A time like no other

by Warks1999

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

77. All the king's horses

Chapter 77: All the king's horses and all the king's men 25th September 1942

After a busy Friday at the Bank, busier still when they wanted to make sure they were shut well in time, James found himself in the mood for the party that Aisling invited him to by the evening. He was scheduled to arrive at seven thirty, having dinner at home himself before making the journey on foot. Unlike many of the dances in the city, the one that he was attending was not within the walls itself, out in the country instead. Aisling was helping to host it and whilst it was not at her house, it was at one of her neighbours. The house was not really a house but a manor house, smaller than the Kavanagh's, but still rather large in stature. Holding a vague idea of where it was anyway, James set off around forty minutes ahead of time, to make sure he got there with lots of time to spare.

Aisling herself made an appearance at the bank earlier that week, presumably to check that he was still going to attend. That was the only possible reason for her visit that day, especially when she did not bring any money with her that required banking. He'd confirmed that he would be, offering plenty of charm in his reply that kept her happy. The McLaughlin brothers were once again left amused by their boss' ability to make women weak at their knees in just a few sentences, still quite jealous of it to. The new employee Jaime was not quite so amused by it, though kept his mouth shut and got one with the job when it appeared that making comment would not be in his best interest. Whether he was able to do the same was unknown, the three of them, James included, not knowing too much of his background. They'd not really gotten around to asking either with it being so busy, but it was a question that could safely wait for another day.

The McLaughlin's were joining him that night too, along with Ian's partner Louise. On his way to the manor house, he'd agreed to meet up with them so that they could all arrive together. Heading out as early as he had done, James got to their meeting point far earlier than he should have done. Luckily, when the weather was as pleasant as it was, he did not find himself soaked by any showers like he so easily could have done. Instead, it gave him time alone with his thoughts. Although Aisling assured him that the girls wouldn't be there, he was still concerned if they did turn up. If it was Michelle, Clare and Orla then it would have at least been pleasant enough, though it would concern him that Erin was not with them. If she was though, it would make the evening uncomfortably awkward for the pair of them. Unbeknownst to each other, both were withholding their secret from those closest to them, some crossing into both camps within that trust. To be able to go through a whole party without it becoming a serious problem was almost impossible.

When the McLaughlin's and Louise did show, right on time, they wasted no time in covering the last part of the journey to the manor house. Allowing them to lead the way when he wasn't exactly sure where he was going, James fell into line next to Tommy, where they shot the breeze for the night. The conversations between the four were innocent ones that brought no real value to the evening other than to pass the time. It also allowed the Englishman to get to know Louise a little better, who he'd only met very briefly one night at the end of work. Ian's partner was not immune to his charm either, but she was very much content with the fella that she was with. Their relationship was somewhat on and off in its nature, Ian's choice rather than hers. However, in the past few weeks since the pilot returned to become the bank manager, Ian's behaviour changed. The effect that James appeared to have on him was to encourage commitment, the brother beginning to realise that he truly loved Louise.

"Right… here we are…".

Tommy confirmed that they'd reached the location of the party, the imposing archways of the manor house and the loud music that could be heard inside confirming it anyway. The manor was impressive to say the very least in James' mind, with plenty of space to fit in the numerous guests that were invited. They were not the first set of guests to arrive but nor were they the last, another group walking past them as they came to a stop.

"Livin' the high life now aren't we, Tommy…". Ian joked. "… maybe the Nazi's can stick around a bit if it means I get to come here".

"Quiet you!" Louise shoved her boyfriend playfully. "I don't think ye'd be sayin' that if ye were fightin' them like James here did".

Agreeing wholeheartedly with her sentiment without feeling the need to voice it, James instead smiled when all eyes went to him. For one night he wanted to put aside the memories of his combat career, to enjoy an evening where he could finally relax in the company of others. It wasn't going to be another night at the cottage alone, not until later on that night at least, where he would see no one and talk to no one. There would be company for much more it than there normally would be, and that was something that he was grateful for. Tommy and Ian agreed with Louise too; no one wanted the Nazi's around for any longer. The war needed to come to an end.

Walking in as a group they were greeted at the door by the young woman whose house it was, rather than Aisling. It was no surprise really even if they were Aisling's guests, but when they told the woman their names, she seemed to know who they were. Everyone knew who James was anyway, it was hard to miss the handsome Englishman, with the scar on his face making him stand out even further when added to his accent whenever he spoke. Although everyone knew everyone in the city, out in the countryside the lines were a bit blurrier as to who knew who, making it surprising that she knew who the McLaughlin's and Louise were. Showed through to the main living room where the majority of the partygoers were gathering, there was quite the mixture of guest. Policemen and soldiers were amongst the crowd, sailors too, proudly wearing their uniforms despite being off duty. Dancing was already well underway with a band present to provide the music for it.

The atmosphere was incredibly raucous, more so than any of them could have imagined. Deciding against going for a drink, Ian and Louise headed straight for the dancefloor to begin their night of fun, leaving Tommy and James to go over to the bar in the corner. Getting themselves a small glass of whisky each, they took up a spot in the corner to oversee proceedings. Trying to scan the crowd to see if there was anyone else present that he knew well, more importantly the girls, James was relived to find that there was no one else there that could disrupt the night. It wasn't that he didn't particularly wish for anyone else to be, but apart from The McLaughlin's, Louise and Aisling, he was quite content with not knowing anyone else present. Relaxation was somehow easier that way for him.

Tommy wasn't going to be hanging around long talking to him though, something which James picked up on immediately. He caught sight of the small dark-haired figure, just on the edge of the dancing couples, waiting for someone to be her partner. That was around ten seconds or so after Tommy first eyed her and taken by her beauty from the very moment he clapped eyes upon her, he was going to become that partner. Turning his head slightly to the right, James watched as his friend downed the whisky from the glass in his right hand, thrusting the empty contents into the hands of the Englishman once he'd finished. He could only chuckle when he knew that Tommy was attempting to secure himself more agreeable company for the night, not offended by his friend wishing to cease conversation with him. Finding happiness was important for everyone; if Tommy wished to seek that happiness with the dark-haired young woman in front of them… then so be it.

"Wish me luck, fella". He sniggered, prompting James to roll his eyes.

"You do not need luck, Tommy, you need charm. Whisper some kind words in her ear as you dance… you never know, you might walk out of here with her on your arm".

"I might also walk out of here with a red mark on my face and disappointment in me heart. Luck of the draw, James… luck of the draw".

Striding off with a swagger to his walk as he approached the woman, Tommy was making himself look rather foolish in a way, not that James was going to tell him not too. It bought him a cheap laugh on a night that he hoped would be full of laughter and merriment. He wasn't so worried about the external factors that could prevent such a night from taking place, the German bombers to be exact, in part thanks to not having been present in the city on the nights of bombing raids. It was James' personal belief that made up the other part of his carefree attitude towards such attacks, believing that the Luftwaffe were just about finished when it came to trying to bomb Britain out of the war. The will of the people, when he was still an active officer in the Fleet Air Arm, prevented it from happening previously and would do so again.

Left to his own devices once more, he thought about the events of earlier that day, not long after he'd finished his breakfast. Charlene Kavanagh was making a habit of turning up to his cottage at oppressively early times, though her presence was not discouraged by him either. Someone else that he could rely on, though out of necessity on her part rather than existing from a naturally made friendship, it was not the most peaceful of starts to the day. The business that they needed to discuss was of a rather pressing nature though, to finalise a plan of action to deal with the Nazi spy in Derry once and for all. They were not going to be left to funnel back messages, however they were quite doing it, to their Nazi masters for any longer. The young woman in question was going to be falling silent to the hounds in Berlin that would finally be cut off from discovering anything about the most important prisoner they'd ever let slip through their fingers. At the cost of one of their most influential party members in Kurt, the Nazi's were only avoiding complete embarrassment by being able to monitor James. For the sake of the man in question though, even the low-level surveillance being carried out upon him had to stop.

