Chapter 68: Confessions 28th July 1942
The war, which seemed to have no definitive end in sight, raged on throughout the year. Deaths mounted as men fought each other on fronts across the globe, as well as the slaughters that were occurring in certain areas where civilians were not safe from the reach of conflict. In Britain, there'd been hope that it would not extend beyond Christmas of the first year, but it was only a few months away from being the fourth Christmas in a row that was going to be spent living in wartime conditions. The morale of all those involved in the warfare could vary, but to the non-combatants that went about their daily lives, there were days when it could be incredibly tough. Rationing took its toll on the mentality of all of those that suffered from it, whilst the leaders outside of the battlefield were tasked with asking them to continue on with their lives. The Nazi's were an enemy that were not going to simply just vanish, not until a sterner challenge was presented to them in Europe, which was so far lacking.
On the mainland of the continent little was changing, a full assault from the Allied forces yet to come. Troops needed to be trained to undertake such a task, and battle experience was helpful to, though difficult to achieve when there were no fronts to choose from for some. The French coastline was a formidable fortress to overcome if there was to be an attack upon it, a battle which would surely see the lives of many men lost in the eyes of many people. The Nazi's were just as fearful of an attack, making the coastline so fearsome to deter it, unable to determine if they could actually defend themselves without doing so. The Americans entrance into the war was a hindrance to them more than it was the Japanese that attacked them, their counterparts fighting a very different kind of war in Asia.
The great sufferers of Europe were almost certainly the Jews though, as they were being rounded up mercilessly in almost every country where the Nazi's held influence. Britain was one of the only safehavens in Europe left, though getting to the island was almost impossible. In Greece, Jews were rounded up when it hadn't been that long ago since the Greeks were fighting hard against the Italians, even beating them at times. By July, the Jewish members of the population were no longer safe, facing deportation to the camps that had been set up by a man who'd lost his life earlier that year. Kurt Van Der Heijden's legacy was living on through the amount of people that were entering into such places, being exterminated for simply being who they were without any crimes having been committed. The British Government, and the Americans, were aware of those tragedies taking place thanks to the work of Kathy Maguire but could do nothing to stop them when getting a foot in the mainland door was so difficult. In France, there were innocent Jews being rounded up thanks to the orders of the Vichy government. The treachery of Pierre Laval would not be forgotten by those French men and women who longed for the return of the peace that they lived in before the Nazi's came. Earlier that month, thousands of Parisian Jews were arrested and sent to a velodrome within the city before they were transported eastwards. The last stop on that journey was a place that grew a reputation through the word of mouth of those who knew of it. Auschwitz.
The seas of Europe represented the more promising areas of the war for those who desired lasting peace, where victories were being accomplished. The American entrance to the war not only brought with it the strength of fresh troops, but fresh strategies and ideas as well. In the battles that raged in the Atlantic, which claimed the lives of many British and Americans, having done so since the early days of the war, the Americans were proving to be too strong mentally for the Nazi's who'd spread such terror in the area for so long. The German U-Boat divisions achieved incredible successes for their Reich over a lengthy period of time, but the Americans developed a far more suitable convoy system which almost nullified them completely. The German Grand Admiral Dönitz realised it quickly though, withdrawing his submarines for usage elsewhere. Merchant shipping was becoming far safer thanks to that decision, and the days where shortages could occur because of ship losses, appeared to be coming to an end.
Africa remained heated, and not just thanks to the weather. In Erwin Rommel, the Nazi's held a proper General who could command a battlefield, even if he was not truly committed to the cause like some of his counterparts. His allegiance was to his country, not necessarily to the ideals of those who ran it, but they could not criticise him for not following so fanatically when he could perform so admirably in battle. His troops that fought in the desert were incredibly well led men, who respected their commanding officer for the way he conducted his battles. Although there were frustrations, and losses, along the way, he was in a position where he could best the British forces that were in front of him. The British soldiers in Africa fought equally as hard as their German, and in some cases, Italian, enemies, but to outmanoeuvre Rommel was incredibly difficult. As good as he was though, he still hadn't been able to make the ultimate breakthrough for Nazi Germany in Africa. The Nile was not in his grasp. He'd been tasked with driving the British out of Egypt, to take the Suez Canal to cut off British trade to India. Despite fierce attacks from his tank divisions and infantry, by the back end of July, the Nile was firmly in British hands. The armies on both sides in Africa drove each other backwards and forwards on a regular basis though, and how long the Nile would stay under British control was unknown.
The Pacific was a different mire completely, which Japan held an almost perfect stranglehold on. Almost. The Japanese entrance to the war was a spectacular way to start, for them, but it was not one that was simply an occasion to behold. Continually finding victory wherever they went, they'd ran through a considerable amount of Asian territory before the attack on Pearl Harbour, capturing a lot more afterwards. Kurt's body was not even cold when they'd ran riot through the Solomon Islands, threatening Australia who were an enemy when they engaged in the Northern Africa campaign. Building an airfield on Guadalcanal only made that threat more apparent to the Australians, who were worried that they would be next when it came to the Japanese war machine that rolled over so many territories. By mid-may, Burma fell completely to the Japanese despite the best efforts of the Allies over a number of months. They simply could not hold back the advancing Japanese armies who were better suited to the rigours of such jungle warfare. On the edge of the Indian border, the Japanese could strike right at the heartlands of the British Empire if they wished, but would face fiercer battles against those who would defend the country.
The only reason why the stranglehold remained incomplete, was thanks to the Americans. The Japanese carriers that participated on the day in which the war in the pacific truly started, the day that Pearl Harbour was attacked, were still readily active and in use by the Japanese Navy throughout their conquest of that part of the world. Attempting to lure the American carriers, that they saw as equally dangerous as their own, into a trap, the Battle of Midway came about through their plans. Ultimately reliant on the element of surprise to achieve victory with their complex strategy, it was unknowingly lost because the Americans were already aware of their intentions thanks to breaking Japanese code. Instead of the Japanese setting the trap, the Americans gave themselves time to set one of their own, which the Japanese promptly walked into. The fight was a horrendous one to be involved in, with many lives lost on either side, but it was for Japan that a defeat was chalked against, a costly one at that. Four of the six carriers that humiliated the Americans at Pearl, were lost in battle compared to only one from the American side. Humbled by a defeat, their aims in expanding towards America were placed on hold.
Thousands and thousands of miles away from the Pacific battles, in Derry, battles that did not involve bullets or bombs were taking place. The battle to drag herself out to work was the one that Erin Quinn was fighting that morning, although she was already downstairs at the breakfast table along with her sister, Anna. The younger of the two sisters was fortunate not to have school to go to, a break for the summer being allowed which Sister Michael lived for. Anna wouldn't be resting at all though, having agreed to go out into the fields to pick fruit to help out with the war effort. She was up just as early as normal to do so, Erin not minding her company at all.
"It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"
Anna's question broke the silence that began after they'd greeted each other when they'd first met at the table in the kitchen. Mary was downstairs with her children too, though Gerry was already out at work having agreed to start early, not for the first time. His job was still fairly stressful at the docks, which left him having to work additional hours to get by at times, though he wasn't so bothered when there were men out dying for the freedoms of the world.
"Aye, it is, Anna". Erin replied between mouthfuls of the solitary slice of toast she was given. "A grand day for a wee picnic if it wasn't for work".
"I might have a picnic! Ye know… if they let us".
"Thanks for that".
