Chapter 25: April Fools 1st April 1996
The first rays of light crept into James's Hospital room on the top floor of the Altnagelvin. It was not quite fully light yet, the sun not rising completely to shine into the room, but the streaked rays shone on his beautiful Erin. Her head still lay on his chest, where it had done so most of the night, their hands still locked together as firmly as they were when they went to sleep. There were many places in the world where he could have woken up to a stunning landscape or a breath-taking horizon, but none were close to being as gorgeous as Erin Quinn. She was beginning to stir too, and their eyes locked on each other in the early morning haze.
"Good morning Miss Quinn". He spoke breathily.
"Good morning Mr Maguire". She replied just as dramatically.
He leant down to give her a peck on the lips, giggling as they often would at the slightest hint of anything that could be deemed romantic. They were just each other's lovely eejit; any notions of being fully invested romantics would be scoffed at.
"You know…". He merrily whispered into her ear. "… you are so beautiful".
She kissed his chest at the comment, revelling in his touch as he wrapped his arm around her a little tighter. The things he could do to her with just a few simple words were incredible.
"And you are so dashing". She purred back at him.
They began to giggle again at their own foolishness, enjoying the familiar warmth of being joined at the lips once more. Reluctantly, Erin forced herself to escape from his grasp five minutes later, needing to get ready to go to school. They'd found on this floor that nothing would change in terms of getting access to staff facilities and he went back to dozing as the sun finally rose over the rolling landscape out into the country, waiting for her to return.
Coming back from the shower, fully dressed into the school uniform she'd taken with her, Erin spotted Deirdre up ahead on the phone. When James's aunt turned to see her, she flagged Erin down, indicating that the call was for her to take herself.
"It's yer ma". Deirdre told her as she accepted the phone.
"Morning ma".
"Morning Erin love. Sleep well?"
"I did… very much so".
She felt herself blush a little at the end of reply, deciding not to fully divulge just how brilliant the night's sleep had been on James's chest.
"Good. Listen, I'm sorry to put this on ye, but Orla and yer Granda went up to the stables at some godforsaken hour this mornin' so I couldn't speak to her… I need ye to look after Anna tonight".
"Here? Ma, this is a Hospital, not a nursery". She joked.
"Don't ye take that tone with me Erin!" Mary put her right back in her place. "Deirdre's said it shouldn't be a problem to have her there. And ye can have Orla too".
"Oh Grand, two children to babysit!"
"OI! She's a celebrity, ye should treat her like one".
Erin muttered something incoherent down the line, and when Mary asked her to repeat, she wisely chose not to.
"Why do ye need us to anyway?"
"Yer Uncle Colm's organising a wee bingo night at church, so he is. And Granda and Sarah are helping him". Mary explained.
"Why can't you and Daddy then?" A confused Erin replied.
"We're off to see a film tonight. Yer da decided to surprise me with that one at ten o'clock last night. Granda… was far from pleased".
Erin rolled her eyes at the thought of the argument she'd thankfully avoided by being at the Hospital with James. It was nice of her parents to be able to have a bit of time to themselves now, and with Orla's status as a celebrity, they might even get a free ticket. Probably not though…
"We'll have them both…". Erin exhaled a sigh.
"Grand. We're goin' out at seven so ye better come straight from school for somethin' to eat because I'm getting' myself all dressed up nice".
Going straight home from school meant more time away from James than she originally planned, making it even more unbearable as the day went on. She knew she'd miss his company for hours on end, though not wanting to run the risk of incurring Sister Michael's wrath, she also knew she'd have to handle it. Talking to James about it a few minutes later, he made the sensible suggestion that they invite Michelle and Clare too, make a proper evening out of it with the gang like they normally would.
The sensible suggestion…
The journey to school on the bus was a pleasant one. Orla wasn't present, as Erin expected after the phone call from Mary, so the three of them sat on the same row chatting away happily. A lot of the other girls were talking to them about Orla's amazing victory, a clear picture coming across of just how inspiring their friend was. She was a beacon of hope for women in the world of sport, a world still dominated by men, where an opportunity for someone like Orla was so rare. To go and take that opportunity was almost unheard of.
