Chapter 7: Into the Darkness
The aftermath of Orla's race went by in a blur for her. After crossing the line, she was soon met with the ecstatic Paul who was crying with tears of joys when he first grabbed hold of the horse. She barely registered the only two other jockeys who'd finished congratulating her and swallowing their own prides after the collective barbs they'd thrown her way. It was a classic of a race, one that would live long in the legend of racegoers at the track and in the minds of those who would hear the retelling of the events of the race. When she made her way to the winner's enclosure, the rest of her family and friends mobbed her and the horse, along with the crowd who'd all gone to see the wonderous scene. The scene unfolding was one to expect after one of the major National Hunt races of the season, not the opening race of a local hunt card. But they'd got lost in the story of the two hundred and fifty to one shot and his sixteen-year-old jockey who'd pulled off the unthinkable on debut. Once dismounted, she was straight into the arms of her balling mother and Joe, James, Erin and Clare soon joined them in the hug. The Flanagan brothers both applauded her from next to them, Robert with a tear in his eye watching his student enjoy her victory.
The announcer, who had to give out the prize money and small trophy for the race win, quietly apologised for his earlier comment to Orla, Joe nodding his approval being in earshot when the man said it. Orla didn't care for what he said or what anyone said about her pre-race. It was the comments after the race that meant something to her, and no one was giving her grief then. The cheers rang out for minutes after, so much so that the start of the second race was pushed back ten minutes to get the crowds back out of the winner's enclosure. Orla posed for photographs and a reporter from the Derry Journal happened to be watching the racing, ensuring that she would make it into the Sunday paper. A far cry from when they'd appeared in the paper as religious hoaxers a year or so previously.
They'd not stayed too long afterwards, long enough to cool the horse down and get him safely back in his horsebox. Frankie and Paul reported back that he was in good health, not having sustained a single scratch on his way round. They, along with Joe and James, would soon enough be planning for the next race but not for a few days at least. Instead of going back to the stables, Joe, Orla and Sarah made it a two-car convoy back to Derry, Robert with the rest of the kids in his car. The winnings were collected and split up. Of the twelve thousand, five hundred and fifty pounds that they won in return, half went to Frankie and Paul for plenty of month's training fees and a little something each for the two of them. The other half was then split thirty per cent each for Joe, James and Orla with ten per cent spare. Joe gave Clare half of his as well, about nine hundred and forty pounds each. James did the same with Erin and Orla did the same with Sarah. Robert, insistent that though he put the bet on, that he didn't need the money, took the ten per cent spare with reluctance. Being as professional as he could be, he let the kids know that taking the money would mean he couldn't show them any additional leniency at school, something they acknowledged and firmly understood.
The day was turning out to be full of surprises, as when they reached the Quinn house, upon Joe's insistence before leaving the course that they congregate there, Mary and Gerry's shopping trip had taken on extra items. The house was packed full of banners congratulating Orla, which were bought regardless of the result and there was a buffet of food ready for them. They hadn't stopped to eat after the race, they were so caught up in the joy of Orla's win they forgot, and it was a welcome sight for them all to see that they would be well catered for. Joe called in a favour with the announcer following his apology to Orla and used his phone to call Mary and Gerry and give them the good news in advance. The mood was fantastic within the house the rest of that afternoon, fun was being had all around and it soon moved out into the garden where they learned the true details of what happened during the race. There was shock and laughter at the fate of the jockey of Lost in Rico, who'd tried his hardest to put Orla out of the race at big fence coming down the back, only to fall at the very same obstacle the next time round.
James and Erin were stood, his arm around her and resting on her shoulder, in front of the slightly open back door. Mary was back in the kitchen tidying up, but with the newly acquired knowledge of their activities and finding them in the perfect position to confront them, she ceased cleaning up and opened the door gently, so it tapped James on the back. The couple turned to find one of her sternest looks awaiting them.
"I want a word with the pair of ye". Her finger beckoned them inside.
