Chapter 2: The Thousand Eyes

Things only got worse for James. When Erin did eventually return to class with Michelle, the two of them swapped seats so that the cousins were now sat next to each other. Erin wouldn't even look him in the eye. When the lesson ended, Mr Flanagan stopped him, and only him, before he went to leave to catch the bus, but he could only relay about as much information as the teacher had. After a further minute of questioning, James withholding his thoughts from what Clare had said, Mr Flanagan let him go and he caught up with Clare, who was the only one not already on the bus. Erin was already sat in the window seat with Michelle and Orla filling her row and his heart began to race at the daunting prospect that could be over between them. Clare may be right. Erin might be avoiding him because he'd ruined her life. He'd been so careful, yet luck deserted him, and his world was caving in on him without any feasible way of stopping it.

Oddly though, Erin appeared to be warming to everyone else. Michelle and Orla held a lengthy conversation with her about something Orla had raised, James not catching the point, but it was something along the lines of zombies and aliens. Clare added her own occasional thoughts to the conversation, but he stayed silent and none of them questioned it. Their continued silence towards him grew as they walked on towards Erin's. Michelle and Erin walked in front, chatting away, whilst Orla and Clare debated something behind them, leaving James with his own thoughts at the back. It had been so long since he'd not walked with Erin that he'd almost forgotten what it felt like to not have her by his side. He didn't like the way it felt at all.

"Yer quiet James".

Deep in thought, he didn't notice that Orla and Clare slowed up to wait for him and it was the former who engaged him in conversation.

"Yeah… sorry Orla… I've…er… got a lot on my mind".

Clare eyed him sympathetically, wishing she hadn't stirred the idea of what might be wrong with Erin to him because the poor wee English fella was having a crisis. Orla didn't notice.

"It's about the tactics for the race isn't it?" She enquired.

"No…". He denied quickly but soon changed his mind. "… well yes but… amongst other things".

"Ach don't worry James, I've got it all planned out".

Over the final five minutes of the walk to Erin's, James distracted himself with conversation about the racehorse. He would forever be thankful that Orla forced the topic and made him retreat from the dark thoughts in his head. She was good at that. Her ability to provide a brilliant, if completely accidental distraction, was a godsend and it was only Orla who could do it to such an extent. Her passion and dedication to the horse was incredible too. Not for the first time, James allowed himself to entertain the idea that Orla was a genius who put on a fantastic act to hide her smarts. They'd never been to the course at Enniskillen, yet she appeared to know the course like a seasoned veteran. She spoke about every obstacle, about how she would approach each one and where she needed to be in the field, even counting the number of strides she thought it would take between each fence. When she gave something her heart and attention, every sinew of effort would go into it. The gang saw it with her Step Aerobics, and they would see it with the horse riding too. He was confident that he'd be a winning owner first time out. If he made it to Saturday…

As they approached the door to the house, Michelle and Erin stopped in front of them and Erin turned back towards him. Clare and Orla moved out the way and up to Michelle, allowing the couple to be together properly for the first time in hours. But Erin didn't wrap her arms around him or even reach for his hand.

"We need to… talk". She muttered.

"Yes we do". He mumbled back.

Orla led the way into the house, calling out to Mary that they'd arrived. James went to go through to the kitchen to offer any assistance to Mary as he normally would, but Michelle put her hands on the back of his collar and dragged him back.

"Ye owe me for this… prick". She flashed him a cheeky smile.

Realising what Michelle, Clare and Orla were about to do, James etched his lips up slightly to convey his thanks to his cousin. The three of them were already offering themselves up to perform all manner of tasks around the house, preventing Mary from getting through and grabbing the Englishman to do them. He looked to Erin, who very shyly pointed in the direction of her room upstairs and as she started up the stairs, James made his way behind her at a few paces. His stomach bubbled viciously, cannons blazing on a hydrochloric battlefield, piercing every defence in their way.

James was terrified.


Erin's room, a room he knew all too well. They'd studied together in this room… planned various group escapades… sulked and moaned at their lives… and even made love in it. But for a room he knew so well, he'd never felt so small when he stepped inside. The door remained open, neither dared to close it with Mary downstairs, and the two stood awkwardly for a whole minute. Erin by her window, looking out occasionally but never looking at him and James in the corner, leaning against the wall and looking nowhere but at her.

"Erin…" He finally blurted out.

"I know James". She replied, finally looking him in the eye. "I know I've acted like a bitch today and I'm sorry".

A loud breath escaped her, and she cracked a smile in his direction but received in turn a scrunched nose and frown. James was acutely aware that he did not possess sufficient knowledge to identify every nuance and trait of the opposite sex but having Erin apologising to him about the matter at hand was most odd. He should be the one apologising… why was she? There was no use prevaricating about the bush and in a moment of madness, he went ahead and broached the subject without mincing his words.