"James…".

Brought out of his thoughts, the voice that spoke his name was one that was irregular. It wasn't a local voice for certain, though there were plenty of non-locals present at the party that night. British soldiers did not find themselves quite as welcome as they were at the beginning of the war, but there were multiple Tommies around the large manor, some dancing whilst others were sat to the sides drinking. There were Americans too, mostly officers from what he could see. Aisling's invites, as well as the young woman's whose house it was, must have gone far and wide when it came to guests. It was one of the Yanks that spoke his name, and when James looked up to meet the sound, he very quickly knew which one. A meeting that was inevitable in time, was going to happen that night, whether he wanted it to or not.

Lieutenant Lance Hamilton was the man stood before him a second later.

"Lieutenant Hamilton…". He held out his hand for the man to shake, placing the whisky glass down on the window ledge to the left. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance properly".

"Likewise..". Lance replied, accepting the gesture.

"What brings you here, Lieutenant? An evening out for the officers?"

"No, not exactly. We were invited by… what's her name…".

"Aisling?"

"That's the one! Aisling invited us here, so a few of us boys were given permission to come ashore by the Captain. The Atmosphere is perfect!"

Unable to disagree with the Lieutenant, James was left nodding his head. In front of them on the dancefloor, many couples jived away happily to the harmonic sounds that were emanating from the direction of where the band was playing. The lead singer was also in fine voice that night, a young woman with a fantastic vocal range. Not all of the songs required vocals, the singer joining in with the dancing herself when she was not required. Ian and Louise were both sporting wide smiles when James found them through the crowd, the two giving each looks that very much suggested that they were in love. It might have taken Ian a long time to realise that she was more than just a casual sexual partner, but in James' mind, at least his friend had done so eventually. He always believed that true love could never be ignored… always.

"How about you, James?" Lance took his turn to enquire. "A night out for war heroes?"

Wondering whether to laugh at Lance's description of him, or accept it gracefully, James was caught slightly off guard for a moment. He certainly was not expecting such pleasantries from the man who'd stolen his spot next to Erin, if anything expecting a cold shoulder to be leant up against him. Perhaps Lance was not quite as bad as at least Michelle portrayed him, having conveyed to James her worries that he was a bad influence on Erin on the day she turned up at the bank. A lot of Erin's family and friends were suspicious that there was more to the man than they saw, correctly guessing he was not quite the honest man they thought him to be, without knowing what it was that he was hiding from them. To James, after a few seconds and no untoward looks, it appeared Michelle may have been overreacting.

"I too was invited by Aisling. It came as a surprise to me as well". He replied, retrieving his whisky glass. "Some of my colleagues from the bank have accompanied me this evening. Although they all appear to be rather… busy… at the moment".

Following James' eyeline, Lance found the scene that the Englishman was observing. Tommy was getting along rather well in his aim for that evening, already snogging the face off of the dark-haired young woman that he'd offered to dance with. At least his evening would not be ending in disappointment it seemed, not when he'd made such progress in such a short space of time. If Ian was looking then he would have remarked to Tommy that he most likely only offered her the dance because she looked somewhat similar to Michelle, the same hair colour and style as the absent Mallon. Although Ian would have needed to say so quite quietly when his boss was not only present, but also the cousin of the woman in question. The American appeared to understand the funny side of what he saw in front of him too, laughing softly beneath his breath.

"I think that's one less friend you've got for the evening, James". Lance scoffed, shaking his head as he sipped his own drink.

"Thankfully I have memorised my route home. I do believe that it may be a journey that I make alone tonight, Lieutenant". Responding, James also hummed his amusement.

"Please, call me Lance, Lieutenant is for my men not for you. And I think that makes it the two of us, if I know my friends as well as I think I do!"

"Is Erin not with you then?"

Stupid, daring and far from sensible, James could not stop himself when her name rolled off of the end of his tongue. Her lack of presence at the Lieutenant's side was more than understandable when he was there representing his country and his ship, not her. Yet if she was not by his side then it made the most eager of his hopes that she'd perhaps left him, stand out brighter. The odds of fate swinging in his favour, or at least what should have been his favour, were dramatically against him, though it did not stop James from hoping. For so long in captivity he lived in complete and utter hope of a future that no longer existed, that it was difficult for him to not. Above all, he still loved Erin too much to not fight for her in some way, even if it was a feeble attempt at best.

"I didn't get the invite until earlier today and it was only for us officers…". Lance explained calmly. "I would have loved to have Erin here with me, but we all have to make our sacrifices".

The American didn't know the meaning of the word when compared to the man stood opposite. He was therefore lucky that it was a man of the temperament of James that was stood next to him and not a man who would take significant offence to what he was saying. The Englishman sacrificed absolutely everything he had before the war, to help his country to win a conflict that was still continuing on around the world. Lance was giving her up for a party on one solitary night, to which there was no comparison that could be consciously made between the two. If the Yank was so calm when speaking of sacrifice, it was all too clear that he was far from ready to go the frontlines.

"Indeed we do. That is but the nature of war".

Replying to Lance, James' tone was flat and uncaring, the sort of which preceded a silence. There was tension between the two of them for obvious reasons, the sort of tension that was not going to be resolved that night from James' perspective. The man he was speaking to was in the position that he wished to be in, intensely jealous of the man in many ways, when the woman that he loved so dearly found herself on the American's arm, not his. It was refreshing to not see her with him, like he had done on the day that he returned, but it was merely a temporary separation. Erin and Lance would meet up again where they would be afforded the chance to have a future together, leaving James behind with only his own sorrow. To love another woman again when he lost everything in such a bitter manner, appeared to be impossible in what were still the early days since he'd returned from years away. Thrown straight back into the life he'd previously lived, without the woman he wanted by his side, the concept of a future did not exist.

"We ain't goin' to have a problem, are we James?"

When the air was finally pierced with words, they were from the Lieutenant. Fiddling with the sleeve of his uniform whilst keeping an eye on the dance, he did not wish to look James in the eye when he enquired. Lance didn't love Erin, not like James, but he could not afford to allow the Englishman to ruin his plan for the future that he wished to create. Erin was his and no one else, and the return of the heroic pilot presented him a large problem. Physically stronger, battle hardened and, if he really exposed the truth to himself, far more handsome, James was everything that he could only wish to be. Although James did not see himself as a hero after some of the actions he'd taken in order to return home to Derry, he'd fought and achieved spectacular successes in the war. The fair-haired American hadn't even finished training yet. Erin's own hardships were not parted upon him, unaware that she would not leave him for the man he was comparing himself too, prompting Lance to need to know if there would be trouble. If there was going to be, then he would need assistance in order to remove James as a threat… by any means necessary.

"In what sense, Lance?" James also looked forward, rather than at him as he spoke.

"With Erin…". The American whispered the answer. "I know you two were once… close… but you need to understand something…".

"I think you will find that I have already understood where I stand with Erin". Snapping under his breath, James did so without having to raise his voice.

"Not from me".

The tone of their chat was quickly heading downhill, far quicker than it should have done. All the time, from across the other side of the room, Aisling watched with interest as a scene she expected to play out was doing so. She might not have said anything to her friend, but the reason she'd asked them both there was to see what might happen. To be able to understand more about the temperament of the wee English fella that she barely knew, it was the most confrontational situation she could put him into without the other participant in the conversation being Erin herself. Knowledge meant power in a world where life could be taken away in an instant. Aisling knew just how quickly that could be… too quick.

"You look like you are a decent man, James, but Erin's made her choice now. If you want to live here then I can't stop you but… just stay away from her… and from me".

