Chapter 16: Why?
They were still at the track when the news came through from the Hospital. Deirdre phoned the judge's office at the course and they somehow pulled Joe away from the jubilations to take the call. The rest of them were all waiting for him to return, dreading what the phone call could have been about, but there were tears of relief when he told them.
James had spoken.
Instead of returning to their homes, all of them barring Frankie and Paul who'd have to take the horse back to the stables, made their way to the Altnagelvin. He might not have said anything while they were there, but they were all there for Erin more than anything.
"He's fought like a true man". Joe spoke out loud to the crowded room. "I'm proud to have this lad in my family".
"I am proud to count him as a friend". Harriet spoke up too.
"I think we all are". Clare added.
They stayed there talking away around him. There was the vain hope that he might wake again and speak but they couldn't count on it. Dr Kennedy was also present when they arrived and explained that he might not wake again until the night or the next morning. His body was in intense pain from the multiple injuries that were healing, and his strength would be focused there and not into speaking. It didn't matter in many ways though, for Erin had spoke to him and with all the resolve he had, he professed his love for her. He remembered her. No one could ever take Erin away from him, no matter how hard they tried.
Eventually, they all began to filter out. Harriet, Jenny and Aisling were the first three to leave, the private car they'd arrived in courtesy of the English girl taking them back to Jenny's house. Mr Flanagan also went shortly after, promising to phone Sister Michael and inform her of the good news when he got home. There was no doubt she would be pleased too. Clare's parents turned up shortly after, getting a brief look at the wee English fella themselves before taking her home. Martin beat them all there from the track, sitting in with Erin and Deirdre whilst they waited, and he took his wife and Michelle away around seven o'clock leaving just Mary, Gerry, Joe, Sarah and Orla. It would be a late dinner that night, but they didn't care when James was back.
"What a day". Orla yawned.
"Tired love". Sarah smiled at her daughter. "Really takes it out of ye the racing so it does".
"Ach Mammy, I know but I love it".
Orla hadn't changed out of her riding gear, covered with the mud kicked up by the other horses. Erin was delighted for her when they broke her news in return, Joe waiting until they got to the hospital rather than revealing it to Deirdre on the phone. Her cousin was doing so well with the racing and hearing she would be off out again the next day to ride was music to her ears. They wouldn't all be going with her this time, something that was understood and respected by Orla. Joe and Sarah would be the only ones to go with her along with Paul and Frankie. Another early start.
"We better be off soon". Joe said to others whilst putting a hand on Orla's shoulder. "Another early start for this one".
"Why can't they build a track here like". Sarah pondered. "Then we wouldn't have to get up so early".
"Local government are a bunch of wimps, so they are". Joe grumbled.
"I doubt that's the reason". Gerry unwisely interjected.
"Did we speak out of line Minister? I don't remember asking ye for yer opinion!"
"Granda!" Erin cautioned. "Can ye at least leave the argument till ye got home".
Softening upon hearing Erin's demands, he backed off Gerry but none of them had any doubts that it would be the end of the argument. Erin at least didn't have to hear it by sleeping at the hospital, and once the family went, she got herself ready earlier, sitting by James's bedside and reading a book with a blanket over her. He didn't wake again before lights out that night although it did nothing to alter Erin's positivity. Settling down for the night, she basked in the warmth of knowing he knew she was there for him and it almost felt like he was there too, with his arms around her.
Like how it should be.
Stood at a safe distance from the barracks, a mentor and his student watched the comings and goings of the soldiers. They were hidden from sight, but at range, with powerful binoculars, they could monitor everything that was going on. It was a fairly quiet night that Saturday, one or two vehicles coming and going every hour and the occasional bit of humour between soldiers on the gate. It was strangely relaxed for soldiers in a country that could very much turn against them within hours on the basis of one wrong decision or one correct hostile action. It was the latter that the Mentor hoped his students could achieve.
"They're almost off guard". The young Scanlon whispered.
"Perhaps". His mentor whispered back. "It's been a while since there was a proper incident here".
"What about-".
"The fella ye kicked the shit out of. Just a drop in the ocean that fella".
He was more of a drop in the ocean than his mentor would ever know, but he didn't ever need to know; it would only make him more suspicious.
"We're doin' this at night then?" The Scanlon asked.
