Chapter 20: You'll never walk alone 28th March 1996

The car was rolling off the Ferry into the Birkenhead Port. Paul and Frankie, together with the local girls who helped them, had gone across with a horsebox and car separately on a freight voyage earlier on the Wednesday, so it was just Joe and the girls on the night ferry. It had been a pleasant voyage, a calm and tranquil sea taking them across. But for anyone in the passenger lounge that night it was anything but. Michelle's snoring would have rivalled the ship's foghorn if put to a decibel test and Joe went to the other side of the lounge from her in his efforts to sleep. It wasn't the most comfortable of nights, but when they'd rushed around to get a spot on the ferry, they could hardly complain if there was no cabin.

They were finally off into the city of Liverpool at around seven o'clock, Joe driving a short way out of the terminal before finding a side road to pull into and discuss the plans with the girls. They were staying a little way outside of the city, nearer to the racecourse, so it would be a fair drive to get there. The horses would already be out and galloping at where they were staying. The Grand National meeting as such started that day, but they wouldn't be visiting the track with Frankie having no runners.

"So…this is England". Michelle looked out of the window to the River Mersey.

It was sort of what Michelle was expecting; it wasn't raining, but it still looked very bleak and dismal. In reality, it looked no better than Derry and she wasn't going to pretend her hometown was in anyway a wonder of the world.

"I haven't seen anyone who looks like James yet". Orla noted.

"Thank fuck". Michelle replied, lighting up a cigarette.

"Language!" Joe reminded her, to receive an eye roll from the young Mallon in return.

"Ach Daddy, it's so big this Liverpool".

"Aye love". Joe replied to Sarah. "Full of thieving shites as well".

Like Orla had been the day before, Joe was lucky that Erin was back home in Derry, as she would have no doubt pulled him up about stereotyping the people of Liverpool as thieves.

"Language!" Michelle shouted at him this time.

"My car, my rules!". He turned to give her a stern look.

"I'm sure there are some lovely people here Mr McCool". Clare mediated.

Joe growled at her attempt at positivity, Clare immediately shrivelling and beginning to cack herself under his intense stare. He really did scare her at times.

"We can't stay parked up for long anyway… we'll be up on bricks".

Clare went to perform Erin's duty of calling out the offensive comments, but Michelle returned the favour when it came stopping an argument, leaning across Orla to smack her on the wrist.

"What are we up to then Daddy?" Sarah asked.

"I guess ye girls are hungry?"

He looked around again to find them all nodding, though Orla would no doubt be eating as little as possible with the slimmest chance she might be called into action. Michelle and Clare's bellies were growling, having last eaten just outside the ferry port back in Belfast ahead of boarding.

"In that case, we'll finding a proper parking space and get something to eat".

"Don't we need to see the horses?" Orla's brows furrowed in question.

"It's best to let Frankie sort that out love. Ye can see them later so ye can". Joe responded with a smile.

Starting off again, it was a short drive to a nearby car park, where Joe paid for an hour's parking so that they could go off and get something to eat. Walking through the streets of Liverpool, the girls didn't feel particularly out of place, although it was an odd feeling not to be recognised. Strolling through the streets of Derry was akin to the Paris catwalk; everyone knew who you were, and they were always looking at you. In Liverpool, the odd passer-by would look, but mostly then kept themselves to themselves. Apart from one young lad, of about their age, who's eyes only went to Michelle's chest, but were diverted when Joe caught him doing it. It didn't matter if it was Ireland, England or the Moon, Joe McCool hated pervs.


After breakfast was done, they were back in the car and heading off to the next designated stop. Whilst they were waiting for their food, Michelle waiting for the most expensive thing on the menu to Joe's annoyance, he'd told them that they would be off to the Liverpool Football Club's gift shop outside the legendary Anfield. Uncle Colm supported Liverpool and Joe wanted to bring back a shirt for his brother, much to the surprise of the others. Joe being kind to his brother was very… very… rarely seen.

"What's the name of the horse anyway?" Michelle questioned as they drove through the busy streets. "Ye haven't named it after dicko have ye?"

"No love. Ye can't rename the horse like that". Joe explained.

"What's it called then?"

"Bogside Warrior".