"I do not intend to interfere in your life together. If you think that I would be so callous, Lance, then you really do not know the man that I am". James elocuted his answer perfectly, a deliberately upper-class edge to his voice.

"Then we won't have any problems, then, will we?" The American questioned once more.

Passively commenting to each other, something was going to have to give for James, to allow Lance to know he would not stop him from making Erin happy. If he could not be the man that was by her side, brightening her day by simply being there, then at least there was a caring man to occupy the void. Only… he wasn't so sure. Lance might have been trying to warn him off because he genuinely cared for Erin and did not want her upset by the presence of her former lover, but James saw more than just that. In between the lines of his stern words, there was a presence of control that he was exuding over her. He was being told to stay away from the two of them and not interfere, yet something told the young banker that he would not be the only one. They could not be together all of the time of course because he was an officer onboard a ship, with duties to perform. He could still attempt to control and influence her life from there though, and a niggling suspicion in his mind told James that he would. When all was said and done, he would still have to stand aside to watch Erin love the fella when she should have loved him instead… and had done, once. During days that were increasingly further in the past.

Turning his head towards Lance, James was going to change the nature of their conversation. What he wished to say was not something that could be said passively. He wanted to look into Lance's eyes, and beyond, to make sure that the young American understood what he was going to tell him in response to the question he was asking.

"As long as you treat her with respect, I cannot see why the two of us would ever need to speak to each other again".

Narrowing his eyes instantly, it was not quite the answer that Lance required. He wanted to know precisely that there would be no interference from the young Englishman, but he was denied that in James' answer. Keeping his foot in the door when it should have been closed, Lance was faced with a man who was going to stand on the periphery of the plan he was going to undertake; too far to be seen constantly but far too close for comfort. He thought it was clear cut because Erin didn't want to be with James anymore, usually enough to make another man back off when it was clear he'd lost. From what the American could see, the man next to him could not see that he was defeated, sticking his nose in where it was not needed. He too was going to have to look the other man in the eye, to make sure he understood.

"The way I treat Erin is not of your concern. If you want to make a prob-".

"It is not my concern now, no… but if I hear that you are treating her poorly, then we may have words again. You should treat women equally, Lance… do so and we will not have cause to be in each other's presence a second time".

"That a threat?" He growled.

"A promise".

The calls of one of the other American officers, calling Lance's name as they got closer to him, ceased their increasingly heated discussion, leaving an answer undecided. James was no fool, he knew what Lance was doing, unnecessarily to a point when there was nothing likely to happen between himself and Erin. Feeding his own thoughts that perhaps he was too quick to write off Michelle's judgement, and that there was something more to the man than met the eye, he did not appreciate how he defended himself to the rebuke. Should the Yank decide to treat Erin poorly or do anything at all to hurt her then he was in no doubt that he would have to retaliate. It did not matter to James that it technically was no longer his fight, nor would she want him to involve himself. He would come to the aid of anyone that he cared for when it was required. The nature of the Lieutenant, menacing without making him feel threatened, already began to register as a possible test of his resolve. He was not going to stand back to allow Erin to be hurt by him… he could not, not when he still loved her as a man should, not just for her body.

As soon as the American walked off in the direction off his fellow officers, a final glare directed at James who furrowed his brows in a challenge, Aisling cut her way through the crowds to sidle on up next to the Englishman. The instigator of the nearly uncontrolled argument, she was going to keep her part in it quiet, to avoid any nasty exchanges with James. Taken in by how well he looked in his suit, a proper tuxedo rather than the coloured suits that the man normally wore, she knew she held an opportunity. The confrontation with Lance would have weakened James emotionally, his guard down to allow the presence of someone like her in. Guessing, correctly so, that he would already be vulnerable when Erin left him for the American, there was space for another woman to be the apple of his eye. Anyone in the city could have told the narcissistic blonde that she was making a foolish choice in leaving quite possibly the best-looking fella in the whole of Derry, even if he was English. Little did they know the true reason behind their relationship being unable to function after years apart…

"Are you alright there, James?"

Shifting to his right to address the new presence that was there, James was slightly taken aback when he saw her. Putting in even more effort than the days she'd visited the bank, Aisling's bright red lipstick stood out from the crowd, along with the rest of her face, which in various places was almost drowning with makeup. For something that was on a ration, it was difficult for the Englishman to understand how she was able to wear so much of it, but he was not going to ask a lady such a question. It would be most ungentlemanly to ask where she'd managed to find all of the makeup that she was wearing or if it was perhaps smuggled in through the border. The application of such products significantly altered her appearance, Aisling turning out to be more attractive than he'd ever given her credit for. Attired in a long black dress, split to cover one leg but not the other, the flesh of her right thigh was exposed to the powerful warmth of the large room.

"Fine…". He hurriedly replied. "You look very beautiful this evening, Aisling".

"Are ye sayin' I didn't before?" She cheekily enquired in return.

"Not at all. I would never think th-".

"Relax James". Aisling interrupted him. "Thank ye. I dress to impress at parties like this ye know. Ye can never be sure who ye might meet".

"That is… very true…".

Her words were almost too perfect to sum up the scenario he'd just faced, not that James knew it was one of her doing let alone suspected anything of the sort at all. Aisling knew exactly what she was doing though and doing a better job of it than anyone else who'd tried previously. A lot of people often wrote her off as a timid young woman, but she was far from it when in the right situation where she could thrive. If Erin would have been present then she would have predictably kicked off about the way in which she was fluttering her eyelashes at James, or how she offered him a small smile of sympathy. Sympathy or perhaps even comfort when she knew he was coming out of what must have been an incredibly difficult conversation. There was no naivety in her performance that night… she knew what she wanted and at the end of the night, she was going to achieve what she set out to do.

"That was Erin's fella, wasn't it?" She quizzed him, sipping at her drink immediately after.

"That was Lieutenant Hamilton, yes. We'd not yet properly met and neither did I think we would tonight but… such is life".

"Aye, that's how things go sometimes. Did ye have a good chat? I guess it can't be easy when he's with her now and… well, ye know".

Screaming in Aisling's face to tell her to shut her mouth was not something that James could bring himself to do, but it was the first reaction he had when she opened it. To discuss what happened with Lance would take a lot longer for him to digest when it completely blindsided his plan for the evening. Scanning the crowd, Ian, Louise and Tommy were all still far too invested in their own nights to notice that he required rescuing from his. Seemingly noticing the distress that she'd caused him, Aisling reeled in her own motivations in order to reassess her words. Angering James was not going to help in the slightest, but before she could apologise, he was already providing her with an answer.

"We shared our opinions on certain… stances". The answer was careful, exactly what it needed to be. "It appears that the Lieutenant and I do not see eye to eye on some matters".

"Oh… that's… surprising". Feigning shock, Aisling replied.

"Perhaps… or perhaps not. Still, I will not allow my evening to be curtailed by the opinions of another man. I must congratulate you on your organisational skills, Aisling, they are quite spectacular".

Blushing furiously at the comment from James, it was her turn to be surprised when the Englishman placed his right hand over her left, bringing it up to kiss her knuckles. Underneath James' gaze was almost akin to being thrown into a furnace for any woman lucky enough to fall to his charms. Some were burnt only the once; the lucky ones were set alight on many occasions. Which category Aisling would fall into was for her to discover…

"Would you dance with me?" He asked the question as he withdrew.

So lost in her own thoughts after being under his gaze, she accepted with only a nod, being led to the dancefloor while her mind was in the clouds. Aisling couldn't have dreamt of anything better.

Her plan was working.

---

Sometimes it didn't take much to set Erin Quinn off. Not much at all.