Huffing quietly, Erin didn't like to be reminded that she wouldn't have the same luxuries when it came to her lunchtime. Lunch at work could be incredibly boring some days, the same rationed foods being eaten in order to get through the day. There was little joy to be found in wartime cooking apart from with those who held the most creative of culinary ideals, but even then the taste could still be quite mundane. She couldn't complain too much given the conditions that they lived in, but a bit more variety in meals wouldn't have gone amiss. Reminded too that she would have to face a lunchtime sat outside the factory with Michelle burning their ears with gossip or Clare with worry, Anna's day was going to be a lot more enjoyable than hers. She was slightly jealous if anything.
"Ye know, I asked Granda when he thought that the war would be over by?"
"What did he say?" Erin asked, curious to hear his thoughts.
"He thinks it will last another ten years, so he does. I… I hope it doesn't…". Anna's voice was small, a hint of fear in it.
"Take no notice, Anna". Replying, Erin offered a smile. "By Christmas it will all be over. The Americans are fighting now, so they are. Give them time and they'll see everything right".
"I wouldn't be too sure of that!"
Piping up from the living room, Mary was a lot less hopeful about the chances of the war ending in favour of peace, even with the Americans now in it. She'd been hostile to them since before they'd arrived, even more so when she saw how untrustworthy some of them could be after the initial antics of their arrival. Orla's liaisons with various American servicemen proved to her that they were more interested in the young women of Derry than they were in their training, a lack of focus which would prove detrimental. As much as the British soldiers liked to have their moments with the local women who would let them, they were at least dedicated to ensuring that they were prepared for battle. Many Americans were already imprisoned aboard their ships for their behaviour, providing the stark contrast she believed in and a culture of distrust within her mind. She wasn't the only citizen of city with a dislike of the Americans though, albeit she was in the Quinn house. Erin didn't like the tone of her mother's voice, and thought it pertinent to tell her so.
"What's yer problem Mammy?" She enquired. "Yer always ragin' about the Yanks!"
"Aye I am, Erin…". Mary called out in replying, turning to meet Erin's glare. "Those fellas have no respect for the people here. They sailed in here and thought they owned the place, the cheeky eejits!"
"They're not cheeky eejits, Mammy…". Erin attempted to take the moral high ground, rolling her eyes. "They have sailed… thousands… of miles across the sea to come and fight in a war they didn't start! You should show them more respect".
"I'll show them respect when they start showing maturity! If that's what it will take to end the war then yer Granda's right about how long it will go on for".
Rolling her eyes for a second time at the contempt her mother held the Americans in, a change of subject was required in order for her to forget the prejudices she was hearing. As far as she was concerned, the Americans were the saviours of Europe at a time when Britain as a whole required such reinforcement. The conflict with Japan in the East might have been sapping a significant part of the American military resources, but they were still there to act as heroes on the continent too. The British Army could not land in mainland Europe with the hope of taking it on their own; they needed America. Allies working together was the only way forward to bring the world back to how it was before the Nazi's attempts to take over large swathes of it. Mary Quinn certainly wouldn't be asked to attend any diplomatic functions, that was for certain.
In Anna's fruit picking, Erin found the necessary distraction for her to forget about the Americans. She'd been quietly intrigued to find out who would be joining her sister in the fields, believing that half of the cities children would be out there to help. Help in surviving through harsh periods of rations came in the form of smuggling across the border, but with such dangerous journeys to be made mostly at night, it was also a lot easier for children and older adults to pitch in over the summer with the picking. Their efforts would not change the battleplans of German high command, but they would help to boost the morale of the country by having fresh fruit available without long delays.
"Yer doin' a good thing with this fruit pickin'. I can't say I'd have ever been able to drag Michelle out into the country if we were yer age. Or Clare. Orla would love it though…".
"Orla said to me that she thinks that you's should be allowed off work to go and pick…". Anna giggled, regaling the story to her sister. "She was goin' to lift Marie up and get her to do the pickin', so she was".
"That sounds about right. The only problem would be Orla would want to eat all the fruit for herself, so she would, and that wouldn't help at all…".
Orla's odd tendencies were not unknown by her younger cousin either. Anna agreed with her sister; Orla being sent to pick fruit would turn into a catastrophe. Michelle and Clare were hardly built for such jobs either, especially with the former being incredibly lazy at times. She would have almost certainly made the diminutive blonde do her share for her whilst she sat and watched, which would in turn only panic Clare more. A girl who frightened easy was an understatement when it came to Clare. Erin herself might have thought she would have enjoyed the exercise, but Anna knew that she would only enjoy the organisational side of such work rather than the manual labour attached with it. She wasn't one for such trivial work, no matter how much she might have convinced everyone else to think otherwise…
"We've been told not to eat the fruit or the cops will arrest us…". Anna repeated the threat she'd heard. "I'm not sure that's true but I don't want to find out either".
"Ach that's just a wee threat, Anna. The cops aren't goin' to be interested in whether ye've eaten some fruit that's been picked".
"Still… I wouldn't want to risk it".
"Christ, you sound like Jenny Joyce…".
At Erin's mention of the girl she once went to school with, the words that were sat on Anna's tongue stayed there. Jenny Joyce was someone that was rarely talked about in the city, being almost a taboo subject to some people after the rumours towards the start of the war. It was the last time that anyone saw her before she was imprisoned along with the rest of the family, though absolutely no one in the city knew of the truth. Apart from Charlene… and the other spy in Derry who spied for Britain… and the spy who spied against the country. Three residents of the city knew about what had really happened to Jenny, the first of which being there to oversee her assassination. Despite the rest of the city being unaware of her fate, she was still considered to be a Nazi along with her father thanks to the, correct at least where her Da was concerned, belief that the Joyce's were allied to the enemy. Confused, forgetting the stigma around Jenny, Erin's brows furrowed.
"What?"
Before Anna could answer, for a second time the words were not allowed to escape. Both of their ears were alerted to the opening of the front door, which saw Joe come through alone. Expecting him to be looking after Marie that morning and therefore not coming out from the house next door, the sisters were surprised by his presence, as was Mary who immediately began to worry that something was wrong. As she rose from the sofa to greet her Da, he nodded to her as a sign that there was nothing for her to worry about, allowing Mary's heartrate to drop back to an acceptable level after her initial panic.
"Morning Granda!" Anna shouted. "Yer dressed well this mornin', are ye goin' out?"
Erin too noted how finely dressed her Granda was, in the suit that she'd seen him wear to weddings and funerals in the past. Deciding not to dwell on the latter of the two events when she knew what day it would bring her painful memories of, she instead tried to think why he would be dressed up. Looking after Marie did not require a full suit, neither did any other of his usual activities that he would get up to whilst looking after her in the day. Orla hadn't mentioned that there was anything going on, though it wasn't unusual for her to not say anything at all then suddenly reveal that she knew all along. It certainly required a question or two to him at the very least.
"Goin' to a meeting with the Mayor or somethin', Granda". Erin snorted. "I'm not sure yer cut out for politics, ye know".
"You bein' cheeky with me?" He immediately took her comment the wrong way, glaring at her.
"No!" She was defensive in return, folding her arms and glaring back at him.
Joe didn't appreciate the way in which Erin was speaking to him that morning, not when he'd not even been able to get a word in before she started. Sensing that he was about to start an argument with her, one which Erin looked more than up for even outside of her Autumnal moods, Mary swiftly made her way over to them in order to provide a distraction. Anna was already providing herself one at the table by finishing her breakfast, with her own day beginning shortly after when she was going to be joined by the small group going out to the fields, led by one of the teachers from the school. Not Sister Michael though; picking fruit held little appeal over staying in bed without having any children to deal with. The Lord got the best out of her in term time, leaving her unwilling to give too much effort in the holidays. Having little else to do didn't even sway her mind on the matter.
"She's right, Da. You sure look fancy for a day of readin'…".