"Are ye sure we're allowed to have a baby in his Hospital room?" Clare fairly put the point across once Erin finished explaining the plans for that night.
"Wise up Clare!" Michelle scoffed. "They let Erin in there and Anna's less trouble…".
Erin playfully smacked Michelle's arm as her friend snorted, the two them laughing away as Clare watched on with a grin on her face too.
"Anyway, we'll need the practice". Erin concluded.
"What!?" The other two reared up in unison.
"For well in the future, ye know… when we're parents". She answered in a tone that indicated her confusion.
"Seriously Erin, ye need to stop that…". Michelle lectured her.
"Stop what?"
"I thought ye were about to say yer pregnant".
Not that again. She'd already ended up with the girls onto her about pregnancy before, on the day she let her feelings for James get a little too much. For the second time, Erin found herself denying Michelle's ridiculous suspicions.
"For feck's sake Michelle. How many times… I'm not pregnant!" She hissed.
"Keep yer voice down Erin!" Clare fretted. "Ye'll start people talkin'!"
"Oh right… I see. I'm sorry that my private life bein' discussed around the bus is such a tragedy for ye to deal with… it's not like… ye know… yer me!" Erin retorted.
The three of them continued to argue about the consistent belief that Erin might be carrying a wain, with the conversation only moving on from it as they approached the school.
"I'm surprised more people aren't talkin about ye Michelle…". Clare commented.
"Don't you start… me da's been on at me about it all mornin'".
"It was stupid". Clare continued.
"Christ alright!" Michelle reacted angrily. "Like I told me ma, it was a joke that went wrong… nothin' else".
"Aye, flashin yer tits to the country while their havin' their eggs on toast was just a wee mishap". Erin stated particularly dramatically. "We've all been there and done that!"
Michelle didn't care for Erin's theatrics, making a point of it to tell her as much for the rest of the way to school. Most of the students were congregated outside that morning, a pleasant morning to be able to shoot the breeze before getting on with the rigours of school life. They could see Mr Flanagan talking to a group of girls by the main entrance, a pile of marking under his arm and a smile on his face. They couldn't wait to see how pleased he would be for Orla.
"What's got you so normal again anyway Erin?" Michelle asked as the bus came to a stop.
The mischievous smile on Erin's face mystified Michelle in much the same way Erin had been confused when the other two flared up at her earlier.
"James was showing me how good he is with his hands… and I'm not talkin' about putting up shelves either".
Erin blew her a kiss as she walked away, with the same carefree, no fuck's given attitude that Michelle usually resonated. The young Mallon herself was left planted on the seat of the bus, her eyes squeezed shut after the knowledge she'd just received.
"I'm gunna boke…".
Sister Michael's fear of having the press sniffing around was completely justified. Multiple reporters gathered in her office earlier that morning to take comments from her about Orla, including a French reporter, who she barely resisted the urge to smash over the head with the Child of Prague statue. It was far too good a statue to waste on a Frenchwoman though…
They were all wanting to have time with Orla throughout the day, though she decided to forbid them taking her out lessons, insisting that they wait to speak to her at breaktime or lunchtime, when she didn't really care. She'd also banned them from the assembly hall that morning too, not wanting cameras to be going off or the potentially unthinkable filming of her address to the students. The media hounds weren't getting anything from her at all. Her comments to them about Orla, though all positive, were in the manner of a someone who wanted the reporter to make themselves scarce very quickly, rather than an in-depth look at her student. That would require the will to give a shit, something she did not have.
"Good morning all".
"Good morning Sister Michael". They all replied.
"You really have perfected the reply… there's hope for ye all yet".