On other occasions it would require quite a lot to rile her, if she'd entered the situation believing she couldn't care less about it. Her cousin's antics would normally not bother her too greatly as long as they were within reason, but this time they were not. They were very much unreasonable, and she was going to make her opinion known about it. The pure cheek of Orla to walk round to the Quinn house that night too, just to emphasise her point about where she was going further. Erin already was forced to watch as Michelle came to collect Marie but was stopped from preventing the exchange from taking place by her mother, Mary forcing her to peel some potatoes. She'd gone to protest there and then, but the sight of the returned wooden spoon that once plagued her childhood, stopped her in her tracks. That spoon had seen more than they could ever dream of, an ultimately wise decision on her part not to get on the end of it like she had been in many a year gone by.

Her protest would not be silenced though, channelling what she described to herself was the spirt of the suffragettes, albeit not the one who ended up dying beneath the King's horse at the time. She wouldn't be left trampled by Orla's gallop up to Fountain Street, determined to stop it from happening. Such a party should not have been taking place when there was war on, others left at home grieving while a select few enjoyed a wild night of debauchery. At one time her cousin would have been one of those grieving, in the weeks following David's death but he was barely cold in the ground and she was out there gallivanting around as if he hadn't existed. A more logical young woman would have realised that more than enough time had gone by since her husband's death, plenty enough not to deny Orla the chance to have an entertaining evening. Erin was not a logical young woman… not when she was in the emotional state that she had been ever since James returned alive and well.

"This is ridiculous! Mammy, say something!"

Going to the trouble of informing her mother all about the evening when Orla arrived, all dressed up, it was too much for Mary not to wonder what she was up to. Thinking that her cousin was cornered, night ruined prematurely, Erin was preparing to bask in her victory when her mother intervened to stop Orla from going. With Sarah living at Shane's over at Ferguson Street, there was no other feminine figure to guide the young mother's life in the house anymore. Joe's influence could only stretch so far, though how much control Sarah ever held over her daughter was questionable. Promoting herself to be the dominant female figure in the house for Marie's sake, there was no other woman to question Orla's decisions until it was often too late. Even she knew not to always take the words of Erin, Michelle and Clare as good advice.

"Say what!?" Mary looked at her daughter, frowning. "So Orla wants to go to a wee party, what's the problem with that?"

"WHAT! Mammy!" Erin protested. "The party is in Fountain Street! FOUNTAIN STREET!"

"Aye I gathered that the first time Orla said where it was". She huffed back at her daughter. "I know where it is ye know, Erin…".

"That's not… oh for…".

Unable to conceive how clueless her mother was acting, Erin was ready to combust. Orla should have been denied her night out without it even needing to be thought about, especially by a worldly-wise woman like her Mammy. For some reason though it was not to be, fate turning on her in her cousin's favour instead. She would have never have gotten away with it yet Orla was getting away without so much as a word of caution in her ear. Lunacy was what it was, complete and utter lunacy that she was being subjected to in her own home.

"I reckon it'll be a cracker wee party. Won't be so many people there from what Brenda said, not like Aisling's party".

"It's not Aisling's party, Orla… she's just helpin' out organisin' it". Erin corrected her.

"Ach yer just raging that ye didn't get invited. Michelle was too remember but… I suppose she has Marie to keep her company instead".

"Marie… yer daughter… who YOU should be lookin' after!"

"I look after her every other night, thank you!" Orla, taking a surprisingly stern tone, reminded her cousin. "Don't get all Jack the Ripping with me because ye can't wear yer dress tonight!"

An argumentative Orla, in a mature sense, was rarely seen. Whenever the mature side of the mother came out in an argument, it would provide a much tougher test to counter than her normal self. Coasting through life as if she was on another cloud at times, when Orla got herself worked up, almost always as it was that night, by Erin, she could be quite nasty in return. Realising that a course of events that could possibly end in some of the ornaments becoming damaged was about to occur, Mary found herself playing the role of peacekeeper, in a conflict she still knew little about. There was a party up Fountain Street that Orla was dressed up, which Erin was dead set against her going to, possibly because she was not invited to another party that was in a different part of the city altogether. Not too much of it made sense… apart from Erin being jealous… that Mary could believe.

"Ye know I do have things to do tonight before I go to bed girls… so Erin, ye better start explaining yerself before I get the wooden spoon involved!"

Put in her place by the mention of the weapon that her mother could wield at any moment, the feel of its wooden slap still burned in her memories if not on her skin, Erin was not going to waste any more time in giving an explanation. Still under the shock of the surprise that her mother would need to be read out the meaning of such a party in exact terms, it was not quite how she'd envisaged the evening going when she set out to stop Orla. The end result was what mattered though, not how it was achieved. An attitude ironically similar to the one Lance held… about her and his quest for his own bloodline to be continued.

"Orla's been invited to a party up Fountain Street…".

"Jesus…". An exasperated Mary was forced into blasphemy. "For the last time, I understand that bit! Christ you kids these days, ye think we're all stupid!"

"Fountain Street, Mammy! Fountain Street where all of the…". Erin stopped, dropping her voice to almost a whisper. "… special parties take place".

"Special parties?"

Not quite offering such subtly, Mary really wasn't on the same wavelength as her daughter. Special parties were birthday parties or the get togethers after weddings in her mind. Although there was a birthday coming up that weekend, Clare's on the Sunday, there was no such party that she knew of, not one up Fountain Street that only Orla would be invited to at least.

"Yes Mammy… those sorts of parties. Parties ye wouldn't invite Marie too!" Doing her best to stay calm, Erin was fighting a losing battle.

"There's a lot of parties ye wouldn't invite Marie too Erin! For the love of God, will ye tell me what is so damn special about this party!"

"AN ORGY MAMMY! THIS PARTY IS AN ORGY! IT'S FOUNTAIN STREET FOR FECK'S SAKE!"

Blowing her top at her mother's lack of sense, Erin was shaking with rage. She could not comprehend how far the conversation got, all the way to her having to inform the next seven doors down about what was going on in Fountain Street that night. It was a good job old Mrs Harkin was half deaf in both ears, otherwise she would have had a heart attack at such lewd details being aired so loudly. Within the four walls of the Quinn household, that appeared to be shaking just as much as Erin was, Orla's reaction was predictably unflustered despite having been worked up just a few moments earlier. The one advantage she held, thanks to the childish nature that she still carried with her to a certain degree, was her ability to simple switch on and off without any fuss. For a night like the one she was having thanks to her cousin, the skill was rather vital.

"There was no need for ye to be shoutin' like that!"

Rather than spit her verbal fire at Orla for the type of party that she was apparently attending, Mary decided that Erin was worthier of her own anger. Two stubborn, headstrong Derry women squaring up was often a recipe for pandemonium, with the added bonus of them being mother and daughter only making it worse.

"Yer… yer raging at me!?" An apoplectic Erin roared back at her mother. "Orla's wanderin' off to a sex party and yer bothered that I shouted!? WHAT!?"

"Ye better calm down and wise up, Erin or I will fetch the wooden spoon and I am not afraid to remind you of what it feels like on yer wrist! Do I make myself clear!?".

Pouting, Erin was put into an impossible situation with her mother, losing no matter what she did. If she argued any further then there was no doubting the validity of her mother's threats, the spoon being an item she feared. One of the only good things that sprang to mind when she thought of James, which was more often than she would ever admit, was how he'd taken the spoon away for years. Although another one took its place, it was not the same as being struck with the original weapon that terrorised her childhood whenever she, or Orla, stepped out of line. Keeping her mouth shut without raising any more complaints with her mother would see her cousin win though, making it difficult for Erin not to take action of some description. Ultimately, as she fiddled with a small hole in the side of her blouse, she chose to nod her head in resignation. There was no point arguing with her mother any further.

"Orla, love, has yer Granda said that ye can go to this wee party?" Mary turned to her niece.

"He has". She dipped her head enthusiastically, smiling at her Aunt.