"Readin'?" He replied, shocked. "Do ye think I'd dress like this to read a damn book! I'm goin' out aren't I… I have some business to attend to".
"Business? Ye know Da, Pump and Street aren't the hardest words in the English language to say".
He knew it was coming. Any bit of behaviour outside of the house which was outside of the norm for Joe, meant that he was accused of seeing Maeve. The poor woman's name was mud in the family thanks to his two daughters, whose hatred for her hadn't evaporated years after them properly being together, though they suspected it was more like days than that long.
"Not you as well!" He grumbled. "I've already had yer sister moanin' to me about that!"
"Well I don't blame her!"
"There is nothin' goin' on with me and Maeve, I don't know how many times I have to say it. I just have some other things to do, that's all!"
A full-scale argument looked ready to break out between mother and father, with Erin keen to help on the former's behalf. There was no need for any bickering, but their family always seemed to find a way to start a ridiculous argument. Joe and Maeve hadn't seen each other in the way that was insinuated for a very long time, but his daughters didn't believe it. They might not have seen her for a long time either, but she was most likely avoiding them, after the two of them made their feelings about her quite clear. Situations like that required distractions to be able to stop them from occurring when all logic was lost, as well as Gerry not being there to break up any arguments. Orla provided one that day, which Anna could at least be grateful for even if she was engrossed in her own thoughts.
"Mornin'!"
Calling out from the hallway, the young mother sauntered on through to the kitchen with Marie walking alongside her. Erin was the first to notice the youngest member of the family, surprised by her presence much in the same way she was by her Granda. It did make sense when she thought about it after a minute though, because he was going out and that meant Marie would have to be going somewhere too.
"Mornin' Orla…". Erin replied to her. "What's the craic?"
"Ach, Granda's goin' out so he is, so Shane's agreed to look after Marie today".
"Shane?" Mary questioned. "Can't ye bring her to work?"
"She's too young to start workin' Aunt Mary!" Orla defended her daughter, albeit unnecessarily. "I can't have her working with us".
Unbeknownst to Mary, Orla was told long before that the factory wouldn't be able to have her wain running around in it. Outside of wartime, Meyler would have almost certainly been more lenient and would have probably looked in on her himself, but he needed the girls to be working to their best without the distraction of a child running around them. Joe would have had to have taken her with him otherwise, when the rest of them were also at work, which wouldn't have been helpful for the business he needed to conduct. It wouldn't have been impossible either, but it certainly benefitted him to have Shane's help. At least it should have done, yet it was Shane who was volunteering to help rather than one of the women of the family. His mistrust of the man did not evaporate quickly.
"Still… you agreed to this, Da?" Mary asked him.
"Don't start…". He warned, shooting Orla a vicious glare. "I don't trust that tool… no more than I trust Gerry!"
"Ye've trusted Gerry to marry me and have yer grandchildren so that doesn't say much, does it, Da"
Mary treaded dangerous ground with her comments, especially when Joe was raging already about leaving his great granddaughter in the hands of the firefighter. Although saving and protecting lives was a part of his day job as a fireman, Joe did not want the man to be involved with his family at all. He only tolerated the fella because it was evidently clear that Sarah was deeply in love with him, the very same man who'd accidentally contributed to his daughter's broken leg the year before. Love was a strange emotion though, one which Sarah clearly found with him and as her Da, Joe only wanted to see her happy. Much the same way as it was with Gerry though, he didn't have to like the fella or treat him with any respect.
"Gerry's a prick, Mary…". Joe immediately started on the absent man. "Shane's only just better because he's not from the Free State… but they're both eejits. And let me remind you, if I wasn't in the state I was, I'd have stopped you from marryin' Gerry, ye hear me!?"
"Then ye wouldn't have gotten yer beautiful granddaughters, would ye?"
Pausing for a moment, Joe realised that his daughter was mentally outmanoeuvring him again. As he advanced in age, she seemed to advance in her ability to win an argument against him when she wanted to. It wasn't on account of him getting older, he told himself, because his mind was as sharp as ever. Mary was simply becoming better at reading his attacks on her husband or anyone else and could find the weaknesses to rebound against him much quicker. He certainly wouldn't have liked to have lived in a world without Erin and Anna even if the first of the two caused him a significant number of headaches at times. They were his close family and he loved them all dearly. As much as he hated to say it even to himself, Gerry was guilty of doing a fine job of raising the children alongside Mary, as well as Sarah with Orla. The only thing it was that the Southerner had ever done right, mind.
"I just don't trust him. These firefighter fellas are always tryin' to be heroes… I don't want him breaking yer sister's heart to save some arsehole from a burning building".
"Da!" Mary cautioned him on the language.
"I like Shane, I think he's a nice fella". Anna spoke up, drawing everyone's attention. "I know he does a dangerous job, like, but he is a good man, Granda. Look how happy Aunt Sarah is now".
"Anna's right, so she is…". Orla joined her with an argument of her own. "Shane said he'd take me and Mammy out into the woods and let me melt things in fires and then he'd put them out. That sounds cracker, so it does".
Adding an argument that really didn't need to be added, Orla was oblivious to the strained glares of both Mary and Erin, who found her intervention to be downright ridiculous. Anna smiled pleasantly to her cousin at her thoughts, which she couldn't deny even if they did seem slightly out of the topic of conversation. Being the clever young wain that she was, Anna knew how much just the simple act of a smile in Orla's direction, would make the older woman happy that someone found joy in her words. She'd worked out quite quickly that Orla thrived on such positive encouragement despite the outlandish nature of her comments, within reason, of course.
"Anyway, Mary…". Joe started again, a low-level argument continuing. "Yer one to talk about judging people. You were rantin' to me about the Yanks again the other night after the girls went to bed".
Raising her head up to her mother, Erin was furious that her prejudice towards the Americans was continuing. They'd already clashed over the matter that morning when Mary made comments against the Yanks who were stationed in the city, angered to find that she was constantly going on about them even to Granda Joe. He wasn't a man for such gossip or small talk about the allied forces, but he was a man who was prepared to bring any argument to the table to take the light off himself. Meeting the look of her daughter, Mary was not impressed about being turned on when she'd came to Erin's aid in order to help her not enter a trivial argument with her Granda. She wouldn't be so generous again.
"Granda's right, Mammy. I've said it myself, ye've no respect for the poor American fellas and it is wrong, so it is!"
"Pack it in, Erin!" She angrily growled back. "Yer obviously bias because of yer American fella!"
"He's not my fella!"
Feeling her cheeks redden at the mention of Lance, Erin was forced onto the defensive. Since he'd left on his training exercises months earlier, she thought of him often, always listening out to the news in case anything happened. She'd done that before with James, until Charlene provided her with better information than the BBC, old feelings of worry setting in that she tried to tell herself were the same. There was something different as much as she couldn't acknowledge it though. She wasn't in the state that she was when she was listening out for James, not quite finding herself as anxious about every news item that was mentioned. She was still yet to quantify how interested she was in the American Lieutenant, but at the very least he was her friend and she still worried for him like she would for any of her friends. Separation from such a man was not new to her either; she just hoped this one would return home.
"When's yer fella comin' back, Erin?" Innocently, Anna enquired about Lance.
As much as she loved her little sister, Erin didn't appreciate the question at all. She could almost see the huff of disdain fall from her mother when the question came. Mary's opinion of Lance was very low before she'd even met him. Gerry's description of the Lieutenant was fair without being glowing, but Erin suspected it wouldn't have mattered how glowing it was when her Mammy was so transfixed on despising the Yanks. She'd not spoken to them much about him in the months that he'd been out at sea, unable to gather too much knowledge of all of their opinions on him apart from her mother, who's opinion she didn't care for.
