Chapter 95: Addition 15th September 1943
Strolling along the street in the middle of the day, James couldn't be happier. It was the summer, the warmth of the air hitting his skin, his lips curving up because he was so contented. Warm weather always brought the best spirits out and even if there was a war going on around them, he was able to see the positives in life. His life, more specifically, which was finally just as he wanted it. All of those dreams that kept him going through the torture and the pain of Kurt Van Der Heijden, as well as the arduous journey across the south of France. He'd survived all of it and was finally being rewarded with everything that he could possibly want. Despite all of the losses he'd had to live through in the four years since the war began, he could honestly say he hadn't felt happier.
Married life with Erin was exactly like he thought it would be. Just about perfect. Their love for each other was so strong still that there wasn't a day that went by that they didn't think of each other almost all of the time. She was still working, as was he, which changed the home dynamic to what many were used to. It was he that often made dinner or cleaned the house, while she worked longer hours and came home knackered, but was always willing to do her share at the weekends. The cottage was the perfect home for the two of them. They might have been isolated out in the countryside, but they had so much land around them to enjoy and express themselves in. Fate was often so cruel to the pair of them, but finally it was turning in their favour when they could have everything that they did.
There were still arguments, all good marriages contained them, but never anything that really saw them fall out with each other. One time he'd wanted an ornament on the mantelpiece and she wanted on the windowsill, that was the sort of level of feud that they held. The windowsill it was in the end. Their families were still an integral part of their lives though, even when they were separated from them out at the cottage. Michelle was a regular visitor at the weekend, coming to spend time with the two of them, sometimes walking out into the trees and down to the stream at the bottom of the garden. The three of them would relax and find peace down there, joking away as the world passed them by. When Anna visited too, they would explore the outdoors, Marie sometimes joining in if Orla dropped round. Most importantly, they were never left out nor did they turn anyone away. It was a system that just… worked.
The more time they spent with each other too, the more they got to know each other. It was strange really, when they'd met so long ago, that in truth, they'd not spent that much time with one another. Granted, the war took him away for the best part of three years but even then, they'd only known each other for a few months before and only a few short weeks of that time they'd spent as a couple. It didn't really matter though, when they knew how much they loved each other, with every little nuance that they found delighting them. Being able to wake up with her and talk every morning at the weekend, before they faced the day ahead of them, was one of the best parts of his life. Seeing her laugh and her smile melted his heart, just the same seeing his did to her. It wasn't a lie to say that they were the most compatible couple in all of Derry, and for Erin, she was the luckiest woman in the city. Plenty went disappointed when they tied the knot.
One of those that was at the time, Charlene, had very much cooled her interest off in the weeks following the wedding. He would meet with her on a weekly basis, often using the legitimate cover of visiting the Kavanagh estate for bank meetings to speak with her. There were less threats to his life as it began to settle down, and other than the odd correspondence from London, James found there was little for him to know or do. There was talk of having him return to the Fleet Air Arm on one such visit, in a purely non-combatant, training role but he immediately declined. It would have taken him back to England, out into countryside that he did not know and more crucially, away from the woman he loved. She might have been able to understand had he asked, when it was solely in aid of the war effort, but he did not want to risk her taking offence to it. His place was by her side as he'd proven by marrying her and with his duty to the country more than fulfilled, it would be up to another man to take his place.
He was out that lunchtime taking advantage of the weather to walk his lunch off, not that there was much of it to walk off. Rationing was still hitting them all hard, and as much as keeping a brave face did, the realities of life in wartime did not go away. If he wanted to then he could have almost avoided the impact, but James would have never utilised the secret of his existence to make them any different from anyone else. Keeping it from Erin was hard enough when they were now living under the same roof, but it was important for him to not burden her with such gravely dangerous information. Trust wasn't the issue at all, as much as it might have seen that way to an outsider looking in. Unwilling to place his wife into any danger by telling her who his father was, that secret would remain with him to the grave.
Days at the bank were still relatively busy even with the general lack of money, as people came and went to discuss finances and the like. The team that he had at his disposal was a very fine one indeed, the addition of Danny proving to be just as crucial as he'd first thought. Sceptical to begin with, Tommy and Ian came around to him very quickly when it was quite clear that his young age did not hide his talent for the job. It was a bonus too that he wasn't a raving Soviet supporter like the man he'd replaced, whose fate was still unknown to them. Quite how Jamie's disappearance wasn't the talk of the city, he did not know, although his fate was known to the Englishman. Alive but imprisoned, there was little chance that he would see the light of day again before the war was over. Whenever that would be.
Hoping to be able to get back into his office to continue where he left off perusing the ledgers before lunchtime, James very quickly became aware that there was something wrong. Tommy was stood in front of his office door with a worried look on his face, one that he did not try to hide when his boss walked in through the front door. There was a small queue off to the right where Ian was busy with a woman who was shouting at him, the wee English fella making a mental note to ask him about it later on. Off to the left, Danny was diligently explaining something to none other than Erin's Aunt Sarah, not a distraction that he could afford. Making a beeline for the man stood outside of his office door, he could not help but wonder what sort of a problem that it was.
"Tommy… why are you stood in front of my door like a guardsman?"
"James… I… this is a wee bit awkward". He whispered, moving his hand off the handle to scratch at his neck. "I did try to get them to go but…".
"Who is it?"
When Tommy would not meet his eye, all sorts of worries ran through his mind. He couldn't tell whether his employee and friend knew whoever it was or not, but if he didn't, then James had a fair idea of who it might have been. It would be most odd that Charlene hadn't communicated it to him previously, which could have only meant that it was a problem that she was not to be drawn into. Smithers and whoever it was with him must have come on foot too, because there was no car outside nor was there any parked up around that looked out of place. Whatever it was that he wanted, the Major must have thought it most pressing to visit in person. Perhaps there was a problem in London, that maybe his identity was known to someone. A whole host of possibilities ran through his mind… all completely unnecessarily.
Major Smithers was sat comfortably at home in Kent, not in his office.