"Either way works but a getaway is easier in the cover of darkness".
"What about the inside bit. Surely it might be harder at night, doors might be locked…".
"Don't panic Mr Scanlon. It'll work out just fine if ye stick to the plan".
The plan was ambitious but there was no doubting it's cunning tactical brilliance. To be able to get someone inside the barracks to plant the bomb under no suspicion whatsoever was dangerous but if they could get out undetected then it was perfect. The confusion for those that remained would be so great, they'd be dead before they had a chance to react.
"Even if it doesn't, it will all be worth it". The Scanlon huffed.
"Do ye ever listen to me!?" The man scowled. "Making yerself a martyr isn't the way we do things anymore".
"Feckin should be. It would be an honour to give my blood for Ireland".
His mentor's patience grew thin. It was not the first time the student fought back, and he wasn't the only one of them to do so, but it wouldn't be tolerated.
"Ye speak like a rebel of the old days boy".
"Maybe I do. If I die attacking the barracks, then Ireland will rise up as its beloved son is killed by the Brits. A sacrifice of blood for the greater cause ye know".
"Hah!" The mentor scoffed. "Ye talkin of ideals that we started with in this century… look where we are now. Many have died for the cause unnecessarily. Where has it got us?".
"I'd rather die for it than accept Brits here".
"For god's sake boy grow up! Yer not Patrick Pearse. Those ways didn't work then, and they won't work now. Stay alive, kill more brits and then when they're driven back over the sea, ye live to tell the tale to yer grandkids".
They stood silent for another few minutes as the two digested each other's thoughts. For the mentor, it was painful for him to have to spell the lesson out to his student again. Blood sacrifice was stooped in Ireland's history and one of the principles of the very uprising Patrick Pearse was known for. But the thoughts and ideas of those loyal to the cause eighty years earlier hadn't stopped them from being in the same position they were in that night. If you were given the chance to do something again, and you did the same thing, your failure was guaranteed.
For the young Scanlon, his mentor's lack of a belief in a noble death was disturbing. He may have taught them valuable lessons when it came to the military side of their fight against the Brits, but there were differences when they dug deeper into their ideological viewpoints. All of them, the other two included, wanted the Brits driven out but the three of them were more willing to get their hands dirty than their mentor. Dying in the knowledge that it had been for an Ireland that was free was the most honourable way to go yet the mentor didn't see it. That was where their views began to divide, and the mentor's main interest was always the military target. It made sense, eliminate the military and all British hopes would be lost. They wouldn't send soldiers over that they couldn't afford to lose, and the message would be clear with the bomb. But this was about more than the soldiers for the three of them. A Brit was a Brit. Whether they carried a gun or had the power to enforce the law upon you was irrelevant.
And there were easier targets than the soldiers.
One sprang to mind very quickly.
Erin woke to the sound of James talking away to himself. A beautiful harmony for the early morning in normal circumstances, but they were not in normal circumstances. Rubbing her eyes, she pulled herself off the bed and shuffled over to his side.
"Ceiling looks funny". He murmured.
"James?". Erin, not hearing him properly, tried to get him to speak again.
"The… ceiling… it looks funny".
She looked up at the ceiling and couldn't see anything wrong with it. It was no different to most ceilings, albeit they were without the admittedly extremely powerful light that was above him. It didn't constitute odd though.
"It's just a normal ceiling". She whispered, planting a kiss on his lips after.
"I liked that…". He croaked out.
"I bet you did".
She didn't need him to speak again to know what he wanted and kissed him again, feeling him smile underneath in the way he always did.
"I'll be back in fifteen minutes. Wait up for me?" She asked him.
"I'm tired…". He groaned. "… just wake me up".
Giggling at him and watching him giggle back, she gave him his third kiss before going out of the room, picking up a few things on the way out. She was off to go and shower and get dressed, freshen up for a bright new day with her wee English fella. She saw Deirdre on the way, who was working the Sunday shift and she went straight into James whilst Erin was out. He'd gone back to sleep again by the time Deirdre reached the room, less than a minute after Erin exited it, peacefully snoring away. He would need to get his rest after the horrific injuries.