Without having to think too hard about it, the pair of them had an inkling of what was coming. To think they could pull the wool over Mary's eyes, even though Gerry's covering seemed to have done the trick, was ultimately foolish. The music was always going to have to be faced at some point, they were never not taking their relationship to that level, but they'd hoped to make it until at least after the summer exams until they let on to Mary that they'd started sexual activity. In some ways they'd hoped to never tell her, but this was Derry and that wasn't possible.
Ushering them over to the dining table, they prepared to face her like they did everything. As a couple, with their hands clasped tightly together and their heads held high. They weren't ashamed of their actions and no matter how hard it would be, there was a silent understanding between them that they would make sure Mary knew they weren't ashamed either.
"I know all about yer little Valentine's tryst". She started, speaking in a calm but firm tone. "And what Gerry did to… conceal it".
"Mammy…" Erin spoke but was quickly cut off.
"I don't want to hear it Erin. I would have hoped the two of ye's would have waited a bit longer… I'm a bit disappointed this has all happened so soon…".
Erin was more scared of her mother than ever. When Mary was usually annoyed or angry, she'd show it in her face, and it would be reflected in the tone of her voice too. But she knew there was a special level of anger that Mary could ascend to on certain occasions and those times she would be sweet as anything before slicing in with a killer tongue. That was what Erin feared was about to happen.
"…but you've been sensible and used protection… and I can't tell you's off for doing the right thing like that. I… I just want ye words that you'll continue to be sensible until ye know… yer ready".
Erin's concerns were unfounded. Contrary to what she perceived her mother's reaction would be, Mary didn't apply the killer finish but instead carried an air of sincerity but still laced with worry. She would always want the best for her daughter, Erin knew that, and her asking for their words was her own way of ensuring that wish.
"You have them". James answered for them, bringing their clasped hands onto the table.
"Then I can sleep easier tonight". Mary smiled. "I know yer young and I remember myself at your age, but I don't want ye to put yer careers and dreams on hold because… well I think ye know what I'm trying to say".
"Yes Mammy, we get the picture…". Erin trailed off.
"I'm being serious Erin!" For the first time she raised her voice. "If in a few years' time, when you've settled and ye have a place of yer own then I'd be happy for you's but just… not yet. Neither of ye are ready".
There was silence for a few moments as neither Mary nor the couple wished to say anything more about what she was alluding to. Sensing that pushing the topic any further was not the wisest thing to do, when she spoke again, Mary did so only to lift the darkened mood around the dinner table.
"Anyway, the two of ye better go back outside. The absence will be noticed if I keep you's any longer".
James gave her a polite and thankful smile as he and Erin got up to go back outside, Erin not looking her mother in the eye at all. Mary knew she was talking to herself when it came to her daughter but was relieved that the smile the Englishman sent her way indicated that he'd taken onboard what she was saying. He was good like that.
An hour or so later, Mr Flanagan left and kindly took Clare home on his way back after she'd fallen asleep on the Quinn's sofa. They'd only given her the one glass of Champagne as well! But they trusted the History teacher with her, the man that was now a firm part of their family circle; he couldn't dip in too far as he had to think of the job, but he would always be welcome at their house. It was soon time for James to leave too and he was stood putting his coat on when Gerry came down the stairs and got his attention.
"Do you want me to drop ye home James?"
It was dark outside now, only getting that way a few minutes beforehand, but the weather became more overcast prior to the darkness which made it seem worse. However, it wasn't overly cold, and James quite fancied a stretch of the legs.
"Thanks for the offer but I'll walk Gerry".
"If your sure son… take care now".
Gerry walked into the living room, holding the door for Erin who walked out to say goodbye to her fella. If she wasn't having to control herself because her parents were in the next room, she'd have pinned him to the wall when he produced one of his trademark lopsided grins. The things that grin did to her…
"I hate saying goodbye to you". She mumbled as she cuddled up to him.
"It's no easier for me either". He chuckled, stroking her hair.
They pulled apart but kept their hands held together as he walked out the front door and into the Derry night. Stopping, they pressed together and kissed, holding the kiss there for a few seconds before pulling away again, sporting matching wide grins.