"It's…". Tommy had to clear his throat before continuing. "Mrs and Mrs O'Reilly".
The McLaughlin brother pretended not to see how white James' face had become at the mention of their names, a confirmation to what the parents of his fellow countryman were saying when they walked into the bank that day. Meeting the correct conditions to trigger a nervous James were not easy, but one mention of John-Paul's name was enough to send him into a spiral that he did not wish to visit. He was the killer of the Irishman after all, a just and necessary killing, but one all the same. Every time that he saw them, whether it be at church or out in the street, the Englishman was forced to look away out of what he supposed was shame. Being ashamed of killing a traitor who was willing to work for the Nazi's as long as the money was right, he should not have been. Except it was James Maguire, the gentleman, who always found his most difficult enemy to be the closest to him of all. Himself.
"I see". Answering quietly, he blinked rapidly for a couple of second. "And… and did they say what they wanted to talk to me about?"
He already knew the answer to that question, but it sounded better as if he did not know what they could possibly want. If Tommy did suspect anything, then he had the good graces to not mention those suspicions when he answered said question.
"Something about… well… I…".
"Tommy. I only ask your honesty".
"They want to talk to ye about… John-Paul".
As soon as the name fell from his lips, Tommy watched James' eyes flicker with an almost knowing sign. For the majority of the time, he could usually hold such feelings at bay, not showing any sort of effect upon him from them. This time though it was different, an attack on his conscience that still was there to plague him, despite how happy his life had become. Certain memories would be carried with him until his last breaths, and one of those was about to be crossed by meeting with the deceased traitor's parents. They must have come for answers, answers that they would never be able to know.
"I tried to stop them and get them to go so, I did". The brother explained. "I thought the fella was goin' to take Danny's head off, so I stepped in and brought them in here till ye got back. I don't really know much else…".
"You did the right thing". James dipped his head in thanks. "One must appreciate their unwillingness to listen to reason. They are still grieving".
"Aye but…". Tommy's voice dipped again, so that they could not hear him from inside. "He's been missin' years, James! I don't know what ye can tell them that some army fella can't! I wouldn't wish it on him but he's probably dead".
There was no probably about it, but the Pyrenees held that man's corpse and few more knew of the truth of how it ended up there. Along with the two dead Nazi's further down the peak, there were a trail of bodies lying across that mountain side that showed the world what would happen if you stood in James Maguire's way to get back home. To get home to Erin. His past would always catch up to him though and with a heavy heart, he knew he had to face them.
"I can try my best to comfort them". James began his fabrication, as Tommy frowned. "I think it would be pertinent for you to return to help Ian and Danny. I cannot be sure as to how long that I will be".
"Do ye… do ye know somethin'?"
Question asked, Tommy soon realised his mistake. The boss wasn't exactly glaring at him when he put the thought across, but he knew James well enough to know that he meant what he'd said. The bank's clients needed to be seen to and it was his job to assist them not to play a guessing game into the nature of what the Englishman knew about the man presumed dead.
"I'll come and get ye if we really need ye". Mumbling, Tommy nervously bit at his lip. "And ye know… if ye need us".
"Thank you, Tommy. I appreciate that offer sincerely".
"Ach well we've got to look after ye so we have. Can't have an Englishman causin' trouble around the place, can we?"
The jibe, through light-hearted, might have seen him sacked elsewhere but the culture they'd developed at the bank allowed for such tomfoolery. Amused for a moment, James chuckled softly, before remembering himself and what he was about to walk into. With one final look exchanged between the two men, he pulled down on the handle, to enter his office and the battlefield where the past would be laid out on the line. If there was ever a time that he needed Major Smithers, it was now.
It was then that he truly remembered that day.
"You have lost John-Paul… because… I am a survivor and I am not going to give up nor stop until I am back where I belong, where you should have gone a long time ago! And this…".
Now holding the knife in his right hand, there was a grimace on James' face but also a glare of complete control over the frazzled John-Paul. The Irishman's eyes were wide, but he was not moving at all, watching the blade in the hand of the Englishman with a look that spoke of a petrified man that was about to be dealt another poor piece of luck by fate.
"This is going to hurt you a lot more than it hurt me".
Summoning all of the power and fight that his body could spare when it was trying to combat his wounds too, James brutally drove the knife down into the chest of the Irishman. John-Paul did not even attempt to stop him, his hands not moving instinctively to block the strike until the very last second when it was already past the point of stopping the other man. He couldn't deal with pain, not like James could, crying out as the blade went through the fabric of his coat and his clothing underneath, careening into his chest. His cry echoed out around the peaks of the Pyrenees, but James was the only member of the audience sat along the rocky, snow topped mountains that were the backdrop to their struggle. James' struggle to clear the final hurdle on his way home, to be more precise.
John-Paul's legs buckled quickly, though he fell onto his knees rather than backwards. In front of him, James took a step backwards so that the man didn't slam into him, leaning down a moment later in order to remove the knife from the Irishman's body. Another scream could be heard in the mountains the moment that he did, John-Paul suffering greatly from the agony of being stabbed then having the blade removed sharply from the wound it created. A taste of his own medicine when he'd done the same to his opponent a couple of minutes prior, he was overdosing on that medicine rather than dealing with the side effects. Not for the first time where James was concerned, there was a smell of death in the air, but once more it was not his own that would be conjured that day.
"I… just…". John-Paul fought to try to speak, with some thoughts still on his mind. "… wanted… a new… life…".
"So you thought you would take mine. How noble". James scoffed. "You are nothing but a traitor, John-Paul, that is all you ever will be. You turned your back on your army… your country… on Ciara…".
"Look at you!" He spat blood in return, but still managed a laugh. "You… you fuckin' love bein' the hero, don't ye James? I… I know… I loved it too... but… but ye… ye can't be the hero forever, James… so take that knife… and put it in yer own chest".
"What?"
"Because James… because up here, at the top… of this mountain…". The Irishman was now wheezing, life draining from him. "… yer the hero… but ye… can only go down from here. Ye'll… be me… one day".
