Chapter 8: Rhythm of the night
Orla insisted on having her Uncle Colm come round for tea that night, despite all of them trying to persuade her to change her mind. He turned up ten minutes after James departed and Orla excitedly showed him through to the living room so she could retell the dramatic events of the race again. Everyone else tried to avoid the pair of them, Erin helping her mother in the kitchen whilst Sarah pretended to be asleep on the sofa. Gerry and Joe ended up without an excuse but the two of them excused themselves upstairs to work on fixing Joe's wardrobe, the door having fallen off a couple of days prior. Mary could hear the two of them arguing the whole way through it and was fearful of leaving them alone with tools that Joe could use to kill him with him. But they resurfaced for dinner once she called them, neither carrying an injury inflicted by the other.
Once they'd eaten tea, they all found themselves sat in the living room. Sarah moved to the seat under the window with a cigarette in her mouth, Orla stood next to her. Joe occupied his usual spot on the armchair, baby Anna sat on his lap smiling at her parents, who shared the sofa with Uncle Colm. Erin perched herself on the armchair of the sofa as Colm narrated a story about a woman who returned the wrong item to the supermarket that morning and the argument that ensued from there.
"… and she was wailing like a vixen, so she was. The poor assistant Tommy, ye know Tommy whose ma used to sweep up at church on a Wednesday…".
"Why don't we play a game?" Orla cut off her Uncle's ramblings.
"Sounds perfect". Gerry replied. "What shall we play".
"MONOPOLY!" Orla shouted. "James has gone so he can't win!"
Erin rolled her eyes at the comment about her boyfriend's ability at Monopoly, but everyone reluctantly agreed to join in and play. Without James there to rule the roost, it was a far more even game with no one taking a clear lead. Uncle Colm, Joe and Mary all found themselves in jail quite early though and although they were all quickly out again, they were a few two hundreds short compared to some of the others. It was Gerry's turn and he happened to land on the so far untroubled Mayfair and decided to purchase it.
"I'll buy that". He said to Erin, who was acting as the banker.
Erin picked out the card for Mayfair from the diminished pile that was left and handed it over to her father, who was pleased to have the most expensive property in the game.
"No ye won't!" Joe suddenly erupted.
"I erm… think you'll find I will Joe". Gerry replied, chuckling.
"I said no".
"Well, that's not how the game works".
"Can we not have another argument on a family game night?" Mary attempted to quell their dispute.
"We wouldn't have if this prick wasn't getting ideas above his station!"
"What? I'm allowed to buy Mayfair Joe, there's nothing in the rules to say that I can't". Gerry argued.
"Mayfair is not for Southern tools like you! Ye have to be refined to own Mayfair!".
"It's not that big of a deal Granda". Erin scoffed in her father's defence.
"Aye it is Erin! Now yer fella, he's the sort of man that should own it. Modern… and sophisticated, not a neanderthal like Gerry!"
"Is he that fella who walked on the moon?" Orla enquired with them.
"No Orla!" Erin didn't hide her annoyance. "That was Neil Armstrong".
Orla frowned upon being told who walked on the moon, she could have sworn it was the fella that her Granda mentioned and not the one Erin said it was.
"It's too late anyway Joe". Gerry said as he handed the money to Erin. "I've bought it now".
Joe, with lightning quick hands, nabbed the money from out of Erin's hands and found everyone glaring at him.
"Now I have the money. And it looks to me as if yer trying to bribe me!"
The phone started ringing, providing Mary the chance to get away from the argument between her husband and her father, letting someone else deal with it for once. Erin would be the likely candidate to do so, and it would be a good lesson for her to know how to handle a situation like that in the future. The phone call was a welcome distraction, even if she couldn't think who would be phoning at such an hour.
"Hello…"
Michelle couldn't stop sobbing no matter how hard she tried. The humiliation of being tricked into believing she was special to someone when it had all been some cruel prank wrenched out tears from every hiding spot within. She appreciated the Scanlon's mother trying to be reasonable about it, but she'd known about whatever was in store too. Michelle just couldn't fathom why he would do such a thing. She'd never done anything to upset Danny as far as she was aware and didn't understand the need for him destroying her confidence in the way he had done. But she didn't need to know for now. She just wanted to be in bed.