"He's not my fella, Anna…". She reprimanded her sister. "Friday morning if you must know. Meyler's letting us have the mornin' off".
"What!" Mary shouted. "Why has he done that!? Like ye said… he's not yer fella!"
"It's for Michelle actually. Her fella serves on the same ship as Lieutenant Hamilton and Meyler knows we're pack animals, Mammy".
"The standards of this place…".
Mary began to trial off, disgusted by what she was hearing. Meyler could be a decent man when he wanted to be, but he must have been getting a lot softer if he was allowing Michelle and the rest of the girls the morning off to see the sailors back in. That was if they did arrive back on schedule, as many training exercises were not guaranteed to run to the exact schedule if there was any trouble encountered. The home waters around Britain were not entirely safe, though Scottish waters were a little safer when the majority of the Home Fleet were sat amongst them. The dwindling presence of U-Boats helped too, the danger of them attacking out of the blue reducing significantly. Erin held out hope that he would be back though, as Michelle did for Clint.
"Come on Orla…". Erin rose from the table, addressing her cousin. "We best be gettin' a shift on if we've got to go to Ferguson Street first".
"Aye Aye Captain…". She replied, somewhat sarcastically. "Have fun pickin' those raspberries, Anna!"
"I will Orla!" She enthusiastically replied.
Heading out onto the streets of Derry, the cousins set off in the direction of Ferguson Street with Marie, who was content with walking all of the way there. Instead of talking about Americans, Marie wanted to talk about farm animals, and for once Erin was happy to indulge in a juvenile discussion. It suited Orla anyway when her mind could revert back to such a time without making much effort, and prevented any further hostilities from occurring. Over the months since their invention in her private life, Orla's mood simmered down considerably after her initial dismissal of the majority of the family. From the night that Erin interrupted her fun with the Yank, alongside Lance and Gerry, she'd developed a sense of anger to all of the family for a few weeks but by Easter, it was gone. They were only looking out for her, over time the young mother coming to realise that she was making a mistake by what she was doing. Having sex with the Yanks wasn't completely off the cards for her in the future, but not wishing to have any more children in her lifetime, she would do so more carefully when the time came.
Joe headed out a couple of minutes behind them, with Mary's accusations still ringing in his ears about Pump Street. He was going to be visiting the street on his business, but not to see Maeve.
But like with many things in Derry, some opinions simply would not change.
She just couldn't do it anymore.
Michelle Mallon thought that she was resilient to a lot of the pressures of life, hardened to a lot of elements of life that would see others falter. She came from a family that was proud of how it could shrug things off, having shrugged off Kathy's life choices from their reputation over time, to leave them in good standing within the community. Her parents often ignored comments about her quite easily too, as well as the huffs of annoyance from men like Sean Devlin who did not approve of Michelle's previous carnal quests. She wasn't that sort of young woman anymore, which stopped such comments from being made, yet her own resilience faulted in other areas. Sean being unknowingly responsible for it…
The only person to know Clare's secret, it left her with a great burden to carry on a daily basis. Clare being a homosexual was almost as bad as her being a Nazi, either being seen as scandalous if admitted to the wider public. When the cack attack Queen left her with such a secret to hide from not only their friends, but the whole world, it became hard to continue on when any other dangers appeared on the horizon. Seeking comfort in the dark-haired girl for advice, Clare continually leaned on her whenever the secret was threatened, in turn increasing the toll it took upon her friend. Michelle wanted to help her as much as she could, but as she'd told her months before, there was so little that she could do unless Clare accepted society's plan for her.
Since March, there'd been some luck for the young Devlin when it came to the life that her father was trying to thrust upon her. The Bishop's nephew did still remain interested in seeing her again, to her horror, but his uncle held other plans for him too. Clare wasn't the only young woman that he was to have dinner with, the Bishop having taken over the task of finding him a suitor from his younger sister. It was a strange role for a man of the church to play when he was not supposed to be involved with such romanticism himself, but he was still a family man to some extent. From the Bogside to Belfast, the young fella was being forced into dinners with various young women. Sean did not tell her about the plans which the Bishop told him about for his nephew, but Geraldine let it slip one night, Clare in turn telling Michelle about them. Hopeful that he would find someone else that he was interested in, somewhere far away from her, until the start of that very month she was much happier.
Then the trouble started.
She could almost sense it was coming when her Da returned home from church one night, beaming from ear to ear. He made a beeline straight for, beginning a sequence of a few minutes of her life that she hated and regretted within seconds. Sitting through her Da's merry report about how the Bishop's nephew thought highly of her, and hoped to see her again, she could only smile back at him when he revealed that they would have another dinner, this time without the Bishop. Just the fella and her parents. A nightmare of a situation that kept her awake for the whole night that followed it, she was straight onto Michelle the next day as to what to do. Instead of coming up with a solution to prevent the dinner happening, her friend instead coached her in how to get through it without it being too much of a success. Taking some convincing, Clare accepted that level of help, only to completely fluff her lines come the night in question. With sickness gurgling around the pits of her stomach throughout, her conversation with the young fella was amicable and against Michelle's advice, she'd laughed far too much. Sean, and to some extent Geraldine, both took it that she was taken with the fella, an opinion fed back to the Bishop too.
When she told Michelle about her poor performance, the young Mallon was hardly surprised when her friend fretted as much as she did about almost everything. When the norms of society did not extend to include Clare's preferences within them, she could do nothing than steadily ease her into the role she was born to do. They were born into their families to then have families of their own when the time came and given that they were at war and into their early twenties, the expectations on them were high. Her own relationship with Clint was hardly perfect when he was what he was, but it was at least not prohibited like any relationship Clare would enter with another woman. A couple of days later, Clare was back to her friend again about another dinner that she was going on, this time with just the fella himself, the Bishop having used his influence to get them a proper meal each rather than one consisting of the rationed goods they could get their hands on. A few nights earlier it took place, to a degree of success for the young man who remain interested in courting her, but to Clare's unabridged horror. Once more she'd tried to follow her friend's advice to be as uninterested as possible without being rude but reverted to type to be her caring self.
Out of ideas, Michelle was thoroughly fed up with being leant on, a point of view she was making sure that Clare understood that morning.
"I need you Michelle!" Clare begged her. "I've only got just over a week and… and…".
"Christ Clare… keep yer voice down! If half of the fuckin' factory floor hear ye, then ye might as well start runnin'!"
The conversation that they were having was hardly one that was appropriate for the workplace, when it could be overheard. They were in a small room at the side of where they hung their coats, a workroom of sorts that was rarely ever used. Perfect for the space that they required, it still was far from it when it came to noise, and if Clare continued to shriek then they would almost certainly be discovered in there.
"What the fuck do you want me to do?" She whispered in a hiss, restarting the conversation. "I've tried to help ye but ye keep bottlin' it!"
"I'm not… I just get so afraid that I'm bein' rude… and I… I…". Clare stammered, threatening tears.
"Yer always feckin' shiteing yer tights about something! Why the fuck can't you just stay calm for more than two seconds and think! Yer one of the smartest people I know, Clare… why don't you use it!"
Almost finding herself blushing at the compliment, Clare's mood perked up for a couple of seconds, before reality kicked her straight back down to earth. Unable to disguise the reaction from her friend, Michelle was far from pleased about it when she knew that once upon a time, Clare thought of her as a lot more of a friend. She would never judge her friend harshly for holding the preferences that she did, but she did not wish to be the subject of them. As proven by the amount of shagging she'd done, not to mention her attempt a serious relationship with Clint, Michelle was only interested in fellas. Being the apple of Clare's eye was not what she wanted. Not at all.