The name, thankfully with a connection to their home, did also have a connotation to it in Clare's opinion. The troubles in Ireland shared a long history with the Bogside area of Derry and the use of warrior appeared to suggest something about the nature of people in the area to her.

"Ye… Ye don't think it's not a bit too… risqué?" She looked to them all.

It was a pointless question to Orla and Sarah, who had absolutely no idea what risqué meant and Joe only huffed from her question. It was up to Michelle to put her right.

"Jesus Clare! I hardly think the Brits are gunna start gunnin' us down because of the horse's name".

"They've shot people for less…". She pointed out.

"Yeah, and it's wrong… but we'd be fuckin' unlucky to get shot for the name of a horse".

"LANGUAGE!" Joe reprimanded her with a shout this time.

The mood returned to a very tense one, with Sarah reading the newspaper Joe stopped to buy on their way back from breakfast. Clare was reading a book as Michelle smoked away and Orla waved at random people on the street, some waving back and others resorting to other gestures.

"Here!" Sarah suddenly remarked with a shout. "There's something about the horse in the paper".

She read it out:

At the bottom of the weights, still holding an entry is Bogside Warrior. Trained by Frank Flanagan in Ireland, amateur jockey Mr Paul O'Meara looks set to take his debut ride in the race, though there are rumours of a change in ownership ahead of Saturday.

"Rumours… I thought it was done Daddy?"

"The press won't have picked it up yet… Christ the racing authorities only got it last night!". He replied, chuckling.

"Paul was dead buzzin' yesterday". Orla noted.

"He would be, this is the race for those boys love". Joe replied to his granddaughter. "He might not get another chance to ride in it again".

"I'd never want to do it". Clare gave her say on the matter.

"Yeah well Clare". Michelle took her cigarette away from her lips for a moment. "Would be a miracle to see ye jump a garden fence, let alone get on a horse and jump one of those".

They all agreed, even Clare, at the statement. Another few minutes went by until Anfield Stadium loomed into view. There were Liverpool Football Club flags outside many houses and shops along the street, creating a sea of red. Michelle thought it remarkable they'd actually made it there without getting lost, Sarah providing oddly adept with the map of the city Joe brought with him from home. Getting out of the car, they all kept their jackets on as it was yet warm up. There were quite a few people about on the street, but no one was going into the gift shop like them and they found it empty when they walked in. Joe courteously nodded to the lady behind the counter as they began to browse. Michelle's eye seemed to wander to the changing rooms, Clare only rolling her eyes as she anticipated she'd gone to look for any young male shop assistants to pounce on. She never believed one word of the 'not riding an English' commitment Michelle made the day before.

"Do ye know who his favourite player is Granda?" Orla enquired

"He met John Barnes once ye know… bored the socks off Colm, so he did".

Orla accepted the story without hesitation, but Clare happened to overhear it and couldn't believe it humanely possible that Colm could be bored by someone. He was the most boring man in the world in her opinion and surely a professional footballer would be far more interesting than Derry's cure to insomnia.

Sarah was wandering around the various racks, not buying anything but enjoying the bright red colours of the various kits that were for sale. She made her way over to her father when she noticed he'd picked out a shirt for Colm.

"That the one da?"

"Aye".

He turned it round to reveal the number 10 and Barnes on the back, the shirt being in the right size for Colm too. There was no doubt he'd appreciate the gift from Joe, though it would probably take him most of the year to say thank you if he started recounting games he'd watched over the years. Clare joined them and Joe noticed that Michelle was nowhere to be seen, but before he could say anything about it, Sarah started talking.

"Do you's think it's hot in here?"

Orla nodded, though not that she could be judged to be telling the truth, but Clare did as well. Taking that as gospel, Sarah unzipped her jacket and Joe's heart nearly jumped out of his chest, flipped him the bird and ran off down the street.

She was in the Liverpool Football Club Shop.

Wearing an Everton shirt.

"What the hell are ye doin?" He whispered a hiss, to Orla and Clare's confusion.

"Ach Dennis sold me it yesterday… said it would fit well in Liverpool ye know". She whispered back, stretching the shirt slightly with her hands.

Joe positioned himself so that the lady behind the counter couldn't see the crime his daughter was committing, trying not to get them kicked out until he'd at least got Colm's shirt.

