of her husband that she genuinely loved, Geraldine was astounded that he could forget what he'd done so quickly. She shouldn't have been, as it was normal behaviour for him to almost completely disregard the violence he inflicted upon her, but it seemed to catch her out every time nonetheless. He used his thumb to wipe away the tears that were running down her face, a caring, loving touch, compared to the usual feeling of the back of his hand across her cheeks. She preferred having his thumb there than his hand…

"I've worked hard to arrange this you know…". He started to explain calmly, leading his wife to the sofa where they sat down together. "… we need to make sure this house is spotless".

"Wh… w-why…". Geraldine choked out.

"The fella is coming over dinner tonight, love. I'll need you to cook us something special".

Geraldine was barely able to function, let alone think about what she was going to cook. Her brain screamed at her to leave the room and get away from her husband, but she reminded herself in the second that followed, that it would only make it worse for her if she went along with that course of action. Sean would most certainly follow her, to subject her to an even worse beating, which she definitely wanted to avoid. Trying to recompose herself, Geraldine was angered to find out that he was going to force Clare into meeting the fella so soon, when they hadn't even told their daughter themselves and it was already well into the morning.

"I… I'll get dustin'… I suppose". She sniffled out a response, but to his earlier point about the house.

"Excellent love". He replied, placing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I'm so lucky to have ye, so I am".

Lucky he was, lucky that he had a wife who would continue on no matter how much he was hurting her physically or emotionally. Geraldine didn't dare step any further out of place, accepting the kiss and his words without challenging him or making any comment whatsoever. She could just about muster a smile, which she flashed towards the man that was sat to her side, though internally she was screaming at herself and him. He treated her so badly in striking her when she spoke back to him yet would suddenly reveal how happy he was to have married her only a minute later. That was the advantage for Sean in controlling the house; he could get away with absolutely anything that he wanted without fear of repercussion.

"Who… who is this fella?" A slightly recomposed Geraldine asked her husband.

"He's the nephew of the Bishop".

"The Bishop!" She exclaimed, recoiling in shock. "Praise the Lord, I need to start cleanin' now! Why didn't yet tell me sooner!"

"Relax, love". A chuckling Sean replied. "I only arranged myself last night".

It explained her husband's whereabouts that evening, as he was out at church a lot longer than usual. She knew that the Bishop was visiting though, which is why she hadn't questioned it any further, that and the threat of the back of his hand, but he'd spent the additional time talking to the clergyman to evidently set up the wee dinner. The three of them would be dining with the Bishop's nephew, and presumably the Bishop himself that evening. The amount of rations that they were allowed could hardly cover five, setting her off into a panic that shrugged off her previous upset from where he'd struck her.

"What about Clare?" She quickly asked, piquing the interest of her daughter who listened in from above. "She might have somethin' on with the girls".

"She won't". He replied crisply. "If they turn up here then I'll be telling them that's she's can't come out and it's best they don't see her".

"And what about if she goes out herself? We can't keep her prisoner here, Sean, she's not a child!"

Playing with fire by raising her voice at her husband again, Geraldine could feel herself cowering in anticipation for the latest smack to her cheek, but it did not come. Keeping himself calm, Sean came across as more menacing in his reply, leaving his wife to wonder whether it was accidental or whether he really was trying to frighten her.

"She won't love… trust me".

From behind her door upstairs, Clare was crying lightly to herself as one of her worst nightmares was becoming a distinct reality. She was going to have to have dinner with the young man, though at least only dinner, but it would no doubt be one where she was put under pressure. The Bishop was not a man that she could openly defy, and if he wished for his nephew to court her then Sean would have to allow it. Many times before she'd been put into uncomfortable positions only for one of either fate or her friends to come to her rescue. With her Da appearing to be ready to keep her under what was practically house arrest, she would not be able to rely on the latter when she could not get word to them. Her debt to fate was already high too, leaving her suspended in the belief that she would not get away this time.