"Stop it! Don't you be thinkin' about ridin' me!" She accused the blonde.
"I'm not!" Clare whispered back, seething in anger. "I'm thinkin' about how I am going to get out of this date and let this fella know that I'm not interested!"
"Right… this fella… this decent fella who might actually not be the worst man to settle down with…".
"Michelle!"
She'd tried not to cry but Clare found it unavoidable when Michelle continued with her policy of giving her the truth in her answers. It was hard for her to have to tell Clare that the way of life that she wanted was simply not obtainable, but it was the only realistic assistance she could muster. Clare couldn't have what she wanted, but to save her own skin she could at least complete the section of life that she did not want to do, with one of the better fella's around. The dark-haired girl hadn't met the young man herself, but from Clare's description of him as well as her own eavesdropping on Sean when he spoke to Father Peter about him, he appeared to be decent. The role of wife and mother, Clare dreaded, but with a fella like him at her side then it was at least preferrable to a nasty bastard of a fella being the one for her to be betrothed to. A fella like Clare's Da, the example Michelle kept in her mind.
"I mean it, Clare. I think ye should just be yerself and accept that this fella is goin' to be the one for ye!"
"I can't Michelle… I can't love him… I… I…".
"Clare, ye knew this would happen! What fantasy world did ye live in where ye thought that this was goin' to end up any other way!"
The fantasy that she dreamt of at night, shouldn't have been so unobtainable in Clare's mind. All that it required was members of society to shift their opinions on what was deemed acceptable, to determine that there was nothing wrong with her not following the plans that women usually should. Sadly, she was from a Catholic family and a change of opinion on that magnitude would not occur within that branch of Christianity. The war made it difficult too, as even when her sexuality was a major issue for herself, a larger one was at play with the war itself. Whether she could openly love another woman paled into insignificance when the Nazi's were at the doorsteps of the British mainland.
"But you said ye would always help me!" Suddenly Clare turned to anger, frustrations boiling over. "Now all ye want to do is see me married off! I trusted you Michelle… I… I told you about this because I thought ye could help me!"
"Are you blind!?" Just as disgruntled, Michelle replied. "Look at what I have done for ye! I've shagged fellas that yer Da's tried to set ye up with… I've made excuses to get ye out of dates… how dare you!"
"I still need you!"
"No Clare, ye need to get a fuckin' grip! Find yerself a decent fella to appease yer Da, have a wain or two and live the rest of yer life. That's all ye've got!"
"But I don't want that!" Clare tried not to scream, but her voice grew louder.
Dangerously at risk of being overheard by those who could ruin her, Clare quickly put her hand over her mouth, which also worked in helping to cover her sobs that were beginning. Michelle, upset that her friend was forced to tears, didn't know what to say or do. Exasperated, she knew there was nothing more that she could do but feared for Clare's state if it went any further with the fella. A nice fella he might have been, but when Clare could feel nothing for him then it was not right that they were together. She would hardly call herself a romantic after the long list of lads she'd spent one night with only to never speak to again, Michelle appreciated the laws of attraction. If two people felt nothing between each other then they were not destined to be together in her eyes. To say anything positive to her friend would have been a lie. Lies were well within her scope though, and with little other choice, she resorted into telling one.
"Alright… I'll think of something…". She sighed.
"Oh! Thank you! Thank you Michelle! Yer…".
Clare paused when her friend declined the offer of an embrace, an unusual rejection when she would often allow comfort to be found in her grasp. Swallowing hard at the stinging pain of a close friend denying such comfort, Clare began to retreat into her own panicked thoughts once more.
"But you have to do something for me…". Michelle added her stipulation, the reason for the pause.
"Wh…w… wh… W-What?"
"Tell Erin and Orla".
She couldn't. The secret should not have been the knowledge of one of her friends, let alone all of them. They'd even spoken together before about how dangerous it would be to tell either of the cousins thanks to their own flaws which could see the truth spread. Michelle couldn't hold her own thoughts in any longer though, willing to trust their other friends rather than continue on with a secret in the otherwise tight knit group.
"Tell us what?"
Erin's voice was the next that they heard. An otherwise avoidable conversation was suddenly unavoidable, with the young Quinn there to hear it. The two of them would have been able to have talked their way around Orla, but not Erin. Trying to deceive Erin with a false answer would only leave them in more of a mess when she would not leave the matter alone if she felt she was being lied to.
"How… how long have ye been there?" Clare tentatively asked her.
"Long enough…". Erin replied, folding her arms. "Now what have ye got to tell us".
Exchanging a worried glance with Michelle, Clare found herself out of an ally once more. Instead of looking petrified about a determined Erin, there was a sense of relief about Michelle's features when Clare looked to her. The only defender of the secret other than the blonde herself, it appeared that she would no longer have to carry the knowledge alone. Selfishly thinking of herself, Erin and Orla finding out the truth helped her where it did not Clare. For the latter, her secret being known by even more people was dangerous. The more that knew, the more likely it was that one of them would accidentally let the information slip.
"Tell them…".
Confirming with words what her facial expressions and body language already conveyed, Michelle was not going to assist in an attempt to blag their way out of revealing what was said between them. Orla appeared to be completely baffled by events, her face showing that of the free-spirited teenager who easily zoned out rather than the sophisticated young mother that she really was. Horrified, Clare found herself looking at another decision to make which she did not want to, a further crossroads in her life reached. It pained her to do so, but when she searched into her conscience deeper it became quite clear why Michelle was turning on her. She'd used her friend for months, leaving her with a mental burden that no friend should have had to carry alone. When she was already the brash young woman that she was, the young Mallon was never going to be used forever without some sort of pushback. However, without her guiding hand, Clare was beginning to falter.
"Michelle! We… I… can't!". She protested, tears starting to fall once again.
"Tell them, Clare…". Michelle stood her ground firmly. "Tell them or I will".
"It's not yer secret to tell!"
"Then fuckin' get on with it! Tell them!"
Barely keeping herself from shouting at her diminutive friend, Michelle was raging at her inability to be decisive. It shouldn't have been a surprise, and realistically she thought to herself, it wasn't, but it was greatly frustrating nonetheless. She understood the fear that Clare held over telling others, coming to appreciate how difficult it must have been to have told just her alone. In a world that simply did not accept the woman that Clare wanted to be though, she needed to find strength in her friends. Having the secret exist within the group any longer was only weakening how strong they could be as friends when half of the group did not know the truth. Orla may have been entirely useless in thinking about how they could help Clare with the fella, but if Erin knew then she might have suggestions on what to do.
Out of options, and above all patience, Michelle was standing her ground when Clare looked to her again. Shaking, teeth chattering, Clare's decision made itself for her. There was no way out… not when Michelle would no longer lie to protect the dark truth that she locked away behind webs and webs of lies and deception.
"I… I am…"
Not knowing whether to continue or to be sick, Clare's eyes darted between her friends. Orla looked slightly lost which was none too surprising, though she didn't appear completely zoned out of the conversation, which was a worry. Erin wore a face that demanded an answer, her friend being reminded of the young Quinn's mother when she saw the expression. She'd have been cacking it even more if it was Mary in front of her rather than Erin. When she stole another glance in Michelle's direction though, she found a warm smile rather than the angered scowl of the minutes prior. Trying to encourage her to tell the rest of their friends the truth, she wore a mask of sympathy that Clare tried to take confidence from. Her mind still couldn't come up with any palatable lies either, especially when she knew her friend would fail to corroborate them. The truth was in the air that morning…
"I'm a lesbian".