"That's an Everton shirt! Liverpool's rivals… ye'll get us killed!"

"Oh Christ!" Clare fretted quietly.

As much as Sarah wearing an Everton shirt would have inevitably ensured they would be barred from the shop, Michelle took it upon herself to be the one to strike the first blow. They knew the moment they heard the shout that it was her causing the trouble.

"GET OFF MY HUSBAND!"

The lady behind the counter must have gone into the back whilst Joe was faced away from her and she then came across the scene of her husband playing a game of tongue table tennis with Michelle. The riot act that was read to Joe by Mary prior to leaving had gone out of the window and the young Mallon nearly suffered the same fate, only just avoiding the woman's grasp. Darting out from the changing area, she locked eyes with the others.

"RUN!" She roared.

Joe dropped the shirt down and complied with the request. He was not a coward, but this woman could have half of the city on them in an instant and they were in big trouble then. The woman was chasing Michelle, but suddenly stopped dead in her tracks, disgusted by Sarah's choice of shirt.

"YOU PADDY FUCKERS!" The angered woman bellowed.

She continued in a forlorn pursuit of the five of them down the street but stood little chance of catching them. A man, clearly a Liverpool fan judging by his shirt, hurled abuse at Sarah's choice of top but they were too busy legging it to care to reply.

"What the hell Michelle!" Clare shouted at her.

"What!?"

"Oh I don't know… not ridin' any English fellas!"

"He was Greek!" Michelle scowled at her as they ran.

"I don't care if he was the Last King of Scotland, ye were told to behave!" Joe rounded on Michelle.

They reached the car and the girls practically dived into it, Clare ending up diving onto Orla's lap in desperation. Michelle went to make a comment about it, but she'd already pushed Joe's buttons far enough and didn't want to run the risk of being left to find her own way back to Derry. Scrambling open the map, Sarah called out the instructions as Joe took hold of a loose grasp of the speed limits on Liverpool's back streets.

"Was he really Greek?" Orla said to Michelle a couple of minutes later.

"Aye". She nodded. "Papagoodrideathos was the last name".

Michelle was daring enough to snort the comment, but Joe was far too busy on trying to get as far away from the Liverpool FC shop as he could. Sarah, her Everton shirt covered over with a jacket again, relaxed into directing him to their accommodation. For the rest of the way, Michelle and Clare continued to bicker about the former's conduct with the husband back at the shop. Orla remained confused.

"It's all Greek to me…".


It was early Thursday evening at the Altnagelvin. In the afternoon, James Maguire finally said goodbye to the private room in the Intensive Care Unit and found his new spot on a recovery ward right on the top floor. He didn't really have anything to take with him, other than Erin, and she carried her own belongings, which were plentiful. He'd also managed to get a private room on the recovery ward, or rather Deirdre had done, and they'd made their new little home there for the following days. Dr Kennedy, who handed James over to a different doctor for his recovery, believed he'd be out within ten days, just in time for Easter.

Gerry picked Erin up to go home and have something to eat, leaving James on his own for a while in the new surroundings. Thankfully, Gerry left him with a newspaper to read and he scanned down it to see any comments about his new horse. Despite it being an English race, there was significant Irish interest and the Derry Journal always did pieces about the race on the run up to it. Frankie must have said nothing to them though, as the news about the change in ownership was yet to reach the paper.

FLANAGAN ENTRY STANDS IN GRAND NATIONAL

Local trainer Frank Flanagan's bid to win the English Grand National Steeplechase remains intact, with Bogside Warrior remaining in the field two days ahead of the race. The eight year old horse, who was fifth in our own Grand National at Fairyhouse last year, is the lowest weighted in the race of those who remains. Paul O'Meara, long associated with the Flanagan stables and a native of Derry, will travel over to ride in the race on Saturday, with a couple of days of heavy dieting ahead for him to make the weight. Early odds for the race suggest Bogside Warrior to be a 200-1 chance, one of the outsiders of those that remain. The pair will also team up for the Foxhunters Chase tomorrow, the Grand National for amateur jockey's, with QuartzontheFoyle, one of the favourites for that race. A result from either would continue an impressive year for the trainer, already saddling eight winners, including two victories with the talented young Orla McCool in the saddle.