Jenny and Aisling were back with the group, making them six girls again rather than just the two of them left at school as they had been from the Wednesday of the previous week. They'd watched the race together at Jenny's house that Saturday, screaming for Orla as she turned the competitive race into a procession. Orla was still shrugging off any praise, though did accept a big hug from the pair of them once they'd met up that morning. Though she did have other things to worry about…
"Right, the announcements…". Sister Michael began her daily bulletin of news. "… first of all, whoever flooded the science block toilets on Friday… may I remind you that toilet roll isn't there to be stuffed down the loo like the backside of a Christmas turkey. The subsequent flood has cost the school a lot of money in damages, and I'd like to think whoever was responsible would do the honourable thing and own up".
That was one act of vandalism that none of the girls could be blamed for, unless Jenny and Aisling had become rebellious in their absence, with each of them having an alibi for Friday afternoon. There were mumbles and whispers throughout the rows of students, but no one admitted it there and then, causing the headmistress to huff before continuing.
"Secondly, it was brought to my attention rather… vividly… over the weekend, that some of you are failing to meet the behavioural standards that this school prides itself upon".
It didn't require a degree in rocket science to know what or indeed who she was referring to…
"Even when you are not wearing the uniform, you are a student of this school and ye represent it with same values as when ye are wearing it… no matter how confident you feel with yer own body".
Michelle's face transitioned through a series of ever reddening phases, finishing up in the beetroot phrase as everyone turned to look at her. Not helping were Erin and Clare laughing under their breaths at her, the two them unable to keep straight faces at Sister's Michael's description of the stupid actions. The utter stupidity of it amused most of the school, in many ways Michelle being lucky they were in a girls only school and not mixed in with the lads. It was one thing having every girl in the school turn round to look at her like she was a tramp; it was another thing entirely to have boys ogling her chest all day.
"Finally, we have a new student with us today. Could you make yourself known please…". Sister Michael stopped to take a breath, though it came out as more of a snort. "Bogside Warrior".
On cue, the horse promptly neighed, prompting rapturous scenes of laughter that even the usually unmoved headmistress joined in with.
A punishment that was dished out after the second last fence still had to be honoured, something the school found out two minutes after the girls got off the bus that morning. Orla arrived in the horsebox with Paul, who unloaded their precious cargo to the awaiting crowd of girls. He'd behaved perfectly around the students, allowing them to give him pats and strokes without causing any fuss. Quite how Paul and Orla managed to convince Sister Michael to let the horse join the latter on the front row of the assembly hall, they did not know, but he was there in Orla's grasp having the time of his life.
"As you are all aware, a student of Our Lady Immaculate achieved something quite incredible on Saturday afternoon with this horse. I was watching on myself like I hope ye all were… and I think it is time that we honoured this achievement. Could you please put yer hands together for Orla McCool".
The applause that Sister Michael asked for went on for minutes, far beyond what she'd planned for, but the Sister didn't try to stop it either. It was no more than Orla deserved. A student who'd began the year as the same unwise girl that ended the prior one, wised up further than anyone believed she could. The barriers that almost everyone placed around her were cast asunder, constantly being proven to be ineffective against the mature and determined Orla.
The ovations for Orla did create one problem however, which soon became a lot more of a problem for one student in particular. Bogside Warrior might have been enjoying himself, but he hadn't had time to allow for his breakfast to escape his system yet that morning. Following in the footsteps of his owner James, the lack of a toilet for horses being much the same as the lack of a toilet for James to use on his first day, he compromised. However, whereas James made use of a bin to assist with his bodily requirements, the horse just fired out his excrement without a care in the world. Right out over the student stood a little bit behind him.
Moira O'Keefe.
"WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!" She roared.
The school turned to look at her as she was plastered with horse shit from head to toe, her friends to the sides of her immediately moving away due to the smell. Clare's mouth hung open in horror at the scene, not quite knowing how to respond to Bogside Warrior's antics. Michelle and Erin couldn't control their laughter. It was a real comeuppance for Moira, who'd often been scathing, especially when it came to James, and the Lord was giving them a lovely victory over her thanks to the horse.