"Oh do shut up!"
The memory stopped there, the very second before he slashed John-Paul's throat, cutting him open so that he bled out choking in the thin layer of summer snow.
He had to blink the visions away.
"Mr and Mrs O'Reilly". James greeted them, with steel in his voice. "It is a pleasure to see you".
That was very much not the truth, not that he disliked them as people. He couldn't even begin to understand how devastated they were at their son's disappearance, a stark difference to the truth of his demise too. Every week at church, a prayer was still said for John-Paul, though one member of the congregation knew too well that he would not return. James never did pray during those interludes, not that he was much of a religious man anyway, finding himself using the time to think of his mother instead. One of the unfair realities of war, he found himself dismayed to hear prayers for a man who sold out his country, while a woman who died for it, was long forgotten. Kathy's reputation in the city might have put a few people off, but nothing she'd ever done could compare to the shocking betrayal of the principles of society, that John-Paul pulled off.
"Mr Maguire". His father replied, denying the hand stretched out to him. "Ye'll forgive me that I don't fancy shakin' hands".
"It is not an obligation that you do". Replying curtly, James tried desperately to read the man's face. "Please, sit down".
Mrs O'Reilly looked at him with a face of thunder and fury, not hiding her disdain quite as well as her husband. He remembered their prior encounter at the bank when she'd broken down into hysterics when he denied knowing of their son's whereabouts, a lie that still scarred him to that today. Another death on his conscious that simply would not stop shouting back at him, he was going to be confronted with it, no escape possible.
When they were in their seats, it was John-Paul's father that spoke to him first, his mother still struggling to find words. She was having no issue in scowling at the bank manager, however.
"I suppose ye want to know why we're here".
"My colleague informed me that you seek information about John-Paul". He answered, the man opposite nodding slightly. "Then I am afraid that you have wasted your journey, Mr O'Reilly. As I said to you before, our paths did not meet".
"That's shite, so it is!"
Husband could not control wife, as she flew off the handle with James. The love of a mother was one of the strongest energies possible, knowing himself from how Kathy tried to save him from the Nazi's. John-Paul's Mammy was not going to attempt to hold back unlike her poor unfortunate husband, who sought to make his apologies immediately. He knew they would not get very far with James, if they were rude to him.
"As ye can, my wife's a wee bit emotional but… but she does have a point". His voice lowered, but he found no change to James' stoic facial expressions. "I could tell that day before… ye were hidin' somethin' from us and we want to know what that is!"
Their apparently inquisitive nature was news to him, shocked to find that they'd sat on the suspicions for months, perhaps the best part of a year. Lying to them was something that he did do, but only for their sakes. The last thing that the whole of that family would need, would be the likes of Smithers and Menzies becoming involved to keep them quiet. Their version of quiet was why Jenny Joyce was six feet under.
"Sir, I do believe you are very much mistaken…".
"No, I reckon I'm not!" Now speaking angrily, Mr O'Reilly pointed his finger at the Englishman, a hint of backing down not to be found through his gritted teeth. "Look, fella, I just want to know where my boy is! Is that too much to ask!?"
Under normal circumstances it was not, but John-Paul's death was no ordinary case of a soldier being killed in combat. There was much more to it than that, with some details that would never be known when much of the story from northern France down to the Pyrenees, went to its grave along with the Irishman. Agonisingly having no choice but to kill him when he would been killed himself, one way or another, James could feel the atmosphere of the day in the mountain even more. It was very much a warm day, thought the peaks were still covered in snow, the air being nothing worse than a chilly day for the weakest of souls. Trying to explain that their son was a traitor to them and to the country, was no mean feat at all.
"I must insist…".
"HOW DARE YOU!"? Mrs O'Reilly started on him again. "Look at ye, now! Married to that narcissistic Quinn woman, walkin' around church like ye belong here and struttin' around in the streets, thinking that ye know everythin'! A disgrace, so it is!"
Sighing, he did not know what to do other than lift his filing and hold it in front of his face, where he could cover the mix of pain and anger. The latter stemmed from her daring to bring Erin into the conversation where John-Paul was concerned. It was he who'd not turned up to take her to the dance just a few weeks after his arrival in Derry, the same fella who then also tried to sell him out to the highest of bidders, the Nazi's. Yet he could not explode into a fiery rage at them because the fact remained. He'd killed their son. Some truths simply could not be ran from forever, but the way in which they were conveyed did not have to be.
James despised lying and despised himself for what he was about to do. It would weigh on his conscience heavily just like everything else did, very much a case of needs must that went against his normal gentlemanly approach.
"Please Mrs O'Reilly, I would prefer if you would not mention my wife". Only narrowing avoiding slipping from his usual decorum, James rounded upon the upset woman. "She plays no part in this story and I would appreciate her name not being used in vain when she has done nothing to deserve your rage".
"I'm sorry, Mr Maguire". John-Paul's father apologised, his hand moving over to cover the trembling ones of his wife. "We have struggled for so long to accept that there's no truth for our son. Please, however hard it is, just tell us. We beg ye!"
He would have to tell them, James knew, just not the truth that he knew. Telling Erin and Michelle was one thing, knowing he could trust their silence, but judging by how Mrs O'Reilly bellowed at him then he could not trust what she might do with the truth. The two of them must have despised him, he thought, having waited since their conversation nearly a year prior to confront him again. Another test of life and conscience, most men would have grown tired of them. It was a part of the deal for the young Englishman though, one he'd long knew would entice such challenges on a constant basis. This wasn't the James that first returned to Derry to find Erin with another man though. Married and aware of his duty, he was a man that would not shy away. He would twist the truth, for their sakes… not his.
"Are you sure?" He asked, bracing for their reaction.
"Ach! So ye do know!" Shouting through tears, John-Paul's mother would not stay calm.
"Love". Her husband warned her. "We have to listen".