Closing her eyes in fear of the reaction that was to come, Clare tried to think of happier times. Of the days long before the war, when the four of them would roam the corridors at school, clashing with Sister Michael on an almost daily basis. Those were the days where the thought of living the rest of one's life with a man were distant, instead filled with vague pursuits of male interest where Michelle and Erin were concerned. Those were the days before Clare truly knew what her preferences were, her innocence glossing over the truth that would come later in her life. That time for her, and in truth the rest of the world, was a happier and more prosperous period. The Nazi's were not battering their way all around Europe leaving bodies in their awake, nor was rationing a problem when there was no need for it. Those were the days she was thinking of for a few seconds, before the initial reactions came from the two friends who now knew her secret.
"Yer a what?" A shocked Erin enquired, to see if she'd heard correctly.
"I'm a lesbian, Erin. I… I don't like…".
"Jesus Clare, I don't need the description! I know what it means!"
Clearly having a lot more to say on the matter, Erin was merely stopping to compose herself for the grand display that she would no doubt perform to outline her fears with what Clare told her. Using the brief pause in the likely theatrics, she offered Orla a small curve of the lips instead to see what the brunette would say. Important matters were not completely lost on the young widow, but it was always hard to tell how much she understood or classed information as such. Desperately, Clare wanted to have a supportive comment made in her favour to bolster her confidence from where it sat in the depths of her conscience. She should have known that Orla would not provide it.
"Yer Da and Father Peter aren't goin' to be happy when they hear this…". She mused, proving that she at least did understand.
"They… they aren't going to find out. I'm… I'm not tellin' them…". Clare replied as she cacked it further.
"Aye they will when I tell them though…".
Her heartrate dropping then suddenly racing, Clare was starting to hyperventilate. The primary concern about giving Orla any secretive information was her blurting it out to those who were not to know of it. Why she would tell Sean and Father Peter, Clare did not know, but it was never a smart plan to attempt to work out the inner workings of Orla's brain anyway. Luckily for her, Michelle was none too pleased with what was said either. The effect of the information leaving their circle of friends and being passed onto the wider public was incredibly destructive. A piece of knowledge that they might have been able to understand and accept between friends, it was not fit for consumption by society.
"Orla…". Michelle spoke her name to get her attention. "If you tell them that, they're goin' to think that yer a lesbian too! They'll take Marie away if they think that… deem you unfit to be lookin' after her".
"W-What!? They… they can't take my Marie away from me. She's… she's mine…". Panicking, Orla was almost in tears replying to her friend.
"I know but if they think yer… ye know… so just don't say fuckin' anything… ye got that?"
"Aye… aye I won't say a word!"
Resorting to blackmail that wasn't completely untruthful, Michelle felt awful for having to utilise underhand tactics in order to achieve Orla's silence. She would have held no qualms about it if it was someone outside of their group of friends, but when it was internal it was far more upsetting. Clare was grateful beyond belief for the intervention though, safeguarding the secret within one of their two friends who'd just become aware of it. The other was where the challenge would be though; Erin would not be swayed so easily. She'd stood quietly by to allow the exchange between the other three to take place, but when all eyes turned to her again, she was ready to send a broadside of her own emotions on how she felt about the news of Clare's preferences.
"This has to stop…". She put it bluntly, to Clare's dismay. "Do you realise what people are goin' to think if this gets out? Do ye know what that means for the rest of us?"
"Oh for f…". Michelle started, just about stopping herself from swearing. "It's not goin' to get out, is it? None of us are sayin' anything to anyone!"
"No offence Michelle, but yer a mouth and Orla lives in a different world for half the day… I'm not sayin' it would be deliberate, but I can see it happenin'".
Offended by the suggestion that she was a mouth, Michelle went to verbally harass her friend in reply, only to be stopped by a hand gesture from Clare. The diminutive blonde was usually appreciative of her dark-haired friend fighting her battles for her, but a battle with Erin over a comment made was not helping matters. To some extent she agreed with Erin anyway, although Michelle's tenure as custodian of her secret ensured she would never say it herself. Too concerned with preventing the spread of the truth, she turned to Erin to attempt to make her understand who she was but to also make sure her fellow blonde did not have plans to have a loose tongue.
"Erin… I… I can't just stop". She explained softly. "I… I don't feel anything towards fella's and I… I have feelings towards other women. I can't help it… it's the way I am but please… please, don't tell anyone".
"Of course I'm not going to tell anyone!" Erin hissed, Clare relaxing slightly. "But seriously Clare, do you not get what this means for all of us? The impact it is going to have on us if it is even a rumour!?"
"Fuckin' hell, Erin, she's sayin' she likes a bit of fanny not that she wants to take over as the leader of the Nazi's! Quit yer frettin', ye've nothing to worry about".
"Nothing to worry about!?" Erin raised an eyebrow, turning on Michelle. "If anyone at church catches wind that Clare's a wee dyke then they're goin' to think we all are. We're in no position to defend ourselves!"
"Catch yourself on!" Michelle rebuked her. "Orla's a widow, I've got Clint and ye've got yer Lieutenant… no one's goin' to think we're wee dykes too!"
"I have not! ... Lance is just my friend, Michelle…". Erin clarified her stance when it came to the Yank. "But now thanks to this, I am goin' to have to make people think otherwise!"
The sound of other women arriving at work, specifically making their way to the room that they were in, the conversation came to an abrupt halt. Drying her eyes furiously when she realised that their time was up, Clare didn't know how she was going to get through the rest of the day when they were leaving their meeting of friends as they were. Orla might have been kept in check with the thought that they would take Marie away from her if she started to spread the word, but it was quite clear Erin could not be silenced in the same way. She was disgusted it appeared too, her mind setting off fears about what it would do to their social standing rather than having any comforting or reassuring words for her friend.
They walked out from the room without saying a word to each other, only greeting the other women with a spoken gesture of good morning. One of the hardest days of Clare's life was only going to get harder when they saw how much they needed to get done that day…
"What a fuckin' shitshow today is goin' to be…".
Michelle concluded it the best.
The strength of the sun was beginning to dwindle over the skies of the city in the North East, the daylight hours starting their inevitable march to a close. It had been a warm day, without too much of a breeze which only seemed to intensify the heat. The citizens of Derry who'd finished work for the day could enjoy a relatively peaceful evening, convinced that the German bombers would not make their first appearance in more than a year. They'd been incredibly lucky as a city where many cities throughout Britain hadn't, Belfast included. Some cities were almost in complete ruins, London especially, the consistent pummelling from the Luftwaffe's bombers leaving a mark that was not so easily washed away. German cities were beginning to suffer from similar aesthetic damage, as well as losses of lives, not that many people west of them cared too much about that.
Joe McCool's day appeared to have gone on forever, and it was his own fault that it wasn't ending any quicker too. His business up Pump Street went on for a lot longer than he thought it would, without Maeve being involved in it. He'd originally hoped to be back long before lunchtime, so that he could rescue Marie from Shane's clutches. He was lucky that the firefighter was not scheduled to start until the middle of the afternoon, just making it to Ferguson Street before the man ended up having to take Marie to work with him. He was in that much of a rush he'd forgotten to insult Shane when he turned up on his doorstep, which was most unusual behaviour for Joe. He'd make up for it the next time that he saw the fella he disliked though.
After a few hours of looking after Marie, his day should have been coming to an end but it was not a normal day by any means. The weekend before he'd been to see his brother Colm, ending up spending the entire afternoon with the man, having only intended on going there for a maximum of an hour or so. During his trip to his brother, Colm mentioned that he'd volunteered to help out with some of the gardening around the church during the week, on a rotational basis with some of the other members of the congregation. As a way to shut him up from going on about flowers at the time, Joe stupidly agreed to help him as well, and that night happened to be the night that was Colm's. Meeting his brother at the church for just after half past six, they planned for an hour and a half's worth of gardening around the flower patch towards the entrance before the graves started to appear.