It was a small piece alongside the main article in the paper, but it was enough to make James feel very proud of himself. Orla's talents getting a mention made him smile too. Another year, it would be her that would be taking the ride, but she had plenty of time on her side for that. The odds were against their new horse, but James had seen him working on one of the visits up to the stables weeks before and he'd looked good then. His past results indicating an ability to be able to stay the marathon distance of the Aintree race at least. He just needed to jump round first. Something easier said than done.

Around seven o'clock, Erin returned to his side with an unexpected visitor. Mary and Gerry were in attendance too, but this time baby Anna was with them. It was the first time that James had seen Erin's little sister and when he saw her in Erin's arms as they walked in, he thought it beautiful. Erin was very caring when it came to her sister and James held his own soft spot for the baby, who very oddly behaved for him a lot better than anyone else, apart from Colm. For whatever reason, the two of them could get her to settle incredibly easily and James enjoyed when Anna would curl into his shoulder.

"Look who's here". Erin said to Anna, with her head pointing to James.

The baby's face lit up on seeing the Englishman and she immediately tried to wriggle out of Erin's grasp to see him. Chuckling at the scene, Erin stepped forward, leaning down to place Anna in James's arms as he sat up on the bed.

"Hello Anna". He cooed.

She was immediately resting on his shoulder and went straight to sleep. Erin was melting inside. She'd seen the scene before, though this time was not blinkered by the feelings of jealousy she'd harboured in the past, but it never got less cute. James just had a way with her little sister and there was a hope from her quarters that it would extend to all children. One day….

The four of them all chatted away whilst Anna slept on James's shoulder, none of them offering to take her away and in truth, James didn't want them to do so either. The conversation began at his recovery. Mary was delighted that he might be able to return to his home by Easter and that would also mean Erin returning home permanently. She'd missed her daughter's presence, the atmosphere never quite being the same with her large personality absent most of the time. Her bedroom was virtually untouched. She'd only been in there after being in the shower or picking out the clothes she wanted to wear over the weekend at the Hospital.

Talk eventually moved onto the horse that all of them now owned and how people were looking at them differently in the street. Mary was the first to notice, having been to the shops earlier in the day and as the news about them now owning a horse in the English Grand National filtered through, their social standing seemed to rise. Strangely, one lady held a door open for her like she was the Queen of England and not just Mary Quinn. Maureen Malarkey didn't argue with her or give her a funny look when they ended up in the same queue. She smiled instead. They were going up in the world…

Anna roused after about thirty minutes, by which time Mary decided that James's shoulder had done enough for the evening, taking her youngest back from him. Her and Erin left the room to have a little walk with Anna, which left Gerry to talk to the Englishman. A scenario James had wanted to create from the start.

"I do need to ask ye something James" Gerry said a couple of moments after the other three departed.

"That's good… I need to ask you a question too". He nervously replied.

Gerry smiled and the two shared a brief moment of silence, a respect flowing between them. Holding both the friendship of Gerry and Joe was a remarkable achievement in his eyes, and James greatly admired the former's resilience to the latter. They were both great men.

"I know ye want to stay here and be with our Erin but… are ye sure yer not better off moving away for a bit?"

Part of him wanted to be hurt by the thought, but if anyone was going to present a fair and logical argument to his decision, that was not putting their own personal interests at heart, it was going to be Gerry. He was a sensible man with sensible goals and ideas. And absolutely everything about James's decision to stay in Derry screamed of a lack of sensibility. It told of heartfelt choices rather than thought out ones… of foundations unwilling to be moved even in clear signs of danger.

"W… I…". James struggled to find the right words. "… why should I, Gerry? I can't give in and let whoever did this decide my life for me".

"But what happens if they come back son? They might still make that decision".

James sighed. Gerry had a point…

"And if they don't?" He refused to give in to the logic though. "I'm not letting whoever it was stop me from being the person I want to be".

"They might stop ye breathin!" Gerry argued.