Where she could not stay centred, the two men shared a nod that told James that he was free to begin. To embellish a story of betrayal to portray the traitor as a man who did no wrong was a lie that no man could ever be proud of. The duties of King and country, such an ironic thing to think of in his mind, were at stake too though if the wrong story was given out. He was not naïve; the image of an Englishman slitting an Irishman's throat to silence him was not one that the general public needed to be aware of.
No, John-Paul's true colours were flags that would not be raised again. Even in defeat.
"When I was… making my way back to safety… I came across him…". He began slowly, swallowing stinging nettles in his throat almost. "We were both in the last village in France before the Spanish border, you see, and your son… John-Paul… he knew a little French".
"But… but they said he w-went missin' in the north not the south".
"I do not know how he managed it Mr O'Reilly, but John-Paul was able to make it as far as the border alone I believe".
"My boy…". His mother whimpered. "So brave…".
Brave was so far from the right word to describe John-Paul's final actions, though perhaps squaring off with James could be considered to be. The surviving man of the encounter would not disagree with them though, not for his plan to work.
"We were trying to escape together but the Nazi's came after us. They were waiting and I think we must have been betrayed".
He was at least. That part was true…
"John-Paul knew that neither of us would make it and he… he decided to stay behind to attempt to delay them. He thought perhaps with the little French he knew, he could convince them that he was a wronged man simply going for a walk in the mountains".
"But?" The next word came from the man's father.
"I do not know what happened next. I ran, he told me to keep running and all I heard were two gunshots. I am… so sorry".
Trying to be as genuine as possible was difficult but James managed to hold his nerve. He was sorry for their loss in a sense, as without the war and its consequences, their son would have been alive and prosperous within the city to that day. On the other hand, though, he could not be sorry when he knew the man that John-Paul turned into, the allure of money and stability too difficult to turn down when he'd gave all he could in order to survive. Whilst it might have felt rich of him to say it to the dead man's parents when they were sat in front of him in tears for their dead son, he could only conclude that the better man survived. After all, John-Paul's intentions were not necessarily to return home anyway, regardless of the outcome of the conflict. The right man walked down the mountain after their tragic confrontation and contrary to the words of the one that didn't, he'd scaled higher than the precipice set at that time by the one left behind.
He could never be truly sorry for that.
"Why did it… take ye so long?" John-Paul's father gradually eked out.
"It has taken me a long time to come to terms with what happened". Speaking honestly within the lie, James was doing what was needed once more. "I did not have the courage to tell you before but… but you deserve to have some form of closure".
When John-Paul's mother looked up towards him, glassy eyes, shivering, then he was prepared for the worst. If she were to rip him apart for keeping the truth from them for so long, which wasn't even the truth, then he did not have a defence.
Fate's games were not going to be played that afternoon though. She was too weak to muster such a fight now, knowing her son would not return.
"Th-Th-Thank you… Mr Maguire…".
Her thanks was all she could manage, accepted hesitantly by the young man that she did not realise was her son's killer. One of his greatest hates of life was lying, but James could nothing more than that. To be able to allow John-Paul's parents to have the closure that they deserved, he could only lead them to believe that he'd died the hero's death and not the death of traitor. For all parties concerned, him, them and the British Government, it was the best possible outcome that would not lead to scandal and the revelations that could have come with it.
The rest of the day's work at the bank, was very difficult after that…
Driving home to the cottage, James held mixed emotions of that afternoon. When they'd eventually stopped crying, John-Paul's parents departed the bank, on their way back home to drown in their sorrows no doubt. Watching them cry for what they'd lost whilst believing that their son died a hero, hurt James, but he knew he could have no complaints when they were hurting far much more. Realistically, when missing for so long, it was unlikely that he would have returned anyway but they'd held their candles of hope out for him, as any good parents would. Their son was not the man they were led to believe though, but the Englishman would not shatter them even further by revealing the reality of what happened over a year before, high in the Pyrenean mountains.
His employees all eyed him with suspicion after the grieving parents left, although none of them decided to take him to task about what was said. Tommy already gleaned enough to know not to, a message he'd managed to convey to both his brother and young Danny. If he could have told them the truth then he would have done, trusting that none of them would turn on him or let slip such information. It was not for their ears though, not knowledge that any of them needed to know or be burdened with. That was reserved for those that it directly concerned. Although the same could not be said of how Michelle and Erin both came across the truth, he would not extend the net any further.
Locking up after they'd all gone, he sat in his car for a minute, spending that solitary time thinking to himself. There was so much of his past that he did regret, but when he thought about it ever further, James knew he could have done nothing more. Should the same situation face him again then he would have not acted any differently, for there was simply nothing more that he could do. John-Paul was beyond saving when the allure of Nazi gold was too much for him, and the fact that James knew of that truth too. Being the gentleman and officer that he was, the former pilot would have had no choice but to report him, a most likely fatal set of consequences awaiting John-Paul if he did.
It didn't stop his conscience going after him on that journey home though, plaguing him as the Morgan cut through the narrow country lanes on the way back to the cottage. He was on the verge of pulling over at one point if his thoughts became any heavier, concentration beginning to be lost on the road, rather dangerously. He could hear John-Paul's voice in his head, berating him for the way in which he lied, telling him that he was not a hero when he was a liar. James never wanted to be known as a hero anyway, but to be known as a liar would be far worse for him. It was the only way though, another situation where there was no choice that was suitable, but one still had to be made anyway. Destroying the deceased man's parents lives by telling them that he'd sold out the values of democracy, was simply not an option.
Thinking about the wider picture, he'd considered taking a different turning and driving to the Kavanagh mansion to inform Charlene of the events that had taken place. He would have to, of course, an obligation now that he knew the truth of who he was, to report of any instance that might have placed him into jeopardy. The best way to protect him whilst allowing him to live a relatively free life, war withstanding, it allowed for Smithers and Menzies to plan better for any potential issues that they could envisage, instructing Charlene more suitably with that knowledge. She was still completely unaware of James' true parentage, and though he hadn't asked her what her opinion was, he assumed Charlene believed him to just be an important officer and perhaps another member of the Intelligence Services. The incident with Jamie only reinforced that opinion, and the heiress certainly did not suspect who he really was.