"That high fibre diet… ach it's a nightmare".
Orla's dry conclusion only worsened the guffawing of Michelle and Erin, who found Moira glaring at them as she wiped horse shit out of her eyes.
"Chanel number two there Moira". Michelle sniggered.
Erin was completely lost at Michelle's barb towards the girl and only Sister Michael bellowing at them to take the horse away stopped it continuing. Hearing the commotion from outside, Paul made his way in to assist with cleaning the mess up, issuing an apology to the head mistress… though Sister Michael thought it highly amusing if she were being honest.
"Some April Fools that. Nice one Orla". Erin remarked.
The girls went to lesson still laughing away between themselves, Bogside Warrior returning home instead of taking a desk up, and they were happy to fire the occasional pot shot in Moira's direction. It left Moira with a, now clean, face of thunder, sending them vicious looks at every comment, but it did not deter them. It was only Moira after all.
Mrs Scanlon began her four days off work with a determined attitude. There was so much housework that she wanted to get done now that she finally had the time to focus on it. Antony taking that Monday off too meant they could approach it as a team to get a lot done. The living room was in desperate need of a lick of paint, it had been for some years, so the two of them started as soon as Danny and Brian departed for school that morning. They started well, getting a good chunk of it done before having a break for a cup of tea around eleven o'clock.
"Here ye go ma". He put the cup of tea down on a mat on the windowsill.
"Thanks Ant love".
He proceeded to turn the radio on so that they could catch the eleven o'clock news. It was turned up when he heard the first story.
'The mayor himself confirmed today that Miss McCool will be honoured with a statue in the city and that he was already in talks with a local sculptor to produce it. Orla herself returned to school at Our Lady Immaculate College today, with Bogside Warrior making the trip with her, introducing himself to the students under the watchful eye of Paul O'Meara. Having missed the ride on Bogside Warrior due to injury, O'Meara harbours no ill feeling towards the young jockey, instead being full of praise.'
"Ach, Orla's incredible. The way she can get a horse runnin' for her is just brilliant and I've probably learnt more off of her than she has of me".
'Asked about what was next for both horse and jockey, O'Meara stayed coy on the plans for Bogside Warrior but indicated a trip to the Czech Republic for the notorious Velká pardubická in October could be next. As for the jockey, he confirmed she will be present at Fairyhouse for our own National on Easter Monday, though did not comment on her ride in the race'.
They'd been away at relatives in Coleraine over the weekend, but Antony sat down to watch the race to find out Orla McCool was riding in it. The next eight minutes and forty five seconds of his life were some of the most thrilling, the immense feeling of pride at the end being something he'd never truly felt before. She was a credit to Sarah, a good woman who deserved such a daughter, and a credit to the whole of Ireland. A heroic young woman that needed to be recognised throughout the ages.
"Yer smilin' again Ant". Mrs Scanlon laughed at her son.
"Am I?". He laughed back.
"Ye know… if ye think about… ye helped to make it possible".
Whilst his mother was right, the story of Orla McCool was not possible without Antony Scanlon, he would never outright take any credit for it. That decision was made at the time… he wouldn't forsake it years later for a bit of press coverage, even if it would help ease the burden on the family reputation.
"Ach well… I'm just happy for Sarah ye know ma".
"I am too. I think the whole of Derry's buzzin' for their family!".
"Aye… to think it could have been so different…".
"Ye should go and talk to Sarah. Ye know where they live don't ye?"
Antony knew very well where the house was, but with the threat of Joe potentially being around, he dismissed the notion. He'd already thought of it a couple of hours after the race, but batted it away then just as quickly. There was no world where Joe McCool would want him at the door.
The two of them continued on with the painting up until lunchtime, having managed to get a first coat on around seventy five per cent of the living room. Lunch came as a welcome break for mother and son, the hard work of the morning leaving them with the need to rest. Either of them could have easily fallen asleep, but their mindset on the job was to get it done first with a well-earned rest at the end. Before they could start though, they needed more paint and Mrs Scanlon was certain there was some spare in the garden shed.