All that she wanted was to be able to live life how she wished to live it, with another woman by her side not a man. For some time she'd dreamt that it might be Michelle, but those feelings had long passed after her friend made it quite clear that she did not feel the same way. The right woman was yet to come along for her at all, but Clare was far more motivated to find love with those of her own sex should she be allowed to. God in his infinite wisdom had placed her into a time where it was not possible, where she would remain frustrated at every turn because she could not love in the way that she wanted to. She would instead be chained to a husband that she wouldn't love, to give birth to his children that she would not want and live a life as a housewife, another one of her many nightmares about the situation she was facing.

Returning to the tender warmth of her covers, she curled up in a ball beneath them to cry her eyes out. Trapped… trapped without a hope in the world she was, forced with the reality that she was going to have to subscribe to the script that society set for her, rather than being able to write her own for the life that she craved. It would drive even the strongest of characters to tears, but Clare only saw herself as weak. Weak because she did not conform so easily like her friends… weak because she was not the daughter that her father wanted her to be… weak because she was scared of the life that was going to be thrust upon her, whether it was with the Bishop's nephew or another man.

With no way out of the house, and the expectations of her loving father upon her shoulders, Clare Devlin was about to spend one of the worst evenings of her life with only her mother in support. When she eventually withdrew from her room to make her way down for some breakfast, she noted the sore marks on her mother's cheek, a visualisation of the price of supporting her. In Sean Devlin's house, it was his rules that were to be followed and he would make sure that his daughter would find herself a husband.

As every day passed, the truth became harder swallow for Clare.

In her life, a crossroads was reached.

Michelle really didn't like Clare's Da.

She couldn't help it but such personalities that were so different were always going to cause clashes, especially when she was the feisty young spirit that she was. There were times when she could have easily struck the man, punching his lights out in front of anyone including Geraldine and Clare. He could be exceptionally rude to her at times too, Sean equally finding her to be a character not to his taste, still believing that she was nothing more than a common whore and a terrible influence on his sweet daughter. The opposite was in fact true, Michelle being the only one of their friends who knew Clare's secret and guarded it just as fiercely as the diminutive blonde herself did.

That Saturday afternoon saw another argument between the young Mallon and the older Devlin man, Clare being the subject of the debate. When Michelle, accompanied by Erin, turned up to the house that afternoon, at the very least she thought she might get to speak to Clare. Their aim was to get her out for an evening of drinking down the pub, which was normally achievable as long as Sean could be satisfied that they would return home at a sensible hour. Clare rarely exceeded those limits, fearing his punishments if she did. However, from the moment he opened the door they were made to feel unwelcome. As early as thirty seconds into their exchange with the man, Erin gestured to her dark-haired friend that they should leave but Michelle wouldn't budge. A furious argument ensued from there and when Clare attempted to involve herself, Sean forced his wife to drag her back to her room. It left Michelle fuming, consequently also making it a night out for only her and Erin, with Clare absent.

Their destination was The River, Erin visiting for the second night that week after her earlier visit on the hunt for Orla. The young widow was still banned from going out, and though Marie was better after her sickness of days earlier, Joe remained adamant that she needed to learn a lesson. All of the family attempted to get through to her about changing her ways, including Erin who was still somewhat upset about the comments her cousin had made to her on the way out. She'd tried her best to put them aside but couldn't resist when her cousin's actions were mentioned at home again. Orla still wasn't ready to apologise, much to her dismay, and Mary forced her daughter to let it go, until the young mother was ready. It was clear to Mary that Orla felt intense guilt about the incident, aware from Joe too that she'd apologised to him for putting him in the position she had done. Whether or not it would change her outlook on the relations she would have with the Yanks would remain to be seen, but it scared her off sufficiently in the short term.

"Sean's such a dick!" Michelle grumbled, almost slamming her glass down on the table. "I mean it's one thing Clare not being able to come but why does he have to be such an arsehole about it!"

"Ach come on Michelle, he's always been like that". Erin offered her thoughts.

"Not that bad though Erin! He wouldn't even let us see Clare… it's like she's some sort of fucking prisoner in there!"