"Catch yourself on! There's no way Granda would have said yes to ye goin' to an orgy! He knows what goes on up Fountain Street!"

"I'm not lyin', Erin! He said I can do what I want tonight because he needed to go out on a wee bit of business… he left ages ago!"

"A wee bit of business…". Mary grumbled at first, before grumble turned to growl. "Probably off seein' his filthy tart up Pump Street! I love my father, god help me so, but the disrespect he shows my mother with that woman!"

Putting her hands over her eyes, Erin really hoped that she'd fallen asleep when she came in from work late in the afternoon, the events of the evening all being a horrific nightmare. Such luck did not come to her so easily though, the reality of the situation hitting her rather hard. If Granda did have business on Pump Street, Maeve or otherwise, he would of course have been far too distracted to have enquired any further. The most likely explanation for him not stopping her was that he either he didn't hear Orla say Fountain Street or she didn't tell him. Knowing her cousin's aptitude for spilling every detail in her mind, theoretically it had to have been that Joe did not quite catch the address. Then as soon as Orla mentioned the business, Erin knew what her mother would say too. Rather dramatically, they were going off on a tangent that could be shelved until the next time Mary and Sarah saw each other. It would definitely be discussed when they did, without failure.

"Yer missin' the point here Mammy, Granda or no Granda, those Fountain Street parties are not just a dance and some rationed booze!" Passionately, Erin tried to get through to Mary once more.

"This thing about Fountain Street has always been gossip and rumours Erin, don't tell me ye actually believe it?" Mary sniggered.

"It is not gossip and rumours, Mammy! It's the truth!"

"Aye… right… and how would you know? Been to one of these parties behind my back have ye!?"

Almost too predictable to Erin, her exasperation grew as her mother fell into the belief that she must have been to one of the parties to know what she was on about. When so many people at church spoke of those suspected of attending the parties in such unflattering terms, her mother cannot have missed what was truthful information being passed around. There was no hearsay nor rumour in what was being said about Fountain Street, it was true. Anyone looking for a relaxing night with just a drink and some music, sought out the dancehalls not that street. To go to that street for a party only meant one thing… and somehow her Mammy didn't understand when it was as clear as day.

"No I have not! Fountain Street parties are not parties Mammy, you know it and I know it!"

"Ye keep sayin' that Erin, but I don't see it". Mary replied, sighing. "Orla's been invited to a nice wee party and that's all. Ye look beautiful by the way, love".

Commenting Orla on her dress, there was a smile produced by the widow in return. Lacking vast opportunities to get herself so dressed up, she was wearing red for the night, a garment she took from work when it failed the quality control tests before the start of the war. One of Michelle's half-arsed efforts at the time, Orla mended it at home where her friend could not be bothered too, giving herself an additional dress in what was not the largest wardrobe to choose from. Extending down to her knees, which sported cuts from when she'd slipped over a couple of nights before going out into the garden, she looked the part for a night out in any street. Unlike Aisling that night, who'd almost drowned in makeup, she didn't wear as much, not needing to. Orla's natural beauty took her far enough without it having to be enhanced, nor did she wish to waste the ration on it.

"Thank ye Aunt Mary, ye don't think it's too much, do ye?" Orla sought her opinion, looking down at her dress.

"Not for a wee party, no love". Mary smiled. "Now you get yerself goin'. Erin here's kept ye long enough and I think I need to have a few words with her alone".

"I can't believe this! Mammy, yer just goin' to let Orla go to a feckin' orgy! Look what happened the last time… I'm not wastin' my night goin' lookin' for her with daddy again!"

"You need to watch yer mouth and wise up, young lady!" Rebuking her daughter, Mary was furious. "We know where Orla is this time… so we don't need to go lookin' for her. Have a good night love, we'll see ye tomorrow no doubt".

"Aye bye Aunt Mary… bye Erin…".

Trying to use her body to block Orla from reaching the front door, Erin found the glaring eyes of her mother staring straight through her. She could never hold such a barricade with her raging mother ready to explode a few feet away, even when she too was whipped up into a stupendous fury. There were some nights when she wondered whether she was better off leaving, finding a place of her own, until she reminded herself that they were in a time of war. Originally, she never would have been living at home by that day. If the war would have been more favourable to both her and James, then they would have been living together at his cottage. The dream of spending their life together was one they'd parted with three years earlier, but one that had all but evaporated thanks to the events of those years. Only a miracle would see them living together in the future… not that James was short on providing such miracles…

Rushing off into the night with a grin slapped across her face, Orla was prepared to have a cracker evening regardless of what the party was. If it was just a small party between a select few, with dancing and drink only on the menu then it was a chance to break from the normal routine of motherhood for the night. Should the party be something more though, what Erin was saying it was going to be, then she did not mind at all either. Missing the company of a man, if only for one night and not multiple, with the right precautions taken she would not hesitate to involve herself. David didn't want her to be lonely after he'd gone, and though it was arguably not what he meant in his letter, a night of casual sex was within the boundaries of acceptability. To find a fella to replace him in her heart was a task she was not sure she could ever complete either, making such chances preferable over a long-term relationship such as what Erin was trying to achieve with Lance.

Back in the house, Mary did not take long to lay into her daughter.

"Well that was some performance! What the hell are ye playing at Erin, trying to stop Orla from living her life because of some rumour that Michelle probably fed ye?!"

"It didn't come from Michelle, Mammy!" Erin fought her own corner. "Everyone knows what goes on up Fountain Street… apart from you!"

"I don't believe in what I hear a few old bags at church moanin' about, that's the difference! What's yer problem with Orla spending a night out! And don't give me any rubbish about bombers, because we're all in the same boat on that one!"

Unable to remember the last time she'd been so angry, especially with her mother, Erin sensibly paused for a moment to answer in a calmer manner. She often didn't in such battles, already giving into her anger on a couple of occasions that night when a calmer head should have been utilised. Mary couldn't abide by such fury when she could give it back tenfold, providing her daughter with little chance of being heard. However, unwilling to be crushed when she knew that she was right, she told herself she was doing it for Orla. Protecting her interests, which did not include attending a party that would turn into a night of debauchery very quickly. Mary didn't see the wee mask that Orla took with her and neither did Erin, evidence which almost certainly would have seen events turn in the latter's favour. Fountain Street parties like the one that Orla was walking into that night, were by no means innocent at all.

"What if this party is what I think it is… what if Orla goes and gets herself pregnant! On yer watch, I'd add… think of the shame it would bring to the family name!"

"Don't be…".

Mary started to reply but stopped herself, finally coming to understand what was going on from what Erin could see. It was too late when Orla was already off in the direction of Fountain Street, but at least her Mammy would know that she was responsible if her niece was to fall pregnant as a result of the party. It had been their concern previously when she was off making merry with the American sailors, the reputation loss being one that they did not want to suffer. The war had already seen them suffer enough without having to add a child conceived at such a party to the mix. Erin didn't mean to grin when she watched the cogs of her mother's brain tick round upon the realisation of what she'd just allowed yet found that she could not help herself. Less than impressed but distracted by what was said, Mary found herself in need of fighting out of a corner.

"Orla's an adult, Erin… she'll have to deal with any consequences…".

"Ach come on Mammy!" Erin screeched. "We'll all have to deal with them if she gets pregnant! Do you want Maureen Malarkey to be slanderin' us in front of Father Peter!?"

"Don't you bring her into this!" Mary reared up, hands on her hips. "That woman's name is not to be mentioned under this roof! She's nothin' but trouble!"

"I wouldn't have to…". Scoffing, Erin believed herself to be in control. "… but then ye went and let Orla go out shaggin' for the evening! I've never seen ye act so naively in all my life, Mammy!"