James, concerned that it could spiral into an argument, chose not to respond. His face wore an expression of frustration and he looked away from Gerry and out of the window. The problem was that Gerry was right. Until whoever put him in the position he was in was found, there was no guarantee that a follow up attack wouldn't happen. The bravado in front of the Police was one thing; they didn't know him or what he had to lose like Gerry did. Everyone else may have supported his decision, but could he go through with it without the man's approval? A family might not always see eye to eye, but it was a matter of life and death and not what to pick off the takeaway menu.

"Look James, I will support ye no matter… but yer far too important to my Erin and… to me… to let anything happen to ye. Yer a great young man, who deserves a long… rewarding life. I won't have ye seeing it cut short because ye were being stubborn".

A desperate attempt to fight the breakdown became a slightly pathetic effort and James began to cry. Regretting his choice of words, Gerry quickly pulled the young lad in for a hug. As Anna had done on James's shoulder, James found his spot on Gerry's, but unlike the baby, he wept into it.

"I… I just want a normal life Gerry". He sobbed.

"I know ye do son… I know".

"Why can't people just let me live it!"

"This is Derry son. Normality is redefined when ye cross into the city".

Coughing up a laugh, James moved out from Gerry's shoulder, nodding his silent thanks in return. It did make James's question slightly more awkward in his head though…

"Did ye see the paper James?" Gerry moved onto the racing, acknowledging the need to do so.

"Yes. I think… touch wood…". He stopped to touch his own head. "… we've got a chance of finishing in the first three".

"First three?" Gerry's brows raised. "That would be brilliant son".

"It would… but we could easily be out of it at the first fence too".

The two chuckled, James picking up the newspaper again to point something out to Gerry about the race, the two of them talking racing for another five minutes. There was no sign of Mary, Erin and Anna yet. Though James's window was narrowing…

"Ah…". Gerry's head suddenly flicked over to an important detail. "What was it that ye wanted to ask me?"


Following the close run-in with some of Liverpool's finest earlier in the day, Joe ensured that any further trouble would be avoided for the remainder of it. They'd gotten to the cottage that they would be staying in for the following two nights and remained there. Sarah and Orla took a walk to the nearest shop in the middle of the afternoon to get some things in for the evening, but Joe refused to allow Michelle to go given what happened in the last shop they'd been in. Clare was assigned as her guard and could have been mistaken for a secret service officer, her eyes on Michelle at all times. Michelle herself didn't protest, still concerned that Joe might make her find her own way home, and instead went to watch the horses working in the fields. She wasn't really that bothered about them, her excitement from the trip coming from what she might get up to with the lads, but found it relaxing to stand and watch them galloping.

After a peaceful night's sleep, they were up early the next morning. Orla was out at half past five to help Paul with their runner for the day, riding out across the fields with him on a horse of Paul's friend's. They were all out and about for nine, at the confusion of all of them except Joe. Orla travelled with the others to the course so that she could be counted as a member of the stable staff, leaving him with Sarah, Michelle and Clare.

"Why are we getting there so early Joe?" Michelle asked. "I could have slept another hour instead of this".

"I have another surprise for ye". He smiled into the rear-view mirror.

The notion that a surprise was about to be revealed perked Michelle up, and Sarah's eyes widened in anticipation of what her father's surprise might be.

"We're meetin' Kathy at the course… early like".

"My aunt Kathy?" Michelle questioned, though to Clare it was obvious.

"Aye that's right love. She's used her connections to get us our own box in the grandstand. We'll be watchin' in style so we will".

A box in the grandstand at a racecourse was not exactly something you could just turn up and ask for. You had to know people to get your own box in the grandstand, they were usually reserved for Lords and Ladies. Kathy must have known someone of that ilk to be able to get them a box of their own. Having felt more than adequately glammed up in their dresses, Michelle and Clare both suddenly felt very under dressed.

When they arrived at the racecourse, it was fairly quiet. In only a couple of hours, that would all change and tens of thousands of people would flood in for the afternoon's racing. Parking up in the private car park, Joe turned down the offer of a valet service by the main entrance of the grandstand. He wouldn't trust anyone with his car, let alone anyone in Liverpool…

"This place is fuckin' grand!" Michelle said to Clare as they led the group in.

"It is called a grandstand Michelle… it's meant to be grand ye know".

"Yeah…". Michelle scoffed. "Obviously…".