"You know what your mum was saying earlier…" James began.
"Don't James". Erin quickly spoke to try to stop him going any further.
"Wait". He insisted. "The other day when I thought that… well… when we had that misunderstanding, I'll admit I was petrified that you might be pregnant Erin. Your mum's right, neither of us are ready for that responsibility".
"I know". She sighed painfully, looking down at the front step.
"But if you would have been…". He squeezed her hand and she looked up. "…then I would have stood by you regardless. One day I want us to have a child… or children… of our own but it's when you are ready. And if you think you are ready tomorrow, we try for a baby tomorrow".
She'd sworn so many times in the past that she couldn't find any more ways in which to love him but yet again he proved her wrong. She still felt guilty that he'd gone for so long that day believing she might be carrying their child and to hear of how scared he was by the sudden thought of responsibility harrowed her. She knew her mother to be right and neither of them were wise enough to be able to handle a baby, even a devoted couple such as themselves. But James would stand by her anyway and spoke of them having children together as if it were a foregone conclusion. It told her that he wasn't going anywhere and that he was planning the rest of his life around her and she wanted to plan hers around him. It was almost his way of saying 'Till death do us part'.
"What would I do without you". She hummed.
"That's a question I find myself asking about you my darling Erin". He chuckled, earning himself a smack on the arm for referring to her as darling. "I'll see you tomorrow".
She nodded and he gave her one last peck on the lips before he turned and walked out to the gate onto the street. He looked back one more time and waved to her as she stood by the door, waving back to him with the exact same enthusiasm. All the way until he went out of her view, her eyes never left him.
But her eyes were not the only ones that didn't leave him…
Antony may not have been related to her and she might not even remember him, but he was immensely proud of Orla. Winning a handsome amount of money was nice too but to see her at her happiest, when he'd seen her at the other end of the scale, warmed him. He'd stayed away from the rush of the crowds when she returned to the winner's enclosure, risking the wrath of Joe was not something he wanted when the man would be at his happiest too, but from where he stood by his car, he could still see her jubilant celebrations.
Arriving home that afternoon, he couldn't wait to tell his mother the good news.
"Antony love, yer back early?" Mrs Scanlon said as soon as her son arrived in the living room.
"She won mammy! SHE WON!"
"Catch yourself on!" She laughed whilst rebuking him.
"I'm serious! She was miles behind halfway, but she kept going and won easily. I'm dead chuffed for her and Sarah so I am".
Mother and son hugged in the living room and she ruffled his hair like he was an eight-year-old again. He would always be to her in a way.
"Are ye gunna go and congratulate them?"
"Ehm… well…".
"Ant…"
"It's just like I've said in the past, I don't want to cause trouble for them ye know. But if I see Sarah out and about then aye, of course I will".
Mrs Scanlon beamed at her son again as he started to empty his pockets and a second later thrusted a handful of money in her direction. Her smile quickly disappeared, and she didn't need to say what she was thinking for him to know exactly what was on her mind.
"I had a bet on her too. Nothing else".
"Thank god… wait… how much money is this?!" She demanded to know.
"A thousand ma. It's yours".
"I can't accept that love". She scoffed, pushing it back into his hands.
"No ma, ye deserve it so ye do. I'm only taking what I need to get by, I want ye to treat yerself or the boys if ye want".
"Ach come here".
Mother and son were hugging again but this time a tear skipped down her cheek. In times gone by when Antony returned home with a fistful of cash, it would have been from dealing drugs or robbery… or worse. But for the first time in years, she had hope… hope that those days were truly behind him and an honest man was rising from the sins of a dishonest boy. He'd proven with Orla many years earlier that there was good in him, in glimpses only, but the foundations were there.
"I can't hug ye for too long ma, I've got something to take care of with the boys".
"What!?" Mrs Scanlon's hope floundered. "I don't like it when ye say that…".
"It's a wee problem but it'll be more than that if it's not sorted by tomorrow ma. We're brothers, we look out for each other".
"I don't want you's in trouble!"
"We won't ma… I promise".