"I've not been out in the shed for ages". Mrs Scanlon said to her son.
"I can tell… grass needs cuttin'". Antony quipped in return, receiving a slap on the arm in return.
Getting to the door of the shed, she put the key in the lock.
It didn't fit.
"What the…".
"What is it ma?" Antony asked from behind her.
"The key… it doesn't fit anymore. Have ye had the lock changed?" She enquired with him.
"No. I'd have told ye and given ye a key".
Trying again, the same result was achieved. The key to the shed, the same key they'd had for years, no longer opened the shed door. If Antony hadn't done it then…
"Have the… have the boys?" She could barely believe it possible.
"Would they even know who to call?" He replied.
"Aye… Mr McNulty's number is in the address book. But how would they have paid him?"
"Pocket money? He probably didn't charge much ma".
"I guess…".
Mrs Scanlon was always suspicious of her boys when they didn't communicate. Changing the locks on the shed without saying anything started off the alarm bells in her head. It was usually Antony that would be up to that sort of mischief, but even when he was at his worst, he'd have given her a key should he have done so. Ant was good like that.
"Allow me ma".
Antony gestured for his mother to stand out of the way, an instruction she hesitated on with a deep frown across her face.
"Ye not breakin' it down Antony!"
"I'm not going to…". He smiled, gently moving her aside, with something in his hands. "… about time I used these skills for good anyway".
Mrs Scanlon watched on as he picked the lock to the shed, having a bit of difficulty at first, but eventually the lock clicked open.
"After you…".
He held the door open for his mother, who, with a breath caught in the back of her throat, tentatively headed on inside. The shed was fairly big, spacious inside too, a combination of there being little in it and the usual tidy state it was kept in. It could have probably fit four or five people at a time with a squeeze.
The tidiness had given way though, and the floor of the shed was littered with empty crisp packets and drink cans. There were magazines… the ones Mrs Scanlon wouldn't let the boys have… strewn across the floor too. The bin was overflowing with all kinds of junk, the shed stinking of sweat too, with only the mower surviving whatever the boys had done to her shed. The spare tin of paint was kicked over on the floor. Antony went over to retrieve, finding it to still be intact too, though with a slight dent on one side of it.
"Them two are getting' it when they get home!"
"It's disgustin' ma… treating the place with no respect!" Antony took the same tone.
The two of them stood and shook their heads at the total destruction of the previously well-kept shed. Danny and Brian clearly didn't have any respect for their possessions, which would almost undoubtedly see them grounded for the rest of the week. The smell was perhaps the worst of all; the two of them being couped in there generated an unbearable reek.
Mrs Scanlon spotted a box, almost a chest, at the other end of the shed that she'd never seen before. It certainly wasn't anything she'd purchased, and she couldn't remember Antony mentioning it either. With his lack of knowledge about the locks being changed too, it could have only been the boys responsible for it. Walking over and finding it unlocked, she decided to see for herself why the boys bought it. What she found inside… was harrowing.
A thin blanket lay at the top of the box, but it did little to conceal the true contents that lay underneath it.
Guns.
Two pistols lay to either side of a rifle in the chest-like box.
Laying on top of the rifle was a map, that showed the plans of the Altnagelvin Hospital. The same set of plans she knew had been stolen from the Guildhall the week before, the others that were stolen being stuffed down the side of the chest.
"Antony… Antony…".
It was just under an hour away from the end of the day for Danny Scanlon. Sat at the back of the History classroom, he wished he could have been anywhere else other than there. Having to learn about Oliver Cromwell only enraged him. He was an English prick, not a hero of Ireland, and having to complete an exam on what he'd done to their country was unbearable. They should have been learning about significant Irishmen in Irish history, not significant Englishmen who didn't belong in their beautiful country.
"Daydreaming again Mr Scanlon?" The teacher said to him.
"Huh?" His reply acted as confirmation.
"Just as I thought".