A hostess greeted them at the reception, Joe informing them of who they were and who they were going to see. She led them up a staircase and up a few floors, opening a set of double doors that went out onto a corridor. A couple of doors down on the corridor, she opened a door and it opened into a large function room. There was a mini bar in one corner of the room, with sofa's and chairs arranged out on the other. A large television sat in the same area, bigger than any that they'd ever seen. The whole room was plusher than anything beyond their wildest dreams and Sarah's face summed up their thoughts. Wow!

"Jesus…". Michelle uttered.

"This is…". Joe was lost for words.

While he tried to find the right words to describe the scene, Kathy walked in from the balcony outside. If they thought in the car that they would be underdressed, the feeling only grew when she appeared. She was stunning in a bright blue dress, her hair done up like a film star and make up absolutely perfect. There hadn't been many times in Michelle's life when she found herself jealous of another woman's beauty, but when she saw her aunt strolling in with the early morning sun behind her, she added a new entry to the list.

"Christ Kathy, ye lookin' well". Michelle remarked.

"You're looking very beautiful yourself Michelle". She smiled at her niece. "I'm glad you could all make it. How long did you manage to hide it for Joe?"

"Nearly all the way here love". He grinned in return.

Giggling at his statement, Kathy gestured with her head for them to follow her back outside. When they did, they were granted a blissful panoramic view of the Aintree racecourse. They could see for miles out into the country, to the houses in the distances and the fences down the back straight. The legendary course that Joe had always dreamed of going to, now revealed all of its beauty to him and he loved it.

"That's some view that da". Sarah said to him.

"I agree Miss McCool". Clare, formal as ever, hummed in chipper agreement.

As they waxed lyrical about the views around the stunning countryside, a young man walked out onto the balcony with glasses of champagne for each of them.

"Champagne for you Sir". He addressed Joe first.

Michelle and Clare looked to the adults for permission, but both Sarah and Kathy looked at Joe to make the final decision.

"One". He told them, watching them then rush forward in delight to secure a glass.

"And son…". He addressed the waiter, who smiled. "If I find you've let them have any more than one… well it's long way down to that turf down there isn't it?"

Swallowing hard at Joe's threat, the young man soon went back inside to man the mini bar in their function room. Joe started up a conversation with Kathy and Sarah, leaving Clare and Michelle to the other end of their balcony.

"What a ride…". Michelle mused.

"Huh?" The bemused Clare replied.

"That waiter…". She looked over her shoulder towards the lad behind the bar. "… he's welcome in my box anytime…".

"Christ!" Clare moaned. "I'm gunna boke!"

Michelle sniggered at Clare's wish to bring back the contents of their breakfast, but she was deadly serious about the waiter. He was a massive ride… even though he was English…

Ten minutes or so later, Joe looked down to the winning post to see Orla finishing up her walk around the course with Paul. The two of them were beaming with delight, laughing away to each other, though stopping their amusement to pay respects to the late great Red Rum, who was buried by the winning post.

"Orla!" Joe called out from their box.

"Granda!" She shouted back, eyes full of wonder.

"Enjoying yourself love?!"

"Aye! But I got a wee bit confused though!"

In the split second before asking about the confusion, Joe's heart went out to Paul, who would have dealt with the likely bizarre questions alone.

"Why's that!"

"There's a fence called The Chair, so there is! But not even big Robbie who works down the scrapyard could sit on it, it's huge!"

The Chair was a notoriously tough fence on the Aintree circuit, often claiming a number of victims each year despite only being jumped once in the big race itself. Orla had of course believed it would be a seat and it took Paul longer than he would have ever envisaged to explain why the fence was named how it was.

"Mammy!" She called up to her mother.

"Yes love!" Sarah called down in return.

"Is there any water up there… I'm parched, so I am".

Michelle went back inside on Sarah's behalf, though accompanied by Clare after her previous comment, and the waiter gave them a bottle of water. Anyone else would have walked down the stairs and out to the rails to hand it over, but Michelle Mallon wasn't just anyone else.

"Here!"

Launching the bottle off of the balcony, Orla followed the flight of it to the ground and somehow, perfectly caught it in her hands. Raising it in a toast to Michelle, she grinned up to her friends and family and they grinned back.

"Your eyebrows are looking well Sarah".

"Ach, yer too kind Kathy".