Antony went upstairs, leaving his mother to ruminate on whatever they might be up to. The secrecy ate away at her as it always did. She wanted to ask him what this problem was and if she could help try to steer them away from any trouble. The family reputation would forever cast unfair judgements on them, she'd known that the minute she married into it. Her brother told her the same and they'd become estranged since, only knowing he'd fathered a child around the same time she had Danny.
At some point she must have fallen asleep when remembering her early years with her brother because it was two hours later when the doorbell rang, and she shot up from the sofa. Calling out for one of the boys to answer, she received no answer and realised that they must have all gone out whilst she was sleeping. Cheeky fuckers, not waking her up…
Yawning, the doorbell went again and with a grumble she rose from the sofa and walked around to the front door to see who was troubling her at this time. It was just about dark outside, and the porch light was on, revealing the silhouette of a female figure in what looked to be a dress. She had a horrible feeling about who it might be. Danny's plan to humiliate this girl that upset the girl he truly loved grated at her but when she learned of what went on between this Michelle and Danny's girlfriend a couple of weeks before, she didn't stop him either. She didn't really know the Mallon family that well, but they must have been poor parents if they'd bought their daughter up to randomly attack girls in the school toilets.
"Can I help ye?" She answered, her voice suspicious and her eyes narrow.
"Is… Danny… not in?" The girl's brows furrowed.
"Ah.". There was no doubt it was Michelle Mallon now. And now I have to be the one to break it to her… typical!
"What?"
"I'm sorry love…". She tried not to sneer. "…but Danny's out for the evening".
"But he told me to meet him… that he'd be here…". Michelle's voice broke and despite everything Danny had said, Mrs Scanlon couldn't help but feel sorry for her.
"I really am sorry love. I told my Danny not to do this but… he has his own ideas an-".
"Do what!?" Anger and heartache seeped from the young girl.
"I think ye know the answer don't ye. Get yourself home and back in the warm, don't dwell on it for long love".
Mrs Scanlon shut the door on Michelle, who stood on the Scanlon's porch with mascara-clad tears beginning to trickle down her face. She'd gotten all dolled up nice and proper for their big night… all for this. It must have been how Erin felt on prom night when John-Paul never arrived. Dressed up in your best, waiting for someone who you think is in love with you and then they gut punch you when you are at your must contented. Except Erin could rely on James that night and though she wouldn't want James to rescue her with the same intentions, Michelle felt the irrational need to cry into his warm shoulder and witter on about how stupid she'd been. It was ridiculous to think they were out to destroy her relationship with Danny… it was as if they knew all along that this would be the end result. They told her time and time again that he was trouble, but she didn't listen… didn't want to listen… and now she'd stumbled into her fate.
She didn't ever want to see Danny Scanlon again.
She didn't care for his reasons as to why he'd so cruelly rejected her.
Not for now at least.
All Michelle wanted to do was get home and get into her bed. Sobbing as she set off from the Scanlon house, she'd never felt so insignificant and undervalued in her entire life.
James's smile stretched from ear to ear as he walked back home that night along a long alleyway a couple of streets away from the house. He was now the owner of a winning racehorse and one of his best friends had steered the horse to the victory. A perfect day for him and another reminder of why staying in Derry was the best choice he ever made. Having found the missing piece of his heart with Erin, he'd found the best group of friends anyone could wish for in the girls and leaving all of them would have broken him the day of the Clinton's visit. They'd accepted him, in their own snarky way at first, but he was one of them… he was a Derry Girl… and the title befitted him better than any associate tag that his mother might have given him for the self-adh-… sticker business that she'd set up.
But not everyone accepted him.
And in the haze of one of the best days of his life, his mind skipped over that important detail as he thought about the fun he'd had.
Looking up to the end of the alley and seeing two balaclava wearing figures stood still, blocking his path, his subconscious desperately scrambled back to the skipped detail. Taking a look over his shoulder, there was another figure in black behind him. He castigated himself for not figuring it out sooner because not for the first time walking home along the streets of Derry in the dark, he felt eyes on his back. Only this time the eyes were there when he checked and not imaginary like they had been when he'd walked back with Michelle. Or perhaps they weren't then either…
He stopped.