The teacher decided not to press the matter any further, allowing the young Scanlon to continue his dreams. He was not the worst student, in fact he was top of the class at the start of the school year, but in recent months he always seemed to be pre-occupied. The teacher didn't quite understand, though cared little for the Scanlon boys with their family's reputation for lawlessness.
Danny could have provided him with a very simple explanation.
All he could think about was his plans for that evening. The plans that he went to bed thinking about the night before, the ones he subsequently dreamt about and couldn't stop thinking about the moment he'd risen that morning. He was going to become one of the very Irish heroes he dreamt about… his actions were going to inspire a revolution. A proper revolution. Not just flash in the pan insurgency or a few broken windows. That night would be the start of an uprising, that would continue with the bombing of the barracks on the Friday, ultimately culminating in an Ireland free of English influence. There would again be one unified Ireland, undivided and unconquered… free.
And if that meant killing James Maguire to do it… that's what it would take.
The slightest part of his conscience felt for the fella. After meeting him, he'd supposed he wasn't really that bad if you were to take away the stupid accent and replace the flags on his passport. Then again, they didn't live in a world where things like that could be forgiven. The English could never be forgiven.
His daydreams about the death of an Englishman were interrupted by the crackling of the school tannoy system.
"Daniel and Brian Scanlon to the head's office please… the head's office please, Daniel and Brian Scanlon, with yer bags".
The rest of the class turned to look at him as his brows furrowed. He'd remembered years before when the same tannoy went off on the day Antony was sentenced. Sitting in the head's office that day, crying his eyes out because his older brother was going to jail, with his younger brother sobbing beside him too. It was one of the worst days in his life. Surely Antony isn't in trouble again… not today… today of all days he should know better…
The teacher gestured for him to get a move on. Putting his books away and standing up, Danny said goodbye to a couple of mates on the way out. The corridors were eerily empty as he began the reasonably long walk to the head's office. It was annoying that Brian was on the other side of the school to him; they couldn't meet up and walk together. He hoped his younger brother might have more of an idea as to what was going on too.
It was still far too quiet…
By chance, looking into a classroom as he went past, Danny noticed that all of the students were under their desk. As if they were practicing some sort of wartime bombing drill. Or…
"ARMED POLICE! ARMED POLICE!"
Casting quick looks in front and behind, Danny was suddenly surrounded by armed cops from the RUC. Completely isolated in the corridor, there was no means of escape.
"ON THE GROUND NOW SCANLON!" One of the ones in front of him shouted. "HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM".
He never carried one of the guns to school, the discovery of one of them could prove fatal to their cause, so he couldn't fight back against them either. Complying with their request, Danny could only snarl angrily as they closed in on him. The tannoy… it was a trap. A trap that Brian would no doubt be about to walk into himself at the other end of the school. Their plans to kill the wee English fella were over and the game was well and truly up.
But that would mean…
Surely not…
Surely not…
A rat…
But why…
Erin was back under James's covers that night, though the two of them were joined by an additional guest, having to both move right to the edge of their respective sides. Baby Anna was giggling away as she lay between them, tickling and fussing her to the little girl's exuberant glee. Orla had also been an active participant in the attention Anna was receiving, but she'd gone down to meet Michelle and Clare who were on their way up.
Any visit Orla now made anywhere though was longer. There were four people in the lift with her going down… all four of them requesting an autograph from the now legendary jockey. Every nurse and every dying man wanted to know her story, to be able to say they'd spoken to Orla McCool in the flesh. Being the gracious and generous person that she was, she never turned them down either. She loved a wee chat, whether it be with the elderly Mrs O'Rourke who used to sell the cakes after church, or the wee little Aoife who's da was the milkman. Though she might not have enjoyed being seen as a legend, she would always enjoy talking to the people she knew. Her people.
"She's been gone ages…". Erin finally gave in after fifteen minutes.
"Relax…". James pulled her head over to him to give her a kiss. "… there's probably a film crew or something downstairs. She's a celebrity now!"