Erin too had found it odd that Clare wasn't allowed to interject into the conversation, at least at first, until Sean gave them the truth of the matter. A plot to have only his version of events laid out to them, thereby skirting around him hitting his wife more than once that morning, the dinner plans were given to them almost as he'd relayed them to his wife. The Bishop would be coming to visit them that evening, he would be bringing his nephew, and they would be having a meal together which Clare had to attend. Neither of the girls needed to ask why their friend couldn't skip the meal, painfully obvious that he was trying to set Clare up with the young man. Neither of them knew him as he wasn't a native of the city, therefore unable to ascertain if he was a decent fella or not but armed with Clare's secret, Michelle knew it would not be right.

"She's not a prisoner, Michelle. Sean's just strict, that's all".

"Strict!" She hissed in reply. "He's half fuckin-Nazi!"

Her comment was not a smart one, attracting the attention of most of the rest of the pub. With eyes suddenly turning to the pair of them, Erin's cheeks began to glow red in embarrassment from Michelle's words. There was nothing for the two of them to hide, but the focus of everyone who heard the comment was taken when Nazi's were involved. The mere insinuation that there could be a Nazi amongst them turned heads. Michelle offered her apologies to everyone when she looked around, and slowly but surely they all returned to their drinks and own conversations. The barman gave the two girls a glare, a warning that another comment like the one the dark-haired young woman made, would see them thrown out.

Whilst their own conversation stalled for a moment, someone that neither had spoken to for a while came from out of the crowd on the other side. It was very clear that Michelle was in the pub when her voice bounced off the walls after the Nazi comment, and to anyone that knew her it gave them a chance to make their presence known. Aisling was over the other side of the pub at the time, being the very young woman that was walking towards them. She was wearing a simple blouse, nothing special for the evening just like the two of them. Erin spotted her first, flashing her a smile, a gesture which Michelle also made as soon as she drew up to their table.

"Alright Aisling?" Erin spoke up first.

"Aye I'm grand girls, how are ye both doin'? Seems like ages since I last saw ye".

"Ach we're grand so we are". Michelle answered for the two of them. "Just out for a quiet night ye know… well unless those bomber fuckers turn up".

Laughing at Michelle's comment, Aisling stood strangely shyly in front of them. They weren't exactly friends with her, neither were they enemies, though her friendship with Jenny at least made their acquaintance uneven. After Jenny's internment, or what they thought was internment, they'd wondered what Aisling would get up to when she wasn't working. Her parents had their own business in the town which was where she worked, but away from working in the family, Jenny was the only close friend that they knew about. She was somewhat acquainted with Tara they knew, but curious, Michelle decided to ask.

"What are you up to? Out with Tara or?" She fished for the answer.

"No just with my brother and his friends…". She pointed to the group she'd left. "He's old enough to drink now so my Ma wants me to keep an eye on him and the rest of them".

Acting as a minder in a way that they would have to with Orla after recent events, both of the girls chuckled at her responsibility for the evening. One way to ruin a good night out, having to act as a chaperone was hardly the most entertaining job in the world. Aisling's wee brother was almost certainly better behaved than Orla though, which would have made for an easier job at least in Erin's mind. They missed her presence with them that night, just as they missed Clare's but there would be other nights for the four of them to spend together. For Erin there was at least the joy of being able to still spend nights with her friends, when nights with the special someone who'd been in her life were long in the past.

"I… I best get back to them". Aisling hesitantly said. "I'll see ye girls another time".

"Aye see ya".

The bespectacled woman walked back to the group on the other side of the pub, leaving Michelle and Erin to talk between themselves once more. The pub was quite warm that night, as well as being relatively busy, which allowed them to have their jackets around the back of their chairs as they looked out over the vast majority of the pub from their seat in the corner. Running into Aisling was a pleasant diversion to the evening at least, which could have been something far less pleasant on another night. Fights were a fairly regular occurrence between sailors and soldiers, sometimes the American lads even fighting their fellow countrymen rather than the Brits. Michelle would have found it entertaining but Erin was not a fan at all, much preferring the gentlemanly nature of the servicemen. Like Lance…

"Nice to see she's alright…". Erin commented on the departed Aisling.