"Are you… pregnant?"

The look he got in return before she'd even opened her mouth told him enough. That he, or rather Clare, had made a right mess of reading the situation and instead of the dark truth he thought he was facing, it would instead be his girlfriend's raging disbelief in him.

"WHAT!" She hissed as quietly as she could. "Why does everyone think I'm pregnant?!"

"You... you've been acting odd and Clare thought…".

"Clare as well! Jesus!"

"Are you sure y-".

"Course I'm feckin' sure!". She spat a quiet rage at him. "Have ye been avoiding me because of it?!"

James's emotions were shot, and he didn't quite know how to respond for a couple of seconds. He'd gone from petrified like nothing before when he thought Erin might be pregnant, to a mix of relief whilst retaining some fear at her reaction to his question, to now anger. He hadn't been avoiding her at all, she was the one who'd kept her distance and he'd merely respected it. A decision he was regretting tenfold.

"Me avoiding you?!" He hissed himself. "You've barely said a word to me all day!"

"Is it any wonder!" She retorted, throwing her arm out spectacularly.

"What are you talking about?!" The frustrated Englishman fought back.

"I'm talking about this!"

The real victims of the day were the internal feelings of James Maguire. His body was constantly reacting to a varying degree of emotions and the latest curveball thrown at them found him unable to do anything…

Erin rushed forward, grabbing him by the lapels and with all her strength, she hurled him onto the bed. James went into some form of shock and when he hit the bed, he wondered if she'd paralysed him as he simply could not move. But that wasn't a problem because she soon made paralysis feel a lot more appealing when she jumped on him and latched onto his mouth, her tongue acting as the point of lance thrusted down by a rampaging Cavalry officer. He soon added the inability to breath to the paralysis and for a few seconds barely noticed Erin systemically working away at the buttons of his shirt, his tie tossed to the floor. The blazer had already parted company with its owner, James lying on it rather than wearing it. She'd already undone the last button by the time his ability to do anything returned.

"Steady on, your mum's downstairs". James spoke in a voice he found alien to himself.

"I don't care". Erin's voice was husky and breathy and… sexy. Very sexy…

She really didn't care as she began to kiss his chest, forcing whimpers from the wee English fella and though his head was telling him to push her off for their own sakes, his hands had their own agenda, already undoing Erin's shirt and removing her tie as she straddled him. They were playing a wicked game in that room; if Mary heard even the slightest part of what they were doing then the two of them would be mincemeat. But neither could stop.

"I've been wanting to do this since you got here this mornin'…" She moaned as she came up for air from below his ribcage. "…I couldn't get near ye because if I did… then this would have happened, and Sister Michael would h-".

Erin stopped because he chose that moment to remove her shirt, throwing it away and the shivers it sent through her forced her back down onto him, their lips crashing together. They were reckless and stupid but couldn't bring themselves to care, their hormones suppressing any attempt by internal rationality to take over the situation. Becoming more adventurous, Erin's hand slid further down than previously, caressing over his belly button and not stopping. It drew soft moans from him, and he gave her as good as, his hands inching up her thighs, revelling when he could feel her quivering under his touch. Her hand reached the fabric of his-

"THEY'RE FINE MARY!"

Michelle

The couple didn't know why Michelle decided to lie to cover their backs… at least not until a second later when it became obvious. Michelle might not have had any human companions along for the journey to Erin's bedroom, but she'd not come alone. The wooden spoon was with her, appearing from behind her back like a lightsaber. Charging at them with it held above her head, it was abundantly clear that the force was indeed with her. James had just enough time to lift his thighs and roll Erin to the other side of the bed, but he took the full fury of Michelle's swing as the spoon drove down into his stomach.

"OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW". He yelped through clenched teeth.

"Wimp!" Michelle levelled at him.

His hands went straight to the red mark forming from where the wooden spoon hit him, rendering him defenceless as Michelle pulled her arm back to strike him with it for a second time. But Erin shifted herself up as he took Michelle's original blow and grabbed Michelle by the wrist to stop her.

"Oi!" Michelle, slightly seething and slightly laughing, reacted. "Off".

On seeing Erin fighting on his behalf, James shrugged off the burning pain from the skin around his belly and leapt up to his feet, adding his hands to Erin's as they fought for control of the wooden spoon. Michelle stood her ground the best she could, forcing James to stagger back so they all stood in a line in full view of the door. The door which now found Orla occupying it, eyeing the scene with giddy eyes and encouraging the battle with excited whispers.