James's assessment of Orla's status was spot on. If they were to freeze time right there and then, she was quite possible the most popular person in the whole of Ireland and most likely the whole of Britain too. The fairy tale story of the sixteen year old amateur stepping up to the plate to win the Grand National was all that anyone talked about at work that Monday. The name Orla McCool was known from the beaches of Los Angeles to the slums of Dehli, on the lips of those talking in the Pump Street bakery, to those meeting in the Kremlin. Just trying to go downstairs to meet two friends was like trying to make ground in the Battle of the Somme.
With all the distractions on the way, and a healthy level of conversation on the way back, Orla didn't see the one person in a staff uniform who shouldn't have been. Neither did Michelle nor Clare. They never did see the one remaining member not being grilled by the Cops that evening. But that person saw them. It only made everything much more fun for them…
Erin was still fretting to James about how long Orla had been when she burst through the doors, Michelle and Clare hot on her heels.
"Have we got some mad craic for the two of ye!" Michelle excitedly shouted at them.
"Michelle! Ye'll scare Anna!" Erin hissed as quietly as she could.
Knowing her little sister all too well, Anna began to cry right on cue, immediately seeking out James's shoulder to cry on. He picked her up and placed her there, rubbing her little back with what in comparison was his giant hand.
"Well done Michelle…". He huffed.
"Alright jesus… sorry. But this… this is fuckin' huge!"
"Language!" Erin sounded a hell of a lot like her Granda in her rebuking of Michelle.
"Christ!" The exasperated young Mallon replied. "Ye gunna let me tell you's or what?"
"Go on then".
Erin rolled her eyes, before looking to her left as Anna's cries began to cease as she clung to James. It was ever so sweet to see her baby sister seeking the comfort of James, who showed the fatherly side she'd seen glimpses of in the past.
"Danny and Brian Scanlon have been arrested!"
"What!?"
"Aye she's right Erin!" Clare confirmed in a fret. "They… They had guns and everythin'… and those plans that got stolen from the Guildhall last week… all of them!"
Erin's eyes widened, turning her gaze on Michelle. In another world, where Danny hadn't played the cruel trick on her and their relationship was genuine, Michelle could have been with him at this point… she could have been arrested too.
As Erin pondered the disturbing scenario that thankfully never occurred, someone else who knew Danny stalked the corridors of the Altnagelvin. They were smart enough to have remembered the way to the Englishman's private room, taking into account any possible issue they could come across. Danny and Brian being arrested was damaging, quite sickening for their feelings in fact, but in some ways, it would make it easier. They could quite easily have called off the plan, regrouping to go again other night when the risks were lower. But could they afford to wait? Brian was never quite in the same mental league as they were, and his conscious often tried to sway him… if the RUC could get to any of them it would be him. Already with a hand on their concealed weapon, they were not too far away…
Five corridors…
"Pardon the pun Michelle, but ye dodged a bullet there". Erin didn't make fun of her, instead taking a serious approach to the matter.
"Ye… too right. Still can't believe I fell for that shite…".
"Language…". Erin reminded her again.
"Wise up Erin! Yer as bad as Joe".
Sensing that the conversation needed moving away from the, intriguing, but conflict creating Scanlon arrests, James addressed Orla.
"How many autographs then?"
"I lost count to be honest James…". Orla wandered off slightly as she tried to put a number on it. "… is that bad?"
"No, I'd think it's natural". He chuckled, the others chuckling with him.
Four corridors…
"Do you want to become a professional?" He asked her.
"She already is ye dick!" Michelle jumped in, earning Erin's glare at the language again.
"I mean officially. I'm aware Orla is better than the rest of them thanks Michelle…".
He was running a dangerous line answering his cousin back in that way, but he ran it anyway under her frosty stare.
"I think I do James… I want to go to England and ride those horses for Harriet's da".
"You'll be paid well". Clare muttered, the others humming their agreement.