Beginning to understand the potential dangers if there was even the slightest truth in Erin's belief about Fountain Street, Mary would have capitulated completely had her daughter not decided to finish off with another salvo. A hardy soul who could put up with a lot despite often reacting negatively to anything she did not like, being labelled as naïve would not wash with Mary Quinn. She would not accept the description when it was her lack of it, that always kept Erin safe throughout her childhood. Her daughter's upbringing may have been strict, but it was for good measure when the world waiting for her was not one that was full of sunshine and roses. That method of parenting was proving to be even more essential when the world was at war, discipline being in place rather than having to be learnt as they went along. She was not naïve… not at all.

"Ye have some cheek on ye Erin! You DARE call me naïve… look at you, strutting around with that Yank on yer arm like nobody's business. You have no idea what yer gettin' yerself into!"

"Lance is a grand fella! Stop using yer hatred of the Americans to put him down… I like him… I really like him… and I know he likes me to! Ye know, I know what I'm getting into, ye don't need to hold my hand like I'm Anna's age!"

"He's not a grand fella, and it's about time ye wised up and realised that!"

"YES HE IS A GRAND FELLA!" Erin yelled. "I'm lucky to have him, so I am! He cares a lot more about me than to let yer racism affect him!"

"I wouldn't trust him to make you happy more than I trust Michelle around an unlocked cabinet of whisky!" Mary shouted back. "Ye should do what's right and leave him before he gets too attached! There's someone else out there if ye can move on from…".

Erin had moved on, literally, voting with her feet as she began to rush up the stairs. She wasn't going to stand there listening to her mother belittle Lance to replace him with James. Her Mammy might have liked the Englishman still, for reasons she did not want to understand, but James could not be the man at her side anymore. Her mother should have known better than most as to why he could not, though it appeared she of all people thought that he could be redeemed after what he'd done. Her eldest daughter was not so easily persuaded to allow the Englishman to redeem himself, hurt to that day by his abandonment of her when she subsequently lost their child, even if he did know nothing of the pregnancy. Fighting the Germans was apparently more important to him than fighting for a future with her… the two of them simply could not be together after that.

In her state, Erin's mind skipped over the fact he fought the Germans for the sole purpose of securing that future.

One that was destined not to be.

---

Whilst the night might have ended prematurely for Erin, for the fella that she'd left, it was one of the best he could remember in some time. It was too long since James enjoyed a night of dancing and good company, even if the war tinged it somewhat. There was only so much fun one could have during wartime, the acts of war being ones that could not be forgotten so quickly when thought of. He wasn't the only one enjoying his night either, far from it in fact. Ian and Louise appeared to have stamina in abundance, only stopping the once to get a quick drink before they started dancing again. For the two of them it was a night where they were finally realising that their futures were meant to be together rather than apart, James happy that his friends were able to see what both he and, to a lesser extent, Tommy, could already see. The other McLaughlin brother was also having a great night, James last seeing him heading off in the vicinity of the upper floor with the dark-haired woman dragged along behind him. It didn't take much to figure out what they were up to…

For the young heir himself though, Aisling was proving to be surprisingly decent at dancing. She'd had plenty of practice at least, when she attended dances fairly frequently, doing so for some years. The lack of a consistent partner when she did always hid how good of a dancer that she was from everyone who cared to look. James was well known for his ability to dance before the war, though he'd only ever danced with one other woman properly in the time he was in Derry previously. Aisling was no Erin on the dancefloor, nor was she anywhere near as pretty as Erin if compared, though the gentlemanly James did not seek to make such aesthetic comparisons between women. Preferring the qualities of their hearts above all, he was more than pleased to find himself holding onto Aisling as they jived or even waltzed away.

Taken by being around him, that close to him at least, Aisling was having the best night of any woman at the manor house. Expecting to have been stressed by the organisational aspect of the dance until learning of his return, there were more than a couple of jealous eyes thrown her way when other young women saw who she was dancing with. When word of his decoupling from Erin spread through the city faster than the bubonic plague, the young single women on both banks of the Foyle were enticed by the prospect of falling under the Englishman's charm. They shouldn't have been when he sounded the way that he did, representing a country that were meant to be despised not celebrated. Acting quicker than all of them, Aisling was far too calculating for any of the other women who fancied themselves to be courted by James.

As the band began to wind down for the evening, with only a couple more songs to play, they chose a slow, quite romantic ballad to fill the air. Everyone who was up dancing ended up closer to each other as a result, gently swaying to the music around them. For the couples dancing together that were already in a relationship, it gave them a chance to look at each other lovingly, perhaps to even kiss. Those who were not could potentially do the same and appearing to be so lost in the emotions of the night, Aisling found herself resting her head on James' chest as they swayed. His firm hand on her waist was sending all sorts of messages throughout her body, blood running wild under the still soft touch of the retired Vice Air Admiral. The war may have changed a lot about James, but his feathery touch remained.

Glancing up to meet his eyes, she found the Englishman to be smiling back down at her in his arms. Aisling did not know that he was only smiling because for the briefest of seconds, he saw Erin's face rather than hers staring back up at him. Such a slow rhythm was what he was used to dancing to with the woman that he truly loved more than any other, and his mind played yet another trick on him. He wanted it to be Erin in his arms that night, wanting it to be Erin in his arms every night whether it was through dancing or not. Removing her image from his mind was impossible, not when his love for her was as strong as ever, despite the rejection he faced. When he did see Aisling's face though, his expression did not change to disgust. The bespectacled young woman was offering him companionship that Erin no longer could or would… and that meant something. She was giving him the chance to feel loved where his former lover shut the door in his face.

Deducing his smile to mean that he was more than happy in her presence, Aisling decided not to wait any longer. Enough of the other couples were still dancing around them, lost in each other, and a kiss amongst the crowd could easily be missed by those too interested in their own night. Moving her right hand up, she rested it on the underside of his chin, gradually using her thumb to pull his jaw down to meet her. With a height advantage over the woman in his arms, James was going to have to bend down to be able to kiss her. With her hand on his skin, he did not fight it at first, allowing himself to be dragged into what Aisling wanted. His fragile mind was at work again though, as a split second before their lips touched, he was assaulted with the thoughts of how wrong what he was doing was. Aisling was Aisling, not Erin… Erin was the only woman that he was supposed to have been kissing… at least in public. If they were seen, then she would know and there would be no road back into the young Quinn's heart forever. Yet Aisling's kindness and affections could not go unrewarded, not when he could feel the pull between them too.

"James…". The dejection was evident in her voice, addressing him as she looked into his irises.

"Not here". He rapidly replied, barely able to hold the eye contact.

"Then where?"

"My cottage… we can be alone together there…".

An offer too good to refuse, one better than she could have imagined though not one that she hadn't hoped for, Aisling was having the night of her life. Whispering her reply that she would love to go back to the small cottage, out of sight from the rest of the world, James made the suggestion to her quietly that they leave separately as to not attract any unwanted attention. Fully agreeing with him without question, as well as without a reason as to why she agreed so readily, Aisling fetched her jacket from one of the other rooms and left first, finding a spot further down the driveway. To keep up the ruse she was going to have to wait for a good two or three minutes to do so, but those few minutes allowed her to reinforce her weak knees and regulate her breathing once more. To be under James' gaze was far more intense than she ever realised that it would be.

Before the banker could join her outside though, he came across a sight that made his blood boil without surprising him a great deal. Lieutenant Hamilton found himself a dance partner that night, one very much not Erin and very much was sidled up closely into his chest. Feeling his fist clench when he saw him across the room, James' opinion of the man lowered further to almost rock bottom. Denied the chance to be dancing with Erin himself, it was Lance's duty to become that partner when he could not. Instead, he was enjoying having the long flowing locks of a redhead resting upon his chest, the Yank's arms around her waist. What James failed to know without being inside of Lance's mind, was that the American had already stopped himself from going any further. Temptation was very much there when the woman he'd been waltzing with was far better looking than Erin was, but he knew that going any further with her would be wrong. Knowing that he would feel for her where he felt nothing for Erin, the young woman would be politely cast aside when the music stopped. The plan just had to be followed, even if better opportunities were passed up because of it.