"Aye. At least she gets to go out and doesn't have a Da who's a complete c-".

"Michelle!"

"What!?" She countered. "I'm not happy about what he's doin'. It's not right!"

To some extent Erin agreed, knowing that Michelle was no longer just talking about Sean's decision to not let Clare out at all. Clare's lack of initiative in trying to find a fella didn't outwardly concern Erin, but she did wonder whether or not her friend was really trying that hard. There'd been the mess of the night out with the two fellas some time back, though the story was not a mess in Michelle's opinion as she'd slept with the pair of them that night when Clare missed out. Various other attempts, mostly led by the young Mallon had seemingly failed, as well as suggestions from her to Clare about finding the right fella. With plenty of her own problems though she'd relegated Clare's towards the back of her mind in her grief, though with that period of her life now looking as if it were the past, she could focus on the troubles of her friends once more.

"She needs to find herself a fella though Michelle, even you know that!"

What Michelle did know, and what Erin didn't, was that Clare was never going to find a fella if she could help it. Society was against her in that endeavour, as well as her father, but Michelle herself would not be forcing Clare into a relationship she didn't wish to be in. The nights where she would try to set Clare up with someone had started off as legitimate, but any more of those evenings would simply be as a cover to appease Sean. Being alone in knowing Clare's secret was tough at times, but Erin would make far too much of a fuss if she knew about it, which would almost certainly lead to the secret getting out, something which had to be avoided.

"I… I know…". She lied cautiously, taking a sip of her drink. "But the Bishop's nephew? I'm not sure Clare's suited to a fella like that".

"A fella who probably says nothin' out of line, deeply religious and will absolutely be a gentleman… I can't think of anyone better". Erin argued. "Although… the way Sean acted about it… was a bit…".

"Fucked up?"

"No not fucked up… just… weird. It was like he was not telling us something but was telling us everything… I don't know Michelle… l didn't like the way he treated Clare about it either".

"Yeah it was fucked up". Michelle put her point across again as Erin rolled her eyes. "He's a weird fucker… it has to be said".

Discussing the finer points of Clare's Da was a conversation that was only heading one way, and that was to the two of them finding more points to slate him on. Michelle continued on with a monologue about him, Erin letting her, not disagreeing with a single thing she said about the man. Even their parents weren't fond of him, though they wouldn't tell him that, especially Martin and Gerry who were particularly wary of his overly religious nature. To find proof that it was him who was one of those who drove Molly O'Keefe out of town was not something they could do, but all of the adults had a fair idea he helped with it. Geraldine was not taken to task over it, as she might not have known herself, though she in fact did, not that she agreed with it in the slightest. The fact that their own daughter held the same preferences as Molly was yet to come to their consciences…

It was to Clare's mother that their conversation moved to next, Erin finally managing to get a word in when Michelle stopped for some more of her drink.

"Do ye think he hits Geraldine?"

Asking the question in a whisper, successfully drawing no unwanted attention to them when they spoke of such a sensitive topic, Erin watched as Michelle measured the question and her reply to it. It wasn't often that her friend took a moment to review an answer, more noted for her gung-ho approach to such things, but it did require it for once. To accuse Sean falsely would have a devasting effect on their friendship with Clare as well as their families friendship, and though she was not suggesting that they should, if anyone heard their thoughts then the rumours would spread unavoidably. Secrets were very difficult to keep in Derry, despite the city being home to numerous spies. Even one who worked for the Nazi's.

"I wouldn't be surprised…". Michelle finally responded. "… but I can't say either way. I guess he loves her so if he doesn't then I wouldn't be surprised either".

"Well aye but… I don't think it's a happy house. Does Clare really look happy whenever she comes out of there?" Erin quizzed her friend once more.

"She's happy to see us so aye!"