"And you'll get opportunities elsewhere too. Who wouldn't want the great Orla McCool aboard their horse?"
Three corridors…
Orla beamed at James's delightful comment about her ability. She was confident from the moment she first got aboard 'The Wee English Fella' at the stables. Less than two months later she was a Grand National winning jockey. There would be fights to book her for rides if she committed to it full time.
"You do realise you'll need an agent though…". He said to her.
"Ach yeah… Paul was talking to me about that earlier."
The life of a Jockey's agent was a hard one. Some of the bigger agents had multiple clients across the country, and they were responsible for organising nearly every part of the jockey's life outside of the races themselves. They not only had to book the rides for the jockeys, but they were in charge of their media duties and helping to promote their image, as well as booking any accommodation that might be needed on longer trips away. There were also expenses to look after as well as records of all of the upcoming race meetings and notes about certain trainers and owners. Even if an agent had the one client, it was still a very demanding role as trying to do another job around it could be chaotic. Time waited for no man in the world of racing.
"I was… I was thinking of asking ye to be me agent Michelle".
Two corridors…
"Me?" The startled Michelle replied. "Catch yourself on Orla, that's the worse idea ye've had since suggesting we hide the scones up our holes!"
Michelle may have thought it stupid, but her cousin could see the logic. James wasn't as knowledgeable with an agent's life as he was with the rest of the racing world, though he knew one or two key bits of information. The agent needed to be able to stand up for their rider should things go wrong or should there be complaints about them… there was no doubting Michelle ticked that box. They would also be kept busy and therefore would not have the time to cause too much trouble. That would be a blessing for all concerned should she do it.
"Paul said he thought ye'd be good at it. It would mean comin' to England though…".
"You could see yer Tom then". Clare pointed out, flashing a never seen before wink.
"See Michelle, there's some incentive…". James snorted a little, Erin joining in with him.
"Don't ye… Christ ye haven't even met him…". Michelle's thoughts went to her own English fella, James unable to hide his laughter as her brain stopped on Tom. "… anyway, what about money… does it pay well?"
"I wouldn't worry about that Michelle". Erin advised her. "I'm sure Harriet would look after ye".
There were nods of agreement around the room at the valid point Erin made. If Orla needed an agent, and Michelle was going to be that agent, there was no doubt Harriet would use her family's substantial wealth to keep Michelle looked after. There was no way she'd take on any other clients other than Orla, which would not be enough to live on, yet Harriet would never see her go wanting. That was the thing with having a friend like her… she would always look after those she cared about. Be it emotionally or financially.
One Corridor…
Their progress through the Hospital was unrelentless and unchecked. The mop and bucket worked a treat, no one raising an eyebrow at the poor lone cleaner trudging their way to their next area. Not many cleaners were carrying a firearm under their apron or were planning to kill an Englishman and his partner… and seeing the rest of their little group earlier… Michelle Mallon and Clare Devlin too. But not Orla. They couldn't kill Orla McCool…
They were getting so close; they could see the room the wee English fella resided in at the end of the corridor. With no doctors or nurses about, they could only hear the sound of their footsteps… and the chorus of heavy breathing that accompanied it. There were no nerves now though… only a determination to destroy the English bastard and anyone else who stood in their way…
"Aye… alright I'll think about it Orla". Michelle agreed, met with her friend's beaming smile a second later.
"Cracker!" Orla jumped up and pulled her into a hug.
The two of them embraced for a moment, Clare watching on fondly, then turning her head to find an even fonder sight. During the course of their conversation, Baby Anna had fallen asleep on James's shoulder, her little snores beginning to puncture the air.
"Look…". Clare said with a voice full of wonder.
Erin's heart, which so often melted when Anna was around James, did so again. He was snuggling into her a little too, almost like she was his wain and not just Erin's little sister.
"One day my wee English fella will make a brilliant daddy…". Erin hummed, leaning in to kiss James's cheek.
"Not anytime soon I hope!". Michelle grumbled.
Suddenly, the door was flung wide open…