In the end though, there was only one woman that he wanted to be in the company of after such an emotionally torrid day. His wife. The love of his life, who would be there for him for the rest of their lives. For Erin, it was a rare day off that day, having told him that morning that she was owed a day where she'd gone in on a weekend months earlier, the factory finally giving it her back. He hated not being able to be off with her when he knew that the bank would be busy, but she deserved a day of rest. She could have afforded to stay at home and not work at all with all of the money that he had available to him, but she insisted that she wished to continue, to do her bit for those risking their lives to bring peace back to Europe. Her speech that particular night was quite the inspirational one.
Pulling up onto the driveway, James peered into his picturesque cottage, spotting her in the kitchen, looking out of the back window. It was he who was usually waiting for her to come home at night, a change that was most pleasing when he was greeted to the sight of her, completely refreshed without being at work all day. She worked hard too, even harder he was led to believe by Michelle, since they'd gotten married. Erin didn't have anything to prove to anyone at work, although he'd cottoned onto rumours that some of the women in the factory were not quite as friendly with her anymore. His cousin tried to explain to him that they were either jealous of her marrying him or thought she would become lazy as a newlywed. Some of them were probably guilty of laziness themselves at the time of their own marriages, but she set a different tone to her work. She was no slacker, that was for sure.
As soon as he opened the front door, the realisation hit him that she wasn't alone in the cottage. Visitors came by plenty of times but not usually during the week, when most of the family were still at work. Those of them that weren't were most likely occupied doing something else, which meant it was very odd that a male voice could be heard as soon as he was inside his hallway. Luckily, there was no need for him to worry that Major Smithers was there to see him for a second time that day, recognising the voice almost instantly. It was hard not to really, when it was one of the more regular ones that he did hear.
Joe's voice, that was, booming out across the room as it always did.
"I'm tellin' ye, Erin, ye can't ever trust them!" Joe was moaning too. "Those Soviets, they are nasty pieces of work, so they are!"
"Aren't they on our side, Granda!?" She called out to him from the kitchen.
"Aye they might be! But that changes nothin'… they would cut yer throat as soon as there was peace, so they would. I'd be killin' those bastards as well!"
Staying in the hallway and deciding to listen in, James couldn't help but smirk. Joe disliked the Soviets, and as far as he was aware, his wife did too, but she seemed to be entertaining herself by getting him angry. Entertainment, or rather the lack of it in a certain sense, was not sold short though, James suddenly discovering why. Joe wasn't the only member of his family in the house with her; perched next to him on the sofa was a man that the word entertainment was not built for.
"Soviets, ye say. That's funny ye should mention the Soviets because ol' Pat Burn down in Liscloon married a Russian fella, so she did. And that's funny because Colm, says I, that fella must have come a long way from Russia just to marry Pat Burn…".
The rambling story could have gone on for hours, and if he was feeling particularly devilish then he knew he could have potentially snuck back out into the car and waited for a while. However, Erin most likely already knew that he was there and by the sound of her footsteps coming out of the kitchen, he already suspected he was rumbled. Trying to get one over on his wife was quite the difficult task at times, especially as she seemed to grow more and more like her mother every single day. That was far from a bad thing though, he knew, when Mary was the woman that she was. A high standard to set for her daughter, she'd made her into the beautiful, compassionate soul that he loved, and he would never be able to thank her any more than he already had done.
"Good evening…".
Announcing his presence, James interrupted Colm's mutterings, stopping him from continuing a thread of something along the lines of how far it was between Moscow and the Giant's Causeway. To everyone's relief that was, not in the least an annoyed looking Erin. She most certainly knew he'd hidden for a couple of minutes, and he would no doubt hear about it once their guests had left.
"Evenin' James, son". Joe nodded to him, lifting himself off of the sofa. "Yer lookin' well, today, new suit is that?"
New suit it was, but the Englishman could hardly believe he was looking well when he felt as if he'd torn all of his hair out on the way home. Stress was a part of his life, James knew, mostly thanks to his overactive conscience, but it did not make it any easier to deal with. Luckily, the presence of his family, even the annoying Colm, allowed him to focus on something other than his internal demons. John-Paul hadn't managed to break him mortally, so he would not allow the memory of what he'd done to him, damage him so long on from the killing.
"Yes, it was a wedding gift from a friend". He told Erin's Granda sincerely. "I have rarely seen one tailored to such a high quality".
"It does look fancy like, I have to say. Ye'll be settin' people off talkin', walkin' around in that too much though, son, ye do realise that?"
"Tongues can always flap, Joe. The manner in which I choose to respond will decide how much of an issue it will be".
Their words were terse but not venomous. After all, it was Joe's job to look after his best interests, advising the young man on toning his suits down a little. For one day at the bank he would most likely survive unscathed, but to continue to turn up in the finest of tailored suits, could arise unnecessary suspicion. Curious minds often lived within Derry's walls and Joe did not want to be the one having to wipe the contents of those minds off of the wall of an abandoned building when the wrong questions were asked about the young Englishman that was now married to his granddaughter. James' true parentage would have to remain hidden and even as little as a slightly better than average suit was enough for them to be concerned about.
"Be a gentleman and ye can't go wrong, son". Moving over to place a hand on James' upper arm, the older man smiled at him. "How's those McLaughlin lads, anyway. I heard that Ian's gettin' married, so he is".
"That is his plan". James smiled, falling into an easy conversation with Joe. "He and Louise are very happy together".
"She's a good wee lass, isn't she? I knew her Ma's ma back in me day, so I did. They're good women, good people".
"Did they say when the wedding would be?" Erin interjected. "I hope we're invited".
"I do believe Ian is doing his best to butter up Father Peter into getting an earlier date than what was originally offered. How successful that venture will be is another matter".