Already tired from his excursions of the day, Joe really couldn't be bothered that night but out of respect for the agreement he'd made, he helped anyway. Gardening was within his repertoire but was hardly a passion of his, not one he wished to indulge in with others anyway. Colm on the other hand absolutely loved being able to be out in the fresh air, making a difference around the church. A devoted member of the community, but not in the same way as Clare's Da, he was always quick to volunteer to help out. Father Peter certainly didn't mind having the help around the place, especially when it came to maintenance. He actively encouraged some men within the community to do so, but his targets were chosen with another plan in mind. The same fellas happened to be the husbands of those women that he was seeing for private home masses, continuing his affair with them whilst their husbands worked for the church. Behaviour unfitting for a man of the cloth, his time as priest would have been finished if the Bishop found out. Luckily for Father Peter though, he was yet to be caught.
Joe's delaying action in stopping Colm from going on too far the previous weekend, proved to be merely that though. Since they'd started on the flower patch after Colm instructed Joe on what needed doing, he'd started to monologue about many stories of yesteryear, stories which his brother couldn't stand. Reminiscing wasn't something that Joe minded particularly, but it was Colm's version of reminiscing that he could not enjoy. There was a level of detail that his brother always reached which was wholly unnecessary, and completely uninteresting. He'd been described as the most boring man in Derry once upon a time, a title Joe could hardly argue against when he was struggling to stay awake doing the gardening that evening.
"Do ye remember Billy McMahon, who used to come to the house sometimes?"
Of all of the stories that Colm regaled that night, the question about Billy McMahon was the only one that made Joe stop what he was doing. That name was one from long in the past, one which Joe hadn't heard for a long time. They'd been friends with Billy McMahon when they were younger, long before even the Great War. He could never forget the man even if Colm was questioning whether he had or not, but it was not why he'd stopped. The fate of their friend was also something that Joe remembered quite clearly, a time which Colm never spoke to him about usually. Worried about what was going to be said, for the first time he could think of in a while, Joe was incredibly tense.
"Aye… of course!"
"Well, I was thinkin' the other day, about that time back in… eleven I think it was… when he climbed the church roof".
Colm's memory about the most bizarre incidents stood the test of time a lot better than his brother's. Joe wasn't quite as friendly with Billy as Colm was, given that Billy was the same age as Colm rather than him. Their friend certainly was a bit of a hellraiser back in his day, constantly finding himself at the end of his father's belt for some of the things that he got up to. More than a couple of women also found themselves charmed by the devilish McMahon, who somehow managed to avoid fathering a child despite the multiple women he slept with. Poles apart from either of the young McCool's, they simply enjoyed his entertainment, rather than embraced his ideals.
"He must have drank something fierce that night, so he must…". Colm continued to go on. "He climbed up there like a demon, so he did, jumpin' from ledge to ledge… I'd never seen anything like it. I remember saying to myself at the time, I said Colm, said I, ye'll never be able to scale a wall like that man Billy McMahon…".
Normally, Joe would find himself bored stiff when Colm would talk of events from the past, but for once he was completely enthralled by it. Billy was such a character that it was hard not to get drawn into the stories that floated around about him, especially when his brother could remember them so vividly. Billy McMahon jumping from ledge to ledge as he scaled the side of the church certainly wasn't a memory that Joe could find when he went looking for it, confirming to himself that he couldn't have been present at the time.
"I can't say I remember it Colm…". Joe told him. "What happened?"
More than happy to continue with the story, Colm was in his element. As much as everyone hated being caught with him when he would drone on in his very drole tone, Joe still cared for his brother because he was his family. It was rare to see Colm smiling as much as he was when he was telling the story about Billy McMahon, which was clearly making him happy. Living alone with few friends on account of the boredom that he induced around the majority of those that he spoke to, his family and the church were all he really had. Although on another day it might have just been another story that Joe would find an excuse of getting out of listening, he was spurred on to listen more intently when he could say how happy it was making his brother.
"Well he got to the top, so he did, and he shouted down to us that the view was incredible, so it was. From what Billy said he felt like he was on top of the world, and I said to myself, Colm, if ye have to climb on top of the church to feel like yer on top of the world, yer best staying down on the ground, so ye are".
Laughing loudly at his brother's comment, Joe was not able to recount the last time that Colm made him or anyone else laugh. His stories were usually so unamusing that he was a cure for insomnia not a comedian. What he'd said to himself was a phrase of wisdom, one which his brother wholeheartedly agreed with despite the laughter. The view would certainly be something else from the top of the church, looking out over the whole city of Derry and beyond, into the countryside. To be able to see such a view though required inherent danger to be traversed, a metaphor for life for those who thought about it more deeply. If being on top of the world meant having to take an exceptional amount of risk, putting lives at stake, it wasn't really worth it. Colm's philosophy was one that needed to be passed onto the Nazi's…
"Too right Colm… too right…". Joe replied as his laughter began to reside. "How did Billy get back down again? It's a long way down…".
"Aye, I remember telling myself that at the time, I said Colm, said I, that is a massive drop so it is". He monologued once more. "But Billy… he got back down just as quickly as he went up. I don't think he looked down once, ye know, he just went by his memory, so he did. I did ask him what was up with him afterwards, but he said to me, 'Colm, I just like climbing walls, so I do', and we never spoke about it again".
"I can't imagine he tried it again…". Joe commented.
"No I don't remember that he did… say, do you know what happened to Billy? I can't say seem to recall where he is now…".
The question that Joe feared was suddenly thrown into the limelight, one which he did not want to have to give an answer to. He was tense when Billy was mentioned for that reason, a story of the past that did not need to resurface at all. Dead for some time, his name barely lived on apart from through the story that Colm told, Billy McMahon's fate was not to be spoken of. There were a lot of rules that Joe made in his home life, but above all not speaking about what happened to Billy was paramount. Not around Colm at least, not when he knew what would happen if he did. The memories of having to tell Mary, and a slightly oblivious Sarah about it, were the most prominent ones he held about the man beyond that of his fate.
An arrival of an unexpected guest that evening saved Joe's skin before he needed to do so himself. Having assumed that Father Peter was already out, and with Colm not mentioning anyone else around other than the two of them, he was surprised to hear the church door opening. Any number of people could have been coming out of the church at the time, even when there was no mass, the house of God nearly always open for his flock to talk to him in. One of the most devoted members of the community walked out, unsurprisingly, the man heading straight for the McCool brothers when he noted their presence. He wasn't a fella that Joe held too much time for, but he put up with him to pacify the rest of the family. Shockingly, it was a rare opinion that he and Michelle Mallon agreed on when it came to what he truly thought of the fella. He was a real prick.
"Alright there Joe… Colm".
"Evening to ye, Sean!" Joe called back to him. "I didn't think anyone was about!"
Sean Devlin was dressed in his finest that night, unusual for a weeknight after he'd spent hours at work. Aware through Erin's stories that he would go to church almost everyday, dragging Clare along some of the time, his love for the church was a lot stronger than most. Joe and Colm considered themselves somewhat active members of the community to a degree, but they were unable to match the contributions that Clare's father made. He was one of those who Joe considered more extreme in his views, a vigilante for ensuring that the word of the bible was followed in life, whether it was within his own family or others. Close to the Father and also the Bishop, he was not shy of voicing his opinion to influence key decisions.