Realising that she would gain no further practical responses from Michelle on what was a serious matter, Erin decided to leave Geraldine's wellbeing for another day. She would never mention it around Clare as she did not want her friend to know that they discussed her family matters, nor did she wish to aggravate any tensions. Clare was the queen of cack attacks who could be jumpy at any time of the day at the smallest of events; accusations of such magnitude against her father would set her off completely. She also couldn't deny Michelle's statement as Clare was always happy to see them, but it reinforced her beliefs even more. She was happy to go out because staying in could be terrifying for her.

"Anyway, while we're talking about fellas…". Michelle took the conversation back over before Erin had a chance to. "How's things going with yer fancy Yank?"

"Wha… there's nothin'…". Erin stammered, to Michelle's delight.

"Come on, I know ye saw him the other night because ye said so yerself when ye were tellin' us about Orla… and I've teased ye since. He's a handsome fella…".

From trying to be sensitive and concerned about the welfare of those in the Devlin household, Erin was left a dark shade of red from the blushing she was quickly performing. She'd began to think more and more about the Lieutenant since the fateful Wednesday evening, even though it had only been a couple of nights before. Lance's actions were nothing short of heroic in her eyes that night despite having his own agenda to break up what was going on, treating Orla respectfully. He'd had to ask her about the prostitution with it being clamped down on after the initial surge of reports about it but had done so in a way that was proper. Matters didn't help at home when Gerry mentioned him to Mary, starting off all sorts of comments that were all rebuffed, though her Da did help her to when he'd clearly seen that there was nothing between them. Her mother's attitude of disdain towards the Americans was still quite rude in her eyes, though it was allowed to go unchecked given the issues they were dealing with when it came to Orla.

"I see him as a friend… that's all". She adamantly replied, taking a sip of her drink immediately to hide behind it.

"A friend…". Michelle snorted. "A friend that ye want to examine below the decks…".

The drink that was in her mouth was spat back out into the glass at such words from Michelle, which once again drew attention to them, but only from those close by. A mortified Erin quickly made her apologies to all of those around them who had turned their heads, whilst Michelle looked on snickering at her blonde friend. A comment that scandalised Erin, she was more than happy to sit there and make it when it made such a strong impact on her. Ever since meeting the Lieutenant for the first time she'd detected that he was the first fella since James that Erin looked at in anywhere near the way she used to look at her cousin. They all wanted her to find someone else to properly move on, with Lieutenant Hamilton a suitable match in her mind. Judging by Erin's reaction, it wasn't as if her friend hadn't thought about it either.

"Michelle! I do not want to…". She floundered. "We're friends, that's it. What about yer sailor, you examined below his decks yet?"

"No…". Michelle blushed this time, the tables turned. "We're… ye know, taking things slowly. He doesn't get any time much off the ship unlike yer Lieutenant".

"And you haven't done nothin' in the time ye've been with him… yer losin' yer touch 'chelle, ye really are…".

Ignoring her comment, Michelle was trying to change her image and sleeping with Clint almost straight away didn't fit that image. She was yet to tell anyone but the girls about him, though the Lieutenant certainly knew from when he'd came across them. She wanted to be able to impress her parents with her newfound attitude when it came to fellas, Clint being the one for her. Never feeling the amount of affection for any other fella before she'd found him, it was quite pleasant to be able to exercise her skills away from the bedroom for a change. They would always be there when called upon, that was certain, but actually talking to a fella and getting to know them made a nice change to simply shagging him before moving onto the next man. Her parents were yet to find out about him, but they would in time, when she hoped to do them proud with the man she'd chosen. It would be tough to convince them with Clint though neither showed quite so much dislike towards the Yanks as some did.

For a short while they sat together without saying anything, taking sips from their drinks, which were still mostly full. The pub was still busy, with more patrons having arrived since the two of them had sat down over half an hour earlier. Saturday was always a busy night despite the threat of bombing and the wartime rationing, with The River seemingly always stocked. Michelle and Erin were not naïve though; they knew that the barman was most likely smuggling in alcohol from the Free State but equally the Cops were getting their share. As long as they could be bribed, there would be no problem at all as the Americans wouldn't get involved in civil matters and the Brits wouldn't dare if it meant venturing out into the country at night where they were vulnerable to attack by those who did not enjoy their presence, especially so close to the border.