Raising his eyebrows and rolling his eyes in the direction of his wife, James watched as Erin giggled away. Joe couldn't quite understand what was so funny about it, but he did not know Ian quite as well as his granddaughter did. Firm friends with both brothers, she understood how hilarious the thought of Ian sucking up to the Priest would be. On more than one occasion, he'd lamented how much of an arsehole he thought the Father was, disgusted by the man wearing the cloth when he was sleeping with married woman. Although the McLaughlin's were far from the most religious pair in Derry, Ian in particular couldn't stand men like Father Peter who would use their position to get what they wanted. Now, he was having to pretend to be the most devote, humble servant of the Lord in order to get what he wanted. It really was highly amusing.
"Well he'll be lucky, there's a lot of lads gettin' married at the moment, so there is. You's picked a good time".
"We were a few years late, Granda". Erin replied quietly, slightly dejectedly.
"But all the stronger for it".
As soon as he sensed her deflation, James jumped into action. He too felt the pain of the years that they'd lost with each other, but he would not allow her to remain so defeated by it. One night before they'd tied the knot, after their reconciliation, she admitted how she believed the years they were not together, were wasted ones. There were so many memories of pain and suffering that they'd experienced as individuals without each other in that time, that it made that chapter of their lives one that neither wanted to dwell on. At the same time, they would never forget it either, both for very different reasons, albeit under the same cloud of anguish.
"Right, come on Colm, I think it's about time we got leaving".
"Is that the time, Joe?" His brother asked him. "Well I must be gettin' on, so I must. I like to listen to the wee radio in the evenin', so I do. Now did ye hear last night, there was that fella on there from…".
Tugging Colm by the arm as he continued to natter away, Joe nodded his goodbyes to both James and Erin, who just about held in their combined laughter. He was taking one very much for the team by dragging the boring fella away, knowing when he did, that he would be subjected to all of the drivel on the way home too. There was a fairly long walk ahead of them back into Derry, although judging by the average Colm story, it probably wouldn't have been finished by the time they got to his doorstep on the other side of the city anyway.
Letting out a breath, mostly of relief, James chuckled at her where she was stood opposite him, before covering the gap to smoother her in his arms. No matter what time it was that she came in from work usually, or what condition her clothes were in, he would always hold her. Physical contact was something that the two were not short of in their marriage, a cuddle together in the evenings in front of the fire being a highlight. The fire wasn't lit in the summer, but by the time that winter came around again, the full experience would be available to behold. He could not wait and neither could she.
"Hello". He spoke softly, kissing the crown of her head. "I have missed you, today".
"Ye say that every day, James". She hummed into his shoulder, melting into him.
"So do you".
"That's because I do miss ye, my wee English fella…".
"As I miss you, my beautiful wife".
Whenever he called her his wife, her true title since the start of June, Erin still could not suppress the urge to snog the face off of him. Pulling back from his warm embrace, she covered his lips with hers, her hands gliding their way up his back as he softened against them. If that was the sort of greeting that he would always get when he returned home from work, he would happily keep going for another seventy years or more.
"Ye have to stop doin' that to me". She practically spoke onto his lips. "Ye know what it does to me".
"What if I do not want you to stop".
He was smirking again, and she had to close her eyes, or she would have crossed a line that was not safe to until her Granda and Uncle were at least off of his land. Teasing his wife, James loved every second of it.
"We can't have another repeat of the kitchen table incident!". She poked his chest with her right index finger. "It's decadent that we still eat off it!"
"I do not recall you using the word decadent on the night itself".
They might have been married and had move love more times than even the most inbred countrymen could count on their many additional fingers, her cheeks still burnt strongly at the thought. Reckless abandon didn't even begin to describe how that night unfolded, when she didn't turn up as tired from work as she thought she might, taking full advantage of an originally unsuspecting James. He was soon just as enthused when he realised what was happening though, not bothering to take her back to the bedroom when it was just the two of them in the cottage, an interruption most unlikely. They were both very tired a few hours later that night, mind, when they did crawl under the covers.
Deciding that a change of subject was perhaps best to keep her knickers on, Erin decided to not allow him to wear down her defences that easily. The joint arrivals of Joe and Colm along with her husband's arrival a little after, meant that she'd played quite the false character for a good hour or more. Her spirits then, certainly were not as high as they were when she was in his arms. All for good reason too, as James was going to find if he would sit himself down.
"I'm glad ye came back when ye did, sure Colm's a fair uncle, so he is, but he can talk far too much for it to be healthy for me to listen to".
"I am sure he will enlighten Joe with his tales on their walk back into the city". James laughed, before taking a look out to see that it was now spitting with rain. "I feel awful that they will be getting wet now…".
"Granda wouldn't like ye offerin' him a ride back home, James. Ye'll make him look all soft, so ye will".
"Yes, he has told me that about the rain before. I do not understand why he needs to feel he has to prove his masculinity whenever there is a shower".
"You fella's… yer right daft sometimes".
"I must conclude that we are, my dear…".
As soon as he sighed, and his mind appeared to shift towards another thought, his loving wife knew that something was amiss. She'd known James for far too long as not just a lover but a friend, to not recognise the signs that were pointing towards some sort of crisis. He very rarely broke his gentlemanly character, at least not around her anyway, which was what made it so obvious when there was a problem. He was somewhat withdrawn, perhaps even a little moody, to a point. This time he was not the latter, but as the large sigh and the eye movement suggested, he too was also temporarily masking his true feelings for the day.
"Somethin's wrong…".
He looked up at her as she spoke, transfixed by the exquisite view in front of him that also held such love. The banker should have known that his wife of all people would see through the disguise, and that was exactly what she had done. Offering her heart for him to pour his onto, her splendid servitude to his thoughts and feelings, only made him love her even more. If that was actually humanely possible.
"I have hidden it poorly, haven't I?" He breathed out another sigh. "I am sorry, Erin, I should not burden you with this…".
"James!" She chided loudly, but still lovingly. "Have ye forgotten were married? My burden is yers and yers in mine! Talk to me… please?"