"Myself and Father Peter have been having a wee chat about the good news". Sean told him as he stopped next to them, the brothers having ceased working. "I see the two of ye's are hard at work. It's good to see that yer takin' yer duty to the Lord seriously".
"Aye well…". Joe started, slightly annoyed at Sean's tone. "I said to Colm that I'd give him a hand and I'm a man of my word".
"I don't doubt that".
Being uncomfortable around other men was not a feeling that Joe knew of, not until that evening when he glanced up at Sean's face. The grin that settled upon it was unnerving, the smile of a man who'd clearly gotten something that he wanted out of the conversation with Father Peter. For a man like Sean Devlin to be so joyously happy then it must have been an incredibly important piece of positive news, because he was not a man that Joe saw smiling that often. Like his granddaughter Erin, he too picked up on the undertones of an unhappy household when it came to the Devlin residence. Without ever telling anyone what he'd seen, one Sunday he noted a slight mark on Geraldine's cheek that indicated that the man struck his wife. Joe was more than happy to approach different ways of discipline to suit a scenario, but striking a woman was where he drew the line.
"What's yer good news?" Colm enquired.
"Ah right yes…". A delighted Sean's face lit up further. "I've had a letter from the Bishop. His nephew has been spending some time with my Clare and they've been gettin' along… and… he would like to ask for her hand in marriage".
"Really?" Joe asked, startled. "I don't remember the girls talking about him".
"Oh I'm sure they have". Sean laughed. "I need to be off anyway, to tell my girls about the good news. I'll be seein' you's".
Saying their goodbyes to Sean, who rushed off in the direction of home, Joe and Colm were left to finish the gardening. Colm almost immediately broke off into a story about the Bishop himself, which Joe found nowhere near as interesting as the one about Billy McMahon. Throughout it, he distracted himself with the amusing thought of the fretting little blonde that was suddenly going to be married to the Bishop's nephew. He was very much aware about how his presence scared her, wondering how she would cope with the constant presence of a husband when she could barely function around other adults. She would be the second of their group to marry after Orla, making him feel much older when he still remembered seeing the four when they barely up to the height of his knees. Now they were all off getting married, and even in Orla's case, having children. He'd been around too long, he knew.
Working together, the brothers completed all of the gardening that they needed to for the evening, Joe walking back with Colm as they discussed many a topic. There was a side to his brother that he rarely saw on show that night, a much less boring and much more enlightening Colm. Always holding such ability within him, Colm could provide entertaining conversation if one cared to stay around to hear everything he wanted to say. His tone made it hard to remain interested, but when he was a member of his family, Joe would always try to listen. Covering the last part of the journey alone, the patriarch found himself ruminating on what Sean had told him, wondering whether or not it was a good idea to tell the girls. Clare would most likely be informing them of her impending marriage, guessing that Sean would accept the fella's offer, the next day anyway. They could always pretend they didn't know… well, maybe not Orla…
When he saw Erin outside the front upon his return, taking a few minutes of fresh air, the decision was made for him. Heading for the house next door rather than to his own, he wanted to speak to Mary about something anyway, giving him the excuse he needed to tell his granddaughter about the surprising news that Sean informed him of.
"Alright there, love…". He addressed Erin first. "Good day?"
The true answer to that would take far too long to explain to her Granda, Erin opting for a much safer answer. That was why she was outside in the cooling evening air anyway, her head aching from a day which brought with it confessions that were totally unexpected, and potentially life altering from how she saw it.
"Not too bad, Granda. How was church?"
"Aye it was alright, so it was, Colm's well". He replied. "We saw Clare's Da's too? Did you know about all this with the Bishop's nephew?"
Erin's eyes widened at the words. After the day she'd had with Clare's revelations, as well as hearing all about what was going on with the Bishop's nephew, she was startled to find out that Sean would tell her Granda all about it. Admittedly, Clare's secret would not be part of that knowledge, but if Clare was going to get out of the arrangement like she said she was, it was going to be a lot harder if half of the city knew about it. Her head was far too crammed with all manner of truths that were opened up that day for her to process the information properly, but she took enough in to be able to formulate a rushed answer to her Granda.
She wasn't prepared for what was to come next.
"Sort of… I know Clare's been talking to him a bit, like…".
"Talking?" Joe scoffed. "It's gone beyond talking so it has. According to her Da, it looks like they'll be getting married".
Matters with Clare couldn't have gotten any worse, Erin thought to herself in the seconds before her Granda spoke, not after what she'd been told earlier in the day. Myths were exactly that though, mythical stories.
Clare's life was in turmoil.
Mantet, Pyrénées-Orientales, France…
The last village before Spain. One more challenge for him to negotiate before the thoughts of home could truly be seen to be real. It had been months, far too many months, since his escape from the clutches of the Nazi's, but he'd gotten so far even when the odds were so stacked against him. Defying the odds was something of a speciality for Captain James Maguire, but the pilot of the Fleet Air Arm was a long way from the days of flying Swordfish, even if he was well over one thousand metres into the air as he approached the final village he could see on the map he'd procured from a very helpful Frenchman, who despised those who'd come to rule over his country.
The James Maguire that crept up the side of the road in the dark, trying to avoid any confrontation whilst looking for the quickest way through the village, was not the same man who'd left Derry years earlier. In appearance to start with, his hair was overgrown to how it usually was, though not as bad as it could have been. He sported some facial hair, a rarity for a man who wasn't that fond of keeping facial hair. The same man who'd given him the map, was good enough to have lent him his wife to cut his hair and give him a shave, but his allies were down at the bottom of the mountain range he'd climbed into, a few days of walking away. Walking was a pastime that he'd come to know a lot better than before, having walked a considerable distance through the south of France on his route to the Spanish border. The car that was left for him on the night that he escaped from Rome was never going to get him all the way to Spain, but it conked out short of the French border of Italy, far earlier than he would have hoped. Ever the opportunist, James managed to hide in a truck on a convoy for the trip into France, having to leave behind a lot of equipment in the car to do so though. From where that stopped just the other side of Nice, he'd set off on foot. There were things he'd done to get from there to the last village before the Spanish border that he would never forget, but those were thoughts for other days. He had to get to safety first before he could look back.
Mantet was hardly a large place, presenting him with a challenge of how to proceed. His body ached for rest, and there were clearly places to stay within the small village. However, he did not have any money to rent a room and did not speak the language in order to beg for one. His only chance would be to navigate himself through the village to find a spot to camp on the other side. He'd received a pack to carry on his back thanks to his friends further down the mountain, giving him a tent to be able to set up camp for the night with. It would hopefully be his last if not, penultimate, night within the borders of France. He could smell Spain on the other side of the mountains that perched in between the two countries.
There were few people about at night, but he could hear music and singing from one building towards the middle that took away the option of a direct route. Skirting around the edge of village, perhaps climbing over a wall that he could see in the distance, looked to be the only option when it came to finding a way to Spain. Taking a moments rest by the back wall of the first building that he saw, he tried to focus his mind on the task at hand. Peering out from around the corner of the wall he was resting against, he spotted a man and a woman up against the wall of a building, the one he thought the music was coming from, kissing each other quite aggressively. For the first time in what felt like weeks, weeks it truly was, he found himself smiling at the scene of their romantic evening high in the mountains.
The moment he chuckled, was the exact moment that he felt the knife grazing the skin around his throat, as well as the gun being prodded into his back.
"Yer a long way from home, English".
A man with a knife at his throat unexpectedly was meant to feel shocked, yet James was shocked even more than usual.
The voice was Irish… with the distinct tone of Derry in it when the words rang out in his ears.
He knew who that voice belonged to.
"John-Paul…".
"I think you better come with me".