"Help Orla!" Michelle called as quietly as she could.

Orla's definition of helping against what Michelle needed and anticipated were two very different things. Wanting her to wrestle the grasp away from either one of the other two, the last thing Michelle was expecting was Orla's diving spear tackle into her, launching Michelle into the air and back onto Erin's bed. Erin and James couldn't believe it either and looked at each other and began to laugh at the sight of Orla wrestling Michelle for the wooden spoon that the young Mallon still held. Their amusement was short lived though, as they heard footsteps striding across the hallway downstairs and they were most certainly not Clare's. They were Mary's thundering steps.

"Shit!" Erin swore.

The two of them began a frenzied re-dressing of themselves, shirts buttoned at an unthinkably quicker speed than they'd been undone, and ties fastened up tighter than normal.

"And what in the Lord's name is going on in here?!"

Mary appeared at the doorway, but her attention was not on James and Erin but the scene of Orla and Michelle scrapping over the wooden spoon. The couple, by the skin of their teeth, avoided suspicion and they shared the quickest of glances of relief while Mary's attention was diverted.

"Ach Aunt Mary, Michelle had the wooden spoon and I know ye get protective over it so ye do, so I was trying to get it back".

Michelle's eyes were almost bloodshot with fury at Orla, and she was about to reveal the details of what she'd found to Mary but found herself too slow. It distracted her long enough for Orla to retrieve the spoon and throw it back to its owner too.

"What is it with yer family and robbin' my wooden spoon!" Mary sneered viciously in her direction. "Thanks Orla love. Now the lot of ye, downstairs and get helpin' Clare with the housework".

Mary was gone before Michelle could raise any counter protest about the scene that she'd truly discovered a couple of minutes earlier and instead turned her icy glare on James. His debt to her was only increasing, but she suddenly knew exactly how he'd be repaying that debt…


Michelle, James and Clare stayed for dinner that evening at the Quinn's, Mary treating them to a lovely gammon, egg and chips each for their hard work in doing her housework for her. Erin managed to keep her feelings under control for the rest of the time James was there, falling back into the usual routine of holding hands and giving each eloquent pecks on the cheek. Nowhere near the practical ripping the shirts off each other's back's motions of earlier that afternoon. Clare's father picked her up first but due to prior exposure to Michelle's language, politely declined to give her and James a lift home, meaning the two of them would be walking in the dark. It gave Michelle the perfect opportunity to pass on her demands to him…

"How's the stomach fuckwit".

"Fine now". He chimed with enough sarcasm to sink a battle destroyer. "Thank you for the concern Michelle".

She hated him when acted with the 'English cockiness' that was often stereotyped in things Michelle read. All the more reason to hoist her demands upon him.

"So… the debt you need to pay back…"

"Calling it in now". He sighed. "Go on then".

"I would if ye'd let me finish… dick. And not now but for Saturday".

James groaned when she mentioned her weekend activities again. It had taken some miracle work from himself, Erin and Clare to calm Orla down and convince her that Michelle didn't mean it personally when she'd said she wouldn't attend the race on Saturday morning. He did wonder whether her spear tackle on his cousin was more for her lack of attendance at the upcoming weekend than for the reason of trying to secure Mary's wooden spoon back. Especially if she was the genius that James occasionally thought she might well be.

"Yer covering for me when it comes to ma. If I tell her where I'm goin' she'll ground me all fucking weekend so ye better come up with something good to buy my freedom".

That was the last thing James wanted. He wasn't happy about her going to see Danny in the first place and now was being expected to lie for her to go. But a debt was a debt, and he would have to pay it or pay the price.

"And tell her what?"

"Are you listening fuckhead?!" She shouted at him. "I said you better come up with something good, not me. Unless ye want me to tell Mary…"

"Alright I'll do it". He interrupted to stop her teasing.

"Good. And don't ye… James… what are ye doing?"

Michelle ceased the start of her reprimand when she noticed he'd stopped and looked back behind them into the dark night. His eyes appeared to be fixed on a bush about six houses back along the road.

"I don't know… it just… I felt like someone was following us and… watching us".

"Ha! Catch yourself on! Yer paranoid about having to lie to me ma already aren't ye? Now come on, I'm fucking freezing as it is".

"Yeah…".

James's reply wasn't convincing, but he turned and continued on with her anyway, soon falling back into conversation and exchanging insults. But the rest of the way back, he couldn't escape the feeling that a thousand eyes were staring at their backs. Not wanting to invoke Michelle's ire upon himself once again, he never once stopped or looked over his shoulder the rest of the way back to the Mallon house.

A thousand eyes weren't watching the two of them.

But three pairs of eyes were.