The quiet moments of contemplation were short lived though, as Michelle's eye was drawn to a new group of arrivals at the pub that night. They were easily distinguishable when they walked in, as there were no other servicemen at all in The River that night, locals filling the pub for a change. Four men walked in when she counted, Erin not having noticed them as she stared in the other direction, lost to her own thoughts. Wearing Yank uniforms, they were not ones that were worn by the soldiers, instead fine coated officers of the Navy with their light grey, almost white jackets standing out. Scanning the group, her face was awash with glee when she realised that she recognised one of their party. Her own fella Clint was not one of the officers, being in a humble position of rank on the ship rather than having any command, and therefore he was not amongst them. Lieutenant Lance Hamilton was though, being the one to speak to the barman when the four reached the bar. Instinctively, with thoughts of mischief but also care in her mind, she turned back to Erin who was still miles away.

"Oi…". She whispered, getting Erin's attention. "Look at the bar".

When the blonde looked up, she quickly found the reason why Michelle looked even more cheerful than usual. Her cheeks began to colour immediately when she spotted the familiar sight of the handsome Lieutenant, with one of his elbows propped up onto the bar. He wasn't looking directly over at her, yet to see that the two of them were even sat in the corner, but she could see him and that was enough to set her off. The feelings were familiar to the ones she'd held for James while he was alive, though if she asked herself truly then they were not quite as strong, not that she did. The first fella who'd really taken her eye since her love's tragic demise, Lance was right there flaunting himself in front of her without even knowing he was doing it. He was lovely to look at in his dashing coat, face completely clean shaven, a gentleman down to the very last detail. Just like James had been…

"Ye talkin' to him or what?"

"Oh I… I… don't…". Erin became nervous as she replied, stuttering and glancing over to Lance. "I don't know Michelle I…".

"Ye what? Come on Erin, we both know that this is what James wanted for ye if he… well when he… died. I'm not tryin' to upset ye or force ye but yer Lance fella is decent, so he is. Ye might miss yer chance if ye don't try".

Faced with a decision that she knew she would one day have to make, Erin's heart was conflicted. The organ was still so devoted to James, and to his memory, that letting go of the Englishman was still incredibly difficult despite the vast progress she'd made. Her undying love for him simply would not go away but without him there in the flesh to comfort and love her, she was left alone, locked away from a world of caring that she desperately wanted once again. To have the love of a nice fella, who would care for her and make her feel special. Erin couldn't hide away from wanting that feeling forever. Believing it to be too soon was still a problem in her mind even when James had been dead long over a year but at the same time, he was just that. He was dead. He wanted her to move on without him there to shield her. Lance was her chance providing that he felt strongly for her too.

"I…".

"Erin". Michelle put her hand over her best friend's. "There's no harm in asking. There'll be plenty of other fellas if he says no but… I've seen the way you've looked at him… and how he looked at you that night with Clint and the girls. The two of ye might be good for each other".

"I… It's just…". Erin came to a stop, sighing, conceding defeat to open up to her friend. "I keep thinking what if… what if James isn't dead. What if he's a prisoner somewhere and when the war is won, he… he comes home. He might even be coming home now for all I know if he's escaped. I… I don't want to lose him…".

"Yer not goin to lose him, Erin. He's my cousin and… and I'd give anything for him to come back but I've said to ye before. He's gone… he's not comin' back. Moving on is the only way. Go and talk to the Yank… go on now, I'll stay here, I promise… I won't embarrass ye or nothin'".