He might have wanted to for hours, but when it came time to actually discuss the events of the day with her, James found himself lacking the necessary courage. Erin's original reaction to what he'd done to John-Paul still surprised him, after his initial worries that she might think much less of him for it. They'd briefly mentioned his parents before, as she too wondered how he managed to keep quiet at church every Sunday when the man was honoured in prayer. Erin herself had considered getting up in the middle of mass and revealing to the congregation that John-Paul was the reason that her husband carried the scar across his face, that he was a traitor to all that they valued as people. It was only because of what it might do to James, that she did not.
Persistent as ever, the stubborn nature inherited genetically from her mother, Erin was not going to back down, crossing her arms and huffing when James hesitated to concede to her wishes. After a couple more seconds deliberation though, he tilted his head towards the sofa that Joe and Colm vacated, the two perching down together as their hands intertwined on the descent. Confidence and reassurance returned to him when he could feel her within his grip.
"John-Paul's parents visited the bank today".
The sigh made sense immediately to Erin. Walking a very delicate tightrope around them at all times, she'd seen first-hand how hard it was for her husband to even look at them without spilling the contents of his breakfast back up all over the church floor.
"Right…". Swallowing loudly, a chill ran through her. "Did ye… did ye see them?"
"I did. They were hard to avoid when I came back to find them in my office".
"What were they doin' in there!?" She enquired, shocked.
"Tommy managed to convince them to wait there for me until I returned from my walk. Mr O'Reilly was apparently quite close to leaving me with an employee short when he spoke to Danny".
James managed to produce a strained laugh at the thought, not that there was too much that was funny about it. When he'd spoken to Danny later on that afternoon, the teenager was not shaken as such, but was very much aware that an emotional Mr O'Reilly might have done him serious physical harm if he was not taken away by Tommy. Rather than laugh with him on the sofa though, Erin's mind started to pinball questions around, until she finally asked him another, squeezing his hand in hers.
"They came about him, didn't they?"
Only able to confirm with a dip of his head, James was overcome with such sombre emotion that it rendered him practically mute. The timing of it was all a little strange to him too, though he'd had little time to focus on it when he was banjaxed by the content. Why they'd waited for as long as they had, until he was happily married, he really did not know. As far as he knew, other than Smithers, and by default Menzies, barely anyone else knew of John-Paul's fate. It wasn't as if they could have been tipped off, as there was little chance of ether Erin or Michelle passing on the truth to them. Another one of life's mysteries, he could only mark it down to a bizarre strategy on their part. Still, they knew their son would not be coming home now, such strategies no longer required to be made when talking to him.
"Mr and Mrs O' Reilly told me that they did not believe me when I returned home last year. It has just taken them that long to tell me".
"That's their fault, James, not yers".
"I cannot say that I fault them for asking but it pains me to have had to wait so long to be able to tell them that he would not come home as they wished".
"How did they… how did they…". She struggled, clearing her throat before continuing. "Take it?"
Caught between a rock and a hard place, James was left treading carefully at home too. To tell Erin that he'd lied to the O'Reilly's about his death, would have sent her apoplectic. Always looking to root out injustice, he wondered whether she would berate him for not telling them that the absolute truth of the matter. Yet, he would do no better to lie to her and say he'd told John-Paul's parents about the Irishman's betrayal either. There would most likely be a ceremony of honour in his name now and his parents would publicly thank him for informing them of his apparent heroic stand against the Nazi's. Erin would be Jack the Ripping if she found out he'd lied to her about what he'd told them, rightly so too. How could she trust him if he lied to her?
Honesty, with Erin, was always the best policy.
"I hope you forgive me for what I am about to tell you…". James, uncharacteristically mumbling, had to look away.
She squeezed his hand harder when he did. Whatever it was that he was about to tell her, she would stand by him, loving him too much not too. When their eyes met again, that was the message she conveyed, without even quirking her lips in the slightest.
"I was not entirely forthcoming with the true, Erin". Once again, he fought back caught breaths in his throat. "They… they were in tears in my office. I thought Mrs O'Reilly might kill me or herself…".
"She wouldn't dare".
Instinctively defensive of her fella, Erin couldn't help it. The small smile that she received from him in return, was justification enough. Each protected the other fiercely, one of the cornerstones of their ferociously close relationship.
"I could not tell them the truth. They have already hurt enough without knowing what happened to him… how could I tell them that he was not only dead but… but…".
A spluttering James was on the verge of tears, but Erin did not allow for him to go that far. Shaking the hand she still held, she used the other hand to cup his cheek, feeling a droplet of water stray from his left eye. She could have cried at seeing him upset too, not doing so out of a sense of duty in staying strong for him when he needed her. He would do the same for her now, until the day that they took their final breaths.
"I told them that he tried to escape with me and that… that he tried to hold the Nazi's off while I got away". Explaining the story, he found no judgement in her gaze. "They could not have withstood the truth about how he'd betrayed me and did this to me…".
His fingers sitting atop hers, the two travelled the length of his scar together, their faces ever closer. Both were exactly where they needed to be.
"You must think me a fool for what I have done…".
"No, James… never". Emotionally charged, Erin put her lips over his again, trying to take the pain away for him. "Ye did the right thing, so ye did. I know that sounds… stupid… coming from me but you showed them compassion. There's not a lot of that about these days".
"There is not".
"Then if my fella wants to show some, then he should be able to. John-Paul's Da and Ma have suffered more than enough, so they have. Ye've done them a favour".
"I still killed their son, Erin". He shot back quickly.
"To survive, James!" Having to raise her voice, she cupped both of his cheeks. "Look at me! Ye have nothin' to apologise for to anyone! He would have killed you James and I… I'd have never been the same… that bastard deserves what he got!"
Catalyst set, the fog suddenly began to lift around him. For a few hours he'd forgotten what was important, almost shutting himself off from allowing himself to be selfish. He'd killed John-Paul to be able to get back to the woman that was now effectively cradling him, the young blonde that he was proudly able to display as his wife. His beloved wife that already understood what it was like to lose him, without being able to countenance what a whole lifetime without him would have been like. In another life, Lance might not have been stationed in Derry either and she would have most likely never been able to love a man again. Solitude it would have been.