"Michelle!"
She stopped dead in her tracks and looked up to see her parents walking towards her, her father being the one to call out her name. They were walking arm in arm with soft expressions on their faces and she sniffled to a stop with her sobs, in order to eye them suspiciously.
"James told us things might not work out so well". Deirdre clarified.
Of course he had.
That wee fucker of a brilliant cousin she had. He would do anything for anyone and even with the atmosphere between the group fractured and discontented, he still looked out for her. The realisation of his kindness made her blub again, but she was soon wrapped in the embrace of both parents. Their coats were warm, and she rested her head in her father's midriff and simply cried. She could feel their hands going through her hair and her father squeezing her a bit tighter as the cries continued.
"I don't… understand". She wailed.
"Shushhh just calm yerself Michelle". Deirdre urged.
"I…I…"
"I know love". Her father said. "We're here now".
She continued to cry into his midriff as Deirdre pulled away and she put a hand on her daughter's cheek to get her attention away from Martin's coat.
"There'll be other boys Michelle".
"But… I thought he was the one ma…". The sobbing continued "… he said… he said…".
"Boys will say a lot of things they don't mean Michelle…". Deirdre started. "… yer father told me he didn't love me once ye know".
That got a laugh from Michelle and her dad huffed but confirmed that the incident had taken place and he'd once indeed dared to tell Deirdre that he didn't love her.
"But I did love her". He smiled, receiving an elbow in the ribs anyway. "And I still do, obviously".
Michelle started laughing again and finally pulled away from her father's warm embrace, standing in front of both parents with a slight smile appearing.
"Thank you".
"Don't thank us love". Martin smiled. "It's James ye want to thank, he's a good lad our James".
"I… I know. I just… ye know. I've really put me foot in it with all of them. I… I blamed Erin for everything and I…".
"Stop love". Deirdre put her finger on Michelle's quivering lips. "He told us all the details. I think we both know that you's are all too good friends to let it have a lasting impact".
"Aye". Martin agreed with his wife. "I wish I had a group of friends like ya have when I was yer age".
"I need to call them and…". Michelle fretted.
"In the morning love. Ye can all meet up after church and then talk things out. I might even give ye some money to let you's all get something to eat". Deirdre grinned at her daughter.
Michelle's smile finally stretched the whole distance and her parents reciprocated it back at her. They soon set off on the way home, Martin informing Michelle that they'd had a call from Joe to tell them that Orla had won. Disappointed with herself, she'd began to cry again but Deirdre reminded her that they wouldn't think any less of her and as long as she congratulated Orla the next day then things would fall into place. Michelle was delighted for her friend. She, like the others, recognised that Orla was a talented rider and after her own failed attempt on horseback, equally knew that it was a difficult skill to master.
Turning into a long alleyway, they all spotted something on the ground in the distance. Michelle looked to her parents who were both frowning but in the seconds that followed the frowns turned to mouths gaping in horror.
All three recognised the coat as they got closer.
James's coat.
And when they all started running and realised that it wasn't just a coat on the ground but a body, their stomachs all dropped.
But it was when they saw the blood that the true panic began.
"Oh my god!"
Deirdre's shout pierced the Derry night when she finally reached the motionless form of her nephew, lying in a pool of his own blood.
Gerry and Joe were still fighting over the ownership of Mayfair.
"It's not a bribe Joe…you stole the money… that makes it robbery!" Gerry reasoned.
"You accusin' me of being a thief boy!?"
"In the context of Monopoly… yes. Yes I am!"
"Would the pair of you's be quiet!" Erin snapped at her father and grandfather. "We're tryin' to enjoy a family game and all ye do is argue. How about this then… yer both disqualified!"
Erin gave the pair of them a look that Mary would be proud of and they looked up to challenge her but on seeing the face that greeted them, both thought better of it. For the first time ever, Erin silenced the room with her commands. Apart from Orla, who was humming along to whatever tune played through her head.
"Aunt Sarah, it's yer turn".