There were tears welling up inside, her mind pouring images of James into her head that flushed the ones of Lance out even when he was inside the same room as her. The summer of love that she'd shared with the young Captain was the greatest time of her life, the happiest she'd ever been thanks to his gentlemanly brilliance. She didn't want to let go, desperately clinging to those glorious summer afternoons when the fields were full of flowers and the birds chirped away… but Michelle was, as she often was, right. The time had come to truly bury the hatchet, to move on from James with the American sailor who'd effortlessly strolled into her life and conscience. There was no point in waiting on someone who was never coming back, Michelle's point ringing out in her mind. Downing the last bit of her drink to summon the courage, Erin rose to her feet, meeting Michelle's wide grin halfway up. She was almost crying herself at what was the first true display of Erin putting her future over her past. Her own guilt over James was slowly burying itself, and though she would have loved for him and Erin to have their future together, the Italians had stolen that vision away. A new one was required to replace it, one which appeared to have the young American Lieutenant in it.

Striding across briskly with the evident courage from her drinking having an effect on her senses, Erin almost walked straight into the back of the Yank facing Lance and away from her. The Lieutenant still hadn't spotted her, not until she was almost right up next to their group. Next to him, the other two officers were perplexed by the sight of the plainly dressed young blonde that was on her way over to the group. When the man with his back to her realised they were all looking over his shoulder, he too turned to find her right up close to him albeit with her attention elsewhere. Her eyes were only on Lance, who was sporting his short hair having taken the cap that he usually wore off whilst they were inside.

"Lance!" She addressed him, ignoring the others.

"Miss Quinn…". He replied cordially, moving out from where he was leant against the bar. "Excuse me, gentlemen".

The others raised no objections as he moved out towards her, gesturing for her to move further down the bar away from his fellow officers. Pleased by the developments from afar, Michelle watched with a smile on her face. She never wanted to be the one to have to properly push Erin into what she was doing, but her friend sometimes needed steering in the right direction when it was painfully clear her own way of dealing with things wasn't working. Erin and Lance were positioned towards the middle of the bar, amazingly finding not a single set of eyes on them other than Michelle's occasional glances that the latter was yet to pick up on.

"We seem to have a habit of running into each other ma'am…". Lance began. "Are you here on your own?"

"Ach no…". She replied, giggling slightly. "My friend Michelle's over there. Ye remember her?".

Looking over, Lance quickly found the dark-haired young woman sat in the corner. She took a look over a second later and nodded to him, the Lieutenant smiling at her in his own friendly gesture.

"How could I forget?". He cheekily replied, to Erin's amusement.

"What about you?" Erin enquired with him. "The four of ye havin' a night out or somethin'?"

"No, no… I'm afraid we don't have that luxury, Erin. We were just settlin' up a little… dispute… that some of my boys had with the barman and some of the local boys last night".

Fights and disorderly behaviour were not new at all to The River, and the locals and the Yanks were often guilty of riling each other up, especially over women. That was the problem the night before when a couple of the partners of the local lads took advantage of them being at the bar to talk to the Yanks, which resulted in confusion when the local lads returned. A few punches were thrown and when the Americans were threatened by the barman with expulsion, they'd been incredibly rude to their ally in return. It was a mess for the officers to deal with when it came to light, and wishing to set the record straight immediately, the captain of the ship dispatched four of his officers including the Lieutenant, to make the relevant apologies. To some, it was a miracle that the Yank sailors were still allowed out.

"Right… and havin' a quick drink before ye go again?" She snorted.

"Well… something like that. The Captain didn't say we couldn't!" He chuckled, the two laughing together for a moment. "It's a good job that I ran into you actually, Erin, I… I wouldn't have had the time to come and find you".

"Oh?"

"My ship and a few of the others are setting to sea for a few weeks… well actually a few months by the time we're back here, to do some training. I… I'm not going to be around".

As soon as the opportunity presented itself to her with Lance, Erin found it stolen away from her. Like most moments in her life when she wanted to find happiness it was denied, some more cruel than others. Although it might not have been as cruel as some of the hardships she faced, yet again the chance to move on was not going to go ahead. Most of the time she'd been the force in the way to prevent its progress, but fate was stopping her with the American even after she'd stood aside. Having taken so long to convince herself that it was what she needed, and perhaps to a certain degree wanted, it was too long to be able to have a chance with the handsome Lieutenant. Waves of sadness and dejection that were familiar to her, began to flow in once more as her battered conscience took yet another kick when it was already so down. She'd been through too much for one life time already, and the world seemed destined not to give her a second chance at the true happiness and adulation that she craved.