When Erin returned, she came with cups of tea for both her and Deirdre, the two of them sitting together for ten minutes. Erin told her of how he'd spoken again and they both relaxed in the knowledge he was mending, even if it would only be short bursts of him speaking. Deirdre went back to work shortly after and Erin was back by his side, looking over him and stroking his arm gently. He kept sleeping and she refused to wake him up as he'd suggested, letting his body decide naturally when he wanted to rise.
It was about two hours later when he finally did.
"Erin". He coughed slightly as he spoke.
She was back at the table reading when he did, and the bookmark was in and the book down within half a second as she rushed to his side.
"What is it?"
"Can I… can I have some water?"
Nodding to his request, she fetched a cup from the table and poured water in from the jug she'd been using herself. Putting it on the side table, she got her hand underneath him and helped him shift up. For the first time James wasn't lying down flat, he was up, and he did so without wincing, gritting his teeth to ignore the pain in the rest of his body.
"Now you be steady". She commanded him, the cup coming up to his lips.
He sipped at it, revelling in the feeling of the cool water on his lips and then down the back of his throat. After having spent weeks of being fed and watered through tubes, it was pleasant to be able to drink properly.
"Thank you…". He smiled. "… darling".
If he wasn't lying in a hospital bed with bandages around both arms, she would have smacked him in either arm rather hard for calling her darling. She wasn't fond of him doing it and he'd been told about it more than once.
"James…". Erin said softly with her head next to his. "… do ye… do ye know what day it is?"
"Sunday". He hummed.
That was a surprise to Erin. After being comatose for so long, the fact he could remember what day of the week it was startled her. Unless…
"And the… date?" She tentatively put the question across to him.
"Third of March". He replied.
The reply she dreaded was uttered. James must have thought it was the next day, waking up that morning believing it to be the day after whatever had occurred, not registering weeks had gone by. It would be up to Erin to deliver the news to him and her stomach produced a raging sea of sickness and sadness, the contents attempting to force their way up her body.
"N-… No James. It…it… it's the twenty fourth of March".
She watched as he took in her reply, watching his face turn from a slight amusement to a despicable horror and panic. He didn't know whether to believe her or not and leaned forward ever so slightly, trying to search her for a clue but she only nodded to confirm her own words.
"Something happened James…". Erin's voice was cracking, her hand coming to rest on his cheek. "… do ye know what happened?"
"N…No".
Her eyes widened as she watched him trying to search his brain, attempting to remember what had happened to him but failing to do so. He looked terrified now and their eyes met, Erin shivering at the sight of… humiliation and… defeat in his.
"Why can't I remember Erin?" He whispered, the first tears escaping him.
"Why… Why…".
He broke into sobs and she wrapped herself around his head, finding him burying his head into her shoulder, a watery crater forming around her collarbone.
He'd fought off multiple injuries, survived when no one had given him a chance. He fought off injuries that could have changed him forever. But James Maguire was broken by three letters in the form a question. The only question that he needed answering.
Why?
James stayed crying into Erin's shoulder for thirty minutes before she realised that he'd gone to sleep in her arms. He was perfect in her arms, whether he was covered with injuries or not, and she knew just how lucky she was to have him. The English boy that walked into her life on an early school morning, nervously following Michelle along. Her very own knight in shining armour, the knight who conquered the only kingdom on Earth that an army could not. Her heart.
Holding his crying form, Erin could only feel the desperation of her wee English fella's situation. He didn't know what had happened, why he was where he was or why he was in so much pain. As beautiful as remembering her was, he couldn't remember why she was having to help him drink water. He just couldn't.
Deirdre returned ten minutes or so after he'd fallen asleep again and Erin broke down in her arms, explaining the situation to her. Deirdre too was upset. He'd battled and been through so much, yet he didn't even know why he'd had to fight. It was a harrowing experience. She rang Mary and Gerry soon after and they rushed to the hospital to be with their daughter.
"Mammy!".
Erin practically ran to her mother when she arrived, crying in her arms and Gerry wrapped his arms around them both. He held the tears back, as he had done since the moment Mary took the phone call from Deirdre, but he was breaking up just as much. Mary was the same, her heart went out for the poor fella who slept with a pained expression on his face.
"Oh love". Mary mumbled into Erin's shoulder.
"He… He… He just doesn't know why!" She cried back.
"Come on Erin… shusshhhhh… calm down".