John-Paul's life being lost to prevent such isolation, was a payment that he could not counter. A choice between their married life and his life as a traitor; it was a rather simple choice when it was considered.
"I am so lucky to have you". He chirped, sniffling away any hint of additional sorrow. "Thank you, my love".
"Don't ye ever try to hide yerself from me again!" She warned him sternly but making him smile at the same time. "I won't have ye do this to yerself, love! Yer heart's too good to keep hurtin' yerself over a… bastard of a man like John-Paul!"
"I know… it is just very hard for me". He nodded, a hand being sent through his slicked back hair. "I am sorry".
"Ye don't need to be. I'm yer wife, that is a wee job of mine".
Giggling, she tapped his cheek, a slap if judged harshly, without any sort of power behind it. Why he was the man chosen to marry such a goddess of a woman, he did not know.
"As looking after you, will always be a job I will perform as your husband". He reminded her just as cheekily.
"Both of us?"
It could not be.
A second, perhaps two went by as the spark of imagination shot through his brain. His jaw began to drop in that time too, the words lodging in his mind, to strike a whole catalogue of dreams that he tried to keep as well hidden as he could. He knew of the difficulties, the loss they'd already suffered along the path she faced alone, resigned to perhaps never have such a joy, despite them having started to try on their wedding night.
"You-".
"I'm pregnant, James".
At that those words, his eyes turned the deepest shade of green she'd ever seen. So much of the day she'd spent worried about what he might say, but his immediate reaction told her everything that she needed to know.
He was beyond delighted.
"You… you are sure?" Barely able to speak, he had to ask.
"I may have told a wee lie of me own". She admitted, as a legion of tears began to well up behind her eyes. "Meyler let me have today off when I said I needed to go the Doctor. I think he… I think he knew".
"I would have…".
"I know ye would have come with me, James but… but I didn't want to give ye false hope. I couldn't hurt ye like that without knowin'".
As much as he could have called her out for hypocrisy when she was prepared to hide something from him, James thought too much of her to do so when a child was involved. They'd already lost one child, her tragic miscarriage while he was training away in England, the topic not one to form the backdrop of a disagreement over.
"Doctor Doherty's quite adamant we're having a baby, James".
He was already moving before he heard her speak, sliding off the sofa to rest on his knees in front of her. Her hands went into his, as the wee English fella brought them up to lips, a chaste kiss planted over her knuckles. At no point did he think about the tears that dripped from his eyes onto the back of her hands, as she did not care for the blouse that was now carrying watermarks thanks to tears of her own.
"I love you". He choked out, overcome with emotion, before stopping his own elation to focus on her. "How do you feel?"
"Terrified".
Erin could not hold back the rivers any longer, bursting out the worries she'd held since the Doctor's confirmation of what she'd already suspected. The fear of losing another child existed for so long, that being the reason she did not want to sleep with Lieutenant Hamilton, had never left her. James's presence at her side was welcome, yet at the same time she put herself under more pressure. She'd already lost one of his children that he graced her with, ashamed to think that she may lose another. That was exactly what he feared would happen though and without asking her for the specifics, he grasped her just as tightly as she had him during his prior moment of crisis.
They were there for each other. Always.
"Listen to me, Erin, I am not going to leave your side". His words were sincere, their eyes locked together so firmly. "I am the most honoured man in the world to have you carry my child, but I will not leave you alone with this responsibility".
"What if… what if… I…". She choked, beginning to sob.
"If that is to be our destiny then we will have to face it, IF, it comes. We cannot have the mentality that the past will repeat itself. We are together… we are stronger".
"I… I know… but I… I don't want to h-hurt you".
"Erin…". James, sniffling a little himself, spoke softly. "You could not hurt me. It is I who was not there for you before, I who hurt you. I will never be able to replace the child that we lost but this our second chance. Together".
"Tog-… T-Together".
The child that she lost would always haunt their memories, but Erin knew that her husband told no lies. They were being given another go at being parents, with the child that was now growing inside her a symbol of their love and commitment. His part in the war over, there was nothing left to prevent James from being by her side throughout, loving her as she wanted, protecting their child. She didn't want to think it, just in case her hopes were shattered, but having him there with her gave her the confidence to believe that she would carry the child to a full term. That there would be a crying baby boy or girl at the end of nine months, that they would cherish forever. There was not another man in the world she would want to see become a father other than him. He would excel at it, like he did everything.
Showing his affections for her so warmly, James abandoned her hands, only to lean forward to her stomach, pressing a lengthy, almost holy kiss on her belly. It was still flat, the signs of pregnancy not yet manifesting across her pristine skin. Staying flat for much longer it would not be though, the joy of parenthood only a few months away.
"I love you". He told her again, almost chanting the declaration. "You are… everything, Erin".
"Yer not half bad yerself". She joked, laughing, flicking tears off of her eyelashes. "Ach, look at me, already a pregnant, cryin' mess!"
"My crying mess!" He hummed, before retracting his lips from her stomach to meet her own, their hands resting together where his lips vacated.
They stayed like that for several minutes, kissing each other as if their lives depended on it, whilst doing so sweetly not frantically. So much love flowed through that cottage, it was almost unfathomable, but they'd been through so much to get to that point of their lives. Lingering devils of the past would always cause problems, as they would for anyone who'd suffered the trauma they had. The young life that was spawning inside of her though was their new muse, a new focus for them to behold. All of their friends would say without certainty, that even with their quirks, both Erin and James would be fantastic parents.
Boy or girl, the child would be loved so dearly by parents who wanted the evidence of their undying love for each to be there in front of them until their dying days.
There were still months to navigate until the baby's arrival though, with the potential for fate to turn on them being very high.
If the past taught them anything, it was that the child's survival was far from a guarantee…