"Oh… I… I see…". Replying quietly, she did a terrible job of hiding her emotions.

"But!" He suddenly exclaimed, almost making her jump. "When I get back… I've… I've been thinkin'… do you… or would you, like to have dinner with me? If you can I mean… and I would have to get shore leave to b-".

"Yes!" She returned with her own exclamation. "I… I would really like that. We can have it here if ye want, they do food earlier in the evenin'?"

"That sounds perfect. I'll make sure to come find you when I get back. I would ask for your address, but we seem to find each other just fine without it".

"Aye, that we do".

"I… need to".

Signalling that it was time for him to return to his fellow officers, to finish their drinks and return to their Captain, she acknowledged it and took her elbow off the bar from where she'd been leaning. Looking at each other awkwardly, neither quite knew what the other one wanted to do to say goodbye, both shifting without doing anything for a few seconds. The movements nearly left Michelle crying with laughter from the corner where she watched on, believing herself to be correct in the assumption that the two were quite well matched. Nowhere near as well matched as Erin had been to her own cousin but she found it unfair to compare the two when Lance was not a blood relative and had only been there for a few weeks. Settling for the most ponderous hug that the city of Derry had ever seen, Erin buried her head into his jacket for the shortest of seconds before he pulled away. Her action left a smile on Lance's face though, as well as a wide one on hers. Emotions stirred within her that she'd not felt in a long time… too long… the ones that once ran away with her whilst she pined for James from a distance.

"That was fuckin' hilarious…".

Erin almost cacked herself in a manner which Clare would have been proud of when Michelle crept up on her and whispered into her ear. She was still too busy watching Lance return to his fellow officers, who were immediately giving him stick exactly as any group of young lads would when they saw their mate with a woman. Already entertaining the prospect of being his woman, Erin was lost in a world of daydream as Michelle approached from behind her, culminating in the reaction that she'd given.

"Christ Michelle!"

"Someone got caught thinking about Lieutenant Hamilton and his big harpoon didn't they?" She snickered, Erin blushing furiously. "Well that tells me that ye've done well for yerself. Got a date lined up then? We best get started on getting you ready".

"No… yes… sort of…". Erin tried to reply, but was left a stuttering mess again.

"Tell ye what…". Michelle put her arm around her as they watched the group of sailors leave The River. "… I have this feckin' beauty of a bottle of whisky hidden at home. Why don't ye come back to mine, we'll get fuckin' pissed and talk all about yer date with the wee sailor… how does that sound?"

It sounded brilliant to Erin, but given the problems they'd had with Orla, she was left in a quandary. Failure to return home that night would see her join her cousin in being effectively grounded, and Michelle would almost be left on her own given how Sean was seemingly becoming stricter when it came to letting Clare out. With absolutely no way of getting word home when there was no one else she knew at the pub other than Aisling, who already had her hands full, Erin was forced with having to decline the offer.

"Grand but… but I can't because Mammy will…".

"Oh for…". Michelle put a palm to her head. "… we'll walk to yers first then and tell her yer stayin' with me tonight. Christ we'll have earned the fuckin' whisky then at least…".

"Al-Alright… aye". Erin tentatively accepted the addition to the plan.

"Cracker… oh we are going to be fuckin' steamin!".

As plans went, it was one of Michelle's better ones that involved alcohol. A night to take her mind away from her fears of letting James go forever and moving onto Lance, Erin could talk about the sailor in confidence to Michelle, whilst she relaxed and drank away. She'd needed one of those nights for a while, where the pain would go away.

Over a thousand miles away in Rome, James was in need of one of those nights too.

But he wasn't getting one unlike the love he'd left behind…