Frozen in place, trapped by high fences to back gardens on both sides, trees in the way to his right too. He would have to face whatever they wanted alone.
"What do you want?" He questioned the now advancing figures ahead of him.
Receiving no reply, he turned his head again to see the figure behind moving too, noticing this time that they had something in their hands… a weapon of some description. It didn't take a genius to figure out he was in serious trouble. Still, all was not lost. He was an Englishman, there was always his stiff upper lip and diplomacy to fall back on. He could convince them to move off in the other direction… after all, Winston Churchill did say that 'Diplomacy is the art of telling people to go to hell in such a way that they ask for directions'.
The problem for James was that these people knew exactly what direction they were going in and that was right at him. He was the meat in the balaclava covered sandwich.
"Ye don't belong here English".
Finally, one of them spoke up. He didn't recognise the voice, but it was a thick native accent, and it wasn't lacking in sincerity either. Whoever it was, really didn't think he belonged in Derry.
"Maybe not. But I'm here aren't I? He rallied.
"That doesn't mean ye should stay…". The lad, voice gravelly and fierce, then dropped to a mere murmur. "… does it?"
Shifting on the spot, James looked over his shoulder for a third time at the figure behind him who'd stopped but placed their hands behind their back, hiding the weapon he knew they were carrying.
"I hear yer with Erin Quinn. Good girl no?".
"What's it to you?" James challenged, puffing his chest out a bit to seem confident. He really wasn't…
"She's a Derry girl… she ain't meant for filthy English pigs like yerself".
"Is that so?" He moved forward to look eye to eye with the lad in the balaclava. "Erin's capable of making her own choice and she chose me! If your jealous… tough".
The lad laughed at him, wheeling around on the spot to the second figure who chuckled very slightly, James barely hearing it but knowing he'd done so.
"Jealous? Is that what ye think?". The incredulous aggressor scoffed. "No, I'm not jealous. I just think Miss Quinn might need to be…persuaded… to change her fella".
His fist clenched when he heard the emphasis the lad put on persuasion. That was a threat to Erin and as long as James drew breath, anyone who threatened the love of his life would have to go through him before they got to her.
"Leave Erin alone. If you've got a problem with her, you deal with me".
"Oh English…". The lad laughed again, and this time leaned forward to put a hand on James's shoulder. "… that's just how I wanted it".
The wink over his shoulder confirmed his imminent fate. He wouldn't escape them now and he wouldn't even get to lay a glove on them. The wink that was shot deliberately beyond him was to the balaclava covered figure behind and half a second later there was a great thud on the back of his head. James didn't know what had hit him but with the force it carried, he was knocked to the floor, conscious but severely dazed. Not that it mattered.
Within a second the three of them set about him.
Kicking…
Punching…
Stamping…
His body began to fail him as he could hear the words but couldn't place them to anyone or even know the accent. Phrases like 'Fuck you English scum' and 'Fucking Brit cunt' floated into one ear and out of the other. The kicks smashed into his ribs, the cracks reverberating off the hard boots of his attackers. The punches were all aimed at his face, his nose soon gushing, and eyes bruised and bloodshot. They stamped on him all over, his stomach being the main target but his legs, arms and chest all receiving similar punishment. He barely heard the bottle smashing but five seconds or so after it had done so, he felt the broken glass rammed into his exposed right side, directly below his kidney. The assailant who committed the act, yanked the broken bottle back out of him but some of the shards remained.
Derry's streets were once again filled with the blood of the innocent, the price of a conflict that only ever seemed to harm those not wanting to fight rather than punishing those who encouraged it. His only crime was the nation listed on his passport. Derry's streets were still tasting Irish blood like they had done on Bloody Sunday twenty-four years earlier.
He heard the sound of his attackers running off into the night but though he looked in the right direction, he did not see them.
All he could see was her face… her beautiful face. The face he loved.
"Erin…".
And with only thoughts of her, James Maguire succumbed to the darkness.