"Ach I'm not so bothered now Erin love. All the fun's gone now Da and Gerry aren't playin'".
"Me neither". Orla returned from her little paradise world. "I'm gettin' tired now ye know, I want to go to bed".
Erin couldn't believe what she was hearing. It was Orla who wanted to play it in the first place and now she was going to abandon the game. Sarah too would join Joe and Gerry in being out of the running, which only left her mother and Uncle Colm to contest it and they were probably the joint worst at it along with Sarah. It was more fun when James played; they at least got to finish the game with a decent winner and she got to cuddle him, always a plus.
"Fine. But let's wait for Mammy to get back. Uncle Colm, why don't ye tell us a story to pass the time?"
If they weren't going to play properly and be civil, then neither was she. It would be torture for her to listen to Colm as well but if it meant punishing them for their lack of effort then so be it.
"Alright then Erin…" Colm began. "Joe ye remember Maggie Bennett, the girl who used to ride her bicycle down the ol' path along the Foyle?"
"Oh aye, fat thighs Maggie, how can I forget?" Joe sniggered
"Aye that's her, those thighs, I remember that Billy Prendergast, ye remember him don't ye Joe… well Billy Prendergast said to me, he said Colm, those thighs, they could pedal a spaceship to Pluto so they could…".
"Jesus…" Erin sighed quietly to herself.
"Anyway, ye remember she had the two wains and then moved to Tahiti on that mission with the French an' left her fella to look after em?"
"Aye". Joe confirmed again as they heard Mary put the phone down out in the hall.
"What's in Tahiti?" An inquisitive Orla spoke up.
"Tahitians I think love". Her mother said to her.
"I can't remember the wains names off the top of me head…". Colm continued, wracking his brains. "… ach hang on now, I think the wee girl was a Veronica and the wee lad… he was either a Simon or a Sean… well I saw her wee Veronica's wains t-".
Colm stopped when he realised everyone else had stopped listening to him and started looking at Mary, who had returned to the living room. The colour was drained from Mary's face and her lip was trembling, eyes like melting glaciers and carrying a sunken posture. Gerry and Erin got up from their positions on the floor, standing to face her.
"What's the matter love?" The concerned Gerry spoke up first.
"I…". Mary couldn't speak… not after what she'd just heard.
"Mary…" Joe pushed to get the answer of what was wrong.
"It… It's… It's James…".
At the first stutter from his wife, an alarm bell rang in Gerry's head. He knew immediately why she couldn't speak, and he could tell with how she'd angled her head slightly more towards Erin, that the phone call was about James. Fearing the worst, and knowing Erin would too, his hand was already ready when his daughter's knees buckled, and she stumbled back into him.
A whimper neither parent ever wanted to hear again was ripped from Erin's lungs as she lost control of herself, breaking apart in Gerry's arms. Joe's breath held and the water rose beneath his eye lids too, having to fight himself not to let them drip down his face. Orla and Sarah held hands as the pair of them teared up. Even Colm understood the severity of it, a solemn look on his face.
"He's…".
"Where?" Gerry didn't press for details on the lad, just where they needed to go.
"The Altnagelvin… now".
Taking command of the situation whilst everyone else struggled around him, Gerry steadied Erin onto her feet and into Mary's arms where she held her. A silent look was shared between him and Joe, enough to tell him that Joe would be coming too, and Orla choked out a response to say she would as well. Sarah and Uncle Colm were told to stay with Anna, a request neither argued with, Colm taking the baby from Joe and taking her up to bed with Sarah immediately. Within another couple of minutes, they were in Gerry's car, Mary in the front passenger seat with every purse she could muster hastily thrown into her bag. Erin sat between her Granda and Orla, who were both holding onto her as she struggled to do anything. Her breathing was erratic, her face lacking any colour whatsoever but she'd yet to say a word. The only noise that came from Erin was from her uncontrollable sobbing, that began the moment she found herself in Mary's arms and hadn't stopped since. Orla was crying too but despite her own upset at whatever had happened to the Englishman, she was more concerned with Erin.
As the hospital came into view on the horizon, Erin finally spoke.
"Is he dead?"