Gerry tried to sooth her pain, running a hand up and down her back. He could feel her shivering from within his hug and held his grip much more firmly on them both in reaction to it.
"He's so scared". Erin whispered. "And I am too".
"There's nothing to be scared of love. Everything will work out fine". Gerry again tried his best to calm her.
They eventually sat down as a family by his bedside and were joined by Michelle and Clare not long after, the two of them also being summoned by Deirdre after she phoned home. They immediately went to Erin to hold her and comfort her as her best friends, coming together as a three to shield the upset blonde. It was particularly heart breaking for Michelle. As she'd been at the scene of whatever had happened soon after, an attack it was obvious but by who remained unanswered, she remembered finding him prone with her parents. She wanted to find out who had beaten her cousin so mercilessly and left him to die broken in a dark alleyway. And he couldn't remember any of it. Not a single moment from the attack. Erin relayed what she understood from him, having asked a further question of what his previous memory to before he woke up was. He could picture their conversation about the future by her door but that was the last thing prior to waking up and answering her Maths question.
"I've spoken to Dr Kennedy". Deirdre told them all. "He said like he'd said to us before, that the memory might take a while to come back but it might not come back at all".
"Jesus…". Gerry uttered.
"And...".
They looked up to Deirdre again, her face not hiding the anxious feelings she held inside.
"We've had to let the cops know that James has woken up. I… I've managed to delay them until tomorrow but they're comin'".
Erin burst into more tears at the news, Clare and Michelle instantly coming to cuddle her. Mary herself shuddered at the thought, Gerry squeezing her hand to give her the strength not to cry like Erin or take the anger away, so she didn't rant about the cops. The Englishman was barely awake, and they would be in at him for every detail and he didn't know a single thing about what had happened.
"They can't!" Erin protested.
"They have to love". Gerry was once more the calming influence. "It's their job".
"Well, they have no right! James can't just be… interrogated like he's a lowlife! He's just come out of a coma for feck's sake!" She retorted.
"Cop bastards". Michelle mumbled, receiving a glare from her mother in return.
They were powerless to do anything about it though. They had to inform the cops that James was awake and could communicate, and the cops had to do their job. The question remained to be seen whether James could take it.
It was Monday morning and for Erin it meant school. James was still asleep as she got ready to go but as she kissed him goodbye, he reached out for her hand in his sleep and it caused her heart to flutter. Even deep in slumber he would still find her there by his side, loving and caring for her whilst his eyes were closed. James still hadn't woken when Deirdre sat in with him for an hour after Erin left, but she brought fresh water in a jug with her just in case. It was only around quarter past nine when he finally stirred and there was someone else in with him by that time. Joe.
"Morning son". Joe addressed him as he slowly sat up.
"M… Morning Joe". He hazily responded.
"Here". Joe already had a drink ready for James, as well as something to eat. "I bet your thirsty as anything… hungry too".
Joe helped him through the breakfast, James unable to eat very quickly and not finishing it all but producing a good effort nonetheless. Deirdre had arranged it, Joe picking it up on his way through to the Englishman. Holding his head whilst James sipped at the water, Joe almost felt like a young father again in a way, feeling overly protective of the lad he thought of so highly.
"How do you feel son?" He asked a couple of minutes later.
"I…". James stuttered. "… I don't really know. I can see something serious has happened though and I'm in pain just about everywhere".
"Yer a brave boy ye know. The first night…". Joe had to stop, the memories of the night coming flooding back. "… the first night they thought you were gone for and even when ye made it through, ye still had the last rites the next mornin'".
James's eyes widened at Joe's closing remark. He'd been given the last rites of the dying man; things were worse than he thought. Sometime in the middle of the previous night he woke briefly, hearing someone else's breathing but focusing instead of what Erin had told him earlier. His first suspicion from the injuries he could feel was being hit by a car, but he still couldn't remember it to have happened.
"I…".
"It's alright James. Ye here now son and my Erin is happy again". Joe patted his shoulder.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there for her".
James only felt regret. He'd not been there to protect his Erin, hold her and kiss her like he wanted. Accepting his fate that he had lost three weeks of his life, his only thought was the pain Erin would have been in during that time and not one single injury on his body compared to the splintering agony of not being with her.
"But she was here for ye".