Extracting himself from the party a few minutes after Aisling, James joined her out on the driveway, briskly walking towards her in the dark. Resourceful as she was, the young woman was equipped with a torch for the journey, which would have been made in complete darkness otherwise. Hedgehogs roamed free to their side in and around the undergrowth, the nocturnal creatures going about their lives as the silent skies cast themselves over the city. There was a chill in the air that night too, though not one which unsettled James who'd not brought a jacket with him, nothing to cover the tuxedo he'd adorned that night. He wasn't used to such midnight getaways, not when there was someone else with him. Throughout his escape from first Italy and then France, he was accustomed to travelling at night when it was somewhat safer. It wasn't always safe though, but he would not drag himself into thinking about what he'd done to survive the ordeal. There were memories from that time that were not to be revisited in a rush…

Between himself and Aisling, there was nothing more than light conversation at first as they made their way up and down the bendy lanes between the manor and James' cottage. They'd both calmed down considerably since they'd almost kissed on the dancefloor, though the speed in which they walked indicated that interest was not lost. James did not find it awkward to speak of the mundane, such as the weather and how his job was going, allowing it to be a test of Aisling's intentions. She listened fervently, interjecting with the odd question or two to show that she was not interested in only one thing. Her humility was unexpected, though when so many people were showing how much they cared for him since he returned, the Englishman knew he should have perhaps seen it coming. Unfortunately, no matter how heartful the comments that were made to him were, the one person that he wished to hear them from was the one who bucked the trend, offering him nothing but rejection, dejection and above all, guilt.

Aware of the location of his cottage, only a bend or two away, Aisling decided to move the conversation on to heighten the mood. Her own arousal was very much still intact, but to understand her position, she wanted to make sure that James' was too.

"Yer so handsome…". She commented softly, eyeing him up out of the corner of her right eye. "… that scar… it really brings out the best in ye".

"You have my thanks, Aisling…". Her name fell off of his tongue in a purr, exciting her even more. "… but it is nothing compared to how that dress brings out your beauty. You are a stunning young woman that I am lucky to have with me tonight".

Stumbling on the road, he nearly ended up having to catch her falling figure. The comment did things to Aisling that no other had ever done before from anyone…

"Eejit…". She berated herself, without James hearing.

In need of composure for the rest of the night to complete what she set out to do, Aisling was furious that she managed to become affected by his endearing speech about her. She should have known better than to go so weak around a man, but James Maguire's effect on the women of Derry was like no other. Resisting him was almost impossible unless you were either only his friend, his family or a homosexual. Quite how Erin and Clare didn't jump on him she did not know, though the latter's preferences that she was not in receipt of, offered the explanation. Nor was she aware of the child that the former lost with James, convinced that for a bizarre reason that Erin preferred the far worse looking American Lieutenant she'd shacked up with. Aisling didn't care though… it was Erin's loss now that the beautiful burly Batchelor was within her grasp. The blonde was going to lose him alright…

"You have been too kind to me, Aisling". James stated again as they traversed another bend, taking care not to slip on any of the fallen leaves. "I have been in need of someone to raise my spirits and you have done so immensely".

"Most fellas don't even want to look at me…". She rather dejectedly stated. "… but you… yer a real gent ye know, James. Thank you".

"The honour is mine. And tonight I intend to repay your kindness to me".

His tone was flirtatious, leaving Aisling in a wee spot of bother when it came to controlling her emotions around him. Her body was responding to every comment made by the man beside her, setting off waves of lust that she was struggling to maintain, when for her own sake she needed to. Her image of innocence that seemed to exist in the minds of all that knew her was her salvation, playing up to his thoughts too at the same time. Though James might have been offering a night of pleasure, one that no woman in their right mind would say no to when he was muscular, and devilishly handsome, she knew that somewhere in his conscience, the thought of Erin would be screaming at him.

"Are ye sure? I mean I… I know that… I know that you and Erin aren't…".

"Aisling, I…". He interrupted, only to be interrupted himself.

"I don't want to cause any trouble between you's if we… well if she hears about this. I… I know people though James if she does… people who can help us keep her quiet so that… so that we can be together without fearing her".

For a moment he stopped, at the same time leaving Aisling terrified that she'd overstepped the mark with her words. His cottage was just the start of the future she was proposing to him, but it was a large difference to what existed between them that night to what it could be in five years' time. Collecting himself from what she could see, all of her worries were eradicated when he took her hand in his, shining the torch between them so he could see her face.

"Tonight there is no one else… just us. Shall we go?"

James didn't wait for an answer, almost lifting the smaller fair-haired figure of Aisling off of her feet when he upped their speed to a run. Left giggling like a lover would be, what she supposedly wanted to be from what he could see, Aisling's knees were handed a lifeline when they were supported by his power and energy. Barely able to cope with the words that fell from his lips, that turned her lust from mere arousal into being almost insatiable, she could not wait to get into the bedroom of his cottage to complete what she'd started that night. Her own aims were nearly achieved, though she would not revel in her victory until much later on, the oblivious James the vessel of such plans. The remaining distance to his cottage was covered in less than a couple of minutes, the young man only letting go of her hand when they came to a stop where his driveway opened out to accommodate the Morgan.

Appreciating the serene darkness of a night in the North West, where there was not a sound other than the distant humming of a passing aircraft, they stood together side by side, looking up into the stars. It was the perfect night for young love to be discovered, for new futures to be found between men and women under the twinkling starlight. The full moon was on show that night, not a cloud in sight to cover it over or provide a rain shower to dampen the atmosphere. The nip in the air was fresh rather than frozen, a soothing cool to ensure that passions did not boil over too quickly until they were explored behind closed doors. Aisling and James, without the prying eyes of anyone who could try to stop them, were free to test the boundaries of what they'd found to exist between them dancing earlier that night. There was a connection, a spark… sparks that she'd never felt and ones that he'd forgotten the power of now that he missed the blonde he loved so dearly by his side.

Taking Aisling by the hand again, he took the torch away from her grasp, shifting it into his left hand. Stood with his back to the cottage, his lips curved into a gracious smile.

"I have a surprise for you". He hummed, eyes narrowing to send the blood flowing around her once more.

"A… a surprise. What more could I ask for?" She replied nervously, eyelashes fluttering as her cheeks began to burn.

"I need you to close your eyes and put your arms by your side".

Hesitating for a moment, she frowned, but was brought immediately out of the action by James' alluring smile. The young Englishman was far too handsome for his own good, and that night he was going to be hers, something she could not wait for when he'd teased and flirted with her all of the way back to his home. Although Erin was known for attaching herself to a fella very easily at the slightest of interactions, Aisling was beginning to understand that night why she put up so much of a fight to ward off Jenny's advances upon him in the first place. Any woman would kill to have a man like James by their side… in cold blood if it was absolutely necessary to ensure he was not stolen away.

Her eyes closed, hands by her side with her worn stringbag dangling off her right shoulder, Aisling's only issue was controlling her breathing. She was already on her way to a land of pleasure that no man had ever sent her too before. That night, she was going to be the winner. Permanently.

"Aisling…".

James paused.

She grinned merrily.

The torchlight moved.

"God save the King".

BANG!

Aisling only just got enough time to open her eyes, to watch her plan crumble at the very final hurdle possible.

Derry's Nazi spy was dead.