The question was at little more than a whisper, but they all heard it and, other than Gerry who was focused on the road, they all turned their heads to look at her.
"No love". Mary reached back to put her hand on Erin's shaking knee. "He's alive. And he will be because he's got ye to look after".
Mary tried to be as reassuring as possible but being the only one in full possession of the injuries Deirdre described, it was incredibly tough. She was already prepared for the worst and what she would have to do for Erin.
The worst part of it all for Mary was that when she thought about it, there was no easy answer as to who could have done this to him. James was English, the fact both of his parents were natives of Derry didn't matter when he opened his mouth and the accent rang in people's ears, which in turn gave the whole of Derry a motive to attack him. But it would take a special kind of hatred to beat a fella so severely and leave him to die on the cold ground of a quiet alleyway. They all made comments about England from time to time, but this required the savagery of a hard-line Provo or a complete psychopath. Yet for whatever reason, Mary felt a guilt… like it was her fault as much as the person or people who'd done this to him. There were generations of faults on either side of the conflict and now it'd spilled over to one of the kindest lads you could ever meet and left him fighting for his life. Violence was not Ireland's answer.
Martin was outside the main entrance waiting for them when they arrived. Gerry found a spot right up close to the emergency department and let the others bail out whilst he paid the parking. He'd soon find them in time. Mary was out the car and waiting for her daughter within a split second, Orla making her way around the other side of the car, holding her cousin's hand. Erin's legs which failed her earlier, transformed into her greatest asset as she almost dragged Orla along, running over to where Martin stood. Mary was running with them, barely keeping up whilst Joe walked as briskly as he could without having the need to run, not trusting his old knees quite so much anymore.
"Come on, he's this way". Martin said as they drew up to him.
Mary immediately pulled in front of the girls to walk with Martin and he in turn knew what she was after. His looks told her that James was still alive and fighting but the strain and unfallen tears hiding in the corners of Martin's eyes told her that it was bleak. Erin's sobs were the bitter symphony that themed their rush to his bedside, her hand still held tight by Orla, who pushed back her own tears in an act of pure strength. Joe stayed strong for the family too, grateful that Gerry kept his head and made the right calls, as he himself was splintering within.
Rushing through the main entrance and into the emergency department, there were people darting about all over the place, shouting instructions here, there and everywhere. Being a Saturday night there were plenty of drunks crying in the corners from various injuries sustained from fighting or falling. Martin made eye contact with Michelle, who was stood by a set of double doors where three nurses rushed through, gowns on and ready. She didn't hide the evidence of her own crying, though they were not aware it had started on the Scanlon's porch much earlier, the streaks of mascara staining her face. Stopping to allow a patient on a bed through, who looked in a pretty bad way with tubes sticking out of them, they finally reached her. Deirdre was nowhere to be seen but was presumably through the double doors, tending to James.
"Any change love?". Martin asked as they came to a stop by her.
Michelle gave a knowing look to her father but seeing Erin appear from behind him, she tried being as positive as possible. She still had to put things right with Erin, there was no point making things worse.
"No… but he's still fighting". Her voice cracked slightly.
Looking at the empty seats to the side of the doors, Mary knew it would be a long wait before they could get further news or see him. She was gesturing for them all to sit down but Erin had other ideas, wriggling away from Orla's grip and charging towards the double doors. She had to see him…
"Erin!" Mary called after her.
Gerry turned up at that moment, watching Erin running into the big room with the rest of them all following her, but Joe stopped, and they shared another look between themselves. The two men were very much aware of what was coming next.
"JAMES!... JAMES!" She cried.
Deirdre's head shot up from by his side at the end of the room and she tried to tell Erin to go but the words wouldn't come out. The life of her young nephew lay partly in her hands and the rest of her nerves were shot. She would treat him like any other patient, but this was different; James was family and James had so many people that loved him and cherished him. And the one that perhaps did the most was avoiding every nurse who tried to stop her from seeing him.