Joe held out his hand and moved, James shuffling up a bit more to see a strange pile of blankets and sheets on top of a mattress. Pillows were propped up at the head and he looked back to Joe with a frown.
"She's slept here every night since. We tried to get her to come home and sleep, but she wouldn't have it. She's watched over ye, like you do her".
He couldn't help but cry at what Erin had done for him. She cared for him so greatly that she wouldn't even leave his side at night, guarding him like a protective angel. The angel he knew her to be and the same one that he adored.
"I love her so much". He blubbered.
"I know ye do. Yer the best fella she could ask for James, I mean that".
Another affectionate squeeze on the shoulder from Joe made him chuckle through a sniff, but he was grateful for what Erin's Granda had said. He was a hard man to please, Gerry was still trying after twenty years, but they'd found a lasting respect with each other and James admired Joe in the same way Joe admired him.
"There's something ye need to know though son. The cops… they're comin' to ask ye a few questions".
That was the other thing James thought of during his brief moments awake in the night. He knew they would have to come and question him, given the nature of his injuries and how long he'd been out of it for. If it was a car hitting him like he thought, then they would need his side of the story as well as the driver's.
"I suspected as much". He sighed.
Right on cue, two detectives arrived in the room with Deirdre, who introduced them to both James and Joe.
"Mr Maguire, how are ye feeling?" The Detective Inspector asked.
"Erm… I… erm… I'm in pain but I'm told it's been worse".
"I was here the day after". The Detective Constable spoke up. "I have to say I never thought I'd see ye again apart from the funeral. Some miracle it has to be said".
"Thanks". James could only think to say thank you, lost for words at the man's statement.
"Am I allowed to stay with the boy?" Joe asked. "He's still not at his best ye know".
"Normally we'd interview him alone but given the circumstances, I'm willing to let that slide for today". The Inspector smiled.
Joe thanked him and they proceeded but James found himself unable to give them anything to work with from memory. They tried for several minutes, allowing him to search his brain. He'd remembered only one additional thing from that night; that he was walking home from the Quinn house after talking to Erin and he knew it was dark. It did little for the detectives, but they'd dealt with cases like this before and knew it could take time. All they could do was get every last bit of information they could from him. Whether he'd upset anyone or argued with anyone that could have attacked him, ruling out his thought that it could be a car crash by explaining how he was found. Finishing writing it off, the two detectives had no further questions, but the Inspector still had something to speak to them about.
"Now that yer awake and recovering, we need to discuss where ye go".
"What do you mean?" He asked the Constable.
"As we have very little information to go on at the moment, we don't know whether the person or persons who did this to ye might try again. We don't have the manpower to guard ye round the clock, so we need to send ye somewhere safe".
"He'll have me so he will". Joe stated defiantly. "No one will touch the boy".
"Whilst I don't disagree that you would look after him safely Mr McCool, the issue of James's safety goes beyond the boundaries of Derry". The Inspector interjected.
"I'm not going anywhere!" James protested.
The detectives sighed. Trying to convince him to leave Derry was never going to be easy. It never was.
"I understand you have people who care for you here James, but the threat to ye can only be quantified as high because we simply do not know who is behind this".
"Where will he go!?" Joe countered the Inspector.
"We would advise that James returned to live with his mother in London". The Constable confirmed.
James looked to Joe with a flash of anger in his eyes. He couldn't go and live with Kathy, not after everything that had happened… the letter. Joe seemed to soften but James was furious and despite his pain, he made sure the detectives knew it.
"Do you have any idea about my life!?" He shouted at them. "I'm never going back to my mum! Ever! My place is here, I don't care about the risk!"
"James, ye have to understand…".
"NO! I'm sorry but no, I don't have to understand anything! I can't leave my life here behind and I won't walk away like a coward either!"
"This isn't about cowar-".
"I think you RUC boys have had enough time today". Joe stood, gesturing for them to leave. "We need to discuss this as a family first".
The detectives thought better of trying again with James and accepted Joe's gesture for them to leave, telling the two they would return the following day to discuss his move to London then. When they'd gone, James charged headfirst into a powerful rant about his mother and their ineptitude about mentioning her and bringing back additional pain, mental rather than physical, that Kathy had left him with. Joe just listened but when the Englishman had finished spitting feathers, he squeezed his shoulder again.
"I need to tell ye somethin' about yer ma James".