When the bullet entered her body, accurately placed between her eyes, it crashed through her skull into her brain, killing her instantly. Previously weak knees turned in towards each other, legs flailing like those found on a newly born foal. Her lifeless corpse crumpled forwards, slamming into the gravelly turf of his driveway where the blood began to flow. James outthought, outmanoeuvred and ultimately outsmarted her, the adversary he'd known about for so many months, forced to stay silent to not give away his knowledge of her allegiances. It was Aisling that fed information about his life to Kurt, Aisling who discovered the truth behind the Joyce's apparent arrests. The British Intelligence Services killed her friend… so she was going to make sure they lost their most valuable prize, without ever discovering why his stock was so high.

James' final surprise, the revolver he'd hidden within the lining of his jacket, prevented her.

"WHAT THE FUCK JAMES!"

Expressionless, feeling nothing for the young woman he'd executed on his driveway, James did not flinch when Charlene bellowed from behind him. She'd been waiting in the cottage as part of the plan they'd finalised that morning, not expecting to witness what she had done a few seconds before. He was cold, colder than when he'd savagely murdered Kurt or when, overcome with annoyance from the Irishman's mutterings, he'd slashed John-Paul across the throat. Aisling was another barrier in his way, with crimes that needed to be answered for, some of them to him directly. To his friends and former lover too, though they thankfully would not see the barbarity of the man they assumed to be the perfect English gentleman. A gentleman… and now an assassin too.

"YE WERE SUPPOSED TO HOLD HER AT GUNPOINT!" Charlene shouted again, still not quite by his side. "NOT KILL HER!"

"She threatened Erin's life before and threatened it again…". He stated, voice chilling whilst lowering the revolver. "… no one threatens it without answering to me!"

Coming to a stop next to him, Charlene's mind raced with how she was going to cover up what had happened, to her superiors in London. The orders were very much clear, to apprehend Aisling and hand her over to the agents that would arrive a couple of days later to question her. There were already provisions in place to keep her locked up at the Kavanagh's estate, under the watchful eye of both Charlene and her father, having a basement that was the perfect size to hold a Nazi sympathiser in need of vicious interrogation. James made the decision not to follow those plans, despite knowing of them, playing Aisling along all night to lure her into Charlene's custody.

"That's no excuse ye stupid eejit!" She berated him, failing to catch his attention despite being in his face. "We had a plan, James! I thought you understood it!"

"I understood". He replied, still looking beyond her into the distance as he did. "But I've disobeyed orders before when I've thought them not to be in the public interest. Aisling was a danger to society that needed to be dealt with".

"That was not yer decision to make!"

"AND WHEN WAS IT YOURS!?" Turning his attention to her at last, Charlene recoiled when he shouted into her face. "We both know that she would have been killed after interrogation anyway. I merely expedited the final process".

Frustratingly to Charlene, James was completely correct in his thoughts. There would be no survival for Aisling when she was such an enemy of the state, though making her allegiances public would do no good to the tensions in the country. Ireland could become a hotbed of trouble if other citizens followed her example, her removal from life needing to be dealt with under the conditions of absolute silence. James facilitated such a plan though did so far too soon, leaving the agent with a body on her hands, and new plans to make. The orders from Menzies and Smithers were precise for a reason, though more to protect James than to extract information from the spy. Her report to them was going to have to be very convincing, to inform them that Aisling was indeed more of a threat than they realised. The art of deception was another string to her bow though… there were worse agents it could have fallen to having the responsibility of covering up a death on their hands.

"It's a good job I brought this". She held up her own revolver in front of him. "The revolver that Aisling grabbed from me, leaving ye know choice but to shoot her".

"The details are not important to me". Still cold in his replies, James showed no emotion for the dead woman. "My job is done".

"Like hell it is!" Charlene shouted at him again. "Yer helpin' me bury her body so ye are, I can't carry her around on me own and this is yer mess not mine!"

"I'm not burying a Nazi on my property!" James countered.

"Yer not goin' to be… ye'll be puttin' her in my car. There's some woods at the bottom of my family's estate… she can go there".

"I can lend you a shovel…".

"I don't need a shovel, I need ye to help! What, do you think the rules don't apply to ye or somethin' because yer a high ranking officer? You've just murdered a woman James… even if she was a fuckin' Nazi!"

In the state of mind that he was in, what he'd done was only barely getting through to James. The gentleman that started the evening was a mere whisper when it was overshadowed by the mentality of a man that he barely knew himself. The sort of man that he became when his beloved was threatened, protective but deadly, with only her safety on his mind. Erin wasn't his to love in that manner anymore, but he did not care, nor did he even consider that it was not his duty. Aisling's threats to her invalidated her claim to life. The Nazi's were the enemy as far as he was concerned, and with her eliminated permanently, there was none of their agents left in Derry to cause any more trouble.

"What… what do I need to do… to help?"

Conscious of what he'd done, at last in Charlene's mind, she was going to ensure that they dealt with Aisling's death properly. She cared for James too, even if he did not wish to pursue any sort of a relationship with her and more so than just what the demands of the job made her. As far as the young Kavanagh was concerned, he was also her friend.

"Help me bury her and then write the report with me". She started softly. "We need to make sure we get the story straight between us in case they come and ask ye. And for heaven's sake don't mention what ye said about Erin".

"That would be the truth though Charlene. I did what I did for her… I am not ashamed of it".

"It's not my place to lecture ye any more than I already have, James, but for Christ's sake will you wake up! Erin doesn't love you anymore… she's with someone else now. As much as she can be a wee bit odd, I don't think she's goin' to appreciate you killin' people in her name!"

"It is my duty to kee-".

"No it's not, James! And I mean it, don't you mention her if yer asked!" Charlene stood firm, waiting for him to nod, which he eventually did, dejectedly. "Now come on, help me with her".

Deciding to ignore his thoughts until the job was done, hoping not to have to face them while in Charlene's presence, James complied with the request. An inexperienced agent of the Intelligence Services was left to boss around the heir to the throne without any rebuke from him, but without her the world would have known that James had blood on his hands. He would not have been able to think about masking Aisling's fate alone when he'd transitioned into the devil-like creature that pulled the trigger. Moving around to pick up the body on his own, into a fireman's lift where her drying blood began to stain his tuxedo, James carried the body over to the open boot as Charlene retrieved Aisling's bag. Rummaging around in it to attempt to find anything that could be of use to them, that may have proved further collaboration with the Nazi's, it wasn't long before the air was pierced with another of her shouts.

"HA! It seems Aisling wants to help us from beyond the grave".

"What do you mean?" James replied as he closed the boot. "You've found something?"

"Oh aye…". Charlene replied slowly, using a torch to read the piece of paper she'd found in the bag. "We already have the motive but here… Aisling was so confident of succeeding, she wrote herself a draft of the message she was goin' to send off to her Nazi friends. According to this, she lured ye into taking her back to yer cottage, and then proceeded to kill ye while ye were 'engaged in intercourse'. Christ, I didn't think she had it in her…".

"We'll never know if she ever could have done…". James commented blankly. "I suppose we should get going".

"Aye… and James, bring yerself some spare clothes. We'll have to burn yers because of the all the blood on them… in fact ye best tell me where they are in case that blood gets in the house".

Sending Charlene off to get him a spare set of clothes, he took a seat in her car, taking off his jacket first where the largest concentration of blood was, to make sure it did not stain her seats. The air was much cooler than it was when he'd walked along with the now deceased Aisling, the nip in the air biting at his chest which now lacked an additional layer to fight against it.

Derry's Nazi spy was now dead, but it brought no joy to James, especially when he was not supposed to have done it in the first place. However, his inability to let Erin go and instinctive need to protect her honour, left him with no other choice.

He was continuing to become the very killer Doctor Van Der Heijden wanted him to, without the Nazi being alive to see it.

British Intelligence now controlled the killer, not that they were willing to utilise him for such means.

James' path was only growing gloomier, death never seeming to be far away…