When Erin did see the state that James was in, she gasped and stumbled over backwards, but once again Gerry was there waiting for her with a firm hand. What had they done to her wee English fella…
She could only see his face and the outlines of his clothes, but it told the full picture. The face she wanted to snog constantly had gone, and what was left was unrecognisable. His nose was caved in, no doubt broken, and his eyes were forced shut, already bruised and battered. There were lumps appearing on his forehead where the punches landed, and his clothes were covered in blood. The nurses around him, Deirdre included, were plastered in the crimson tide that flowed from the Englishman's multiple wounds.
That was when Erin's heart truly shattered.
"He's losing far too much blood! We need to operate on him now". The lead Doctor commanded his staff. "Deirdre, keep up the pressure on that side wound. Kelly, get theatre prepared, tell them we have an urgent one comin' in. Can everyone NOT involved in treating this young man please leave immediately".
Tugging at Erin to go, Gerry found her planted on the spot and not willing to retreat, if anything trying to edge forward again but he couldn't let her. They had to go.
"Erin…". He cautioned.
She still wasn't moving and the reluctant Gerry found himself pulling at her to drag her back. Joe and Martin were ready too.
"Can you PLEASE leave now!" The lead doctor turned his attention to them.
"No!" Erin shouted back at him.
"Erin…". Gerry was now forcefully pulling her away.
"GET OFF ME!" She screamed. "JAMES! JAMES!"
Joe and Martin added their weight to dragging her back, but Erin was kicking and screaming, Martin having to hold her legs as they lifted her off the ground in an attempt to carry her out.
"NOOOOOOOO! JAMESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!" She continued to cry and wail.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
The wailing Erin, the three men restraining her, was carried out into the corridor. Her sobbing and screaming drew the attention of everyone around the emergency department, gawking and staring at the hysterical young blonde.
"OI!" Michelle yelled at them. "Quit fuckin' staring ye feckin' pervs!"
It did the trick, everyone around the department quickly turning their attentions elsewhere and Deirdre pointed to a room down the hallway for them to take her, Mary leading the way and holding the door for the men carrying the still screaming Erin. At the back of the group, Orla turned around and saw them rushing James away. Closing her eyes, she tried to pretend she wasn't there.
The clock ticked over to two fifteen in the morning in the side room. Deirdre was able to secure them the room for the night as they waited to hear back about James's surgery. Martin had gone home with Michelle after Erin's screaming subsided, Joe and the tired Orla getting dropped back home too with Orla being thoroughly shattered after a long day of ecstasy and then agony. Mary and Gerry elected to stay behind with their daughter. They were never going to get her home without news of James, and they didn't want to leave her side either, with the likelihood of the Englishman not surviving the night seemingly high. They'd both long fell asleep on the chairs in the side room, finished cups of tea laid out on the table in the corner. The same table found itself graced with Erin's presence but unlike her parents, she did not find herself in any shape to sleep. She still sobbed into her denim jacket, the one that matched James's, and in her mind, she thought holding it meant she was holding him too.
But it was death that had its grasp on James, not Erin.
She stood up and paced for what felt like the hundredth time that night. They'd made her glasses of water, but she kept spilling them, her hands shaking and unable to bring the glass to her mouth. Eventually Gerry took the bull by the horns and helped her, holding the glass and gently pouring the water into Erin's mouth. The room was warm but as Erin looked out of the window, she could see the frost settling on the grass in a small garden, indicating that outside was a different matter. People would be walking by, either on their way in from the car park or back out to it, but very few were still about at that time of night. Taxi's stopped and picked up those without cars, mostly the drunks sporting new bandages, and ferried them off back to the comfort of their own homes. A couple went past too, on their way out of the hospital and Erin watched as in between them, they held the hands of their young son whose thumb was in plaster. She felt a sudden rush of jealousy towards them, that a clearly happy couple could just walk away into the night with their child. That should be her and James, with a son of their own, happily returning home after a scary but not fatal wee incident. Instead, it would never be them because he would die in the hospital that night and a part of her would die with him.
Her sobs were no longer audible, just unending tears that ran off her face and splashed onto the windowsill.
The hum of the cars drifted in through the windows, the accompanying melody to the distant conversations and footsteps.
That was the rhythm of the night. The worst night of Erin Quinn's life.
